Two Dogs Position

THE POSITIONS OF LOVE, BOOK V: TWO DOGS POSITION …Matt sat in his underwear on the edge of the bed, a Tshirt and jeans laid out beside him. Through the front of his white briefs, Vic could see the outline of his lover’s thick cock, curving to one side. Vic touched that damp hair with both hands, delved his fingers into the wet curls, then pressed his face to them to breathe in Matt’s clean, soapy scent. “You could’ve waited for me to get back,” he murmured into Matt’s hair. His lover kissed his stomach, a quick peck Vic felt through the thin tank top he wore. Then Matt’s arms circled around his waist to hug him close. Pressing his cheek to Vic’s belly, Matt pointed out, “I’m still mostly undressed. And I’m hard as a rock, babe. I was thinking about you.” With a laugh, Vic told him, “I see that. You know, our neighbor downstairs isn’t home. We should take advantage of this while we can.” “He’s out?” When Vic nodded, Matt let out a loud whoop! as he jumped on the bed. The springs creaked wildly beneath his weight. “We can be as randy as we want. Hell, we can even fuck on the floor…” He froze, that image sharp in his mind. Vic almost staggered beneath the sudden emotion that flooded his lover’s thoughts. Then Matt’s gaze flicked up to meet Vic’s and, without saying a word, they both grinned. “Oh God,” Matt gushed with a laugh. “The floor. Want to do it doggy style?”

“Is that in my book?” Vic teased. “If not, it should be.” Rising to his feet, Matt yanked his briefs down to the floor and kicked them away. “We can write it in, if we have to.”

ALSO BY J. M. SNYDER Beneath A Yankee Sky The Bonds Of Love Crushed Matching Tats Persistence of Memory The Powers of Love The Regent’s Knight Under A Confederate Moon The Positions Of Love Book I: The Positions Of Love Book II: Two Pillars Position Book III: Clasping Position Book IV: Hammock Position Book V: Two Dogs Position Book VI: Cowboy

THE POSITIONS OF LOVE BOOK V

TWO DOGS POSITION

BY J. M. SNYDER

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

TWO DOGS POSITION AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by J. M. Snyder ISBN 978-1-60272-245-3 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

HAMMOCK POSITION

TWO DOGS POSITION A few weeks after Easter, the city gave each of its workers a salt-packed Smithfield ham to celebrate a hundred days accident free in the workplace. Vic Braunson lugged the fifteen-pound slab of meat, wrapped in burlap, home to his apartment, where he thumped it on the dining room table. In the kitchen, his lover Matt diLorenzo looked up from the onion burgers he was grilling on the stove. “Where’d you get that?” he asked with a laugh. “We all got one.” Vic shrugged out of his work shirt, balled it up, and tossed it to the floor. As he started to unbuckle his belt, he admitted, “I don’t know what we’ll do with it. It’s too damn big to eat. Nice of them to give it out 1

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after the holiday.” Leaving the burgers to sputter in their pan, Matt came over to the table to inspect the ham. He wiped his hands on a small washcloth, which he then used to rub over the burlap bag. They clearly heard the sound of salt sifting off the ham. “We’ll have to soak it in the bathtub before we cook it. Damn, it’s huge.” Vic gave him a saucy wink. “That’s what you said last night.” That earned him a playful smack with the towel. He caught it and tugged, pulling Matt closer. Closing his eyes, his lover puckered up as he demanded, “Kiss me.” Vic obliged, leaning over the table to touch his mouth to Matt’s. Before he could step back, Matt’s tongue darted out, tasting Vic’s lips, then delving between them. Through the mental connection they shared, Matt’s voice filled Vic’s mind. ::Does my baby bring home the bacon or what?:: A rush of love and lust flooded Vic’s body, causing him to stumble over his own feet. Beneath his sudden weight, the table nudged a little as he almost lost his balance. Matt did that to him, made him feel stupid and boyish all over again, as if he’d never been with a man before. Every time seemed new between them, every touch the first, every kiss sweet and perfect. Even as he slid his belt off with one hand, the other was reaching for Matt’s, resting on the table. Their fingers laced together, palms clasped tight, and then Vic guided Matt around the table into a strong embrace. As his arms wrapped around his lover’s broad shoulders, Matt fisted the front of 2

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Vic’s undershirt, giving into the lips on his, opening to Vic’s tender kiss. The spit and sizzle of the burgers in the kitchen interrupted them. “Your dinner’s burning,” Matt murmured, kissing the tip of Vic’s nose. “I’m hungry for something meatier,” Vic told him. Matt laughed and trailed a hand down between them to grasp at his crotch. “I got something meatier for you right here.” Vic dropped to his knees so fast, Matt didn’t have time to react. Before he could move, Vic’s fingers were unzipping Matt’s jeans, spreading them wide, massaging the front of his briefs where the start of an erection already strained the thin fabric. “Vic,” Matt gasped, running his hands over his lover’s bald head. Encouraged, Vic hooked his thumbs into Matt’s waistband and tugged both the jeans and briefs down to his knees. “Yes,” Matt moaned as Vic’s lips kissed the tender head of his stiffening cock. “Yes.” Opening his mouth, Vic licked out to taste his lover’s dick. Matt shuddered in delight at the wet touch, clutching Vic’s ears to keep him close. Vic kneaded Matt’s firm buttocks, squeezing them in his large fists, rubbing the pliant flesh, tracing the crack between the cheeks and rimming the puckered hole at their center. With a gasp, Matt arched into Vic’s hands, thrusting his cock between Vic’s lips. “God, Vic. Yes, please, please.” Each please was accompanied by a small movement of 3

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Matt’s hips, designed to press his ass into Vic’s palms and push his dick farther into his lover’s willing mouth. Vic took him in, the entire length, his tongue swirling down around Matt’s length as if licking a lollipop, suckling as he went, to savor every drop. With his hands, he pulled Matt toward him, the bulbous cockhead bumping along the roof of his mouth, tickling the back of his throat. Matt’s musky scent rose around Vic like heady perfume, intoxicating, enflaming his blood. With his tongue, his cheeks, his lips, he drew Matt closer to the edge of orgasm. His thumbs massaged circular patterns into Matt’s ass; his fingers strummed over taut, trembling skin. His thoughts focused only on the man before him, on him, in him—his entire world consisted only of him. Fingers gripped Vic’s ears, plucking at the gold hoops he wore, pinching the folds of skin. With one hard buck of his hips, Matt drove into Vic, who relaxed to take his lover in completely. Matt filled his mouth and senses. The tight sensation on Matt’s dick, the soft tongue working him, the hot mouth around his hard shaft was enough to make him come in an explosive rush that Vic drank down like nectar from the gods. “Yes!” Matt cried, thrusting into Vic again and again, his climax thundering through them both. Their mental connection triggered a simultaneous spasm in Vic’s pants, his tight briefs constricting his erection and only adding to the intensity of pleasure shooting through him. “Yes, Vic,” Matt called out, fucking into him, “yes, yes!” Minutes later he sank to his knees, spent, landing with a hollow thud that caused the neighbor beneath them to bang on 4

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the floor. Vic’s arms wrapped around him again, drawing him close, and Matt kissed his own juices off Vic’s damp lips. “Whew,” he sighed. In the other room dinner overcooked, forgotten, as their pulses slowed and their heartbeats returned to normal. With a shaky laugh, Matt cuddled up to Vic, arms and knees pulled in as he sat in his lover’s lap. “What an awesome way to say, ‘Honey, I’m home.’” *

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While they ate, the ham sat at one end of the table like a sacrificial offering. Vic was thinking they could just donate it to a food bank somewhere when Matt announced, “Let’s have a dinner party.” Vic choked on his burger. “What?” Matt nodded, warming to the idea. “A dinner party,” he said as he pointed to the ham with his fork. “We’ll cook up this beast and invite a few people over one evening, what do you think?” “People like who?” Vic wanted to know. Matt shrugged. “Just people, I don’t know. Roxie maybe. She’d come.” Roxie was the receptionist at the gym where Matt was employed as a swim instructor and Vic went to work out. A young woman just out of college, with a sharp tongue and quick laugh, Roxie had a little crush on Matt—Vic didn’t have to read minds to see that. But she knew he and Vic were together, and Matt never bothered to look at her twice. When Vic mentioned once that she seemed smitten with his lover, 5

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Matt simply laughed. “Don’t get me wrong,” he’d said, “she’s pretty, kind of, in this gothic grunge sort of way, but God…” He’d laughed again. “Are you sure? I always thought she had the hots for you.” Actually, thinking about it, Vic wondered if Roxie’s attraction to Matt wasn’t fueled by the fact that he was gay. Maybe she was one of those girls who got turned on by queer men, and it was the thought of Vic and Matt together that did it for her. Vic didn’t know for sure, and he wasn’t about to go looking through her thoughts to find out, either. Despite his telepathic power, he never delved too deeply into anyone’s mind but Matt’s. No one else’s thoughts were worth riffling through, to be honest. Beneath the table, Matt’s foot nudged Vic’s. “If you don’t want to invite her, you can just say no.” Vic shook his head, clearing it. “Roxie’s cool. She’d have to bring a date. I’m not entertaining her myself all night long.” “You better not,” Matt teased. His toes tickled along Vic’s ankle and up into the leg of his pants to rub over his calf. “You’re mine and I ain’t sharing.” Vic grinned. “Roxie and a date. I don’t think that’s enough to finish off this ham. Who else do you want to invite?” Taking a bite of his burger, Matt chewed slowly as he mulled it over. Vic waited. He didn’t know of anyone to suggest—he didn’t have friends. He was a solitary man by nature, content to stay at home alone and not say a word to another living soul if he could help it. Matt was all he cared about in the world. Sure, he joked with a few guys at work, 6

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but for the most part that seemed like a separate life to him, a world where no one saw him as anything other than Vic Braunson, bus driver. Burly and tough, rugged, a little harsh around the edges. Always glaring at others, a challenge in his stare. Growling in the back of his throat, combative, keeping others at bay. Intimidating. Only one guy he worked with knew he was gay, and Kyle Munyon knew only because he also liked dick. But there was no way in hell Vic would invite Kyle to their home. The man was annoying as shit, a constant flirt oblivious to the fact that his charms didn’t work on Vic, and he was Matt’s exboyfriend, to boot. In fact, it was Kyle who had introduced the two of them. So he wasn’t coming to a dinner party, no way, no how. There were no other people Vic would consider inviting. Before he’d met Matt, he used to have a small address book he carried in his wallet, just a tiny little thing he’d picked up at a dollar store somewhere. The book held only first names of men Vic had met, in clubs or the gym, and their phone numbers. Nothing else. A few of the names were starred—this meant the guy was a booty call, if Vic wanted a quick fuck with no strings attached. Some of the men he never saw again; others he’d met a few times here and there, always for sex. Before Matt came into his life, Vic hadn’t thought there was anything else in a relationship. Matt had been the first man he’d met in a long time who didn’t expect each date to end with a fuck. In fact, it had taken months before their friendship moved to a more intimate level. All they’d done 7

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was kiss, but the charge was there between them, the hint of something more, if Vic would only wait. “Give me time,” Matt had told him, almost two years ago now. “I’m not looking for just tonight, you know? I’m looking for…I don’t know. Forever, maybe. And I’m hoping that might be you.” Vic hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted the same thing until Matt said it out loud. He’d gone home that evening and stood on the balcony off his dining room. Digging his little address book out of his pocket, he ripped it in half and chucked it into the night. He’d never need those men again, not when Matt’s kisses alone warmed him more than any anonymous hands and arms and cocks ever could. Leaning across the table, Vic gave Matt a quick kiss. “If you want a party, why not just post an announcement on the gym’s bulletin board?” Matt’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! I’ll make it a potluck, everyone has to bring something. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” “I’m already looking forward to after everyone leaves,” Vic admitted, “when I can have you all to myself again.” *

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The building in which they lived was an old brownstone three stories tall. There was one apartment on each floor, Vic’s in the middle. Since Matt had moved in with him, the neighbor below them often complained about the noise, though Vic didn’t think they were all that loud. True, they tended to be a little noisy during sex, and the powers he gained from the act weren’t always the quietest. He was a big man to begin with, 8

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but the super strength Matt gave him increased his muscle mass and he knew the wooden floors creaked when he walked. He had a tendency to slam things because he often forgot the extent of his own strength, and more than once he’d broken something off completely, the faucet handle or a door knob, which he then had to fix. It was an old building, with thin walls and poor insulation—every time a door opened somewhere, Vic didn’t need heightened senses to hear it. But any little noise set off the guy in the apartment below them. Vic had snuck a telepathic peek downstairs before, sure he’d see the man who lived there hovering in the middle of his living room floor, broom in hand, just waiting for a chance to begin his annoying poke poke poke at the ceiling above. If something crashed in Vic’s apartment, the thumping on their floor began. If the TV were too loud, or the bed bumped the wall while they made love, they were reprimanded. Sometimes even the low laughs they shared in bed were enough to get him started. And any noise he heard after nine at night was an instant phone call to the landlady, who lived above Vic on the third floor. Melba Kowalewsky was a small, spry, feisty widow in her late seventies. She walked hunched over a cane that tap tap tapped its way up and down the flights of stairs leading from her apartment to the street and back again. Mrs. K, as Vic called her, was a bitter woman with little tolerance for kids or late rent payments, but for some reason Vic had never quite understood, she liked him. “Even if you are a little funny,” she told him once, taking the stairs one shuffling step at a time. 9

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“My brother Josef was like that. Handsomest fella you’d ever met, but funny. Liked his boys.” Throwing Vic a glance over her shoulder, she’d nodded. “I think you know what I mean.” She went grocery shopping once a week, on Saturdays. Before Matt moved in, she used to leave the bags in her car and tap tap her way to the landing on the second floor, where she’d rap that cane of hers hard on Vic’s door. “Help an old baba out, would you?” she’d say when Vic answered. Then she’d head for the next flight of stairs as Vic ran down to get her groceries. By the time she reached her apartment, he’d already be behind her, arms full of paper bags overflowing with rice and tea and cat food. When Matt came into his life, Vic’s telepathic power allowed him to meet Mrs. K at the curb. He sensed her presence before she even parked, and Vic would run down to help her with the groceries. “You’re a good boy,” she’d say as he climbed up behind her step by excruciating step, arms laden with heavy bags. “I keep telling that glupia zasranà downstairs to stop his moaning. I hear nothing from your apartment. I tell him call the police again, waking me up at all hours of the night, now that’s disturbance. He’ll be out on the street before long, I swear. Does he bother you with that mess?” “It’s cool,” Vic grumbled. Ahead of him, Mrs. K shook her head. The white curls that framed her face didn’t even budge. “Oh, no,” she told him, wheezing as she ascended the stairs. “I won’t put up with him. Can’t even help me with my bags, I tell you. And when Mojo 10

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got downstairs last month, you think he could catch a cat? Psia krew, that’s what I have to say to him.” *

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Monday afternoon, Matt posted a flyer in the gym’s employee break room announcing their dinner party; by Friday morning, five people had called to RSVP, and Matt said three more were tentatively planning to attend. Saturday when Vic picked up Mrs. K’s car on his telepathic radar, he shrugged into a light hooded jacket to cover his undershirt and headed downstairs to help her with her groceries. His mind buzzed with various ways he might mention the party to her without making it sound like some wild all-night fling. There would be alcohol, yes, but nothing more than wine with dinner and a beer or two afterward. Low music, if any. Food, of course, and laughing, talking…nothing loud, he’d assure her. Nothing disruptive. Though he knew the guy below them would beg to differ. Vic glanced at the door to his neighbor’s apartment as he headed down the stairs. As usual, it was shut. If it weren’t for the frequent knocking on his floor and the snippets of thought he picked up on from time to time, Vic would’ve sworn the apartment was empty. Reaching out with his mind, his consciousness easily slipped through the closed door and into the apartment beyond, but he didn’t connect with anything inside. Vic stopped, concentrating on the rooms that mirrored the layout of his own, but there was no one home. He hoped the guy wouldn’t be home the rest of the day. Their party was 11

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scheduled between six and nine that evening, and he didn’t want to have to put up with the guy’s shit. Outside, Mrs. K was getting out of her car. She moved slowly due to arthritis in her joints and spine. Whenever Vic’s mind accidentally brushed over hers, he felt the aches and pains that riddled her small frame. Despite her fiery personality, there was a sadness beneath her thoughts that bothered Vic, a loneliness that seemed all too familiar to him. He’d felt that same tamped down isolation himself, in the years before he’d met Matt. Whenever he saw Mrs. K, he couldn’t help but feel a quick burst of thankfulness for all he had in that man. “Vic!” Mrs. K called out, spotting him. “There you are. Be a dear and help your babcia out, will you?” She left the car door open and hobbled to the steps leading into their building. By the time Vic had gathered her groceries together, she hadn’t yet reached the top step. It took all the patience he had not to pick her up, as well, and carry her up the three flights to her own apartment. “Mrs. K,” he started, holding the door as she shuffled inside, one small step at a time. “Matt and I are having a dinner party. Nothing wild and crazy, I assure you. Just some people he works with—” “Matt?” she asked, her voice raising an octave to echo off the stairwell. “Is that the guy you’re with? I thought his name was Marvin.” Suppressing a laugh, Vic followed his landlady inside. “No,” he assured her. “It’s Matt. You’ve met him.” “And he’s quite a przystojniak, if I say so,” she chuckled. 12

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“I may be old but I still have eyes.” From her tone of voice, Vic knew the word was supposed to be a complement, but he had no clue what it meant. Taking a peek into her thoughts, he found the word handsome standing foremost in her mind. “Yes,” he agreed. “I think so, too.” Over her shoulder, she beamed at him. “You’re a good boy,” she told him. The fact that he was pushing forty seemed to escape her. “You deserve a man like Marvin. Marty?” “Matt.” Mrs. K nodded. “That’s the one. Thanks for the invite but I think I’ll have to pass, I’m sorry to say. I’m getting too old for socializing and this is my TV night.” Vic stopped on the bottom step, confused. Wait—he hadn’t said anything about her coming to the party, had he? “It’s really just dinner,” he told her. “A few drinks, some friends, nothing much. I only mentioned it in case my neighbor—” Again, she misunderstood him. “I appreciate it, really. But you boys have your fun, and don’t worry about me. Or that dupa downstairs.” “We’ll keep it quiet,” Vic said. She waved her hand, dismissing his comment. “You’re fine, Vic. Wish they all were like you and Marvin. Do you see anyone else helping a stara baba with her groceries? No. Bunch of glupeks in this world, I tell you.” ::Matt,:: Vic corrected silently. “Matt, Marty,” she muttered under her breath, as if she had heard him out loud. 13

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“He’s a nice boy. You both are.” Reaching the top of the stairs, she shuffled over to the next landing. Vic made a mental note to bring her a plate of the ham once it was cooked…and maybe the bone, too, if she wanted to turn it into a good, thick soup. If nothing else, her cats could fight over it. Shifting the grocery bags into a more comfortable position, he took the steps two at a time to catch up with her. *

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After depositing the bags in Mrs. K’s kitchen, Vic returned to his apartment with a container full of fresh pierogies she’d given him. As he approached his door, the heavenly scent of baking ham filled his senses; inside the apartment, the smell was almost orgasmic. The previous night, Matt had instructed Vic to fill the bathtub with cold water in which they soaked the ham overnight. Shortly before he left to help Mrs. K, Vic had helped Matt transfer the meat to the oven. It had only been cooking about a half hour but already the smell of its juices made Vic salivate. Maybe he’d eat the pierogies to hold him over for the next five hours. Suddenly dinner seemed so far away. “Matty?” Vic called as he shrugged out of his thin jacket. Closing the apartment door behind him, he headed for the kitchen, but it was empty. At the sink, he pried the lid off the container of pierogies, plucked one of the potato-filled pastries out with his fingers, and popped it in his mouth. Taking a second pastry, he reached out with his mind to connect to 14

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Matt’s. ::Where are you at, sexy? I got pierogies.:: His lover’s reply came from the bedroom. ::I just got out of the shower.:: ::Damn.:: Vic grinned as he chewed. ::I missed that?:: In the bedroom, Matt laughed. ::Sorry, babe. I’m getting dressed now, though, if you want to come watch.:: Vic didn’t need to be asked twice. Leaving the rest of the pierogies on the sink, he rinsed his hands and headed for their bedroom. Matt sat in his underwear on the edge of the bed, a T-shirt and jeans laid out beside him. Through the front of his white briefs, Vic could see the outline of his lover’s thick cock, curving to one side. The black curls on top of his head still dripped from the shower. Crossing the room to stand before him, Vic touched that damp hair with both hands, delved his fingers into the wet curls, then pressed his face to them to breathe in Matt’s clean, soapy scent. “You could’ve waited for me to get back,” he murmured into Matt’s hair. His lover kissed his stomach, a quick peck Vic felt through the thin tank top he wore. Then Matt’s arms circled around his waist to hug him close. Pressing his cheek to Vic’s belly, Matt pointed out, “I’m still mostly undressed. And I’m hard as a rock, babe. I was thinking about you.” With a laugh, Vic told him, “I see that. You know, our neighbor downstairs isn’t home. We should take advantage of this while we can.” “He’s out?” When Vic nodded, Matt let out a loud whoop! as he jumped on the bed. The springs creaked wildly beneath his weight. “We can be as randy as we want. Hell, we can 15

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even fuck on the floor…” He froze, that image sharp in his mind. Vic almost staggered beneath the sudden emotion that flooded his lover’s thoughts. Then Matt’s gaze flicked up to meet Vic’s and, without saying a word, they both grinned. “Oh God,” Matt gushed with a laugh. “The floor. Want to do it doggy style?” “Is that in my book?” Vic teased. “If not, it should be.” Rising to his feet, Matt yanked his briefs down to the floor and kicked them away. “We can write it in, if we have to.” His dick was hard—it stood up on its own from the patch of kinked hair at Matt’s crotch. A pump-style bottle of lubricant sat on his bedside table, and as Matt he rubbed lotion onto his hands, Vic prodded the tip of Matt’s cock. “You weren’t lying,” he joked. “Why didn’t you take care of this in the shower?” “I was saving it for you.” Catching his dick in both hands, Matt slathered the lube along his length. A slight moan escaped his lips and he bucked into one fist as he cupped his balls in the other hand. His eyes closed in a hooded, sensuous expression, and a dull blush rose to pink his cheeks. “You gonna just stand there and watch, or what?” Quickly, Vic undressed. As he tossed his shirt aside and stepped out of his jeans, Matt tugged the comforter off their bed and folded it a few times before he laid it out on the floor. When Vic pulled off his briefs, Matt came around behind him to smack his ass. Before Vic could move away, he touched Vic’s waist with his sticky hands and pressed his crotch to 16

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Vic’s backside. His lubricated dick slid easily between Vic’s ample buttocks, exciting them both. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Turning in Matt’s embrace, Vic kissed his lover, passionate. Every touch sparked a different sensation—lips crushed together, nipples glancing off muscled pecs, Matt’s cock hard against Vic’s crotch and his dick awakening as they kissed. In his eagerness for Matt, Vic eased his lover onto the stripped bed and climbed onto the supine body beneath his. Knees spread, he arched above Matt’s erection, his whole body trembling to be entered. “Matty,” he sighed, kissing a path under his lover’s clean-shaven chin. “Fuck me already, will you?” “I want you,” Matt whispered. Vic pinned him to the bed as he ground his hips into Matt’s. His blood was on fire as his dick throbbed, his buttocks clenched in anticipation, hands fisted in the bed sheets. Where Matt was concerned, Vic hungered for intimacy—they shared more than normal couples, given their special telepathic ability, but he wanted more. He wanted the man so deep inside him that neither knew where the other began. He wanted, needed, a daily affirmation of how much they meant to each other. These hands on his body, this mouth on his, sighing his name…Vic wanted that and more, every second of every day. “Love you,” he murmured into the hollow of Matt’s throat. He kissed the words against his lover’s neck, into his armpit, into his curls. Hummed them as he took one erect nipple between his teeth. Sighed them when 17

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he felt the spongy tip of his lover’s cock push between his buttocks. Matt caught his chin in both hands and raised Vic’s face toward his. “What happened to doing this on the floor?” “What’s wrong with here?” Vic countered. But Matt’s grin turned wicked, and his eyes flashed. “I was thinking we’d do it like this,” he admitted. He sent a thought directly into Vic’s mind—the two of them on the floor, Vic on his hands and knees, Matt kneeling behind him. “But if you don’t want to…” Vic wanted whatever Matt wanted. Rising off the bed, he repositioned himself on the blanket on the floor. On his hands and knees, he waited as Matt applied more lube to his cock. This wasn’t a very intimate position; Vic wouldn’t get to see Matt as they made love. “I liked it better when I was looking at you—aaah!” A cool hand eased between his buttocks, smoothing over tender skin. Vic arched into the touch as he felt Matt’s thoughts brush over his. ::I’m right here, babe,:: Matt assured him. ::Close your eyes and enjoy this.:: ::I am.:: Vic gasped as his eyes slipped shut. The whole world narrowed down to just the hand rubbing along trembling, puckered flesh. Slipping lower, Matt fingered Vic’s balls, then stroked the underside of his hard cock. When he leaned down, his arm reaching between Vic’s legs to pluck at the tip of his dick, Matt’s tongue licked out to taste Vic’s anus. ::Yes,:: Vic sighed, his elbows threatening to buckle and dump him onto the floor at the pleasant thrill that raced through him. 18

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::God, Matty. Don’t stop that, whatever it is you’re doing. Please, yes, yes!:: Eager fingers spread Vic wide as that devilish tongue dove into him. Between his legs, another hand stroked his erection, catching the shaft and pinching it just below the flared cockhead. Like a rocking horse, Vic started to move back and forth on his hands and knees, pushing more of his ass against Matt’s face as he savored the hot breath fluttering over his buttocks. ::Yes,:: he thought, that one word a litany that snagged in his mind to repeat over and over again. With each rocking motion, the word drove itself home. ::Yes, yes, yes.:: With one last squeeze of Vic’s cock, Matt pulled back. Hands on Vic’s hips, his dick replaced the tongue rimming Vic. For a moment he felt impossibly huge, pressed unseen to the center of Vic’s being. Massaging Vic’s buttocks, Matt spread them wide and watched the tip of his cock disappear inside his lover. The image was shared between them—Vic saw the slow movement even as he felt the burn of entry, watched the bulbous head breech his ass as he felt it force its way inside. Inch by inch, in his mind’s eye, he saw Matt’s shaft ease into him. Giving into the moment, the lust, the desire that surged within, Vic gave a primal yawp that trilled through them both. With his fists, he beat against the floor as he cried out, “Yes! Matty, God, yes! Fuck me, harder, harder, yes!” Matt found a hard, steady rhythm that threatened to rock the very world around them from its axis. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure pounding through Vic, who goaded his 19

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lover on with a mental chant of, ::Harder, faster, harder, yes, yes.:: The slap of flesh was loud around them, punctuated by Matt’s heavy gasps and Vic’s fists beating out against the floor. Their coupling was wild, fast and untamed, so different from their usual lovemaking that Vic came in one long, drawn out orgasm without even having to touch himself. Each time Matt nudged his prostate, it was like a push that drove him closer and closer to the edge of release—when he finally came, he simply spread his knees a little farther and thrust into the air, fucking nothing, as his cock spurted onto the blanket beneath him. Again and again—the spasms didn’t stop when he ran dry but continued to wrack his body, yes, yes, yes, until Matt exploded deep within him. Yes. *

*

*

Roxie was the first to arrive for their dinner party, bringing southern style green beans, which glistened from the fatback in which they’d been cooked, and large biscuits that flaked apart into soft, delicious layers. “These look great,” Matt announced, helping himself. “You want me to open a bottle of wine? Or, hey, we have a few beers in the fridge. Take a look.” Vic concentrated on slicing the ham as the rest of the guests poured in. Most he knew by sight from the time he spent at the gym, but there were quite a few he didn’t recognize and after a half hour or so, he stopped trying to remember their names. Someone turned on the music, low at 20

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first but slowly it rose in volume, voices rising along with it, talking and laughing together. The wine poured freely, and Matt brought him a beer from the fridge. Placing it on the table next to Vic, Matt set his hand in the small of his lover’s back and rested his chin on Vic’s shoulders. “Mingle,” he commanded. “This is your party, too. Have a little fun.” With a tight-lipped smile, Vic admitted, “I don’t know half these people.” “That’s the fun part,” Matt told him. When Vic reached for the beer, Matt covered his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Show them what I see when I look at you.” “Oh, no,” Vic joked with a grin. “I’m not taking off my clothes until they’re gone.” Matt kissed his cheek, a quick peck that hinted at so much more. “I’m going to hold you to that.” Vic’s grin dissolved as a shrill note undercut the music. “Can you turn down the radio?” he asked, wincing. “God, that’s painful.” Beside him, Matt picked at the cut ham. “What? Is it bothering you?” “Can’t you hear it?” At the look Matt gave him, Vic knew his lover couldn’t hear whatever it was he himself heard just beneath the music. The sound reminded him of fingernails scraping across a chalkboard, and sent painful shivers down his spine. It was a high-pitched wail that should’ve sent people screaming from the room, but when Vic glanced around at their guests, no one else seemed to hear it. 21

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“Never mind,” Vic grumbled—it was just his super powers acting up again. Heightened hearing…what other sort of ability did he expect to get from something his Kama Sutra book called the Two Dogs Position? With another kiss, this one landing on the corner of his mouth, Matt told him, “I’ll turn it down if it bothers you. I’ll turn it off even. It’s time to eat anyway.” Matt made his way through the crowd in the living room. The ultrasonic screech died as he turned off the stereo—Vic sighed in relief, even as the other guests bemoaned the loss of music. Clapping his hands together, Matt announced, “Hey, hey! I’m just trying to keep things down here. Besides, didn’t we all come to eat, anyway? Who’s hungry?” There were about fifteen guests in all, but when they surged toward the table, they looked like a stampede barreling down at Vic. Thank God for the table between himself and the crowd. He winced again at the squeal of chairs and shoes on the tiled floor, the clatter of plates, the jingle of silverware. Each sound pierced his ears and drilled down into his skull. He couldn’t take it. As Matt came up behind him, Vic turned away. “I can’t.” “Vic?” Matt asked. His hands trailed down Vic’s arms. “Are you okay?” In short, no. Vic felt nauseous, his stomach churning beneath the start of a headache that threatened to break through his skull. He needed some space, a little quiet time, a place all his own. “I—” Someone scraped a chair across the floor, the sound like 22

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shards of glass being driven into Vic’s brain. Vic fought back the urge to retch as he pushed his way free from the crowd. Through the kitchen, down the hall, into their tiny bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him and sank down on the top of the toilet seat, savoring the darkness of the cramped, quiet room. After a moment, he felt Matt’s presence in his mind. ::Vic?:: his lover asked, tentative. ::You all right?:: ::Give me a minute,:: Vic told him. Here in the bathroom, silence pressed around him like soothing cotton, plugging his ears. He didn’t want to open the door again and let the busy sounds of his guests claw at him. He liked it here, alone. But Matt’s concern flashed through him, coloring his thoughts. ::What’s wrong, babe?:: ::I don’t know,:: Vic admitted. He ran the back of his hand across his upper lip, wiping away beads of sweat. ::Everything’s so goddamn shrill, like I’m hearing outside the normal human range of sound, or something.:: For a moment, Matt didn’t reply. Vic let his eyes close, savoring the silence around him. Then he heard the muted sound of his lover trying not to laugh. ::You mean like a dog?:: :Ha, ha.:: Vic sighed, weary. ::Yes, like a dog. Happy?:: Before Matt could reply, Vic heard a small sound above him and he sat up, suddenly alert. ::Did you hear that?:: ::Roxie just told us her gay priest joke,:: Matt pointed out. ::I can’t hear anything but people laughing. What was it?:: Vic strained to hear it again. There, immediately above 23

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him, a thin squeal that set his nerves on edge. What the hell? He felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl and he fought the urge to let loose with a barrage of barks that would call attention to the noise. Damn doggy style. Never again, no matter how good the fuck had been. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind—he stretched it upward, through the ceiling, letting his senses fill with the apartment above. Darkness enveloped him, suffocating. He reached out, searching for someone to connect with, something to tell him what might be happening upstairs… Suddenly his mind locked onto another’s. Fear flooded his body, and pain riddled his muscles. Arthritic joints strained against their sockets, pulled and tied into place. He felt rope around his wrists, cutting off his circulation, and he struggled to breathe against a cloth shoved into his mouth. He saw nothing, but heard the scrape of drawers pulled out, heard the thud of their contents dumped on the floor. Mrs. K. Bolting from the bathroom, Vic skidded into the kitchen. Roxie was in the middle of telling another joke but stopped when she saw his wild eyes. “Matt,” he gasped, pushing through the crowd to find his lover. “God, Matt—” A warm hand closed over his, and Vic turned to find Matt beside him. “Right here, Vic. What is it?” “Call the cops.” When Vic tried to pull away, Matt held him in place. “Wait. What? Why?” 24

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“Upstairs,” Vic gulped. As he moved toward the door to their apartment, dinner guests parted before him, making way. “Mrs. K’s in trouble. A burglar, I think. I don’t know.” Matt clung to his arm. “You’re not going up there!” But Vic shrugged him off. “Call the cops,” he said again. At the door, he turned and glared at the people staring back at them, Matt in their midst. “Matty, now!” As he stormed from the apartment, Matt lunged for the phone. *

*

*

Upstairs, the door to Mrs. K’s apartment stood ajar. Vic hesitated, hand hovering above the knob, his mind exploring the dark rooms on the other side. He sensed Mrs. K on the floor of the living room, hands tied behind her back, mouth gagged. There was another presence in the room, as well, a young man whose nerves danced like grease on a hot frying pan. His body buzzed, his thoughts a flickering whirl Vic couldn’t understand. The guy was high on something, probably looking to steal a few bucks for another hit of whatever roiled through his system. At the moment, he rifled through the hall closet directly on the other side of the front door. That flimsy piece of wood was all that separated him and Vic. Setting his shoulder against the door, Vic hit it, hard, and bullied his way into the apartment. The door knob caught the robber in the back; with a small “Ooof!” he fell to the floor. Vic opened the door all the way, pinning the dazed man 25

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behind it. A quick scan of his mind proved useless—there were so many drugs in his bloodstream that Vic couldn’t begin to get a handle on the man’s thoughts. Let the police deal with him… Hurrying into the dimly lit living room, Vic could feel Mrs. K fighting against the gag that suffocated her. When he reached her side, he fell to his knees to pull the cloth from her mouth. As she took a deep, shuddery breath, Vic began to untie her bonds. “Vic,” she sighed. “Right here,” he assured her. In the distance, he heard the wail of a police siren and sent a mental, ::Thanks,:: downstairs to his lover. The thin cords tying her arms and legs together proved difficult to undo, so Vic simply got his fingers under the rope and pulled until the threads ripped apart. Just as Vic broke the last cord, he heard a floor board creak behind him. Before he could turn around, a wooden chair from Mrs. K’s dining room came crashing down over his head and shoulders. Wood splintered against his back and rained down around him. Any other man would’ve been rendered unconscious from that blow, but Vic merely shook it off. Energy flared within him, imbuing him with super strength and, as he stood, he found himself growling in the back of his throat, a terrifying sound. The young thief took one look at Vic’s snarling face and fled. Outside, police cars blocked the street; their sirens wound down but their blue lights flashed through the windows, drenching the inside stairwell with flickering waves. Vic was 26

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content to let them catch the man… In his mind, he could see through the thief’s eyes as he raced down the stairs, saw the guests from his own dinner party hovering inside the open door to his apartment, saw Matt standing at the foot of the steps. One word flickered through the drug-induced mess of thought—hostage. Suddenly he felt the weight of a blade in the man’s pocket. Matty— No. Spurred into action, Vic threw himself down the hall. He tore off a part of the railing as he grabbed it, hard, then bolted down the steps. Matt stood on the bottom step, staring past the young man to Vic, a faint smile already on his face. In horror, Vic saw the thief reach into his pocket, felt those fingers curl around a switchblade, heard the faint zzrch as the blade flipped free. Without thinking, Vic launched himself at the thief’s back. He hit the man between the shoulders, and the blade dropped to clatter on the steps. They tumbled together to the base of the stairwell, Vic bearing down on the body beneath his, hands throttled tight around the man’s neck. “No,” he growled, over and over. Even when the man stopped fighting against him, Vic wouldn’t ease up, wouldn’t relax his grip. “No, no.” Not Matty. No. *

*

*

After the robber was led away in handcuffs, the police took statements from everyone in the building. From his perch on 27

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the bottom of the steps that led to Mrs. K’s apartment, Vic could hear his landlady fending off the well-meaning paramedics who tried to convince her to go to the emergency room. “I’m fine,” she snapped, her voice traveling out her open door and down the hall. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Which one of you dupas let my cats out? No one’s leaving until you bring them back. Glupeks zasranà, all of you.” “Mr. Braunson,” a police officer said, approaching Vic. He turned and frowned at her—she looked familiar, but Vic couldn’t place her immediately. In the space between his legs, Matt sat on a lower step, framed by Vic’s knees. Their guests had retreated into their apartment, their questioning over. Only Matt and Vic were left. With a pad of paper in one hand, the officer used her pen to scratch at the blonde hair behind one ear. “I just have a few questions,” she told him, her gaze flickering from him to Matt and back again. “If you don’t mind?” In a dull voice, Vic told her, “I already gave a statement.” With a glance around to ensure they were alone, the officer lowered her voice. “These are off the record.” Vic looked at her, waiting. She couldn’t meet his stare. Instead, she scribbled on her pad and frowned as she asked, “How’d you know the robber was upstairs?” It was Matt who answered. “We told you this already. We were having a dinner party and Vic thought he’d invite Mrs. K—” “So what,” the officer interrupted, “he went upstairs, saw 28

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the door open, came back down and had you call the cops? Because you made the call, Mr. diLorenzo, didn’t you? How’d that work, exactly?” Before Matt could reply, Vic surged to his feet. “This is stupid,” he announced, helping Matt stand. “You caught the criminal. Mrs. K is fine. We told you what we know. Before we answer anything else, I want to see a lawyer.” “That isn’t necessary,” the officer assured him. “You haven’t done anything wrong—” With a hand on Matt’s arm, Vic said, “Then if you don’t mind, we have guests to attend to, and I think you have a couple of cats to round up.” He glared at her until she took a step back. The way she drew her lips together told him this was far from over, but she didn’t stop them as Matt led him to their apartment and the dinner that had been interrupted.

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J. M. SNYDER

An author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J. M. Snyder began self-publishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has released several books in trade paperback format and has begun exploring the world of e-publishing, working with both Aspen Mountain Press and Amber Quill Press. Snyder’s highly erotic short gay fiction has been published online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Sticky Pen, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies by Aspen Mountain Press and Cleis Press. A full bibliography, as well as free fiction, book excerpts, purchasing information, and exclusive contests, can be found at: http://jmsnyder.net

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