“No, not that.” I folded the paper into a small square as I shook my head. “If you’re really…you know…doesn’t that mean I’ll turn into one, too? Isn’t that the way this works?”
Rist’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I didn’t bite you.”
Unconsciously, my hand rose to touch my lip.
He laughed. “That was there already, man. I just picked off the scab. And the tattoos don’t count. The needles pierced your skin, not me. I don’t go around turning people for the hell of it. Shit, I’m not getting stuck with someone for the rest of eternity, man. That’s worse than marriage.”
I grinned. I hadn’t been aware how nervous I’d been until I felt the knot in my stomach loosen a little. Just to clarify, I asked, “So I’m not going to turn into a bat or anything, right? I won’t be burned up when I go out in the sun?”
“Not if you wear sunscreen,” Rist teased. “Keep those tattoos out of it, though. You don’t want them to fade.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Just as long as I’m not going to start, you know, hunting down young men to suck their blood.”
Rist winked at me. “Whatever turns you on. But if you just want someone sucking on you, I’m here any time after six.”
A shiver of delight ran down my spine. Reflexively, my hand tightened around my still-stiff cock, and an involuntary gasp escaped my lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Reaching into my lap, his hand covered mine with a searing touch. I could taste myself on his tongue when his mouth closed over mine.
I wondered what tattoo I’d get next time.
THE END
Matching Tats
Vic Braunson had a plethora of tattoos inked over much of his muscled bulk—barbed wire wrapped one beefy thigh, a colorful Oriental dragon snaked up one arm. A smattering of Chinese characters peeked out from odd spots: the small of his back, inside his left ankle, behind his right knee, at the base of his neck. Celtic knots crisscrossed his pale skin. His latest piece of art was a black tribal tattoo that curved around his right temple to frame his face. It enhanced his shaved scalp, accentuated his eyebrow piercing, and lent an air of meanness to him that was so incongruous with the man his lover Matt diLorenzo knew. He loved Vic’s tattoos. They made him look fierce and cruel, and nothing could’ve been farther from the truth.
Though Vic had discussed the facial tattoo with Matt before he had it done, seeing it still came as a bit of a shock. It was the first tattoo Vic had gotten in the year and a half since they’d been together, so it was the first tattoo Matt ever saw up close while healing. The glossy black design on his lover’s face was the first thing he noticed when he entered the small apartment they shared after a day at the gym, where he worked as a swim instructor. Vic had had the day off from his job as a bus driver for the city and had decided to get the tattoo. He sat at one end of the couch, flipping through television channels in search of something to watch. The tattoo stood out like thick paint, the pale skin around it ruddy with pain. Matt stared at the inked design, fascinated, as he leaned down to plant a quick kiss on Vic’s forehead. “So that’s it?” he asked.
Vic caught his waist before he could stand and pulled Matt into his lap. With a faint smile, he stared into Matt’s dark green eyes and countered, “What do you think?”
“I like.” Kneeling on either side of Vic’s thick legs, Matt laughed as he sat down on an uncompromising bulge at his lover’s crotch. He wriggled his hips a bit, settling himself comfortably on the budding erection. “What’s this? Thinking of me, I hope?”
Vic’s hands laced together in the small of Matt’s back to keep him close. “Getting inked always turns me on,” he admitted. Then, pulling Matt to him, Vic sat up to bury his face behind his lover’s ear, his breath tickling Matt’s skin just below the thick black curls that crowned his head. Silently, he added, ::I was waiting for you before I did anything about it.::
The thought passed between them easily—to Matt, Vic’s mind lay open like a well-read book, the pages curling from overuse, the covers lovingly worn. Every thought Vic had, Matt could read in his mind as if it were his own.
And the mental connection worked both ways; Vic knew everything Matt felt, everything he experienced, everything he thought and saw and did. Yes, they could keep things hidden from each other, but Matt was persistent and hated secrets. Sooner or later, every part of Vic lay bare beneath him, mind and body and soul. Nothing kept them apart.
* * * *
For Matt, the telepathy ended there. But for Vic, it stretched out to encompass other minds, picking up random thoughts like signals sent from radio stations miles away. Some days it fuzzed out, the connection cloudy; other days it threatened to drive him insane, a million different voices inside his head and none of them his own. The first time he discovered that he had the ability to read others’ minds, he thought he was going crazy, until he discovered where the power came from.
From Matt. From loving him.
Matt had no special abilities of his own, nothing beyond the psychic meld that spanned between his mind and Vic’s, but something in him gave Vic a variety of superhuman powers. They passed from one man to the other during sex. Despite his butch appearance, Vic preferred being a submissive bottom in bed, eager to feel Matt move deep within him. Soon after climax, Matt’s seed sparked strange super powers in him.
The telepathy had started the first time they’d ever made love, as did the unparalleled super strength that ran through Vic’s veins. But the powers didn’t end there. Vic had a whole arsenal of comic book antics at his disposal—their positions during sex dictated what power he drew afterward. On his stomach, with Matt driving into him from behind, gave Vic a surplus of kinetic energy that sent sparks flying from his fingertips whenever he touched something electric. A good old blow job, swallowing Matt down, left him with heightened senses that sharpened the world around him, bringing it into vivid, Technicolor detail. And lying on his back on the edge of the bed, with Matt between his legs, holding his knees apart as they fucked, made Vic’s skin turn a delicate shade of blue that matched his eyes and kept him confined to the house until the power wore off. That was one position they never used again.
The effects of their lovemaking never lingered for long, and a new position quickly replaced one power with the next. Vic never knew what to expect when they tried something new. The powers scared Matt—they put the man he loved in constant danger, giving Vic the ability to help others while putting himself at risk. Every man Matt had ever known intimately had changed once they discovered the powers his semen held for them, and some small part of Matt’s mind feared Vic would be the same. Now that he’d finally found a man worth loving, he feared the powers would eventually drive him away.
Patiently Vic had explained that it was Matt he loved, not the strange gifts he bestowed; Vic would gladly give them up but didn’t want to lose Matt in the process. “I love you,” he reassured Matt, over and over again. From the moment they met, there’d been a spark between them, something neither could deny. And the fact that Vic had waited patiently for months before they moved from friends to lovers said more about the staying power of their relationship than either man could put into words.
Still, Matt rummaged through Vic’s mind from time to time, looking through his lover’s emotions and feelings as if leafing through a magazine, afraid of what he might find. But Vic stood aside and let him look however long he needed to until he was satisfied that, yes, Vic loved him.
Only him. The powers be damned.
* * * *
In the living room, on Vic’s lap, Matt reached out to touch the new facial tattoo but his lover caught his hand. “Don’t,” he cautioned, pulling away. “It’s healing.”
“Why’s it all shiny?” Matt wanted to know. He raised his other hand, unconsciously reaching for it a second time, but Vic caught that one, too, and lowered Matt’s wrists until he held them against his chest. “Let me feel it.”
“Not yet.”
“Why’s it wet?” Matt asked.
Vic nodded at the end table, where a large jar of petroleum jelly sat, its rectangular lid not quite closed properly. With a laugh, Matt admitted, “And here I thought you just came prepared. That helps it heal?”
“Keeps infection out,” Vic explained. He turned his head as Matt leaned closer so he could get a better look.
It was hard to believe the dark ink was now a permanent design etched into the side of his lover’s face, but at the same time, Matt found it difficult to remember what Vic’s smooth skin had looked like before the tattoo. He tried to recall sitting at the dining room table earlier that morning, eating breakfast, just a few hours ago really…but in his memory Vic’s face was in profile as his lover mulled over the newspaper. Sitting back, Matt announced, “I want a tattoo.”
“What?” Vic laughed. “No, you don’t. It hurts like a bitch.”
“Can’t be that bad,” Matt reasoned, but Vic laughed again. “You have so many. If it hurts that much, why do you keep getting more?”
Vic shook his head. “They’re addicting. If you get one, you’ll want another, and another.”
With a childish pout, Matt assured him, “I just want one. A little one, even.” An idea occurred to him that made his lips spread out in a grin and his eyes widen impishly. “Your name. That’s what I want.”
The expression on Vic’s face was unreadable. He simply stared, and when Matt mentally nudged Vic’s mind, he found nothing to indicate what his lover thought of the idea. “Just a small tattoo,” Matt tried. He fisted his fingers into the front of Vic’s T-shirt, wrists still cuffed by his lover’s large hands. “What do you think—”
Vic’s gruff voice interrupted him. “Where are you going to put it?”
Matt shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s find a place,” Vic suggested. Then he growled, a playful sound that ignited Matt’s blood and, without warning, he wrestled Matt down beside him on the couch.
That lusty rumble in the back of his throat elicited Matt’s laughter. Vic crawled on top of him, snarling and snapping like an angry bear. Beneath him, Matt shrieked in delight as strong hands eased up under the hem of his T-shirt and plucked at the waistband of his shorts. “Vic!” he cried out, laughing as he twisted in his lover’s arms.
Warm lips kissed the trembling skin around his navel; inch by inch his shorts slid lower on his hips. When he tried to sit up, blunt teeth nipped at his stomach, tickling him. Unable to catch his breath, Matt giggled soundlessly as Vic ravished him. One image filled both their minds: Vic pinning Matt to the sofa, mouth on any exposed flesh he could find, hands eager as they roamed Matt’s body. The erection in Vic’s pants now rubbed against the hard cock that tented the front of Matt’s swim trunks. Another tug or two on his shorts and his dick would swing free, pointing up at Vic like an accusation. As his lover licked down the faint hairs that led into his shorts, Matt reached out, one hand closing over Vic’s ear. The other glanced across the smear of jelly on his fresh tattoo.
They both froze. The jelly felt hot and sticky on Matt’s hand. “Oh shit,” he murmured. He reached out as if to rub what stuck to his fingers back over the tattoo, but stopped short of touching the spot again. “I’m sorry, Vic. I didn’t mean...”
Brushing Matt’s hand away, Vic felt his temple. “It’s alright.” At the worry on Matt’s face, he smiled. “Really. I think I’ll live.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Matt said again. He tried to touch the tattoo a second time, tentative, but Vic winced and swatted him away. “Does it hurt?”
“Of course it hurts.” Vic gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t touch it.”
“I wasn’t going to.” But even as he said the words, his hand drifted to the side of Vic’s face, unable to stay away.
“Matty,” Vic warned. “Stop touching it.”
With a wicked grin, Matt reached for the front of Vic’s jeans. As he picked at the zipper that hid his lover’s erection, the jelly on his hand darkened the denim at Vic’s crotch. “Give me something else to play with, then.”
“How about keeping your hands to yourself?” Vic countered.
Before Matt could ask what he meant by that, Vic pulled the bottom of Matt’s T-shirt up, exposing the smooth skin of his belly and chest. Matt raised his arms as Vic rucked up his shirt, but when it reached his shoulders, Vic stopped. Matt waited, arms draped over his head, blinded by his own shirt. He felt the couch move as Vic stood, but when nothing else happened, he ventured, “Vic?”
His lover spoke directly into his mind. ::Just a minute, hon. Don’t move.::
Matt heard the solid thud of Vic’s belt buckle hitting the floor.
“No fair,” he pouted, “undressing when I can’t see you.”
Vic laughed. “You know what it looks like.”
Matt pictured Vic towering over him, stiff cock jutting from his groin, thick and veined. The heavy sac of his balls hung low between his legs. Vic’s shaved genitals loomed in Matt’s mind, larger than life, and Vic laughed again when he picked up on that image. “It’s not that big.”
“It is when I can’t see it.” Matt started to lower his arms, eager to get things moving between them. “Get this shirt off me already. I can hardly breathe.”
Strong hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged. The neck hole slipped over Matt’s chin, then his lips, then his nose; he breathed in fresh air as if it were expensive perfume, tingling his senses. “Better?” Vic asked.
Matt raised his hands above his head to indicate he wanted the shirt off completely. His arms were still trapped in sleeves that held tight just below his elbows, and though he could breathe again, he still couldn’t see. “All the way please, sir.”
“Sir?” Vic teased. His grip tightened on Matt’s shirt as he pulled it back, taking Matt with him.
Suddenly Matt found himself being laid down. He wriggled as he was stretched out along the couch. “I can’t see—”
“You can breathe, right?” Vic asked.
As Matt nodded, he felt large hands tuck the hem of his shirt into the cushions of the couch, trapping his hands and arms and head within the shirt and laying the rest of his body bare to his lover. He sensed Vic leaning over him and he raised his chin, lips puckered, hoping for some contact with the naked man above him. ::Please,:: he thought, the word hanging unspoken between them.
An ardent mouth closed over his, claiming him. There was something unfamiliar about the kiss, something exciting, triggered by the fact that Matt kept his eyes open as Vic’s tongue licked into him, yet all he saw of his lover was a shadow on the material covering his face. Gentle hands strummed down his arms, tickled over his armpits, rubbed his chest until the tender buds of his nipples hardened beneath the touch. Their kiss deepened as Vic climbed back onto the couch, straddling Matt, his bare buttocks warm against Matt’s abdomen, his bent legs cradling Matt’s hips. His toes wiggled under Matt’s thighs.
Matt could only imagine what a pair they made—himself supine on the couch, Vic above him, kissing him, loving him. Matt felt Vic’s hands on his chest but couldn’t see them, and the tip of his lover’s hard shaft poked at Matt’s navel as Vic leaned down for another kiss. All too clearly, Matt could picture Vic’s ample ass spread invitingly just inches above the cock that strained the front of Matt’s shorts. Thrusting his hips, Matt brushed his crotch against Vic’s butt. He whimpered at the momentary touch, the sound lost in Vic’s mouth. ::Please,:: Matt begged silently. ::God Vic, please. Just scoot down a little bit, is that asking too much?::
Inside his mind, his lover laughed. ::Ask nicely.::
Matt’s imagination conjured up himself as a spoiled kid, close to throwing a tantrum. ::Please? Please please please—::
::Hush.:: Vic grinned against Matt’s mouth, then trailed tiny kisses over his chin and down his throat. Matt gasped at the hot tongue that licked his skin. ::Now let’s see where we should stick this tattoo you want to get.::
Matt whimpere
d again; this time the sound bubbled from his throat to escape his lips. Vic’s kisses left fire in their wake, burning the imprint of his mouth into Matt’s heated skin. When Vic caught a hard nipple between his teeth, Matt’s cock jerked in the confines of his shorts, the tip already weeping. “Please,” Matt sighed. He wanted this moment to last forever but didn’t think he could take much more. And Vic hadn’t even gone below his waist yet. “Jesus Christ, Vic, please.”
Maddeningly, Vic stopped. Matt bit back a sob. Crossing his arms over Matt’s chest, Vic sat back and pressed his ass against Matt’s crotch.
Desire and lust blossomed in his groin to settle into a dull ache behind his balls.
“Please what?” Vic wanted to know.
No words could describe just what Matt wanted, so he sent another mental image between them, this one of Vic impaled on Matt’s hard cock, hips thrusting his length into his lover’s tight, hot core. Every touch, every kiss, every motion boiled down to just the two of them, moving together. One soul in two bodies, seeking release, seeking completion. Made whole.
Scooting down a bit, finally, Vic kissed Matt’s navel. His tongue swirled around the curl of skin, then his teeth nibbled it playfully. Against Matt’s over-sensitized flesh, he breathed, “You read my mind.”
“I’m good at that,” Matt joked. He felt his lover’s dick lying alongside his own and wiggled his hips to draw Vic’s attention farther down, where his shorts threatened to cut off the flow of blood pounding in his erection. “Can you help a guy out here, Vic? Take these damn trunks off already, will you?”
Vic sat back. Unable to see his lover, Matt only felt the motion of the sofa beneath him and a sudden chill when Vic’s warm body stopped touching his. There was a yank of cloth as Vic pulled Matt’s shorts to his knees, and his dick curved up between them. When Vic’s hand fisted around his thick shaft, it felt cool and damp, coated with something Matt couldn’t immediately place. He moved his arms a bit, trying to pull the shirt up so he could see. “What’s that you’re smearing on me?”
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