WITH THIS RING
…Vic struggled to open his eyes, but the sheets were so warm around him, Matt’s voice so comforting and...
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WITH THIS RING
…Vic struggled to open his eyes, but the sheets were so warm around him, Matt’s voice so comforting and low, his hand on Vic’s chest soothing. It was hard to get riled up at the moment. Easing a hand out from beneath the covers, he touched Matt’s knee; instantly, his lover grasped that hand in his own, twining his fingers with Vic’s to raise it to his lips for a kiss. The damp imprint of his mouth cooled on Vic’s skin. With a hitching breath, Vic sighed, “Roxie.” Whatever else Vic planned to say was lost as his mind slipped back down into the confusing murk of his dreaming mind. He heard Matt chuckle as he kissed him again, and felt more than heard his lover whisper, “She likes you, you know?” ::She likes you,:: Vic corrected, his mouth too relaxed to form the words that spoke directly into his lover’s mind. ::If we weren’t together, you’d probably have to fend her off every day.:: Matt laughed. “You know,” he teased, leaning down over Vic to kiss his slack cheek, “I bet if we asked her to join us, like in a threesome, she’d do it.” That woke Vic up. His eyelids flew open again, widened in horror. His heart practically stopped in his chest. Was Matt serious? Did he really want someone else between them? Someone like her? But the gleam in his lover’s eyes told Vic he was only
kidding. “Oh jeez, the look on your face,” Matt said with a grin. “You didn’t really think—” “Don’t do that to me,” Vic growled. Relief coursed through him, so poignant it made him want to grasp Matty in a fierce hug and never let go. “Don’t even joke about it. God, it’s too damn early for that shit…”
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 Position Book VII: Kneeling Butterfly Position
WITH THIS RING BY J. M. SNYDER
AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com
WITH T HIS RING 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 978-1-60272-277-4 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
WITH THIS RING
CHAPTER 1 As he stood in line at the grocery store, Vic Braunson wished he’d thought to go shopping for New Year’s necessities earlier in the week. In his basket, he had various bottles of wine, some spreadable cheeses and gourmet crackers to put them on, fresh grapes, pineapple chunks, tortilla chips, fresh salsa…nothing that wouldn’t have held up in the fridge for a few days. But no, having the day off from work wasn’t enough reason for him to stay home. He had to let his lover Matt diLorenzo drag him out into the traffic and crowds that descended on shopping centers during any holiday. As if they hadn’t had their share of this madness the week prior, at Christmas. 1
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Now Vic waited in a line that he’d swear hadn’t moved since he pushed his cart into it, but a glance behind him showed he was luckier than most—the line stretched away down one of the aisles, with no real end in sight. At least Vic was close enough to the registers to think he’d get out of the store sometime before midnight. And he had reading material, if tabloids counted. He’d have someone to talk with, too, if Matt hadn’t run off to get a carton of eggs. “I’ll be right back,” he’d assured Vic…what, ten minutes ago? How long did it take to elbow through the old ladies crowding around the cold case? Vic felt someone staring at him and cast a mean glare around, only to find a small child in the next lane grinning his way. The child was a little girl, three or so, whose gossamer blonde curls peeked from beneath a blue woolen cap that matched her eyes. For a moment Vic studied her, unnerved. She reminded him of his sister, Mary, whom he’d last seen…when? God, he didn’t know how long it had been. Twenty years, easily, maybe more. Just thinking of her again bothered him. With a hooded expression, Vic glowered at the child. Her eyes widened at his pissy look, then she laughed and clapped her hands, as if he’d just done a trick. Under his breath, he growled softly. Her laughter broke around him like glass. Running a hand down his face, Vic stretched out with his mind and tried to find his lover’s consciousness in the mad rush of the store. ::Matty, where the hell did you get to?:: A warm rush of love filled Vic, causing him to stagger 2
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against his cart from the sheer weight of the emotion. He felt invisible arms encircle his chest, and his lover’s psyche pressed against him, heavy, unseen. ::Just grabbing a few things,:: his lover replied. An image flashed in Vic’s mind— the eggs Matt had gone off in search of but also a carton of milk, some wrapping paper marked down after the holiday, a few other items that looked like impulse buys to Vic. What more did they need to get? This was just supposed to be a quick stop to pick up some things to help ring in the new year… Vic saw Matt reach for a bag of freshly ground coffee. ::This is on sale,:: Matt told him, juggling the items he held in his arms to make room for the coffee. ::You like this kind.:: ::I’m getting lonely here,:: Vic admitted. Then, to his surprise, the line in front of him moved, bringing him a step closer to the register. ::Come on, Matty. I’m next in line.:: His lips tingled as if kissed. ::Be right there. This is a good deal, though. I can’t just pass it up.:: Vic groaned and rolled his eyes. Leave it to his lover to continue shopping when they were already halfway out the door. He’s lucky I love him like I do. In the lane beside him, the little girl laughed again. Without thinking, Vic dipped into her mind and found her name, Kayley. She was three, though in her thoughts, that number was associated with four fingers. She loved her cat, her mom, and the blue hat she wore, and for some reason when she looked at Vic, she thought of pink bubbles. Vic, with his shaved head, black tribal tattoo curved around one 3
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temple, and multiple piercings that winked from his ears and eyebrows. Vic, whose trim goatee gave him a devilish appearance and whose arms bulged with muscles beneath a black leather jacket covered with silver chains and spiked studs. Pink bubbles? What the hell? With a shake of his head, he dismissed her. Since he’d become telepathic, he’d realized most people didn’t have anything much going on inside their minds. Just random thoughts or snippets of songs or strange images Vic couldn’t begin to understand. It had taken him months to learn to tune all that shit out. The only person whose mind he cared about was Matt’s. Which was fitting, really, since it was Matt who gave him the ability to read minds in the first place. It came from loving Matt, literally. Something in his semen sparked superhuman powers in Vic, for some reason neither of them had yet figured out. But since they’d been together, Vic had found himself the recipient of a plethora of abilities that seemed to come straight out of comic books. The telepathy was just one of them, and the most constant. It had appeared the first time they consummated their relationship, along with a super power that enhanced Vic’s already impressive strength. Before he met Matt, he could bench-press more than anyone else at the gym where he worked out. Now, after Matt? He could lift a city bus without breaking a sweat. They’d been together five years now. Vic had grown used to the powers, though every time they made love it was like a game of Russian roulette. What ability would he get next? In 4
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the beginning, Vic had thought the power he drew depended only on their position during sex, but over time, he realized other factors came into play as well. What they wore, what they thought, where they were. Sex standing in the shower at home gave him the ability to fly, but a slower fuck in the showers at the gym made him phase through solid objects. Missionary style in the bedroom, Matt on top, made Vic invisible; the same position, on the living room floor, with Vic straddled above his lover, gave him a form of heat-ray vision that had burned his hands before he’d learned to control it. The powers ran the gamut from awesome to crappy, and more than once Vic had called in sick to work because of them. Vic thought them an annoyance, nothing more—he loved Matt, utterly and completely, and refused to let something as stupid as the powers bestowed upon him during sex tear them apart. Matt, on the other hand, hated the powers, particularly when they put Vic in danger. But what was Vic supposed to do? Leave a woman trapped in her fiery car after a crash on the interstate, when he could tear through the metal and get her out? Ignore the pleas of children whose school bus dangled precariously on the edge of a bridge when he could hold the vehicle aloft with his mind while they escaped safely? Pretend he couldn’t help out when people so obviously needed him? The powers came from Matt, yes. They were his gift, Vic knew that. But when he found himself in a position where he was needed, where his abilities would save lives…how would he ever be able to live with himself if he turned his back on that responsibility? 5
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*
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The line shuffled forward again, bringing Vic closer to the register. Now he stood just outside the gauntlet of trashy magazines and candy bars that grocery stores stocked at the front to entice customers. Turning his back on the little girl, who still laughed at him for whatever reason, Vic frowned at the magazines and sent out another mental probe to find his lover. Matt was in the frozen section, debating over microwavable potato skins or a spinach-artichoke dip. His arms overflowed with things he’d picked up as he ran around the store. When he felt Vic’s presence in his mind, Matt asked, ::What do you think? The dip would be good on those chips we have.:: ::We don’t really need it,:: Vic told him. ::We picked up some salsa already. I thought we were done shopping.:: Matt laughed. An image filled Vic’s head—the bright yellow price tag hanging below a box of the potato skins. ::They’re on sale.:: That phrase was Matt’s catch-all answer whenever they went shopping. Which is why I usually stay home, Vic thought as he glanced over the tabloids. Celebrities he didn’t know paraded across the covers, and headlines splashed like shocked exclamations cried out for Vic’s attention. Every magazine seemed to have the same people on it, each story conflicting with the others. So-and-so’s pregnant; no, she’s not. This one does drugs; no, wait, he’s in rehab. One moment she’s overweight, the next she’s anorexic. Who read this shit? Who really cared? 6
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He felt a nudge in his thoughts, and then Matt prompted, ::Vic? Which should I buy?:: Vic shrugged, then realized his lover wasn’t around to see the gesture. ::Get them both,:: he told Matt, ::if they’re on sale. It’s not like they’ll go to waste.:: Down near the bottom of the magazine rack, the word GAY caught his eye. Vic squatted to peer at Weird World News , a tabloid that tried to give itself an air of legitimacy with its black and white newsprint format. Or maybe the magazine was too broke to afford color ink—instead of the usual celebrity gossip that graced the covers of the other magazines, this one seemed to thrive on Bigfoot sightings and alien abductions. The headline that had snagged Vic’s attention started, Inmate says ex-GAY lover… The rest was hidden behind the plastic guard that held the magazine in place. Because he was bored, and because the words were written in such cheesy, lurid letters, Vic tugged a copy of the tabloid free from the rack. He smoothed down the cover, read the full headline, and felt a rush of adrenaline flood his system and cloud his mind. Elsewhere in the store, Matt felt the change and misinterpreted it. ::I’m almost there,:: he assured his lover. ::I see the cart. Where are you?:: Vic stood, tabloid fisted in his hands. Paper tore around his fingers as his thoughts whirled out in every direction. He didn’t. Oh, God, he didn’t. The headline twisted beneath Vic’s angry grip… *
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Inmate says ex-GAY lover gave him SUPER POWERS during SEX. *
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*
Only a handful of people knew of Matt’s ability. Matt himself, of course. Vic. A police officer Vic had confided in a year and a half earlier when Matt had been kidnapped. And the former friend who had stolen Matt from Vic because he wanted Matt’s powers for himself. Jordan Dubrowski. Currently serving back-to-back sentences in a maximum-security prison for multiple offenses, among them abduction, attempted rape, intent to sodomize, and sexual assault. With hands that trembled from barely suppressed rage, Vic tore through the tabloid. He found the story near the end—one page of cramped typeset and a grainy photo of a shadowy man behind bars was all the publication allowed in the article. Jordan’s name wasn’t mentioned, but Vic knew it was him, it had to be him. The story opened, In the heart of Virginia… And three paragraphs in, Vic saw his lover’s name in stark letters. Shit. Items clattered into the shopping cart behind Vic. He glanced over his shoulder to find Matt grinning at him, black curls disheveled as he ran a hand through them to push them out of his face. His dark green eyes shone bright with happiness, as if this were the only place he wanted to be. Leaning across the basket, he smoothed a hand up under the 8
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hem of Vic’s jacket and scratched his nails over the small of Vic’s back. “Hey, sexy. Miss me?” Vic didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he turned, and Matt’s hand eased around his waist to rub through Vic’s Tshirt over his taut stomach. The ticklish touch barely registered in Vic’s swirling mind. Thrusting the tabloid toward his lover, Vic demanded, “Look at this.” For a moment, Matt studied the cover of the tabloid. His gaze roamed over the newsprint, obviously trying to find whatever it was Vic wanted him to see. Finally, he said, “I know Mrs. K has a lot of cats, and I’ll admit I don’t understand half of what she says when she goes off in Polish, but do you really think that makes her a witch? With a lust to take over the world, even? I mean, she’s pretty old.” Vic released the cover, exposing the headline about the super-powered lover. Matt’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened into a perfect O of surprise. All silliness dropped away when he asked in a low voice, “You don’t think—” “How many other guys out there do you know with superhuman sperm?” Vic held onto the tabloid when Matt tried to take it. He didn’t know if he wanted to rip it up into a million unreadable shreds, or call the number on the masthead and cuss out the reporter who wrote the story. Both actions had their merits. “Maybe it’s a joke,” Matt offered. “I mean, look at this rag. No one reads it. None of these other stories are true. Maybe it’s not even about me.” Vic opened the tabloid to the article and pointed to Matt’s 9
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name halfway down the page. Just in case Matt didn’t see it, Vic read aloud, “‘We met in high school. His name was M. diLorenzo, and his parents were friends with mine.’” If it were possible, Matt’s mouth gaped wider in disbelief. “He’s incarcerated in Virginia,” Vic said. “He admits to kidnapping you, and that’s why he’s in jail. He tells how he found you—” “He just says my last name,” Matt whispered, but there was an undercurrent of fear in his words. Vic felt it in his lover’s thoughts. Fear of discovery. It made his normally strong voice tremble. “Maybe no one will know it’s me.” With a derisive snort, Vic muttered, “Because diLorenzo is such a common name. He says you live in Richmond. He says you’re a swim instructor at a local gym. He does everything short of broadcasting your Social Security number in this damn article, Matty. Anyone with an Internet connection and half a brain could find you from this.” It finally sunk in. Vic watched Matt’s face crumple like a used tissue, and the hand holding the tabloid released it to seek out Vic’s sure grip instead. As his fingers curled into Vic’s, Matt took a hitching breath, then let it out in a sad sigh. “Fuck. I thought we were through with him.” Vic had thought so, too. As he stood there trying to find something encouraging to say, Matt squeezed his hand and looked up at his lover, fear still plainly etched on his face. In a small voice, he whispered, “So now everyone knows.” Panic gripped Vic. He spun around, eyes scanning the crowd, sure Matt was right, everyone did know. Who else would try to steal his Matty away now? Who among these 10
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people simply waited for a chance to take his powers as their own? Vic would have to be vigilant, on constant guard, if he hoped to protect Matt from…from… The rest of the world. No one met Vic’s roaming gaze. Shoppers in line stood with their baskets, bored expressions on their bland faces. None of them huddled together, throwing glances Matt’s way, as if conspiring to snatch him up. Maybe if Vic bought all the copies of the tabloid, no one would be able to read the article. How many copies could the store have on the shelves? How many more in the stock room? And how many stores carry this title? He frowned at the cover of the tabloid, still clutched tight in his fist. In how many cities? You can’t buy every single copy of this issue, you just can’t. Concentrate on what you can do and keep Matt safe. Oh, like he had when Jordan abducted his lover. It had taken him more than twenty-four hours to locate Matt, a fact for which he’d never forgive himself. For months afterward, Vic had refused to let Matt out of his sight, and even now, he hated to let Matt go anywhere but the gym without an escort. And now the gym’s off-limits, too. If I ever meet up with Jordan again, he’s dead. Skirting the shopping cart, Matt pressed against Vic for some measure of comfort. “What are we going to do?” Buy all the copies. Vic still liked that thought, but another look around assured him that none of the shoppers in the lanes nearby even seemed to notice the stupid publication. Maybe Matty had 11
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been right—maybe no one did read this garbage. But the moment Vic went around scooping up all the copies, someone would notice and wonder why he bothered. People would begin grabbing issues for themselves, and he would only draw attention to the one thing he wanted no one else to see. Matt’s hand in his tightened. “Vic?” Rolling up the tabloid, Vic dropped it into their basket. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Not just yet. You’re probably right, Matty. No one reads this trash.” “But my name is in it.” Matt’s eyes had a dazed look, as if this couldn’t be happening to him. “You said it yourself. Anyone in the world could Google me using the information in that article and they’d find me in two seconds. Jordan found me through the paper. You don’t think they have archives online? Type in diLorenzo and Richmond and see how many hits you get. I guarantee they all lead to me.” Vic ran an arm around Matt’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight, one-armed hug. “Calm down,” he murmured, planting a brusque kiss on his lover’s temple. “Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it.” Then, remembering they were in public, he let his hand drop to the middle of Matt’s back. When the line in front of them moved, he guided Matt along with it. At the counter now, Vic began to unload their groceries onto the conveyor belt. Matt hesitated, then followed suit. “What about when I’m at work?” he wanted to know. “Jordan called me there.” “I’ll take you to work,” Vic assured him. “And pick you up in the evening on my way home from the garage. Is Roxie still 12
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screening your calls?” When Jordan first found Matt, he’d called the gym twice. Both calls had unnerved Matt, and he arranged for the gym’s receptionist to only send back calls she knew were legitimate. Since then, Matt’s office phone rarely rang. One time he’d overheard Roxie questioning his chlorine supplier, and thought maybe she had a sadistic streak that thrived on such interrogation. “Who’s calling?” she asked, and then, “From where? Who are you with? What is the nature of your business? What’s your phone number? Is it important he speaks with you today?” He received all his calls on little pink pieces of paper now, and the only person ever patched through to his office was Vic. Vic picked that memory from Matt’s mind and grinned. The gesture felt plastic and fake to him, but it eased the tension running through his lover’s body, if just a little. Vic felt Matt’s muscles relax through the psychic connection they shared. “You’ll be fine, then. She’ll keep them at bay, and if anyone gets past her, I’ll kick their ass.” Matt sighed. “Vic—” But Vic silenced him with another quick kiss, this one on the lips. He didn’t care who saw it. “What do you think I have these powers for?” he asked Matt. “Why do you think you give them to me? To protect you. That’s my sole mission in life, Matty, and I learned it the hard way. I won’t lose you again. Not to anyone.”
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CHAPTER 2 As Vic drove them home, Matt read the full article in the car. Though Jordan’s name was never mentioned, Matt knew it had to be him. He could practically hear the asshole’s voice in his mind as he read the words on the paper. And the fact that the fucker gave out his name, Christ! Why not just call him “Matt?” Why “M. diLorenzo?” According to the reporter, the partial use of his name was to protect his identity, but Vic was right—how many diLorenzos were there in Virginia? It wasn’t exactly an everyday, household name. There was only one diLorenzo listed in the phone book, and that was his father. Thank God his name is David. If it were Mark or Michael 14
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or anything that started with an M, people would think Matt’s father was the one mentioned in the article and, Jesus, but he didn’t even want to think about that. Matt suppressed a shudder at the thought of the phone calls his parents were likely to get. They knew their only son was gay, but he didn’t think they’d find it very funny if anonymous strangers began calling to hook up with him. Should he tell them himself then? Give them a head’s up about what might happen in the next few days? “Hey, Mom, Dad, remember that kid Jordan I used to know back in high school? You probably never knew we were sexually active back then—I mean, we were just teenagers, what did we know? But now he’s told a tabloid that he got super powers from me when we fucked and I’m thinking maybe someone might call the house looking to get in touch with me—you know, someone who wants those powers for himself. So if that happens, can you just tell them you don’t know me? Thanks, I love you, bye.” Yeah, that would go over big. His mom was still adjusting to Vic’s presence in Matt’s life; she had no clue about the powers. It was a part of himself Matt had kept from his parents—hell, from the world. He’d discovered his strange ability with Jordan, but he never told anyone about it before Vic. He’d never trusted anyone else the way he trusted his lover. The secret had been safe between them. Until now. Pulling to a stop in front of their apartment building, Vic yanked up the parking brake and flicked his hand at the paper 15
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in Matt’s grip. “Put that thing away, will you?” he asked as he turned off the car. “You can’t let him get to you.” “Easy for you to say.” Matt folded the paper in half again and again, until it was a bulky square he shoved into one of the plastic grocery bags at his feet. “Your name’s not in it.” Vic had started to step out of the car. At Matt’s muttered words, he froze; a moment later, he pulled his leg back inside the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Matt pouted at Vic as his lover turned toward him, the look on his face thunderous. “I’m sorry,” Matt sighed. “I’m just shook up right now, Vic. You know that. I don’t mean to take it out on you—” “Matty.” Vic’s steady voice reverberated through him, accompanied by a mental rush of love that ignited Matt’s veins like lines of kerosene. “Listen. You’re right, it’s not my name in there. It’s yours. And that matters more to me than if they’d printed the number to my cell beneath the words For a Good Time Call. I can deal with idiots tracking me down through that paper. I can protect myself. It’s you I’m worried about.” A dull anger rose in Matt. It wasn’t Vic’s fault, he tried to remind himself, but that was cold comfort. His name was in that paper, his secret blabbed to the world. “I’m sure I’ll handle it,” he muttered, crossing his arms in a huff. “I lived on my own for quite a while without your help, Vic. I’m not completely helpless.” His lover sighed, and his next words spoke directly into Matt’s mind. ::I know you’re not, Matty. But I will be if I lose you.:: 16
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A tentative hand stretched across the gear shift to touch Matt’s leg. Strong fingers curled around his knee, but there was something so needy in that gesture, something so loving, that Matt’s anger dispersed before it. This was not Vic’s fault. Unfurling his arms, he eased his fingers into his lover’s palm, then raised that hand to his lips and kissed the rough knuckles. With a slow smile, he gave Vic a shy glance and tugged on his hand, pulling him closer. “Come here, you.” Vic’s mouth closed over his in a real kiss, more meaningful than the quick pecks they’d stolen at the store. As Vic’s tongue eased between Matt’s lips, tasting him, claiming him, Matt ran his arms around his lover’s broad shoulders and pulled him close, closer, until Vic was half in the passenger seat, pressing Matt back against the car door. Between kisses, Vic murmured, “That paper’s going in the trash the minute we get inside.” Matt ran a hand down Vic’s chest, over his belly, over his belt buckle, to fist around the growing bulge at his crotch. Unzipping Vic’s jeans, Matt delved into his lover’s fly, between the flap on his briefs, to take Vic’s stiffening dick in his hand. As his fingers encircled his lover’s shaft, Vic’s eyes slipped shut and a lusty moan escaped his throat. Suddenly he was nuzzling Matt’s neck, licking him, sucking, as his hips thrust against Matt’s hand. With a breathy laugh, Matt teased, “If that’s the first thing you want to do when we’re finally alone…” Teeth nipped at Matt’s neck in a sexy, playful bite. “You said we had to wait,” Vic reminded him. “You wanted to make 17
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love on the stroke of midnight, remember? Our anniversary.” Massaging the front of Vic’s jeans, Matt kissed his lover’s earring-studded lobe and blew softly in his ear. Vic shuddered above him, arms grasping Matt to pull him close. “What’s wrong with a little foreplay?” Before Vic could answer, Matt added, “Inside.” Vic reached behind him and opened the car door. Matt tumbled out to land on his backside on the curb. The chill from the sidewalk immediately seeped through his jeans, and he laughed as Vic clambered from the car. His lover’s face was slack with lust, and the fly on his jeans gaped open, the pink tip of his cock peeking out. As the cold December air played over the sensitive skin, Vic’s dick jerked to attention. Vic’s voice was thick with desire when he growled, “Lead the way.” “Hello to you, too,” Matt joked. “You’re dangling.” “What?” Standing, Vic glanced down and saw his erection jutting from his crotch. Quickly he tucked it back into his pants and zipped up. “Shit. You’re going to get me in trouble, flashing the whole neighborhood.” Matt held his arms out to his lover. “Help me up and you can flash me inside.” Vic grunted as he took Matt’s hands in his and hauled his lover up off the sidewalk. “You’ve seen it before.” With a hungry kiss that made Vic stumble back against the car, Matt purred, “Show me again.” *
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Waiting had been Matt’s idea, a way to make their anniversary special, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jonesing for a piece of his man. The last time they’d made love had been the evening of Christmas Eve; true, it’d been only one week, but Matt had never thought he’d live through those seven long days. They’d still slept together, nude bodies twined together in the bed they shared, and they’d showered together, lathering each other until they were soapy and hard, but anything more than flirtatious teasing had been off limits. “You came up with this,” Vic reminded him every time he’d tried to take a casual kiss too far. “You said you wanted to wait.” “I hate waiting.” His whole body yearned for Vic’s, to the point where just hearing his lover’s voice on the phone gave him an erection. “I want you now.” But December 31st rolled around soon enough, and though every fiber of Matt’s being sizzled at the thought of celebratory sex to ring in the new year, a small part of his mind couldn’t stop dwelling on Jordan and that damn tabloid article. All throughout dinner he brooded, giving Vic a wan smile whenever his lover tried to engage his interest. When they finished eating, he retreated to the living room and flipped through the channels on the TV, distracted, as Vic cleaned up the dishes. Matt was so lost in his own moody thoughts that he didn’t hear the water cut off in the kitchen sink, nor the cork pop when Vic opened the first bottle of wine. He glanced up only as his lover approached, fluted glasses 19
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in one hand, a bottle of Chardonnay in the other. With a smoldering gaze, Vic asked, “You ready for the new year?” “If it means getting drunk and getting laid,” Matt said with a laugh as he took one of the glasses from Vic, “I’m so there.” Matt liked alcohol simply because it made him horny. He suspected Vic liked it for the same reason. His lover poured two generous glasses of the white wine, then dimmed the lamp at the end of the couch before sinking down beside Matt. The bottle sat on the coffee table before them, and the moment Vic got himself situated, Matt cuddled up against him. He clinked their glasses together in a quick toast as Vic draped an arm across his shoulders. “Here’s to us.” While Matt drank, Vic kissed his forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice gruff with emotion. The words were almost lost in Matt’s hair, but he heard them in his mind, in his heart. Without lowering his glass, he mentally replied, ::Oh, Vic. I love you, too.:: *
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He downed the first glass in minutes, and poured himself a healthy refill while Vic nursed his own wine. They huddled together on the couch, the glow from the TV turning the wine crystalline. Sometime after Matt drained the last of the bottle into his glass, his hands began to roam across his lover’s lap, poking and prodding, teasing. Grasping the bunched fabric at the crotch of Vic’s jeans, Matt joked, “Is this present for me? Can I open it?” “You wanted to wait.” 20
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But Matt shook his head. “I don’t always get what I want. It’s close enough, isn’t it?” His fingers plucked at Vic’s zipper, easing it down an inch. “Oops.” Vic laughed and caught Matt’s hand in his. “Oops, my ass.” “Well,” Matt breathed, leaning toward Vic to nuzzle his chin, “since you brought it up…” Vic kissed the tip of Matt’s nose, then obliged when Matt raised his face to catch the next kiss on his lips. “I think we need less clothes,” Vic sighed. “What do you think?” Matt’s head buzzed pleasantly from his lover’s closeness and the alcohol humming through his system. “I think we need more wine.” A warm smile spread across Vic’s face. “Tell you what,” he said, sitting up. Matt clung to him, unwilling to let the moment end, but Vic had other ideas. He handed his still-full glass of wine to Matt, then stood to stretch. “You finish that, and open another bottle if you want.” “Where are you going?” Matt asked, frowning as he drank the rest of Vic’s wine. “Bathroom.” Vic ran a hand through Matt’s curls, tousling them. “Let me freshen up a bit. Then I have a man to please.” Matt laughed. “That man better be me, or whoever’s waiting in the bathroom for you is so dead.” Leaning down, Vic gave him a lingering kiss that tasted as heady and alcoholic as the wine. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Wait for me.” “I ain’t doing it myself,” Matt assured him. 21
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He sank back to the couch, the empty wine glass forgotten in his hand, as he watched Vic disappear down the hall. The TV was a blur of motion and color he couldn’t quite pin down, and the darkened room only added to his drowsiness. Despite the urge to doze, his whole body jittered with nervous energy, as if electricity had replaced his blood to zoom through his veins. In the confines of his sweat pants, his cock throbbed with a steady pulse, and he eased down on the couch a little, letting his balls slip between his thighs. Squeezing his legs together sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. Absently, his hand drifted to clutch at his crotch, and he let out a low moan as he fisted his length through his pants. No, he’d rather wait. With great difficulty, he let go of his dick, reaching for his empty wine glass instead. Shaking his head to clear it, Matt pushed himself up from the couch and stumbled into the coffee table when he tried to snag the wine bottle. It fell on its side and rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud. Matt watched it roll beneath the table. “Whoops.” Two seconds later, a similar sound came from the apartment below them—their neighbor banging on the ceiling. In his bare feet, Matt stomped on the floor. “Oh, fuck off!” he called out. Vic’s voice spoke directly into his mind. ::Matty? You all right in there?:: ::Asshole downstairs,:: Matt replied, as if that were answer enough. Skirting the coffee table, he considered retrieving the wine bottle from beneath it, but when he bent over to find it, 22
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he staggered forward, thrown off balance. The hell with it. Let Vic get the bottle. Matt shuffled into the kitchen. It took him three tries to turn on the light switch with his elbow, but he didn’t want to set the wine glasses down and maybe break one in the process. Once the light flickered on, he placed the glasses carefully into the sink, where they couldn’t fall to the floor and shatter. Leaning on the counter, he stooped to retrieve another bottle of wine—a dark Burgundy, this time—and caught sight of newsprint sticking out from the trash can by the sink. The tabloid. As he stood, Matt snagged the paper out of the garbage. Vic had folded it in half and tucked it to one side of the can; there was a dollop of steak sauce on the back page, leftover from dinner, but Matt shucked off the cover and dropped it back into the trash. He just wanted to read the article one last time—he had to. He flipped through the tabloid quickly, looking for the grainy photograph of a prison cell that already haunted him. The words swam out at him, maddening. His own name seemed written in neon letters, flashing in time with the beat of his heart. Why the phone wasn’t ringing off the hook already, Matt had no clue. It wouldn’t surprise him if Dick Clark interrupted the Times Square festivities for the breaking news story: Man in Virginia with Super Powered Sperm. More at Eleven. Suddenly a firm hand pulled the paper from Matt’s grip. He turned to find Vic standing there, naked, his hard dick 23
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standing up from his shaved crotch. “Matty,” he sighed. “I thought we threw this away.” Matt’s gaze was drawn to his lover’s genitalia, the plumcolored tip of his thick cock, the hairless sac that hung beneath it. His mouth dried with lust, and his thoughts shut down on anything that wasn’t the two of them locked in a passionate embrace. When Vic said his name a second time, Matt mumbled, “I was getting more wine.” “That’s not an answer,” Vic told him. Balling up the tabloid, he turned and shoved it deep into the garbage. Matt stared at his lover’s plump ass and struggled against the urge to fall to his knees, pressing his face between those buttocks, licking and sucking and tasting Vic’s tender places. Almost absently, Matt tugged at the waistband of his sweat pants, wanting them off. The second bottle of wine could wait until another night. Right now, he wanted Vic in as many ways as he could have him, and then he wanted to snuggle up to his lover and sleep well into the new year. But the muscles in Vic’s ass were clenched in anger. “It took me months to get him out of your head,” he was saying. “I won’t have him between us tonight. I just won’t.” Reaching out, Matt touched the small of Vic’s back, where a tattooed dragon crouched at the base of Vic’s spine. He felt the muscles bunched beneath his hand, and trailed his fingers up Vic’s back to soothe his lover. “Vic, please,” he sighed. “It’s just you and me.” Vic stood, a sad look on his face. Matt placed his hand against Vic’s cheek, cradling it. When Vic leaned into his 24
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touch, Matt gave him a slow smile. “Cut me some slack here, big guy. I’ve had a full bottle of wine and you’re asking me why I pulled something out of the trash? Like I know?” At Vic’s smirk, Matt rubbed his hand over his lover’s bald head, down the back of his neck, and added, “You know I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze and yet you go and get me drunk. So what are you gonna do about it? Huh?” Vic’s grin turned devilish. “Oh, like it’s my fault.” “You’re the naked one,” Matt pointed out. “Obviously, you have something in mind.” Their lips met in a velvet crush, and Matt ran both arms around his lover’s neck, pulling him close. The press of their bodies ignited his blood. He leaned into Vic heavily, hungry for more than just mere kisses. Into Vic’s mind, Matt projected one thought. ::I’ve been waiting forever.:: ::Seven days,:: Vic replied. His hands roamed down Matt’s back, into his sweat pants, and over his ass to cup his buttocks. The fleece-lined fabric was pushed out of the way as Vic rubbed Matt’s firm cheeks. Their kiss deepened; Vic’s tongue laid claim to Matt, demanding in its insistence, and Matt gave into the moment, the man. With a shake of his hips, his sweat pants dropped to mid-thigh, then to his knees. His unsheathed cock pressed against Vic’s own with a sweet ache, twin erections caught between hard bodies, throbbing for release. When the sweat pants drooped lower, Matt raised one leg to step out of them; Vic caught it and held it against his side. Matt moaned into Vic, growing desperate in his need, spurred 25
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on by the sensation of his lover’s bare flesh against his inner thigh, the hand holding his knee aloft, the aura of safety and love that enveloped him. ::I want you,:: he told Vic. ::I want in you, now.:: Vic chuckled against Matt’s mouth, then kissed his way down his lover’s throat to suckle his neck. “Now,” Matt sighed, pressing as much of his body as he could to Vic’s. “Right now. I’m serious.” “I like you like this,” Vic admitted. His breath tickled the hollow of Matt’s throat. “So needy. So mine. We should wait more often.” Clinging to Vic, Matt wrapped his leg around his lover’s waist, then raised the other to latch onto Vic’s hip, until he sat in the palms that kneaded his buttocks. He caught Vic’s face between his hands and touched his forehead to his lover’s to stare deep into his eyes. Though the rest of the world swam away drunkenly, those bright blue orbs were fixed and focused… on him. Right where they belonged. “I want you now.” Vic gave him one last kiss, then carried him from the kitchen to the bedroom. The lamp on Vic’s bedside table cast a golden glow that held back the shadows in the darkened room. Gently, Matt found himself lowered to the bed, where the covers were already turned down. So Vic had been busy when he’d gone to the bathroom. Kicking off his sweat pants completely, Matt crawled under the covers, then moved over to make room for his lover. “Right here, sexy,” he said, patting the cool sheet beside him. “Let me have a piece of you.” 26
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His lover needed no further prompting. He lay down beside Matt and, for a moment, they simply stared at each other, Vic’s face draped in shadow as Matt blocked out the light. He felt a firm presence caress his mind—Vic, probably searching for some remnant of Jordan, but there was only one man in Matt’s thoughts. Satisfied, Vic grabbed the front of Matt’s shirt and pulled him down for a long, ardent kiss. Without protest, Matt let Vic lay him back against the pillows, and Vic straddled him, his weight welcome. Tugging off Matt’s shirt, Vic tossed it aside, then lay down over his lover to continue their kisses. ::Vic, please,:: Matt pleaded, gripping Vic’s knees in both hands. ::I need you.:: His eyes slipped shut. The sensations of being loved flooded him—the kisses seemed ethereal, the body on his dreamlike and vague. The wine was catching up with him now, one bottle—two?—sloshing through his system and dulling his mind. He felt warm and safe and comforted, and he wanted nothing more than to lie forever in his lover’s embrace. As if from miles away, he felt a cool gel trickle over the head of his dick, then firm hands encircled his shaft and worked the gel along his length. It warmed beneath the touch. “Don’t you dare fall out on me here, Matty,” Vic growled, his hands massaging Matt’s cock and balls. Each stroke was like the insistent pull of a magnet, drawing Matt up out of his drowsy state to a place where his blood sang and his body cried out for release. Matt clawed at Vic’s knees, his hips rising off the bed to thrust into Vic’s slick hands. He felt as if he were already asleep and this was 27
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just an orgasmic wet dream, his lover above him, positioning himself over Matt’s hard cock, then the tight heat of his buttocks as he sat down to take Matt in. Matt gasped, his mind crying out in pleasure as Vic’s muscles clenched around his thick dick. ::Yes.:: In this position, Vic did all the work. He moved above Matt like a god, sliding along Matt’s cock as he kissed the very breath from Matt’s lips. The most Matt had to do was hang on—he embraced his lover, held him tight, and thrust into him with a slow, steady rhythm that only enhanced the dreaminess of the moment. ::Yes,:: he thought, the words passing between them as if they were spoken out loud. ::Yes. God, Vic. Yes, yes!:: When Vic sensed Matt’s impending orgasm, he sat back, placing himself firmly on his lover’s crotch to take in Matt’s full length. Then Vic moved his hips in a circular fashion, grinding his buttocks into Matt’s groin as he stroked his own cock. Matt thrust off the bed, driving into Vic, moaning with delight. “God!” he cried out, pushing in harder, deeper, until he came in a heated rush that left him drained and spent. His lover climaxed in a hot splash of cum that cooled on Matt’s lower belly. He felt a gentle hand wipe his stomach clean, then Vic lay beside him again, careful not to let Matt’s wilted cock slip from him just yet. Strong arms enveloped him, drew him close. Burying his face in Vic’s smooth chest, Matt let the faint sound of his lover’s heartbeat lull him to sleep. 28
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CHAPTER 3 The holidays were over all too soon, and before Vic knew it, he had to get back to work. On the second of January, he woke to a gentle kiss as his lover’s thoughts brushed over his still-sleeping mind. ::See you tonight.:: Vic murmured in assent. A warm hand rubbed his shoulder through the comforter that covered his nude body, the touch sealing the promise in those words. Tonight… With a jolt, Vic opened his eyes, awake. Matt sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, a faint smile on his face that Vic could just barely discern in the dim room. Diffused silver light glowed like a nimbus around the edges of the closed curtains, not quite reaching the bed. Random images flickered 29
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through Vic’s stagnant brain, trying to find something to connect with, something to explain the urgency that swirled through his veins. Matt, leaving for work. Early morning. A newspaper, a phone. The tabloid. Picking up on Vic’s discomfort, Matt gave his shoulder a playful squeeze. “What is it?” Vic shook his head, trying to clear it, but he had never been the most alert person upon waking. It usually took him an hour or so to get his bearings together and get on with his day. But that damn tabloid had printed Matt’s name, and Vic had promised… “I’m taking you to work.” Matt’s smile widened. “Vic, please. You’re not even dressed.” “My robe,” Vic answered, as if that settled it. But Matt eased him back to the bed, and planted a quick kiss on the top of his bald head. “I’ll be fine,” he assured Vic. “It’s been what, two days? Three? And how long was that paper in the store before we saw it? No one’s called here looking for me.” When his head touched the pillow, Vic felt the morning creep up on him and his whole body felt too weary to face the day. “Phone’s in my name,” he muttered. “Lease is, too. But the gym—” “I’ll be fine,” Matt said again. “Roxie’s fielding my calls, remember? She’s harder to get around than the Secret Service, I swear.” “Hmm.” Vic struggled to open his eyes, but the sheets 30
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were so warm around him, Matt’s voice so comforting and low, his hand on Vic’s chest soothing. It was hard to get riled up at the moment. Easing a hand out from beneath the covers, he touched Matt’s knee; instantly, his lover grasped that hand in his own, twining his fingers with Vic’s to raise it to his lips for a kiss. The damp imprint of his mouth cooled on Vic’s skin. With a hitching breath, Vic sighed, “Roxie.” Whatever else Vic planned to say was lost as his mind slipped back down into the confusing murk of his dreaming mind. He heard Matt chuckle as he kissed him again, and felt more than heard his lover whisper, “She likes you, you know?” ::She likes you,:: Vic corrected, his mouth too relaxed to form the words that spoke directly into his lover’s mind. ::If we weren’t together, you’d probably have to fend her off every day.:: Matt laughed. “You know,” he teased, leaning down over Vic to kiss his slack cheek, “I bet if we asked her to join us, like in a threesome, she’d do it.” That woke Vic up. His eyelids flew open again, widened in horror. His heart practically stopped in his chest. Was Matt serious? Did he really want someone else between them? Someone like her? But the gleam in his lover’s eyes told Vic he was only kidding. “Oh jeez, the look on your face,” Matt said with a grin. “You didn’t really think—” “Don’t do that to me,” Vic growled. Relief coursed 31
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through him, so poignant it made him want to grasp Matty in a fierce hug and never let go. “Don’t even joke about it. God, it’s too damn early for that shit.” Matt laughed again as he nuzzled against Vic’s neck. “There’s my gruff grizzly. What do you have planned for today, papa bear?” Vic let Matt’s kisses placate him, and slowly his heart began to beat again. Making an effort to sit up, Vic said, “Taking you to work.” “Oh, hush.” With his hands firm on Vic’s shoulders, Matt pinned him down to the bed. “How about this? I’ll call you the minute I park the car, all right? You can keep me on the phone until I go inside. How’s that sound?” To Vic, it didn’t sound very reassuring. “If something happens—” “Nothing will happen,” Matt assured him. “Who reads that stupid tabloid anyway? No one’s going to buy it if it doesn’t have Britney Spears on the cover, and you know it. I’ll be fine.” Grudgingly, Vic let Matt kiss away his protests. “I’ll call you when I pull into the parking lot,” Matt promised. “Question is, will you be up?” The press of his lover’s body above his did delicious things to Vic’s libido, and he shifted his legs to allow Matt to feel the thickness of his cock through the covers. Running a hand down Vic’s body, Matt gripped the budding erection beneath the sheets. “Up, yes. But awake?” “I will be,” Vic promised. 32
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Matt kissed the tip of his nose. “Then let me get to work. And save this”—his hand closed around Vic’s hardening shaft—“for later.” *
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After Matt left, Vic couldn’t get back to sleep. Strange energy zinged through his muscles, jarring his mind awake. He felt more alive than he had the past few days, on edge for some reason, alert. As if his consciousness had been cloudy for a while and all of a sudden, the sun had appeared, chasing the grey away. Colors were more vivid, light seemed brighter, and even shadows took on a depth he hadn’t noticed before. When he pushed himself up out of bed, his whole body tingled, and he was surprised there were no flashing arcs of electrical power coursing over his super-sensitive skin. He felt… Well, to be honest, he felt r echarged. A week without sex didn’t diminish Vic’s powers much— or rather, those powers he took for granted now, the super strength, the telepathy, and the mental bond he shared with Matt. Oh, he had felt them dull a bit, particularly the strength, which seemed to sap more of his own energy whenever he used it. Carrying Matt to the bedroom on New Year’s Eve had used a fair amount of the power, but he was a strong guy to begin with and his own libido had fueled him on at the time. Plus, he’d been loving Matt for so long now, it seemed he had a surfeit of his “standard” powers stored away, and seven days of abstinence did little to deplete them. 33
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But he would be lying if he said the sex hadn’t given him a much needed boost. Immediately after Matt came in him, Vic felt the powers surge through his body, and it took every ounce of conscious thought to lay down beside his lover, hold him close, and force himself to drift off to sleep. With Matt’s super-powered seed coursing through him, Vic wanted to cry out to the heavens in triumph; he wanted to do back-flips and handstands, somersaults, cartwheels. Suddenly he wanted to race off in every direction at once, and he felt as if his pounding heart and racing mind were already way ahead of him. His blood sizzled, his thoughts churned. It had taken hours to fall asleep, and then it was only out of pure exhaustion. Was that boost of power normal for him? He didn’t know—he had never gone more than a day or two without making love to Matt. A week’s wait had been the longest time they spent apart. A day or two more and Vic suspected he may have had a heart attack when he finally got a jolt from Matt’s juice. Even two days after the deed, he still felt fully loaded. Normally he would drag his ass out of bed, moan and groan through the first hour of his day, then perk up slightly after a quick shower before he had to head into work. But this morning, after Matt left, Vic practically jumped out of bed. His skin seemed to crawl with nervous anticipation, and he couldn’t keep his feet on the ground—each step had a bounce to it that threatened to send him skyward if he didn’t pay attention. It was like the powers were new to him, and he had 34
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to get used to them all over again. In the bathroom, he yanked his robe off the hook behind the door and winced at the squeal of the hinge beneath the force of his tug. In the kitchen, he broke the first coffee cup he grabbed—it just shattered in his hand, he hadn’t even been holding it that hard. By the time Matt called from the gym, Vic didn’t trust himself to hold his cell to his ear without destroying the phone, so he put it on speaker and set it on the side of the sink as he shaved. “You in the bathroom?” Matt asked in lieu of hello. “Why do you ask that?” Vic countered. “You at work yet?” Matt told him, “I hear an echo. And water sloshing around. Am I on speaker?” “I’m shaving.” Swishing his razor in the sink full of water, Vic shook the lather off and turned his head to get a better look at a hard-to-reach spot behind his left ear. “Are you at the gym?” “Getting out of the car now.” Through the tinny connection, Vic could hear traffic in the background, and the tell-tale squeal of the city bus’s air brakes. Which meant Matt had parked in the staff lot at the gym, which was near the bus stop. As Vic concentrated on his shaving, using very faint strokes of the razor to keep from nicking himself, Matt assured him there was nothing to worry about. “No paparazzi out this early,” he said. His sneakers crunched on the gravel that lined the lot. “All I see is some girl at the bus stop in a McDonald’s outfit.” 35
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“You be careful,” Vic admonished. Matt laughed. “She’s small. I think I can take her if I have to. Hey, look who’s late. Happy new year, Roxie.” Very faintly, Vic could hear a woman through the phone, her tone familiar, sharp. “I’m not late. Who’s on the phone?” Before Matt could answer, Roxie raised her voice to call out, “Hi Vic! Happy new year!” “What,” Matt teased, “you say it to him but not me?” Into the phone, he added, “I told you she had the hots for you. Ow! Don’t hit me, woman!” Rinsing off his razor again, Vic smiled at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. “Don’t piss her off,” he warned Matt. “She’s taking your calls, remember?” Matt made a discontented noise in the back of his throat. “I remember. Listen, you have a good day, you hear me? I love you.” In the background, Roxie said, “Awww! I wuv you, too, Vic.” Lowering his voice, Matt muttered, “Told you.” “She’s just jerking your chain,” Vic admonished. At least, he hoped she was. Leaning down close to the phone, he said softly, “I love you. See you tonight.” *
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With his body in overdrive, Vic was ready to go well before he had to leave for work. He toyed with the idea of stopping by the gym, maybe work off some of the excess energy, but until management ordered another set of weights, 36
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he didn’t think a mere thousand pounds would make a dent in his powers today. Besides, the extra abilities were burning through his body’s metabolism—he’d had his usual two bagels and coffee for breakfast, but by ten o’clock, he felt ravenous. His stomach rumbled like thunder, and his hands shook from the lack of blood sugar in his system. He felt like a junky coming down off a high, craving sustenance. He needed food to fuel these damn superpowers—a lot of it, fast. At least there was still plenty of time to grab something to eat before he had to clock in. Already dressed in his uniform for work, Vic shouldered into a heavy coat to ward off the winter chill and sat in his car as it idled at the curb, warming up. Shivering helped expend some of the energy—within minutes, the car’s interior was toasty, almost hot, and the windows had begun to fog over from the body heat Vic gave off. He had to turn on the defrost before he could put the car into gear, and wipe at the windshield to clear it whenever he stopped at a red light. He headed downtown to Joe’s Deli, a New York style grease pit with loud cooks in dirty aprons who shouted over the sound of spatulas slapping the grill and only the best cheesesteaks south of the Mason-Dixon line. Vic had found the place quite by accident, years ago—then it had been called “Hoagie Joe’s,” but the owner complained no one in Richmond knew what a hoagie was, so he changed the name. They sold foot-long subs overflowing with grilled meat and onions, and sandwiches piled twelve inches high. Everything came wrapped in wax paper and served with a bag of 37
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homemade kettle cooked chips. Despite the early hour, Vic had a craving for a hot pastrami, so thick he wouldn’t be able to open his mouth wide enough to take it in. His stomach growled appreciatively at the thought. Joe’s was on Broad Street, the busy thoroughfare that ran through the heart of the city. Downtown, parking was limited, but at least it wasn’t rush hour—Vic found a spot on the street directly across from the deli. Locking his car, he took a quick glance to the left to make sure there were no cars barreling down toward him, then jogged over three lanes to the median. To his right, a couple of cars slowed as the nearest stop light turned red. Vic stepped off the curb, his mind already focused on the stuttering neon sign ahead. The words Joe’s OPEN blinked beneath empty tubes that still spelled out Hoagie’s. He was thinking maybe he’d switch it up today, get a Reuben instead of the pastrami—or hell, get both, he was hungry enough—when a psychic shout tore through his head. Shit! Another mental voice screamed at him. That asshole’s not stopping, oh, my God, oh, God. The roar of a revving engine filled the cold air, followed by the smash of metal and broken glass tinkling to the ground. Vic stopped in mid-step, halfway across the road, and turned toward the sound. A few feet away at the intersection, the two cars still waited for the light to change, but the looks of horror on their drivers’ faces made Vic dip into their minds. There was a third car behind them, a small VW Rabbit, trying to squeeze between them and zoom through the light. When 38
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Vic stepped forward, he could see the VW, its dark blue paint chipped, one headlight shattered, the front bumper dangling from one corner like a crooked grin. The gap between the two idling cars was too narrow for the car to get through, but the driver didn’t seem to realize that. As Vic watched, the VW reversed a few feet, then rammed the cars in front of it, stubbornly trying to weasel its way between them. When Vic reached out for the driver, he found a mind clouded with drink and something much more sinister, something vile, that made Vic want to retch. Meth, he suspected, though he didn’t know for sure. He reeled in his thoughts before the drugs in the driver’s system tainted his. The VW pulled back again, then threw itself at the cars. The other drivers were too stunned to do anything, and Vic could sense that there were children in one of the vehicles. Acting quickly, he dipped into the minds of the two drivers, a woman heading to the grocery store with three kids in the backseat and a man late for a dentist appointment. With no time for finesse, he took control of the drivers’ minds and forced them to twist the wheels of their cars in opposite directions. A quick tap of the gas sent the man’s vehicle up onto the median, the front tire popping with an explosive sound when it hit the curb. So much for filling that cavity, Vic thought sourly. The other car veered to the right. Before Vic could guide it too far, the woman’s maternal instinct kicked in and she pulled down the side street, out of harm’s way. Seeing an opening, 39
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the driver of the VW gunned his engine—he clipped the tail end of the woman’s sedan as he sped through the intersection, shoving her car up onto the curb, as well. The light was still red, and an oncoming delivery truck squealed to a stop to avoid a collision. The VW didn’t even notice. It accelerated through the intersection, heading straight for Vic. Projecting his thoughts directly into the driver’s addled mind, Vic taunted, ::Come on, fucker. Try to hit me. I dare you.:: At the last second, when the driver realized Vic wasn’t moving out of the way, the VW jerked to one side. As it passed, Vic reached out and grabbed the door handles on the driver’s side. Energy burst from his muscles, flaring down his arms, strengthening his grip. He felt the resistance of steel on flesh and was even pulled forward a step before he dug in his heels and stood his ground. His mind snarled like a caged beast. What was this idiot playing at? The fucker. With a leonine growl, Vic yanked back. Metal screamed as the doors peeled off the car’s frame, held tight in Vic’s unyielding grip. In surprise, the driver slammed on the brakes, and the VW executed a graceful 180º turn in the middle of Broad Street. Not wearing his seat belt, the driver tumbled from the front seat to sprawl on the ground. In a thin, reedy voice, he muttered, “My car!” Vic tossed aside the doors of the VW. They clattered when they hit the road, the windows shattering on impact. The driver glanced up, saw Vic’s menacing appearance like the wrath of an angry god standing before him, and scrambled to 40
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his feet. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled. His eyes widened in disbelief as he tried to find his footing. “Oh, fuck.” ::Try to run,:: Vic told him, his mental voice ringing out through the addict’s mind like judgment. ::If you can.:: The driver took his advice, but only got a few yards before Vic tackled him. Grinding the punk’s face into the road, Vic sat on his back and pulled his arms around behind him to pin him in place. In the distance, he heard the familiar wail of sirens, and dimly he became aware of the gathering crowd, the braying horns of backed up traffic, and the supernatural energy still coursing through his body. What a way to start the new year. *
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“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” At the sound of the woman’s voice, Vic glanced up from his sandwich—a pastrami on rye, piled twice as high as usual and on the house, according to the dazed cashier who had taken Vic’s order with a star-struck look in her eyes. A police officer stood by his table, notepad in one hand, blonde bangs peeking out beneath the cap she wore. More blonde hair framed her narrow face, strands escaping from the bun at the nape of her neck. Shrugging out of her heavy jacket, she tossed it to the booth opposite Vic, then tugged off her cap and threw it down as well. “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, Officer Kendra Jones sat down. “How was your holiday, Vic?” “Fine.” Vic took another bite of his sandwich and chewed 41
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slowly, waiting for the inevitable questioning to begin. Kendra was one of the few people who knew of his powers—he’d confided in her when Jordan kidnapped Matt and he needed her help in finding his lover. She was a good ten years his junior, and underneath her tough policewoman façade, Vic knew she was extraordinarily proud of the fact that she knew him on a first name basis. The guys at the precinct called him “Superman,” and it gave her endless pleasure to be able to drop his name in casual conversation with her fellow officers. “Just fine?” Kendra ran a hand over her hair, smoothing down the stray strands that puffed up from her head. “How’s Matt?” Vic shrugged. After a moment, she flipped open the notepad she carried and asked, “Want to tell me what happened here?” Vic glanced at the flowing script that covered the pages of the notepad. “Looks like you already heard.” “I’ll tell you what I heard.” Kendra frowned at him—he didn’t have to be able to read minds to know she was a little upset he wasn’t more forthcoming, but Vic had a natural distrust of authority, even if it was someone he sort of already knew. “A kid out there says, and I quote, ‘He ripped the car doors off like Wolverine, then flew at the guy like Superman and pounded him into the ground like the Incredible Hulk.’” Vic almost choked on his soda. “I can’t fly,” he snorted. Closing the notepad, a sign that this was off the record, Kendra asked softly, “So what power is it today?” 42
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“The fucker ran a red light.” If Vic’s harsh language bothered the officer, she didn’t let it show. “Reckless driving, driving under the influence, menace to society, call it what you want. He was hell on wheels and I stopped him before he could kill anyone, himself included. Happy?” With her chin in her hand, Kendra stared at him for a long moment as if lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, intimate. “Why don’t you join the force?” Vic laughed. “No, really,” Kendra said, earnest. “God, Vic, we could use a guy like you, and you know it.” Somehow, Vic didn’t think so. “A guy who calls in sick at least twice a month,” he pointed out, “because he has some fucked up power that makes it impossible to go out in public.” “A guy with incredible strength,” Kendra countered. Vic replied, “Last month it was invisibility. I couldn’t control it, and I had the flu, too. Every time I sneezed, I disappeared.” “You can hear people’s thoughts,” Kendra pointed out. “You can stop criminals before they act.” But Vic shook his head. “These powers aren’t mine.” “They’re a gift.” Kendra reached across the table and touched his wrist. “It’s like God gave you something—” Vic shook her hand off his. “God didn’t. Matt did.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he said, “Look, I know you mean well, but I keep telling you, I’m not some sort of comic book superhero out to save the world. These powers I have come from Matt. I may use them, but in my mind, they belong 43
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to him.” “But if you can help others,” she started. With a bitter laugh, Vic told her, “I do what I can, when I can. I don’t go looking for trouble, all right? Much as you might find that hard to believe.” Kendra tried again. “Just give it some thought—” Vic shook his head, adamant. “Sorry. I’m not interested.”
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CHAPTER 4 As swim instructor for the gym, Matt’s position took on a more administrative quality during the winter months. Only die-hard swimmers came out—the majority of gym members preferred to focus on the exercise machines for the first few weeks of the new year, until their resolutions waned and they gave up on trying to lose weight. So for most of the day, Matt had the pool to himself. His day at work usually started with a morning swim first thing, to get the blood pumping and keep his muscles in shape. After a shower to rinse off the chlorine, he sat at the desk in his office, pouring over invoices and other bothersome paperwork, while outside his large plate glass window, the 45
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water in the pool rippled coolly. It looked so inviting, and often he’d find himself staring out at the rippling reflection off the tiled walls, lost in thoughts that usually involved Vic and some degree of nakedness. God, he loved that man. After a quick lunch at noon, Matt stationed himself in the lifeguard chair from two to three, bored, as he watched elderly women with flabby arms and swim caps move through the slow motions of the senior citizens’ water aerobics class. By the time the class ended, a few members of the adult swim team would have arrived; Matt kept his perch poolside, whistle between his lips and stopwatch in one hand, as he clocked the team through maneuvers. Shortly after four o’clock, he’d peel away his shirt, kick off his sandals, and dive into the heated pool for another few laps himself before he showered off and headed home. Where he’d cook dinner and wait for Vic to return. It was quarter to five in the afternoon when he stepped from the locker room into his office, his hair damp from the shower. He wore street clothes, and in his mind was already rifling through the contents of his kitchen cabinets, mulling over what to make for dinner. Chicken parmesan was high on the list—a heavy, hearty meal, perfect for a winter’s night. If there were still a few chicken breasts in the freezer, and if he hadn’t used all his mom’s homemade spaghetti sauce the last time they had pasta… When the phone on his desk rang, Matt reached for it without thinking. It was Roxie, he knew, and chances were, she had Vic on hold. A glance at the clock showed his lover 46
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had another three hours before he clocked out for the day, but maybe he’d taken a break to call in, see if Matt needed a ride home. I love that man. Into the phone, he said, “Yo. What’s the 411, moxie Roxie?” “Okay, you know what, Matt?” Roxie’s voice had a slightly pissy tone, but that was normal for her, especially so late in the day. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but cute as you are, you ain’t hip.” Matt grinned. “I try.” “You really shouldn’t.” With a laugh, Matt told her, “Lighten up, it’s quitting time. You got my guy on the other line for me?” Roxie snorted. “No.” Matt’s smile slid away. “I got a doctor on the phone for you.” “A what?” Matt sank into his office chair, mind whirling out in a dozen directions at once. “What’s wrong? Why?” “Calm down,” Roxie said, her tone softening. “Don’t worry, I asked if this was about Vic. It’s not.” The tension that had wound itself up into a tight coil at the base of Matt’s spine relaxed, but only slightly. “Then who—” “Dr. V. J. Channa…” She struggled to pronounce the name. “Shawna Ria Pata, some such crap. I asked if he was a bill collector and he got a little pissy with me. Said he was a doctor, and it was imperative he speak to you today. You have an appointment coming up or something?” Shoving aside his invoices, Matt glanced at the monthly calendar covering his desk. “Not that I know of…” The name didn’t sound familiar, but the last time he’d gone for a check47
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up, there had been an Indian physician on staff. Maybe this had to do with the cholesterol test he’d had done back in November. Had he called for the results? He couldn’t remember. Though it was almost time to leave, Matt didn’t think the doctor would keep him on the phone for long. “Patch him through,” he told Roxie. There was a click on the other end of the line, then a yawning silence. Another click, and Matt heard faint breathing. Someone cleared his throat in Matt’s ear. Not trusting Roxie’s mangled pronunciation of the physician’s name, Matt simply asked, “Doctor?” “Mr. diLorenzo?” The rich voice was heavily accented, making it impossible to guess the man’s age. Matt would say older than himself, which didn’t mesh with his memory of the fresh faced man he’d spotted at the medical office. He waited. After a moment, when it became obvious he wouldn’t speak, the man said, “Hello. I am Dr. Channarayapatra. You probably wonder why I called.” “Is this about that cholesterol test?” Absently, Matt began straightening the papers on his desk. “Because I really meant to follow up on it earlier, I swear.” With a warm chuckle, the caller assured him, “No, I’m not that kind of doctor.” Unease prickled Matt’s spine, sending a shiver through him. A voice inside him whispered, Hang up. It sounded suspiciously like Vic. 48
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“I am head of research and development,” the man explained, “here at J.A.S. Armour Laboratories. You’ve heard of it, yes?” Matt shook his head, a gesture lost on the doctor. “I’m sorry, I really don’t think—” The doctor raised his voice, speaking over Matt. “We’re a prophylactics company. Just a few miles south of Richmond. I’m sure you’ve seen our flagship product in stores.” A memory flashed in Matt’s mind—an aisle in a pharmacy, Vic reading the back of a bottle of K-Y Jelly that claimed to work like liquid ball bearings and Matt leaning against his lover’s arm, waiting for him to decide which lube to buy. Idly, Matt had stared at the display of condoms, thinking that at the rate he and Vic made love, it was a good thing they didn’t bother using rubbers. They’d be running out every few days, and the damned things were so expensive any more. Besides, how would they choose which to buy? There had to be over twenty different brands, easily, from the everpresent Trojans, to the novelty varieties, to the local favorite, Armour Condoms. Below the hand-written sign that declared them made locally, the company’s tagline read, Come Armed®. In a low voice, the doctor murmured, “Surely you know our product. A man such as yourself…” With a jolt, Matt was startled from the past. “I’m hanging up now,” he announced. “I don’t know how you managed to talk your way past my receptionist, but I assure you, it won’t happen again.” 49
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“No, no, no.” A self-depreciating laugh filled Matt’s ear. “You misunderstand me, sir. I can help you.” “Not that it’s any of your business,” Matt said frostily, “but I don’t use condoms. Good day.” His caller hollered, “Wait! I am going about this wrong, I apologize. But tell me, Mr. diLorenzo. Matt.” Matt started, “How do you—” The doctor kept talking, as if afraid Matt would hang up before he could finish. “Your powers put your lover in jeopardy, do they not? He’s always on the news. Why, this morning—” “What happened this morning?” Matt asked, fearful again. He had to hang up and call Vic. “What are you talking about?” For a moment, silence. Matt’s fingers hovered over the release switch, ready to disconnect the call and dial the numbers to Vic’s cell. He’d left his lover in the bed, drifting back to sleep…what had happened after that? It took all the strength he had not to slam the phone down on the desk, again and again, until he got the answers he wanted. What had happened to Vic? When the doctor finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “I’ve seen this before,” he told Matt. “In my own country, my own family even. I’ve finally perfected a…not so much a cure, really, but a solution. A way to negate the powers, if you will. Inhibit them. Without any changes to your current sex life.” Matt whispered, “What happened to Vic this morning?” “Wouldn’t you like knowing your love didn’t put him in constant danger?” the doctor replied. 50
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“Armour Labs,” Matt murmured. The whole conversation seemed surreal, and it was amazing that despite the terror fizzling away inside him, his voice still sounded so calm through the phone. If this man had a way to stop the powers without interrupting their relationship, didn’t Matt owe it to himself to learn more? Didn’t he owe it to Vic? Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What’s your name again?” *
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Over dinner, Matt told Vic, “I got a call today.” From across the dining room table, Vic looked up, distrust instantly clouding his features. Since he’d come home from work, they hadn’t said two words to each other—Matt could feel his lover prodding the edges of his mind, feeling him out, but he wasn’t quite ready to let him in yet. He wanted Vic to be the one to tell him about the stunt that morning; he didn’t want to have to bring it up. But every minute that passed only made him madder, and he wanted Vic to figure out why. Without any help from him. The moment he’d felt his lover’s consciousness brush over his as Vic approached their apartment, Matt had clamped down his thoughts. With a mental sigh, Vic had asked, ::Matty, what’s going on?:: His only response was, ::You figure it out.:: Apparently Vic didn’t recall what had happened earlier in the day—as they ate, he fell into a brooding silence, glancing up at Matt every couple seconds as if to ensure himself his 51
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lover were still there. At Matt’s announcement, he set his fork down and sat back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully. When it became obvious Matt didn’t plan to elaborate, Vic asked, “Phone call? From who?” Matt twirled his fork in his spaghetti noodles and shrugged. “Head of research down at Armour Labs. In Chester? They make—” “I know what they make.” Irritation flared in Matt at the tone of his lover’s voice. Pressing his lips together, Matt bit back an angry remark and told himself again that Vic must’ve had a good reason for not telling him about the incident with the car. Damned if he knew what it was, though. They didn’t usually keep secrets. Vic saw Matt’s mouth twist and sighed. In a softer voice, he asked, “So what did they want?” Before Matt could answer, Vic’s mind reached out for his. It was an unexpected move that caught Matt off-guard. His lover’s eyes narrowed when he heard the caller’s name echo within Matt’s thoughts, then Matt threw down his defenses to shut him out. Vic jerked back in his chair as if slapped. “Let me tell you my way, will you?” Matt snapped. “Don’t go rooting through my head. Listen to me.” “Matty,” Vic murmured, “I didn’t mean—” In a mocking, sing-song voice, Matt chimed, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He threw his fork down and pushed away from the table, too upset to eat. “That’s your standard excuse, Vic. I’m sick of hearing it.” Emotions warred across his lover’s face and raged through 52
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his mind, battling each other loud enough for Matt to pick up even with his mind on lock-down. Crossing his arms, he waited for Vic to yell at him—he wanted it, needed it. Maybe then they could talk things out between them and move on. But instead of lashing out, Vic reined in his thoughts and took a deep, steadying breath. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively low. “Do you want to tell me what the hell this is all about?” The fact that Vic had no clue pissed Matt off. “I’ll tell you,” he said, his voice rising in anger. “I get a phone call today at work, right? Just as I’m leaving. Some doctor so-andso who found my name in that goddamn tabloid and decided to ferret me out.” A look of pain flashed across Vic’s face, and he shut his eyes in a defeated gesture. “Matty—” With a shake of his head, Matt continued. He was too wound up to stop now. “He tells me he’s seen this before, back in his own country. Someone in his family somewhere had the same shitty ability, and his wife was stoned when the villagers thought she was a witch. He knows what I’m going through, and he says he’s found a way to help me. To stop it.” Vic sighed, a heavy sound that almost broke through Matt’s defenses. “And you believe him? Some guy from a…a condom factory? Matt—” “I almost hung up,” Matt conceded. “Just slammed the phone down on his ass, said the hell with it. Then he asks me about you.” That perked Vic up. “Me?” 53
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Matt waited. Slowly, it dawned on Vic—his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in realization. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “Matty, I meant—” “Must be nice,” Matt said in a pissy voice, interrupting him, “to be able to forget you ripped off the goddamn doors from a speeding vehicle this morning. I mean, hell, when it happens every day, it just becomes commonplace, doesn’t it? Like brushing your teeth or jerking off.” Vic reached across the table for him, his mind stretching out for Matt’s, but his lover shrugged both touches away. “Matt, I’m sorry—” “There’s a video on YouTube, Vic.” Matt stared at him, watching the horror of his words sink in. “Do you have any idea how frightening it is to click on a link in an e-mail and see your lover just about run over by a drunk driver?” “Please.” Vic held his hand out on the table, palm up, stretched toward him, but Matt ignored it. “Listen to me, will you? Yes, you’re right, I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I guess I sort of—” “Forgot?” With a heart-rending sigh, Vic murmured, “Matty, I’m sorry.” For a long moment, Matt stared at his lover, whose blue eyes looked so dark, so sad and contrite. It wasn’t Vic’s fault, he realized. This warm, loving, sexy man across from him wasn’t to blame for the situation that morning or the constant danger he found himself in or even for Matt’s pissy attitude at what had happened. It wasn’t his fault. 54
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It’s mine. Suddenly, his anger was gone. Not so much deflated as popped; it dispersed in an instant, leaving him shaky and tired in its wake. “Vic,” he sighed. Pushing back his chair, he rose and skirted the table to stand by his lover’s side. With trembling hands, he touched the top of Vic’s bald head to feel the smooth, heated skin, then hugged Vic to him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands cradling his lover’s head against his stomach. Vic’s arms wrapped around Matt’s waist in a fierce embrace. Sinking down to squat beside Vic’s chair, Matt took Vic’s face in both hands and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” he said again, blinking back hot tears. “It’s my fault, Vic. It’s all my fault, and I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s me putting you in danger every day. It’s me doing this, messing up us, and I hate it. I hate it.” “No,” Vic assured him. His strong hands rubbed Matt’s back and shoulders. “No, Matty, it’s not you. Don’t say that. Don’t think it.” But Matt shook his head. “Me and these stupid powers. If I lose you, Vic. If you…if you die—” Vic covered Matt’s mouth with his, silencing him. Gently, he sent out an exploratory thought to Matt’s closed mind. ::Don’t say that, love.:: Love. At the term of endearment, so heart-felt, so real, Matt surrendered himself to Vic. Like a dam breaking, Matt relaxed his mental defenses and flooded Vic’s thoughts with his own. Their kiss deepened, their embrace becoming 55
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passionate, as their minds and hearts and souls melded together into one. *
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Some time later, Vic stood and helped Matt to his feet. Leaving the dinner plates on the table, they retreated to the living room, where Vic sank down to sit in his recliner. Once situated, he guided Matt down onto his lap and held him close. Matt rested his head on Vic’s shoulder, content. When Vic turned toward him, Matt’s lips found his in a sweet, tender kiss that lingered between them. When they finally parted, Matt kept his face near Vic’s, unwilling to put too much distance between them. He hated himself for his earlier outburst and the feelings he’d harbored all evening and the way he’d been quick to blame his lover for things beyond his control. His heart ached to see Vic staring at him so intently, a remnant of his earlier sadness still clouding his features. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against Matt’s temple. “I should’ve remembered to tell you about the thing with the car the moment I walked in the door.” Matt pressed a finger to Vic’s lips to quiet him. Vic puckered up, kissing the tip of Matt’s forefinger, which brought a smile to Matt’s face. “You should’ve called me when it happened.” Silently, Vic told him, ::I didn’t want you to worry.:: Matt laughed. “As if I don’t already.” Opening his mouth, Vic closed his lips around Matt’s finger in a playful bite. “So,” he said around Matt’s forefinger, 56
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“tell me about this doctor who called you.” With a shrug, Matt settled himself against his lover’s body and sighed. As he spoke, he felt Vic’s thoughts ease into his— he didn’t stop them this time. The touch was comforting, familiar, and made Matt feel safe and warm. “He said he’s seen my condition before.” That had been the hardest part of their conversation for Matt to believe…and the one thing Dr. Channarayapatra said that Matt needed to hear. The fact that he wasn’t some fucked up fluke, that others suffered as he had; it meant more to him than Matt had thought possible, and he had to struggle to control his elation at the news. He wasn’t a freak. He wasn’t alone. “Call me Dr. Veej,” the caller had said when Matt stumbled over the pronunciation of his last name. “Back in my village, long time ago, there was a man like you, Mr. diLorenzo. His first wife, she had phenomenal strength. It was sort of a joke, this average Joe as you’d call him, married to a Wonder Woman. But the other women in the village, they weren’t too fond of her. She was a beautiful girl, and you know how other wives gossip. Ugly rumors started, egged on by the strange powers she seemed to possess. The man kept quiet. If he even knew it was his fault, I don’t know. But things got out of hand and the woman was eventually stoned as a witch.” Matt heard the doctor’s words again as Vic listened to them inside his head. Aloud, Matt told him, “Dr. Veej said the man remarried and passed the powers on to his son. Who is 57
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now engaged to the doctor’s youngest sister. He wanted to find a way to inhibit the powers, as a wedding gift to her. He said it took him a few years, but he finally figured it out.” Vic gave a disparaging grunt that made Matt grin. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured, planting a kiss on Vic’s cheek. “But I told him upfront we don’t use condoms.” “You told him that?” Vic asked, surprised. “Matty—” Matt hurried to explain. “He said this was something that wouldn’t interfere with our love. Something so small we wouldn’t even notice it during sex.” At Vic’s frown, he added, “I agreed to meet him on Saturday. I want you to come along.” Holding up a hand, Vic admitted, “This is all so sudden. You don’t even know him—” “You’ll be there with me,” Matt said, as if that settled things. “You always say it isn’t the powers that make you love me.” A hot blush of anger colored Vic’s cheeks. “It’s not, and you know it. I loved you before I even knew about them.” With a sigh, Matt said, “I just want us to be normal. Is that asking too much? I want to be with you forever, and I’m afraid that one day, I’ll give you some power that will put an end to that. To us.” He wrapped his arms around Vic’s neck and hugged him tight. “If this guy has a solution, I can’t ignore it. I won’t. But I want this to be something we both decide.” “They’re your powers,” Vic told him. Matt felt his lover’s distrust boil just beneath the surface of his emotions, but for now, Vic kept it in check. “If you want to get rid of them, Matty, I’m all for it. I only want to make you happy.” 58
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Against Vic’s neck, Matt breathed, “Will you come with me Saturday then? Just to meet the man, hear him out? We can always change our minds.” The corner of Vic’s mouth twitched in resignation. “Sounds to me like you’ve already made yours up.” “I’m just saying…” Vic rubbed his shoulder, then pulled him closer. “Just don’t get too excited, Matty. That’s all I’m saying. This might turn out to be nothing more than some cruel hoax.” Matt whispered, “I know.” Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling it was more than that. It had to be.
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CHAPTER 5 As a rule, Vic didn’t trust people. Someone who tracked another man down through an article, the same way Jordan had found Matt, made Vic suspicious. This Doctor Whateverhis-name-was had to have an ulterior motive, Vic was sure of it. But because the thought of being free from the powers made Matt so damn happy, Vic kept his concerns about the matter to himself. It wasn’t hard to do—yes, Matt could read his mind with ease, and frequently picked over Vic’s thoughts when they lay quietly together in the darkness of their bedroom. Most of the time, Vic didn’t want to hide anything from his lover—Matt 60
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knew things about him that even Vic had trouble remembering, things from his childhood growing up with a criminal father and alcoholic mother that Vic had forced himself to forget. But Matt also knew Vic’s doubts about the doctor’s sincerity, and whenever he glanced over those thoughts in his lover’s mind, he quickly turned away. And Vic didn’t push it. Though he didn’t want Matt to get his hopes up too much, though he knew Matt would only end up hurt in the end, he didn’t want to be the one to bring him crashing back down to the reality that they were probably cursed with these powers for the rest of their lives together. Which, like Matt, Vic hoped would be a very long time. So he thought it little good to argue with Matt. Saturday would arrive soon enough—that damn doctor was the one who’d started this shit; let him be the one to burst Matt’s bubble. Then Vic would be there to pick up the pieces and kick the fucker’s ass for messing with his lover. And he would be there, standing beside Matt when they met this doctor and heard what he had to say. Secretly, Vic was looking forward to that little get-together. He knew the guy probably thought Matt would be alone…and what did he have in mind? Did he hope to seduce Matt? Or take him by force? He didn’t know, but thinking about the look on the doctor’s face when he saw Vic’s muscled bulk made Vic grin in anticipation. He and Matt were both looking forward to Saturday, but for very different reasons. 61
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*
*
*
Thursday evening, after a long day at work, Vic came home to find a large meal waiting for him. Matt massaged away the tension in Vic’s neck and shoulders as he ate. “You’re so tight.” With a grin, Vic teased, “I’ve got something tighter, if you’re interested.” Matt’s hands paused on his shoulders, then squeezed once. There was a hopeful lilt to his voice when he asked, “You aren’t too tired?” “For you?” Vic asked. “Never. Let me finish eating first, and maybe take a shower, then if you’re still up for something…” Warm arms encircled his shoulders, hugging him back against his lover, and Matt kissed Vic’s ear with a wet smack. “Oh, I’m up,” he promised. “Chew faster. I can’t wait.” When his plate was clean, Vic stretched as he stood. Matt began clearing the table. “That’s my job,” Vic told him. But Matt shook his head. “You worked all day. Hop in the shower already, will you?” The kiss he gave Vic lingered on his lips long after Matt moved away. “Time’s a-wasting. Meet me in the bedroom in fifteen minutes or else.” “Or else what?” Over his shoulder, Matt gave Vic a salacious wink. “Or else I’ll join you in the bathroom. I’m getting you either way.” Vic took a quick shower, soaping his body and rinsing off in less than five minutes. It had to be a record for him— usually he took his time, lathering his skin then shaving away 62
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soap and hair from his scalp, his armpits, his crotch. He loved the feel of his own skin freshly shaved, smooth as a baby’s bottom, pinked and clean. The only hair he liked on him was Matt’s. And thinking of Matt got him hard, as it usually did, and by the time Vic pulled aside the curtain to exit the shower, his stiff cock led the way. With rough hands, Vic rubbed himself dry with a clean towel—first his head, then his chest and arms, then his legs. When he bent, his dick poked at his navel, sending pleasurable shivers into his balls. Running the towel up his thighs, Vic grabbed his erection in both hands through the terrycloth and stroked his length, massaged his nuts, squeezed and pulled and fondled himself until a faint gasp escaped his lips. It took all his super strength to reel in the sensations that flooded him. Not yet. Suddenly his lover’s voice spoke up in his mind, so warm and sensuous that Vic came, just a little. ::Are you getting off in there without me?:: Matt asked. Vic dropped the towel to the floor and grabbed a bottle of baby oil from the counter behind the towel. ::I’m just getting ready,:: he assured his lover. Squeezing a healthy dollop of oil into his hands, Vic slathered it onto his cock and balls, then bent at the waist and slicked his fingers around his tight hole. He gasped again when his middle finger breeched his ass. From the bedroom, Vic heard the squeal of springs as Matt climbed off the bed. ::That’s it, mister. I’m coming in there before I miss any of the fun.:: ::Sit down,:: Vic told him, opening the bathroom door. 63
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::I’m on my way.:: When he reached the bedroom, he found Matt sitting back against the headboard of their bed, nude, his body golden in the low light cast from the bedside lamp. His long legs were stretched out before him, and his cock stood up from the curls at his crotch, thickly veined, glistening. As Vic approached, Matt joked, “About time you decided to share.” He patted a spot on his lower belly, just below his navel. “Sit.” Vic didn’t have to told twice. Climbing onto the bed, he crawled toward Matt on all fours, then over him, until he straddled his lover’s body. Leaning close, Vic pressed his mouth to Matt’s and dipped down until the tip of his cock brushed against Matt’s abdomen. The touch was electric. Vic felt it inflame his desire, invigorate his senses, and a randy lust forced him to push Matt back, hungry for more of his lover. “Matty,” he sighed between kisses as his dick strummed over firm muscles and through chest hair that tickled his shaft. Matt’s hands came up to cradle Vic’s ass, fingers dipped in lubricant that left cool oily trails between Vic’s buttocks. Guiding him back, Matt positioned Vic above his hard cock, then eased him down onto his length. The discomfort of entry was lost in eager kisses, and when Vic took Matt in completely, he licked away his lover’s moans of delight. They moved together in a slow rhythm, Matt’s hands kneading Vic’s ample buttocks, Vic’s cock rubbing between them, Matt thrusting up off the bed and deep into his lover. “Yes,” Vic gasped, again and again, each time the tip of his lover’s dick bumped his tender prostate. “Yes, yes, yes,” when Matt 64
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ground his heels into the sheets and pushed up into him. Their pace quickened, their coupling frenzied, the climax of a long day apart. Gripping the bed’s headboard, Vic threw back his head and cried out at the ceiling, “God, Matty, fuck me, harder, yes, yes.” The bed’s springs squawked in protest, and the headboard hit the wall with a steady knock knock that matched the guttural uh uh uh of Matt’s moans. How their neighbors slept through the racket, Vic didn’t know, but no one yelled out for them to keep it down and Vic gave himself into the moment, leaning back to place his hands on Matt’s knees and feel his lover’s dick drive into him from a different angle. “Fuck me,” he said, again and again. “Harder, Matty. Harder.” His lover complied, thrusting into him. What had started out tender and loving became fast, furious. When Vic sensed Matt was close to coming, he gripped his own dick in one hand and jerked off, shooting onto his lover’s chest and belly. The sight triggered Matt’s release—Vic felt it burn through him like wildfire, igniting his blood, and eliciting in him a second, more forceful orgasm. Later, as they cuddled beneath the covers, drifting off to sleep, Vic could still feel Matt inside him, his juices sizzling away deep in the very center of his being. He wondered what power they were possibly cooking up this time, what ability he’d wake with in the morning. Huddled in his embrace, Matt picked up on that thought murmured, “This is probably the last time you have to put up with it.” 65
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Vic frowned. He didn’t mind putting up with it, but he kept that thought to himself. *
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Matt kept saying he hated the powers because they put Vic in danger. To be completely honest, Vic never thought of them in that way. The powers were a nuisance, sure, and he’d give them up in an instant if that was what Matt wanted, but he didn’t really think they’d kill him. He never went out of his way to do stupid, heroic things—he reacted without thought, trusting in himself and the powers he used to help others. Trusting in Matt, and knowing the powers were an extension of his lover’s feelings for him. How could Vic get hurt when he felt Matt’s love flare in his muscles or swirl through his veins? The powers protected him, Vic thought. In all the years they’d been together, he’d never once used them in a way that deliberately put him in danger. While he knew he wasn’t invincible—far from it—he also knew the limits of his abilities. All of them, super or not. Still, they could be troublesome, as Vic was so blatantly reminded on the day before their meeting with Dr. Channarayapatra. He woke up early Friday morning feeling hot and bothered. And not in a good way. Sweat drenched his back, pooling at the base of his spine and in his armpits, between his legs. Disentangling himself from Matt, still asleep, Vic tossed back the sheets and slipped out of bed. The cool air felt heavenly on his nakedness. A glance at the clock told him it 66
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wasn’t even five in the morning yet, and he felt wide awake. Damn. Despite his lack of clothing, Vic still felt warm. Fanning himself with one hand, he headed for the bathroom, where he squinted in the bright light at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was flushed, his cheeks a bright shade of red that was almost alarming, and sweat beaded on his scalp to drip down his face and neck. The towel he’d used the night before still lay on the ground; Vic snatched it up to wipe at the sweat from his face. The cloth was still damp from his shower, and smelled vaguely of smoke. In fact, where Vic touched it, the towel actually appeared to be smoking… With a jolt, he threw it onto the sink. Burn marks in the shape of his hands singed the terrycloth. Vic stared at his fingers but saw only his own skin—no burns, no flames, nothing out of the ordinary. Reaching out, he touched a fingertip to the edge of the towel, and a fine line of grey smoke curled up from the cloth. Vic pressed harder; he could hear a faint sizzle, then his finger burned through completely. When he pulled it back, he saw a neat, round hole in the towel that looked like a cigarette burn. What the hell? When Vic touched the counter, nothing happened. No, of course not—the countertop was made from granite. But his fingers burned right through his toothbrush, melting the plastic, and both halves drooped from his hand like those clocks in that strange Dali painting. And it wasn’t just his hands—when Vic backed away from the sink, his bare leg brushed the shower curtain and the damn thing went up in 67
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flames. Fuck. The smoke alarm in the hallway went off before he could douse the fire. Every time he touched something, it too began to smolder. By the time Matt burst through the bathroom door, the shower curtain hung in flames from the rod, which had begun to buckle from the heat. As if not to be forgotten, the towel burned in the sink, low flames guttering beneath the rush of water from the tap. The rug that had been under Vic’s feet also smoked, and he stood in the bathtub, Matt’s loofah reduced to ashes in one hand. Matt stood in the doorway, the light from the flames flickering off his nude body, and gaped at Vic across a bathroom that looked like a war zone. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. Vic sort of shrugged. “I can’t touch anything.” Running a hand over his brow to wipe away sweat, he asked, “Can you turn that fucking alarm off? It’s giving me a headache.” Matt disappeared down the hall. Two seconds later, the fire alarm cut off in mid-blast. Then he was back, picking his way around small fires that burned in the rug in the shape of Vic’s footsteps. But when he held out a hand to touch his lover, Vic moved out of reach. “Don’t,” he warned. “You’ll just burn yourself.” “Looks like another day off from work,” Matt said. His mouth twisted, an unreadable expression on his face, but Vic tapped into his thoughts and knew his lover was torn between laughing this off and the seriousness of the situation. What if Vic hadn’t woken up? Would he have set the bed on fire? 68
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Burned Matt? God. Hunkering down in the tub, Vic covered his face with his hands and sighed. “At least we’re going to see this guy tomorrow,” he muttered. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was for the best. *
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*
A little after noon on Saturday, Vic eased his car into an empty parking spot in front of the Central Park Deli in Chester, south of Richmond and a good half hour’s drive from the apartment he shared with Matt. But the deli was close to Armour Labs, which they spotted as they exited the interstate, and the doctor had chosen to meet them during his lunch hour. Vic thought it odd the man didn’t have weekends off. Perhaps he’d hoped to lure Matt out of the city? Have a couple beers at this deli, get Matt sloshed enough to convince him not to drive home, then do whatever he could to get the powers for himself… Planting a quick kiss on Vic’s cheek as he parked the car, Matt told his lover, “You’re paranoid, you know that? Not everyone is out to get me.” “Keep telling yourself that,” Vic grumbled. “Meantime? I’ll keep my guard up, thank you very much.” They exited opposite sides of the car, Vic slamming his door a little too hard. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hunkered down to keep the chill air off the back of his neck. Matt waited for him by the trunk, and 69
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when Vic came close enough, he stuck a hand in Vic’s pocket as well, his fingers threading through Vic’s with ease. “Smile,” he chided, snuggling up against Vic. “This guy’s gonna take one look at you and run for his life.” “He better,” Vic muttered. With a laugh, Matt kissed his shoulder, a touch unfelt through the jacket he wore, but it pleased him nonetheless. Just being with Matt was enough to lighten his mood, and Vic had to remember to keep the frown on his face as they approached the deli. A man waited for them by the front door. Younger than Vic had imagined he would be, the man stood about Matt’s height, and if his name hadn’t been a clue to his ethnicity, the straight black hair and dark skin like polished mahogany spoke of Indian descent. “Ah,” he said, grin widening when he saw Matt. His gaze flickered to Vic then away again, as if afraid to look at him for long. “Mr. diLorenzo. I’m glad you could make it. And you brought a friend.” He didn’t sound too happy about that last bit, and there was little trace of an accent in his voice. It made Vic wonder about the whole “my village” line he’d fed Matt. Out of habit, Vic dipped into the doctor’s mind, hoping to pick up a few answers… What sounded like a Hindi nursery rhyme circled his thoughts, obscuring them from Vic. Punikum punikum kalyanamam, over and over again. When Vic tried to get around it, he found himself caught up in the singsong rhythm. Sure, most people had nonsense cluttering their minds, 70
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interrupting their thoughts like bursts of static, but this seemed almost…deliberate. As Matt introduced him, Vic narrowed his eyes and pinned the doctor with a distrustful glare. “Call me Dr. Veej,” the man said, holding a hand out to Vic. “It’s so great to meet you.” His hand hung there between them. Vic made no move to extract his from his pockets. His reply was a mental one, spoken directly into the doctor’s head. ::Cut the crap, doctor. We all know this isn’t a social visit.:: Matt’s hand tightened around his. “Vic,” he murmured, his smile cranking up a notch. “Be nice.” The doctor looked between them, confused. “Well.” He pulled back his hand, rubbed it on the front of his shirt as if wiping away something unpleasant, then turned his smile to Matt again. “I only have a short time here, and I have a lot to say. Are you gentlemen hungry?” Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door behind him and ushered them into the deli. Again Vic tried to delve into the man’s mind, but that damn song kept him out. As the doctor led them to a booth, Vic held back, keeping Matt with him. His lover glanced at him, concerned, then spoke through the connection they shared. ::Was is it?:: ::I can’t read his mind,:: he admitted. That bothered him more than he thought possible. He hated hearing others’ thoughts jumbled up with his, but the one time he needed to tune in, he found himself blocked. ::He’s got some stupid song in his head—:: 71
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Matt grinned. ::Happens to me all the time, I get some tune stuck on repeat and it drives me crazy.:: He sent Vic a mental image of the two of them in a strip club, Vic sitting in front of a stage and Matt writhing against a pole, dressed in only a Speedo bikini that strained across a thick erection. Off-key, he sang, ::I’m bringing sexy back.:: ::No, I mean…:: The sight of his lover grinding a stripper pole distracted Vic from anything he’d been trying to say. He gave Matt a playful shove into the booth across from Dr. Veej, then dropped into the seat beside him. ::We’re coming back to that,:: he promised. Picking up a menu, Matt hid behind it as he glanced over the deli’s fare. ::You can’t do a proper striptease without a pole.:: ::I’ll put one in.:: Vic glanced across the table and caught the doctor watching him, a faint smile on his face, as if he knew they were carrying on a conversation just beyond his hearing. But that smile disappeared when he met Vic’s stern gaze. “Gentlemen,” he said, leaning closer. One hand reached into the pocket of his jacket and Vic tensed, but he only pulled out a small plastic box which didn’t look too dangerous. It was maybe two inches square, a half inch deep, and frosted to hide the contents. “I believe this is why you are here.” Curious, Matt leaned forward. “What is it?” Opening the box, Dr. Veej held it out to let them get a good look. Vic was less than impressed. A thick, black rubber band lay inside. What looked like a small transistor was 72
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attached to the band, but Vic couldn’t begin to imagine what its purpose might be. How was this supposed to curb the powers? Where the hell did it even go? Then it dawned on him. “Ahh,” he said. At the quizzical look on Matt’s face, Vic explained, “It’s a cock ring, isn’t it?” The doctor’s grin spread even wider, if that were possible. “Very good, Mr. Braunson. The material is a polymer I’ve been working with for years now—” Vic interrupted. “Since when, grad school?” “For a while,” the doctor hedged. When Vic tried to pluck a more definite figure from his head, though, the rhythmic song kept him from finding out more. “The polymer is ionized,” he continued, “and helps conduct a charge emitted by the transformer. It’s all very complicated, but in layman’s terms, the charge negates the sperm when it passes from the vas deferens into the ejaculatory duct.” Matt snickered. With a glance at his lover, Vic asked, “Charge? As in what?” “Sort of like…” The doctor shrugged, then moved his head from side to side as if weighing two different options. “You could say an electrical charge,” he finally admitted. “Nothing you’d feel, really. Just very slight. But it negates the sperm—” “Negates?” Vic questioned. He didn’t like the way the doctor was glossing over what Vic considered to be important facts. “What does that mean, exactly?” Another weighing motion. Beside Vic, Matt slipped a hand over his lover’s thigh, angling his fingers into the warmth of Vic’s crotch. “I don’t want something that’s going to shock 73
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my nuts,” he muttered. The doctor’s grin returned. “There is no shock, Mr. diLorenzo. I assure you. Most people feel nothing when it transmits the charge. Touch it now. Feel it for yourself.” He held the box out. Cautiously, Matt poked at the cock ring with one forefinger. When he didn’t feel anything, he touched it again, lingering this time. Then he picked the ring up and rubbed his thumb along its length. “It’s transmitting now?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice. “Constantly,” the doctor assured him. “See what I mean? No discomfort. Wear this all the time, if you want. Then there’s no worrying about where it might be when you’re ready to make love. If you want to follow me to the bathroom, I can show you how to put it on—” Vic growled, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” “Of course!” The doctor took the ring from Matt and returned it to the box. With a self-conscious laugh, he avoided Vic’s gaze as he said, “Don’t mind me. I get excited about my work, is all. You use this, it negates the sperm, and the powers disappear.” Narrowing his eyes, Vic glared at the doctor, who studiously ignored him. “You keep using that word,” Matt said, giving Vic’s leg a comforting squeeze. “Negates. What’s that mean exactly?” “It kills the sperm,” the doctor explained. “So you’ll ejaculate as normal, but the sperm won’t be viable. My belief is the powers reside in the spermatozoa themselves, and not in the seminal fluid. That’s why they’re effective only if 74
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ejaculated into another during intercourse. Outside the body, human sperm lives for about an hour, maybe longer if kept moist and warm, or flash frozen into a state of suspended stasis. Just sticking it in the freezer at home won’t work. In your case, I believe the powers may give your sperm an even shorter lifespan, since they won’t work if artificially inseminated, so I figured they would disappear altogether if the sperm itself dies.” Matt nodded. “That’s true. Vic, remember—” Vic covered Matt’s hand with his own, silencing his lover. He didn’t trust this man across from them, and didn’t want Matt saying anything the doctor could manipulate to fit his agenda, whatever that might be. “How do you know this?” “My research,” the doctor said. The song in his head grew louder, drowning out Vic’s attempts to read his thoughts and discern the truth of that statement. “My sister is engaged to a man whose mother was stoned for these powers.” To Matt, he asked, “Did you not tell him?” Matt nodded and gave Vic a quick smile. “He knows. He just doesn’t believe you.” “What’s to believe?” The doctor’s laugh sounded insincere and forced to Vic. “It’s the truth. It works. Use this, and your lives will return to normal. No more superpowers for you, I promise.”
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CHAPTER 6 Matt stared at Dr. Channarayapatra’s cock ring with a sense of disbelief. To think turning off the powers would be so easy! He knew some forms of energy killed sperm—he’d heard stories of men rendered infertile after being subjected to radiation such as X-rays or microwaves, and it made sense that electricity could work just as well. If the doctor were right, then this little band would help him keep Vic safe…or at least, not put him in any further danger. “And it works?” he asked, placing the ring back in its box. “Hundred percent,” the doctor assured him. “In theory.” Beside Matt, Vic grunted. “Which means you haven’t tested it yet.” 76
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“Only for lack of subjects.” Dr. Veej gave Matt a disarming grin. “You’ll be my first.” With a laugh, Matt joked, “Lucky me.” He glanced at his lover, whose stony gaze was trained on the man before them. Matt gave Vic’s leg a quick squeeze, hoping to turn those blue eyes his way, but all he succeeded in doing was cause Vic to fold his arms across his chest. He looked frightful, with his harsh frown, his distrusting glare, and now the closed-off gesture that told the doctor and everyone around them exactly how he felt about this little meeting. Speaking to Vic telepathically, Matt asked, ::What do you think?:: ::I think he’s lying,:: Vic replied, ::but he’s blocking me from reading his mind, so I can’t tell you why.:: Matt knew he was probably being a bit careless about the whole thing, but he wanted this ring to work so badly…he still shuddered to think of Vic stuck in the bathtub the day before, unable to get dressed, unable to go to work, unable to do anything that might cause him to set the world around him on fire. Thankfully that power had eventually worn off, but Matt couldn’t even kiss him until it did. Still, a healthy dose of skepticism wouldn’t hurt. That’s why I brought Vic. I trust too much, he doesn’t trust enough. Together we’re perfect. Out loud, Vic asked, “How’s it hold up in water?” “Fine,” Dr. Veej said quickly with a nod of his head. “Fine.” Latching onto his lover’s question, Matt asked, “It won’t electrocute me, will it? Because I work at a pool, I’m always 77
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in the water, and a lot of times we…you know, in the shower. Will that be a problem?” “Not at all,” the doctor assured him. His grin widened, if that were possible, dazzling Matt with a smile of bright, even teeth. When his gaze dropped from Matt’s to linger on his mouth, a pink tongue licked out to wet the doctor’s lips. With hooded eyes, he said, “Tell me, where else might you use—” Suddenly a frazzled blonde appeared at their table, wearing an apron that read DELI across the front, a tray of water glasses in one hand. “Hey guys,” she said, giving them a quick smile as she set the glasses down before them. “Sorry I’m a little late. Ready to order?” Dr. Veej snapped shut the case holding the cock ring and pocketed it. With something akin to relief, Matt glanced down at the menu before him. There was something seductive about the doctor that had nothing to do with his exotic appeal. Was the man hitting on him? Matt couldn’t tell. Or was Vic’s paranoia infecting Matt now as well? Vic stared across the table at the doctor, as if the man were nothing more than a squirming bug to be pinned down and squished. “I’ll have the twelve inch Italian,” he muttered, barely contained anger trilling through his voice. “Heated.” Matt snickered. He felt more than saw Vic’s gaze flicker his way. Nudging his lover, Matt teased, “I have your hot Italian right here.” That brought a shadow of a smile to Vic’s face. ::You’re more than enough to fill me up.:: ::Keep talking like that, big boy,:: Matt told his lover, 78
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::and we’ll put that cock ring to good use before we even get home.:: Vic didn’t reply, but his silence told Matt all he needed to know about his reluctance to believe Dr. Veej. *
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As they waited for their sandwiches, Vic stared down the doctor, who couldn’t meet his gaze, so concentrated on Matt instead. Matt shifted in the booth, uncomfortable. The more the man smiled, the less he liked it. His first impression of a helpful research analyst wore off quickly, replaced with a feeling that the doctor only told him what he wanted to hear, not what he needed to. Was that growing suspicion Vic’s influence? Matt wasn’t sure. In quick, clinical terms, Dr. Veej explained how the ring should be worn—around the penis and scrotum, with the transistor turned behind the sac and pressed up close against the body. It was safe to wear around the clock, though it would make him “bulge” a little below the belt. With a smirk, Matt joked, “More than usual?” “It pushes everything up.” The doctor’s smarmy grin made Matt suspect the guy was picturing him naked, nothing on but that damn cock ring of his, genitals bulging obscenely. “You only see it when you’re dressed. It’s not much, but someone used to looking might notice.” “Will it fit?” was Matt’s next question. The ring looked so…so tiny. Dr. Veej brought the box out again and opened it. The ring 79
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looked a little on the small side. “You might need to stretch it some,” he admitted. He glanced up at Matt and had the audacity to wink. “My offer of fitting it still stands.” Matt turned to Vic—had he seen that wink, too? Or had Matt imagined it? His answer was in his lover’s flushed face, the dark color rising in his cheeks, the thin white line slashed across his mouth where his lips were pressed so tightly together, they almost vanished in his face. Leaning across the table, Vic lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Another comment like that, and I’ll stretch that goddamn ring around your neck. You think I’m playing?” Quickly, the doctor stuttered, “No—” “I don’t know what your game is here,” Vic continued. “I don’t know what the hell you hope to gain by this, doctor, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to hide behind that stupid nursery rhyme you’ve got circling your head, but you listen to me. You listen good. If you’re out to hurt Matty in any way, for any reason, I’ll kill you. With or without any super powers, simple as that.” The doctor’s eyes widened until the irises were completely surrounded by white. Matt thought if he leaned forward just a little, they’d roll right out onto the table. One corner of the doctor’s mouth twitched, and for the first time since they’d met, there was no ingratiating grin, no false laugh, no pretense. His face was slack with fear. Vic sat back in the booth, and Matt’s hand eased a little higher up his thigh. “Good. We understand each other.” With 80
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a glance at the cock ring on the table before them, he added, “So you’re saying this ring of yours is completely safe then?” With a nod, the doctor murmured, “Yes.” As if startled out of his stupor by the sound of his own voice, he said it again, louder this time. “Yes. Mr. Braunson, Matt, I’m a man of science. I created this ring because I could. I have no reason other than that.” Vic grunted. “Why don’t I believe you?” Before the doctor could answer, the waitress was back, three balanced plates in her arms. “All right, boys,” she said, setting the largest sandwich in front of Vic. Spying the cock ring in its box, she perked up. “Is that one of those jelly bracelets? I had them when I was like eight. Funny how everything old becomes hip again, ain’t it? Who had the roast beef?” *
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They ate in a strained silence, and at the end of the meal, Dr. Veej seemed unable to part with the cock ring he had so willingly offered. Outside the deli, he fiddled with the box and told them again how it should be worn. “Make sure it’s right up against the body. It may be uncomfortable or tight at first, but you should grow used to it soon enough. If there’s any chaffing or soreness, use lots of lotion and don’t be afraid to take it off now and then. Just remember, removing it will bring back the powers, the very next time you ejaculate. The ring only kills the sperm as they’re drawn up into the penis prior to orgasm. The sperm still in the testes are still viable.” He 81
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started to hand over the box, then thought better of it and added, “You’ll want to lubricate it, I think. Work it down over your penis, then stretch it a bit to insert one testicle at a time. Sort of like—” “We’ll figure it out,” Vic growled. He stuck out his hand for the box, and would probably have plucked it from the doctor’s fingers if the man hadn’t turned to give it to Matt. With an angry sigh, Vic asked, “Are we about done here?” Dr. Veej patted down his jacket until he found a business card, which he also gave to Matt. “Please, call me any time. I want to know how it works out for you, all right? Call me.” Matt took the box and the card. His mind couldn’t quite grasp the fact that he held the solution to his little problem in the palm of his hand. How different would his life have been if he had this thing sooner? How many offers of intimacy had he turned away because he’d been afraid of the abilities he’d give his partner? Where would he be now, who would he be with, if he didn’t have those damn powers to worry about? It didn’t matter. He was here, now, with a man who loved him more completely than any other probably could. With Vic. Even if he could’ve had the ring years ago, he wouldn’t want to be living any other life than this one, with this man. His throat closed with emotion, and Matt wrapped an arm around Vic’s waist to bury his face in his lover’s coat. Without saying a word, Vic draped his arm around Matt’s shoulders, hugging him close. Suddenly Matt’s eyes felt red and raw, and he rubbed them on Vic’s sleeve before he could look at Dr. Veej again. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with 82
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emotion. “I can’t tell you…” His voice cracked and his chin trembled. Taking a deep breath, he turned away and blinked back tears of gratitude. From the corner of his vision, he saw the doctor take a step toward him, hand outstretched, but a grunt from Vic froze him in place before he could touch Matt. Wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, Matt said again, “Thanks.” “Call me,” the doctor told him. “I want to hear about your results.” Keeping his arm around Matt, Vic led the way to their car. As he unlocked the passenger side door for Matt, he murmured in a gruff voice, “You all right?” Matt sniffled. “Fine.” When Vic frowned at him, Matt gave him a forced smile, then hugged him close, pressing his lips to his lover’s. “I’m just a little overwhelmed at the moment, that’s all. I’ll be okay.” Vic’s reply was another kiss, this one lingering, with a hint of tongue. He leaned Matt back against the side of the car, the box caught between them as their bodies meshed together. With a grin, Matt stole a third kiss, and a fourth. “You know we’re out in public,” he whispered. “People are watching.” Well, no, they were alone in the parking lot—the only one watching them was Dr. Veej, who stood at his car several parking spots away from theirs and stared as if he’d never seen someone being kissed before. As Vic stepped back to let his lover drop into the passenger seat, Matt asked, “What do you think? Turned on or grossed out?” 83
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Vic glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. The moment their eyes met, Dr. Veej turned and fumbled with his key in a hurry to get safely inside his vehicle. “He was hitting on you the whole time,” Vic grumbled. At Matt’s laugh, he said, “I’m serious. He stared at you like some lovesick schoolboy.” “Well,” Matt pointed out, “every time he looked at you, he got the evil eye. You could’ve been nicer.” Now Vic laughed. “Hell no.” With a glance to ensure Matt was in the car, he slammed the door shut and started around to the driver’s side. At the front of the car he stopped, turned again, and looked over at Dr. Veej as if to catch him watching, but the doctor had driven off, his parking spot empty. Vic tapped the hood as he skirted it. Leaning across the front seat, Matt unlocked the door a moment before Vic pulled up on the handle. He didn’t sit back immediately as his lover eased behind the wheel, and stole another kiss before Vic started the car. Softly, Matt said, “Thanks for doing this for me.” “They’re your powers,” Vic reminded him. When he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. “If you want to get rid of them, that’s fine with me. I love you either way.” Matt sensed a reluctance in his lover that he wanted to ferret out and address before they went any farther. “But?” Settling into the driver’s seat, Vic put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. He shrugged as Matt sat back in his seat. “But I don’t trust that man.” “That’s not the only thing bothering you.” Matt clicked his 84
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seat belt home, then grabbed the wheel with one hand to steady it. “Buckle up, big boy.” Vic did as instructed, letting Matt steer for a moment or two. When they were both strapped in, Matt relinquished the wheel and asked again, “But?” “Matty—” ::Don’t make me come in here and find it,:: Matt teased, speaking directly into his lover’s mind. A wan smile crossed Vic’s face. ::But if we use that ring, we lose this.:: The intimate connection that linked their minds together. The ability to feel what the other did, to savor each other’s mental touch without physical contact. The hours spent in silent communication, thoughts more powerful than words could ever be passing between them, enriching their life together, deepening their love. This, which Matt had taken for granted for the past five years, this. An ache like heartbreak opened up in him, and in a small voice, he sighed, “Oh, Vic.” His lover’s gruff voice turned gravely with emotion he tried to rein in. “I know it’s for the best,” he said, blinking quickly as he concentrated on the traffic merging onto the interstate. “I know it’s what you want, Matty, and if that’s the case, then I want it, too. But I’m gonna miss you inside me.” Matt pouted out the window beside him. He hadn’t thought of that—the psychic link between them seemed so…so natural, in a way. It was always there, a constant in his life, and he never equated it with the other powers of Vic’s that 85
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came and went. Fuck. Then it hit him, a solution so simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. “We don’t have to use the ring all the time,” he said, turning a bright smile to Vic. “You have that book I gave you, the one you wrote all those powers down in. All we have to do is find the one that gives you telepathic powers, take off the cock ring, and get busy. That should do the trick.” “Matt,” Vic sighed. There was a pained look on his face when he glanced at his lover before turning back to the road. “There isn’t just one position that causes this, and you know it. It’s like the strength—it’s constant.” “So we pick a position that doesn’t wreak too much havoc,” Matt conceded. “Something mild, you know? Something you can live with—” Vic pointed out, “I’ve been living with all of them for years now. Isn’t that why you want to use the ring in the first place?” “We’ll just try it out at first, then.” Matt crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared out at the skeletal trees streaking past them along the interstate. Silently, he asked his lover, ::Why are you making this so damn difficult?:: ::The same reason you want these powers gone,:: Vic told him. ::I want to keep you safe. You’re so eager for this to work—:: Aloud, Matt muttered, “It will.” For a moment, an unease stretched between them, a tenseness that threatened to shatter into angry words and hurt 86
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feelings. Matt felt it brewing in him, a need to lash out, a need to be right. This ring would work, it would remove the powers that put Vic in constant danger, and somehow, Matt would find a way to keep the telepathy they shared. There had to be a way. Then a large hand covered his knee and gave it a loving squeeze. Matt slipped his fingers beneath his lover’s hand, curling them into Vic’s warm palm. “We’ll figure something out,” Matt assured him. *
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Sunday evening, Matt decided it was time to test out the cock ring. While Vic undressed in the bedroom, getting ready to call it a night, Matt stripped down in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. His clothes were kicked into a pile in the corner behind the door, and the hand not holding his toothbrush toyed with the box that still held the cock ring. He opened the box and fingered the ring, which looked ridiculously small to him. Picking it up, he stretched it between his first two fingers, feeling little give to the black polymer. The transistor looked insubstantial, barely the size of the nail on his forefinger. If this piece of plastic did anything more than prolong his erection during sex, he’d be surprised. Spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, Matt rinsed, then splashed water on his face. He rubbed his damp hands through his tousled curls and shook his head to dry off. In his mind, Vic’s presence yawned. ::Some time tonight, Matty.:: ::Coming,:: Matt replied. 87
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He heard Vic chuckle in the bedroom. ::Not by yourself, I hope.:: ::Ha ha.:: Matt smirked at his reflection in the mirror. ::I meant I’ll be right there.:: He reached to turn off the spigot, then changed his mind and held the cock ring beneath the flow from the tap. Water— lube of choice for the man in a hurry. After a moment or two, he turned off the water and stretched the ring between his fingers again. It felt a tad bit looser. At his crotch, his dick gave a little spasm in anticipation, and practically jumped into Matt’s hand when he took hold of it. With his other hand, he tried to pull open the cock ring wide enough to encircle his balls. No dice. He didn’t have huge nuts, but the ring was too small to go around them. Remembering the doctor’s orders, Matt rolled the ring down over the head of his cock, then tried to pull it open wide enough to slip over his balls. After a bit of finagling, he managed to get the tight band around one testicle. But his fingers were slick with water and he couldn’t seem to get his thumb under the ring to stretch it over the next testicle. When he tried, the ring bit into his soft flesh and caught in the hair at his groin. “Fuck,” he muttered. He needed two hands to do this. So he released his cock, which swung into place above his balls, obscuring them. The ring pinched sensitive skin, and sweat beaded on Matt’s forehead to drip into his eyes. With a rough shove, he pushed the hair from his face, his groin screaming in pain, one half of his balls caught in the ring and 88
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his cock squeezed in the tight band. This wouldn’t work. Yanking open the bathroom door, Matt stumbled down the short hall to their bedroom. Vic sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Matt, as he rubbed a moisturizer onto his freshly shaved scalp. Stepping up to the opposite side of the bed, Matt pouted at the expanse of his lover’s naked back. “Vic,” he said simply. “Help.” Vic turned, a slow grin easing across his face. “Tight fit, eh?” he asked. “That’s not funny.” Matt pouted harder. “It hurts. Fix it.” Vic patted the bed behind him. “Lie down.” Matt did as instructed, turning to lie on his back across the foot of the bed. He took slow breaths, and frowned at Vic as his lover lay down beside him. “If it’s this hard to get on,” he admitted, “the doctor’s probably right about leaving it on all the time. I mean, shit. This sucks.” With deft fingers, Vic plucked the ring off Matt’s cock and balls. “You’re doing it wrong,” he said. “You have to wet it down—” “I stuck it in the sink,” Matt admitted. “Doesn’t count.” As Matt watched, Vic popped the ring in his mouth. Around it, he said, “You have to stretch it out a bit, make it limber.” Matt grinned. “So what, you chew on it?” One of his lover’s hands drifted to his hard cock. The fingers strummed along Matt’s length, drawing it up away from his body, teasing it erect. Matt watched Vic’s cheek as 89
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his lover’s tongue worked the cock ring over. A warm fizzle began to grow in his groin—like a living flower, it sent vines down into his legs and stomach, tendrils of desire that worked through his muscles, relaxing him. It left seeds of lust in his blood, which blossomed into sprays of blooms whenever Vic’s short nails brushed over the tip of his dick. Beneath his lover’s ministrations, Matt’s cock thickened and grew. When Vic moved his hand to twirl through the fluff of hair across Matt’s lower belly, Matt pushed his wrist toward the shaft beginning to stand up from his crotch. “More please.” But Vic continued to tickle over the skin that fluttered around Matt’s navel. “In a minute,” he promised. Moving closer, Vic rested his cheek high up on Matt’s inner thigh and licked out his tongue to taste Matt’s scrotum. He kissed the soft sac, again and again, before opening his mouth to take it in. Matt gasped and arched against the bed as the wet warmth of his lover’s mouth cradled his balls. A firm, tender tongue traced the contours of his testes, suckling on one, then the other. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Matt dropped his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Yesss,” he sighed. “God, yes.” Moving up the length of Matt’s shaft, Vic worked his way to the tip of his lover’s dick. Using only his teeth and lips, he rolled the ring down Matt’s cock, then somehow manipulated it around his nuts, one at a time. With his tongue, he guided it into place against the base of Matt’s penis, then nipped and tugged until the transistor rested behind Matt’s balls. Matt managed, “Thanks.” 90
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Vic’s reply was a kiss at the root of his lover’s cock. Working his way up Matt’s thickly veined shaft, Vic licked and kissed and massaged Matt erect, along the full length of his dick, until he took the sensitive tip between his lips. Repositioning himself so he could watch Matt watch him, Vic waited until Matt’s attention was focused on him before he went down again, very deliberately, taking his lover’s cock into his mouth and throat. As his lower lip brushed over the cock ring, Vic sent one thought into Matt’s mind. ::You ready to try this thing out?:: Matt gasped, “Yes.”
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CHAPTER 7 Monday morning, Vic woke to silence. For the first time in years, the only thoughts in his head were his own. He lay in his bed for a long, quiet moment, eyes shut, and strained to hear anything, anything at all. Nothing crossed his mind. No angry mutterings from the pissy neighbor downstairs, no random Polish curses from Mrs. K as she puttered around in her apartment above Vic’s, no barely discernable mewlings from her many cats. Nothing coming in off the street, where Vic sometimes picked up thoughts from passing cars, hearing them mentally the same way he heard the blare of their radios loom then fade as they drove by. 92
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Not a single foreign thought filled his head. Vic had never felt so alone. You wanted this, he told himself as he threw back the sheets and climbed out of bed. No, Matt wanted it, and what Matt wanted, Vic gave him, simple as that. Matt wanted the powers gone, and Vic obliged. If Matt asked him to stop the world, Vic would try his best to cease its spinning, without hesitation. Still, he had grown so used to the noise in his head, even if he tuned it out most of the time. He felt as if he’d gone deaf. With a shake of his head, he let out a leonine yawn that tickled the back of his throat and disrupted the morning quietude. As the sound rose to his ears, he knew his hearing was fine. The silence ran deeper than that. The growl echoed within the emptiness of his head. Matt wants this. Vic had to keep reminding himself of that. The powers are his, they belong to him. It’s his choice whether he wants to bestow them on me or not. If this makes him feel more normal… With a laugh so sudden, so loud, that it startled him, Vic thought it funny how being “normal” had never felt so wrong. In the bathroom, he found a sticky note tacked to the mirror. Love you, written in Matt’s scrawling script. Vic plucked it off the mirror and set it on the edge of the sink, where it curled in moisture left behind when his lover had used the bathroom. Staring at Matt’s handwriting, Vic told himself again, this was what Matt wanted. But damned if he wasn’t going to miss his sexy man’s thoughts all tangled up in 93
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his own. After a quick shower, Vic dressed and headed into the kitchen, where Matt had left a full pot of coffee warming for him. Another sticky was attached to the On/Off switch for the coffeemaker. Love you. Someone had been in a good mood earlier. Pouring himself a cup, Vic balled up the note and tossed it into the trash can, then leaned against the counter to sip at the hot java. His mind was blank, devoid of thought. Had it always been like this, before others’ minds had invaded his? This…this lonely? Vic didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. Matt had become such a tangible part of his life that he had no recollection of what he’d done or felt before him. In the mornings, part of him always woke when Matt did; even if he stayed in bed, there was some section of his brain so firmly enmeshed with Matt’s that he knew exactly what his lover felt and thought whenever they were together. It was unconscious, and Vic wouldn’t have stopped it if he could. He loved having that much more of his lover, being inside him in a way no one else could. In sleep, their minds were as wrapped together as their limbs, and that connection only deepened upon waking. Earlier in the morning, Matt had woken alone. Dressed alone. Probably kissed Vic goodbye as he left, but Vic didn’t know for sure, he hadn’t felt it. Sipping at his coffee, Vic decided he didn’t much like losing that power, the one that tied them together. Face it, a voice inside him whispered—a voice he didn’t want to listen to, but because it was the only one in his head, 94
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he couldn’t tune it out. It was his own voice, and as much as he didn’t want to hear what it had to say, Vic had no choice but to listen. It’s not just that power, is it, Vic? It’s all of them. The telepathy, not just hearing Matt but hearing the whole world. The strength that used to flow through your body. The strange and sometimes fucked up powers you’d have to put up with…you miss them, too. You miss them all. Because without them, who are you? A bus driver nearing forty who isn’t all that great a catch, if you’re being honest with yourself. And if Matt can control the powers now, what the hell is keeping him with you? Out loud Vic muttered, “Shut up.” That hit a nerve. If Matt didn’t have to worry about his sexual partner receiving unwanted super powers, what was keeping him with Vic? Would he want to play the field a bit, see what he’d been missing out on? Would he want a sexier boyfriend, someone hot who’d look great cruising the streets beside him in the front seat of his Jaguar? How long did they have left together, now that Matt was normal and Vic nothing but some fug-ugly motherfucker who liked it up the ass? “Shut the fuck up,” he growled at himself. Throwing his coffee mug into the sink, he dug the balledup sticky note from the trash and smoothed it out. Love you. It said so, right there. Matt had liked him before he learned about the powers, hadn’t he? They were friends for months before Vic made the first move, and Matt had trusted him with a secret he’d shared with no other. Matt loved him, powers or not. 95
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Matt loved him. Still, Vic couldn’t help but think that maybe the powers had validated him to some extent. Made him someone different, something more. Matt might love him without the super abilities, but Vic suspected he himself might not. *
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Outside the weather was warm for January, but Vic hunkered into his leather jacket and hurried down the steps of his building to his car, parked at the curb. As he passed behind his old, battered Toyota Corolla, he paused to look around. He was alone on the street at this hour. Turning toward the car, he bent at the knees a little and caught the black bumper in both hands. Then, with a deep breath to focus his energy, Vic tried to lift the end of the car. His arms strained beneath the weight and the car budged slightly, but that was it. His hands grew slick with sweat, his muscles ached with the effort, and he let his fingers slide free from the bumper as he stood. So, his strength was gone, too. Fuck. He tried telling himself it didn’t bother him, but he still slammed the car door as he sank into the driver’s seat, and he twisted the key in the ignition so hard, the engine roared to life like a caged beast. Popping the clutch, Vic tore away from the curb without bothering to check his mirrors—let someone hit him. He needed a way to vent this…this anger clawing inside him. Matt wants this, he reminded himself. I want what he wants. 96
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Bullshit. Admit it, Vic. You want the powers back. No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t let himself want them. He wanted Matty. The powers had been nice but they were gone. Matt remained. I love him, Vic assured himself as he wove through the traffic on his way to work. Only him. Still, the powers had been nice. He shook his head to chase that thought away. Stop it. I love the man, not the powers he gives me. How many times have I told him that? How many times have I assured him I love him for who he is, and not for who he makes me? So prove it, Vic. To him and to yourself. *
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Now that he couldn’t read minds, Vic found himself wondering what the people around him were thinking. He hadn’t cared before, and suddenly he seemed obsessed with it. Every fare that rode his bus was scrutinized, every pedestrian crossing the street watched with suspicion, every driver he passed had ulterior motives he couldn’t begin to fathom. You’re driving yourself to distraction, Vic, he chided as he slammed on the brakes in front of a bus stop he almost drove right past. Pay attention. A few minutes later, he pulled into the flow of traffic and noticed lights in his rearview mirror. He glanced out his side mirror and saw a Richmond city police car right behind him, blue lights flashing as if Tide were on sale at K-Mart. With a groan, he sped up—if he had his telepathic power still, he 97
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could’ve easily dipped into the officer’s mind to see what the problem was without bothering to stop. Had he cut the squad car off? Was he blocking the pursuit of a suspect? Did the officer seriously expect him to pull over? Vic had no clue. He continued onto the next bus stop, the cop riding his ass. Even when the lane beside him opened up, the officer stayed on his tail. Vic figured he was at fault somehow, but couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done wrong. Besides wake up today. Everything’s gone downhill since I bothered to get out of bed. At the next stop, he pulled over and opened the door for his fares. Those who climbed down stopped on the sidewalk to stare at the police car that eased to the curb behind the bus. Vic watched in his side-view mirror as a familiar figure climbed out of the car, shut the door, and started his way. Officer Kendra Jones. Vic didn’t want to admit he was glad to see her. She stormed up to the window beside his seat and tapped on the glass with one small fist. As Vic slid the window open, she was already raising her voice over the sound of the passing cars. “Didn’t you see my lights?” she wanted to know. “Hello to you, too,” Vic grumbled. “Do you routinely pull over city buses? Because I’m on a schedule here.” Ignoring that, Officer Jones peered up at Vic and squinted in the afternoon sun. Then she raised her hand to shield her eyes, and a quick grin crossed her face. “I need to talk to you.” Vic waved at the seats behind him. “So you’d hold up all these people—” 98
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“Listen.” She slapped the side of the bus, aggravated. “Do you stop for lunch or something?” With a sigh, Vic glanced at the clock on his dashboard. Quarter to three. He usually grabbed a bite to eat around four, pulling into any one of the many small restaurants that littered Richmond’s downtown. He had a sneaky feeling Officer Jones wanted to harass him about joining the force again. Any other day he’d tell her he couldn’t talk, he had work to do…but the powers were gone, and he knew if anyone were more upset by their disappearance than he himself, it’d be Officer Jones. She looked to him like some sort of superhero, and constantly tried to convince him to use the powers to help save the world. Vic would get a perverse sort of pleasure in telling her, “Sorry, the powers are gone.” No more Superman. She’d have to put up with the powerless fool Clark Kent from now on. Putting the bus into gear, Vic hollered, “Meet me at DiMaggio’s, corner of Grace and Second, in like forty-five minutes. We’ll have a half hour to chat before I have to finish my route. How’s that sound?” The smile she beamed at him was trusting and pure—for a moment, Vic felt a pang of remorse for leading her on. But hey, his day was shot already. Why not share the wealth? In the side-view mirror, he watched her return to her squad car, and only pulled into traffic once her flashing lights cut off. *
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When Vic entered DiMaggio’s, Kendra was already there, camped out in a corner booth by the windows so she could 99
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watch for him. Her face lit up when she saw him, and even though he started her way, she still waved. As he passed the counter, Vic shot a look at the man behind the counter, a large kid half Vic’s age who was always slapping his spatula against the grill whenever Vic came into the place. “Hey, man,” the kid called out, seeing Vic. “The usual?” Vic nodded and, unable to delay any longer, headed over to Kendra’s booth, where she sat sipping on a soda. “There you are,” she said as he slid into the seat across from her. “I was starting to think you’d bail on me.” “Have to eat sometime,” Vic muttered. They stared at each other for a moment, Vic waiting for her to begin, but when it became obvious she was in no hurry to get things rolling, he asked, “You said you had to talk to me?” “Right.” From the seat beside her, Kendra grabbed a small notepad and flipped it open. As she spoke, she studied the notepad in her hands, and only glanced up at Vic once or twice to see if he were paying attention. “I was thinking about what you said the other day, about Matt not wanting you to get hurt? And yeah, he has a point. I mean, police work can be dangerous. So I was thinking maybe you could get a desk job down at the precinct, you know? Something safe, where you can still use your powers to help out. Like maybe you could work in the booking room, and sort of, I don’t know, read the criminals minds so we know if we have the right man or not— ” Vic cut her off with a laugh, a quick sound like a startled bark. “That’s not exactly innocent ’til proven guilty. How can 100
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you legally detain a guy for something in his thoughts?” With a sigh, Kendra explained, “We can use what you pluck out of his head to help guide the interrogations. Or, hey, you could even do those yourself. A big guy like you? I mean, damn. Most criminals will cave in two minutes with you glaring them down. Add a little mental pressure…” “No.” Vic shook his head, adamant, and noticed the waitress heading their way. Sitting back in the booth, he waited until she set a plate before him—a thick, sloppy hamburger in the middle of a plate of fries. As he reached for the salt, he told Kendra again, “No. I won’t do it. I can’t.” “Vic—” “Not only is it an unfair advantage,” he continued, dousing his fries liberally with the salt, “and a gross invasion of privacy, I can’t do it. Not anymore.” She started, “No, Vic, you don’t…” Then his words hit home, and she stared at him, nonplussed. “Wait. What do you mean?’ Tackling the hamburger, Vic allowed himself the luxury of completely chewing one heavenly bite before he answered. “I mean the powers are gone.” Kendra’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “What? They can’t—how…” Confusion wrinkled her brow, and she swept her police cap off with one hand to smooth down her hair in an unconscious gesture. “Where’d they go?” Vic shrugged, nonchalant, and concentrated on his fries as she tried to wrap her mind around his announcement. “Gone,” she muttered in disbelief. Then she glanced at him sharply. 101
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“What happened? Is Matt—” “Matt’s fine,” Vic assured her. Seeing the doubtful look on her face, he added, “We’re fine, I promise. Everything’s cool. The powers have been negated.” “What the hell does that mean?” Kendra snapped. “You and Matt didn’t…” Vic glared at her, but she swallowed and forced herself to continue. “You’re still together, right? Don’t tell me you guys broke up or anything.” “We’re fine,” he said again. Kendra sighed, deflated. “So what, you’ve both decided to go celibate or something?” She forced a laugh that didn’t rise to her eyes. “Shit. How did you manage to…what’d you call it? Negate the powers?” She stared at Vic from across the table, watching him eat, silently demanding answers. He debated how much to tell her, but she was the only person who knew of the powers in the first place, who knew where they came from, how they were transmitted. The only person he trusted. And she hung so much hope on him, so many expectations, that as much as he wanted to bring her down to his current mood, he couldn’t be that petty. She deserved to know the truth. To know that the gig was up, the powers were gone—that he was nothing more than an average Joe, nothing special, nothing super, nothing more than everyone else in the world. Vic gave her a brief summary of the past few days. The tabloid’s article shocked her. “I’m checking into that,” she promised, scribbling down the name of the paper. “Inmates aren’t supposed to have any unsanctioned contact with the 102
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media. And if he received any compensation for that piece? He’s so dead.” When Vic told her of Dr. Veej’s phone call to Matt and their subsequent meeting, she began writing again. “Veej? What’s that stand for?” Vic could see the doctor’s business card in his mind’s eye; when Matt had emptied his coat pockets, he left the card on the phone table in the hall. “Vijay, maybe?” Vic shrugged. “He was Indian, I think. Had this telemarketer accent, and kept talking about his village back home. I got the impression he didn’t mean someplace local, if you get my drift.” “Vijay.” Kendra wrote that down, then wanted to know, “Did you get his last name?” “Starts with a C.” The harder Vic concentrated on the mental image of the business card, the harder it became for him to remember what it had said. “Channapatra something, maybe. He said he was head of the research department at Armour Labs.” “The condom factory? That makes sense.” Kendra wrote some more in her notepad, her pen dashing across the page as if possessed. “So what exactly did he give you guys? I mean, it obviously works…” She sipped at her soda, waiting. Vic frowned at what remained of his fries and admitted, “A cock ring.” With a gasp, she choked on her drink. She began to laugh, then bent over in a fit of coughing. Vic couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. When she could finally speak, she drew in a deep breath. “Do I even want to know what that is?” 103
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“It’s a ring of rubber that goes around a certain part of the male anatomy,” Vic explained. “It’s sort of a sex toy, I guess, and normally just prolongs an erection. Why am I telling you this?” “Because the church-going Southern Baptist in me is sexually repressed.” She giggled, a girly sound that made Vic shake his head. “I had no idea guys would even want something like that. I mean, why—” “I’m not going into detail,” Vic told her, the steel in his voice silencing any further questions. “They exist, all right? I’m sure you can look them up online or something if you really want to learn more.” Kendra nodded. With difficulty, she wiped the grin from her face. “Okay,” she agreed. As she studied her notes, a thin line creased her forehead, then deepened when she frowned. “But wait—how does that negate the powers?” Quickly, Vic recounted what the doctor had said about the electric charge. She wrote it all down in that little notepad of hers. When he was finished, Kendra asked, “And you believed him?” Vic shrugged. “Come on now,” she said. “You still had the powers then. Don’t tell me you didn’t read his mind to see—” “I couldn’t. He had some damn jingle playing through his head that hid his thoughts.” That fact still bothered Vic—he’d been unable to get past the doctor’s defenses. Why had the doctor blocked him? And how would he know to do that in the first place? For a long moment, Kendra stared at him. Vic didn’t have 104
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to read her mind to know what she was thinking, and soon enough, she admitted out loud, “That sounds awfully suspicious to me. You’d use something given to you by someone you don’t know just because he said it might work?” “Yeah, well.” Vic sighed. “When you put it that way, I’ll admit it sounds stupid, but this was what Matt wanted.” Under her breath, Kendra muttered, “And what Matt wants, he gets.” When Vic glared at her, she gave him a wan smile. “The question is, Vic, what do you want?” The answer was simple. “I want Matt happy.”
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CHAPTER 8 As Matt used a pair of tongs to extract the chuck roast from the slow cooker, he threw a worried glance at the clock above the stove. Vic should’ve been home by now. Usually Matt picked up the threads of their mental connection when Vic was only two blocks from their apartment, and the signal strengthened as he approached. But here it was almost eight thirty in the evening, and no sign of him yet… In the foyer, a key scraped in the lock on the front door, startling Matt. The roast slid from the tongs to splash into the liquid at the bottom of the slow cooker. “Shit,” Matt muttered, grabbing a nearby hand towel to wipe up the counter. In the other room, he heard the front door open and shut, and the 106
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clatter of keys as they dropped to the phone table. Raising his voice, Matt called out, “That better be you.” Vic sounded defeated. “It’s me. Who else has keys to the place?” With a laugh, Matt left the roast to marinate in its juices and wiped his hands on the towel as he stepped into the hall. “Mrs. K,” he pointed out. Vic was shucking off his coat, one boot already kicked off, when Matt stepped up to him to claim a kiss. “But I seriously doubt she’d be sneaking in here for a little something something, if you know what I mean. Not when I’m home, at least. We both know she favors you.” “She doesn’t.” Matt cut him off with another kiss. “You blocking me for a reason, baby?” he murmured, his breath warm against Vic’s mouth. “Got something special planned for tonight you don’t want me to see?” Vic grunted. “I ain’t blocking you. The power’s gone.” “Gone?” Matt took a step back to frown at his lover. “So soon?” With a shrug, Vic slipped out of his jacket, then hung it in the coat closet. He pulled off his other boot and left the pair of them beside the door. As he started to unbutton his work shirt, Matt held out a hand to stop him. “Wait. What do you mean, gone?” “You sound like Kendra,” Vic grumbled. “Yes, it’s gone. Don’t act so surprised, Matty. You knew this was coming.” Matt admitted, “But I didn’t think it’d happen immediately.” In the past when they had abstained from sex, 107
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the powers faded over time but never really vanished. Some remnant of the telepathy and super strength stayed in Vic’s system, even after days of abstinence. Sure, they flared stronger than ever when they finally made love, but in the interim, the powers didn’t just disappear. Not that fast. Then he picked up on what else Vic had said. Kendra Jones, a police officer with the City… “Did you say you told Kendra?” Matt asked, incredulous. “Like, everything?” “I had to.” Vic balled up his work shirt and pitched it down the hall, where it fell to the floor before the French doors that obscured their laundry facilities. “She was trying to recruit me again and I just said look, it ain’t happening.” With what sounded like a bitter laugh, he added, “For real this time.” Matt started, “Vic…” He reached out a hand for his lover, which Vic caught in both of his, and let himself be reeled into the safety of Vic’s embrace. He still felt strong to Matt. He still felt invincible. Pressing his face against Vic’s undershirt, Matt breathed in his lover’s scent, a mix of sweat and lingering aftershave that smelled incredible to him. It stirred his libido, and Matt found himself clinging to Vic, breathing deep, trying to draw him in. “I thought we’d have more time,” he whispered. “I mean, we only used it yesterday. How’s it work that quick?” One large hand rubbed over his back, soothing him. When Vic spoke, his voice rumbled in his chest, thunderous where Matt held on tight. “I don’t know.” Matt wrapped his arms around Vic’s waist, savoring his lover’s touch. He didn’t know either, but he knew someone 108
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who did. When they had come home on Saturday, Matt hadn’t thought he’d ever call Dr. Channarayapatra again. The guy was a bit creepy, and Vic was right—he had been hitting on Matt. But the cock ring was his device. If anyone knew the whys and hows of it, it would be Dr. Veej. He tried to send that thought to Vic before he remembered they weren’t communicating that way anymore. And the thought of mentioning it was too exhausting—Vic didn’t care for the doctor, and Matt knew bringing him up would only make his lover mad. Without a mental connection to share his thoughts with his lover, Matt wasn’t sure how Vic would react if he mentioned the man. He was so stoic most of the time, his stern visage hiding the mind and emotions Matt loved so much. Pulling away from his lover, he searched those blue eyes for a hint of what lay behind them. They had always shared every little thing, every thought, every feeling, every touch. How would he know what went on inside that head of Vic’s if he couldn’t climb in there to see for himself? I need that back, Matt thought as he studied Vic’s face. His lover’s eyes softened, but Matt wanted more than that. He wanted his lover’s presence in him. He wanted that constant reassurance that he was loved. Without it, he felt like a junkie going through withdrawal—doubts assaulted his mind, questions he wanted answered but didn’t know how to ask. When had Vic met up with Kendra? What had they talked about? Matt knew his name must’ve been mentioned—in what 109
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context? What was said of him? And Vic’s drive home from work…he wanted to know when his lover neared the apartment, and didn’t care for the surprise of hearing a key in the lock. He wanted forewarning—Vic looked so exhausted, so drained. If Matt had known that beforehand, he could’ve met Vic at the door, helped him out of his coat and boots, massaged his back. He could’ve had dinner on the table, instead of still in the pot. There were so many things he’d grown used to over the past few years, so many little habits he’d picked up, and all that was gone now, cut off, lost. All because of one little ring of rubber. “Matty?” Vic asked. His voice was soft, tired. One hand touched Matt’s cheek, smoothing down faint hairs like peach fuzz. “Is that a roast I smell? Cause I’m famished.” Matt gave him a sad smile, then pressed his lips to Vic’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “You get cleaned up,” he told his lover. “I’ll have dinner on the table in five minutes. I promise.” *
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That evening Vic sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist as he leafed through an issue of Tattoo magazine. Matt lay beside him, head resting on Vic’s hip, one hand rubbing low over his lover’s belly. Every now and then, his fingers slipped beneath the bed sheet, tickling smooth skin that stiffened at his touch. Whenever Vic turned a page in the magazine, he reached over and ruffled Matt’s hair before focusing his attention back on the glossy pages. Beneath the 110
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sheets, Matt’s legs were entwined with Vic’s, both feet wrapped firmly around one thick calf. Matt loved this closeness, this press of bodies, this loving feeling. But inside, he felt closed off and distant. No matter how much of his body touched Vic’s, Matt couldn’t seem to feel as if he were in tune with his lover. The silence that had once been full of camaraderie between them now stifled him—he wanted to talk just to fill it, and hated to disturb Vic’s reading with the sound of his own voice. If only he could reach out with his thoughts, savor his lover’s mental presence, feel this man beside him in ways more intimate than mere physical touch… Clearing his throat, Matt settled into a more comfortable position, his cheek resting high up on Vic’s hip. “What are you thinking?” He hated that he had to ask, and he hated the fact that the response wasn’t immediate. Vic took a moment to reply, as if trying to corral his thoughts together into something resembling language, something that could be spoken and shared. Or maybe he has to think up something to tell me . Matt hugged his lover closer, afraid of the paranoia with which his own fears seemed eager to sabotage him. Maybe he’s thinking of someone who isn’t me. Maybe he’s thinking of leaving me now that he doesn’t have any powers to keep him beside me. Maybe… Vic pointed at the magazine in his hands, drawing Matt’s gaze to a photograph of a woman whose back was covered in a large tattoo that replicated a surrealist painting. Though she 111
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had her back to the camera, her arms must’ve been crossed in front of her chest, because Matt could see red-tipped fingernails extending from fingers by her shoulders. Her head was turned to show matching red bangs and the hint of a fireengine red smile. When Vic spoke, his voice sounded gruffer than normal, unused. “Doesn’t she sort of look like Roxie?” One thought rose unbidden in Matt’s mind before he could squelch it. You’re supposed to be thinking of me. When he didn’t reply immediately, Vic said, “Picture her with glasses. Doesn’t she?” He frowned down at Matt, who still stared at the magazine. “Do you know if Roxie has any tats?” With a huff, Matt rolled away from Vic. “I don’t want to talk about Roxie.” Confusion flashed across his lover’s face, then Matt turned his back to Vic. He punched his pillow into shape before throwing himself down onto it, angry for no real reason at all. Angry at Vic for not being able to read his mind and see what he needed to hear his lover say. Angrier at himself, if he were being honest, for taking that ability away from them. And fucking livid at Dr. Whatever-the-hell-his-name-was for starting this whole mess in the first place. Behind him, he heard a soft sigh that pissed him off even more. Matt hunched his shoulders against the sound, trying to ignore his lover. But he heard the rustle of the magazine, felt the bed move under him, and despite his anger, his body relaxed when Vic’s hand stroked down over his shoulder to trace the curve of his arm beneath the blankets. Warm breath 112
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sighed into his ear, igniting his blood. “Matty.” In a voice that sounded childish to his own ears, Matt muttered, “You’re supposed to be thinking of me.” “I am,” Vic assured him. That hand reached his elbow, then dropped to his hip. He felt his lover’s body spoon against his, and Matt pulled his legs up to curl into himself, keeping Vic out. “Matty, you know I’m always thinking of you.” With a pout, Matt admitted, “I used to know it. I’m not so sure any more.” Vic sighed. “Nothing’s changed between us. I promise. I love you.” For a long moment, Matt didn’t reply. He knew Vic wanted to hear the words back, and any other time Matt would’ve given in, rolled over into his lover’s embrace, and let his anger disperse. But at the moment he was too mad at himself for letting Dr. Veej talk him into that stupid cock ring that he didn’t think he deserved to be loved. Especially by a man as warm and tender as Vic. “I just wanted to protect you,” Matt said in a small voice. He pulled the blankets tight around him and wished he could disappear. “I didn’t…God, Vic, I didn’t mean for this to happen. To lose a part of us. I didn’t think it’d be gone so soon.” An arm encircled his waist, hugging him back against Vic’s strong chest. Matt let himself be held, though how Vic could continue to feel anything for him when he had ruined what they had together, he didn’t know. “I should just take the damn thing off,” Matt grumbled. “Just say the hell with it and 113
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get used to the fact that I may end up killing you with some stupid power eventually. I love you so much, Vic. I don’t want to lose you, any part of you. I want to keep you safe but I want you back inside my head, and I don’t see how we can have both.” Warm lips kissed the back of his neck. “You said yourself we could take the ring off sometimes.” Matt sighed. “But when we use it again, and we lose the power that links our minds together? It’ll be like dying a little each time. I don’t think I could do that very often. I don’t even know what position gives us that connection.” “The telepathy was always there,” Vic told him. “From day one, it was the first power you gave me, remember? The super strength came next, and no matter what else I got, those two remained the same. Maybe…” Matt heard the hope in his lover’s voice and turned in his embrace. Their faces were inches apart, and Matt searched Vic’s eyes for some clue to his thoughts. “Maybe what?” With a shrug, Vic said, “The doctor said the powers were in your sperm, right? So maybe most of your cum carries the genes or whatever for the powers that come and go, and they’re activated when they’re drawn up into your dick during sex. By the time you shoot a load, the sperm are already activated, right? And it stands to reason, really, if the position makes the powers change, that something in your position must trigger it, right?” Though Matt couldn’t see where his lover was headed with this, he nodded. His cock stirred as he stared at Vic’s face, the 114
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shape his mouth made while speaking, the gleam in his eyes that matched the shine of light off his bald pate. The fact that his lover was trying to sound clinical talking about the powers—and, by saying things like cum and dick and shoot a load, failing miserably—was too damn cute. Even without a mental connection, Vic picked up on Matt’s changing mood. Above the bed sheet, his hand drifted down over Matt’s stomach to knead the stiffening cock beneath his fingers. Each stroke made Matt shiver in delight. Vic leaned down to kiss Matt’s temple. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe it’s only a small part of your cum that gives me the telepathic abilities or the super strength. So every time we have sex, no matter how we do it, those two powers are constantly updated, in a way. And maybe the cock ring has such a strong electrical signal that it negates everything, not just the bad sperm but all of it.” “So how do we get the good powers back?” Matt wanted to know. When Vic’s fist closed around his cock through the sheet, he gasped and caught his lover’s wrist in both hands to hold it in place. “Don’t stop. That feels wonderful.” Firm fingers tightened around him. “Maybe if there were some way to tone down the signal,” Vic said. “Let what we want pass by unharmed and zap all the others. Maybe…” Matt knew what Vic was trying to say. Maybe Dr. Veej could adjust the cock ring’s electronic frequency somehow, let some of the sperm survive. Because Lord knew he wanted back inside Vic’s head. He wanted his lover’s thoughts wrapped up in his again. Fuck “normal” relationships…he 115
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wanted that psychic link, that unbreakable bond that made everything so loving and effortless between them. He needed it. Matt turned and pressed his mouth to Vic’s. “Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow,” he murmured, spreading his legs wide. He wanted Vic, right this instant. Pulling his lover close, he whispered, “Love me.” As usual, Vic obliged. *
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There had been one time in the past when Matt had lost the power to communicate telepathically with Vic. It was the only time they’d reversed roles in bed—Matt had never been topped during sex, and could think of no other way to give himself completely to Vic than to lose the last remaining vestiges of his virginity to his lover. But when Vic came in him, he somehow transferred the powers back to Matt, and it made him violently ill the next morning. To make matters worse, the telepathy they shared had been severed, cancelled out almost, and the silence that had filled Matt’s head was frightening. That time, the connection came back on its own, and they agreed never to do that again. Vic didn’t like pitching, anyway. He enjoyed the role of catcher all too well. Or, as he put it, “I need to feel you in me to get me off.” How could Matt argue with that? He had assumed the telepathy they shared would fade over time when they used the cock ring; that was to be expected. But to lose it so suddenly, so completely, all at once? It left 116
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Matt feeling isolated and cut off, a castaway on a deserted island, marooned with nothing but his own thoughts. If he took the ring off and made love to Vic, he knew he wouldn’t have the willpower to put it back on the next time they had sex. He wouldn’t want to. And it was useless then, wasn’t it? If he didn’t use it? These thoughts circled through his head the next day at work, distracting him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many duties to keep him from thinking the same things over and over again. At one point he decided to call Dr. Veej and see what could be done to adjust the cock ring’s transistor. He stood in front of his locker for several minutes, rooting through the pockets of his jacket for the business card he knew he’d seen recently, but it didn’t turn up. A glance at the listing for Armour Labs in the phone book proved just as useless— the phone numbers for the business covered a page and a half of small, cramped print, and there were five separate lines for Research and Development alone. Matt couldn’t even remember the doctor’s last name, so calling the numbers to try and track him down would probably prove futile. Shortly before two in the afternoon, Matt was at his desk flipping through invoices when the phone rang. He answered it, half hoping it was Vic. Now that his lover’s mind was shut off from his, Matt would have no idea when his lover stopped by the gym. Though Vic was at work, Matt could still get his hopes up. “Yes?” “Hey.” It wasn’t Vic; it was Roxie. Matt had never been so 117
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disappointed to hear her voice before. “What?” “Hey!” she said again, wounded this time. “Don’t talk to me like that.” With a sigh, Matt said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were—” “Vic? No.” Roxie was quick, Matt would give her that. “But it is your doctor. That Indian fellow who called last week?” In a strange, lilting voice, she mimicked the doctor’s accent perfectly. “I wish to speak to Matthew. Will you accept the call?” Matt’s heart jumped in his chest. “Patch him through.” Roxie grumbled, “You’re welcome.” Before he could thank her, the line went dead. Then there was a click, followed by a man clearing his throat. “Dr. Veej?” Matt asked. “Matthew, hi. I called to see how you were doing. You’ve used the ring, yes?” The doctor’s accent drifted in and out, as if he couldn’t remember to use it all the time. Matt didn’t care—this was just the person he needed to talk to if he hoped to get the telepathy back. “I have a little problem with it,” he admitted. Quickly he shared with the doctor his concern about losing the mental bond he had forged with Vic. He passed on Vic’s thoughts about the different powers residing in different spermatozoa, and wondered out loud if they could somehow modify the electrical charge to affect only some of the powers. “Is that possible?” “I don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “It is worth a shot. Could you maybe bring the ring by my lab at some point? Let 118
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me take a look?” Matt glanced at his desk calendar, though there was nothing on it. “Vic works during the week. Maybe Saturday— ” “Why wait that long?” Dr. Veej asked. “The lab is what, a twenty minute drive for you? I have some time today, if you want to just drop by.” Matt wasn’t comfortable doing that—he wanted Vic with him, because this affected them both. But if I get the ring altered today, maybe I can surprise him tomorrow when we have the mental connection back. Besides, he would meet Dr. Veej at the laboratory—they wouldn’t be alone. He could shower before leaving the gym, soap up the ring until it slipped off, and just hand it over to the doctor without having to undress. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be allowed into the lab itself anyway, and he’d have to wait in a reception area while the doctor worked his magic. And I’ll have my lover back inside my head tonight. That alone made up Matt’s mind. “I’m on my way.”
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CHAPTER 9 Vic spent the day in a safety training seminar he would’ve rather done without. The bus drivers had to take the seminar once every quarter, regardless of how long they’d been with the Transit Authority. Four times a year, multiplied by the obscene number of years he’d been employed by the City, left Vic able to recite the damn seminar verbatim in his sleep if he wanted. Which he didn’t. It bored him to tears, learning workplace safety and driving rules that hadn’t changed since the last time he’d had to sit in the makeshift lecture hall at the bus garage. Half the drivers were required to attend the seminar on Monday; the other half, of which Vic was a member, drew the same duty on Tuesday. He only 120
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remembered when he clocked in and saw everyone heading to the garage instead of the bus lot. If he’d recalled sooner, he probably would’ve phoned in sick. The morning was spent staring at a spot on the wall just past the speaker. When asked a question, Vic took his time dragging his gaze her way, then counted the seconds it took her to realize he wouldn’t respond and move onto someone else. It started when she asked his name; by the time they broke for a catered box lunch, he still hadn’t said a single word. He ate in silence, taking two of the boxes because one little half a sandwich wasn’t about to fill him up. Around him, the other drivers goofed off and laughed at their own stupid antics—most thought the seminar’s speaker was a sexy little minx, and the talk turned crude when they began trying to one-up each other as they thought of things they’d like to do to her. Vic kept to himself. As if any of the men he worked with were brave enough to even approach a pretty young woman who wasn’t their wife. If the speaker had been one of their daughters…would they stand for such degrading talk from their friends? Vic wanted to plant that thought in their sordid little minds, make them all feel awkward and uncomfortable, but without Matt’s telepathic gift, he couldn’t. And trying to talk sense into them would only be wasted breath. Snarfing his second sandwich, Vic kept his gaze down and his elbows in, and ignored the rest of the world. At quarter to two, just before he had to head back into the seminar, he checked his cell for any calls. He’d left the phone 121
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in his locker—personal phones were banned in the lecture hall, probably for good reason. If Vic honestly believed a strategically timed call could pull him from the class, he’d have Matt phone him every half hour or so. There were no calls on his cell—he hadn’t thought there would be. For a moment he considered calling Matt, just to say hey, groan at him a little about being in the same damn seminar he’d taken last October, but there wasn’t much time before he had to get back to the class and he didn’t want to be rushed off the phone. With any luck, they would break early and he’d be home before Matt. Maybe he’d take his guy out for dinner, just for something different. Show he still loved him, powers or no— “Braunson!” The shout came from his boss’s office. With a groan, Vic stuck his cell back in his locker and slammed the metal door shut. Coworkers turned to watch as he made his way through the employee lounge to Morrison’s door. Just as he stepped into the doorway, his boss hollered again, “Braunson!” Vic narrowed his eyes at his boss. An older man with thinning hair, Morrison was a big guy—bigger than Vic, though his girth leaned more toward fat than muscle. He was hard of hearing, so everything he said was yelled at top volume. At the moment, he had the receiver of his desk phone cradled on his shoulder as he flipped through employees’ time cards. When he drew in a breath as if to bellow Vic’s name a third time, Vic growled, “I’m right here.” “Oh.” Morrison started, surprised at Vic’s sudden 122
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appearance, then let the phone slide down his arm to land on the desk. With a nod at the receiver, he said, “Call for you. Make it quick. Second session starts in two minutes.” “For me?” Vic asked. He took a step into his boss’s office and stopped. Who would call him at work? Who knew the number? “Who is it?” Morrison shrugged, disinterested. “Some chick. Make it fast, will you? Don’t want to miss the seminar.” Vic bit back a sarcastic remark and retrieved the receiver. Turning his back to his boss, he placed the phone to his ear and muttered, “Who is this?” A familiar voice sighed in his ear. “Next time you’re not going to be driving your route,” Officer Jones told him, “why don’t you tell me before I chase down half the buses in the City looking for you?” Before Vic could reply, Morrison asked him, “Personal call?” “Police,” Vic said. Let him work that out. Into the phone, he said, “What—” Officer Jones interrupted him. “Are you sitting down?” “Look,” he tried, “I’m sort of in the middle of something here.” Kendra kept talking as if she weren’t even listening to him. “Dr. Vijay Channarayapatra. You left out the ‘raya’ part when you told me his name. Did he look familiar to you?” “What?” Vic shook his head—why was she bothering him with this? “No. Just let it go, Kendra. I told you—” “Listen to me, Vic. This isn’t about you joining the force 123
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any more, okay? Just hear me out.” With a disgruntled sigh, Vic clenched his teeth together. “What?” Kendra sounded relieved, and her voice warmed as she took a calming breath. “Dr. Veej, as you called him, was born in Reston, Virginia. Went to school at Virginia Tech and got all three degrees there, bachelor’s, master’s, Ph.D. Has never been out of the country. Even his parents were born in the States.” “So he’s faking the accent,” Vic said. “I already knew he was a little off. That doesn’t mean—” “He’s an only child,” Kendra told him. She waited for that to sink in, but couldn’t help asking, “Didn’t he say he made the…the ring thingy for his sister’s boyfriend? He has no sister.” “So he’s lying,” Vic started. Kendra cut him off. “Are you sure you didn’t recognize him, Vic?” “Where would I possibly—” “Jordan’s civic trial.” Vic didn’t have to be able to read minds to see the self-satisfied smirk on Kendra’s face—he heard it in her voice, loud and clear. “He was one of the jurors. I almost didn’t catch it, but I was looking through the files today wondering what really bothered me about this whole thing, you know? And his name just jumped out at me. Even though it was a little different from the name you gave, I Googled it and damn if he’s not listed on the Armour Labs corporate site as head of R & D.” 124
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Jordan. Why did everything circle back to that heinous man? The hand holding the phone clenched into an unconscious fist, but for the first time in a long while, Vic didn’t hear an accompanying crack of plastic. The strength was gone. The powers, gone. Because of Dr. Veej. Who had been a juror at Jordan’s trial. Which meant he hadn’t just seen the article in the tabloid; he’d known about Matt’s abilities all along. Vic let out a low sigh as he felt the weight of the world bear down on him. He needed those powers to keep Matt safe. He had always thought that was their purpose, and yet once again, he’d managed to lose sight of that one directive. Once again, the man he loved was in danger. Maybe not directly, but if Dr. Veej knew of Jordan prior to the news article, if he’d been lying about the sister and made the ring for Matt’s benefit alone, what else did he have up his sleeve? Before he could ask, Kendra said softly, “It gets worse.” “Worse?” The word felt strangled in Vic’s throat, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his boss frowning at him, hesitant concern in his eyes. “How can it possibly get worse?” For a long moment, Kendra didn’t answer. Behind Vic, his boss stopped scribbling on the time cards, waiting for Vic’s reaction to whatever news was coming. They both knew it had to be bad. Slowly, evenly, Kendra said, “There is some indication in the prison records that Jordan is currently in contact with Dr. Channarayapatra.” Vic felt his blood turn to ice. “What does that mean?” 125
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“Mail coming into the facility is logged,” Kendra explained. “Over the course of several months, these two men have struck up a…a correspondence of sorts, I guess you’d say. We have no record of what’s in their letters, that’s not noted, but they exchange maybe two or three a month. And most of Jordan’s outgoing calls are made to your Dr. Veej’s home number.” Shit. *
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When Kendra finally hung up, Vic slammed the receiver down on his boss’s desk. Morrison glanced at him, worried. “Braunson…” Vic turned on his heel, ignoring the man, and raced back to his locker. The employee lounge was empty now, his coworkers ensconced in the afternoon session of the safety seminar. His large fingers trembled slightly—it all circled back to Jordan, he thought as he fumbled with the combination lock that kept him from his cell. Taking a deep breath, Vic grabbed the lock with both hands and pulled down on it. A growl of frustration escaped his throat but the metal didn’t twist away as he’d hoped. The lock stayed shut, stubbornly clinging in place. Vic punched the front of his locker with one angry fist. “Fuck!” Where were the powers now that he needed them? Taken away…by Jordan, again. The man was turning out to be Vic’s nemesis in this superhero game. Only I’m powerless now, Vic thought, tugging fruitlessly on the lock, so who’s winning 126
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here? Sure as hell not me. Calm down. It was Matty’s voice inside his head, so sure, so loving, so reasonable that Vic took another deep breath, this one to steady himself before he tried the combination again. Slowly, he turned the dial on the lock. He felt each number click into place, left, right, left again, slowly… Click. The lock opened in his hands. To the mental image of his lover, he whispered, “Thanks.” The lock fell to the floor as he yanked the locker open to scramble through the pockets of his jacket. Extracting his cell phone, he flipped it open to dial Matt’s number and saw a missed call from his lover’s extension at the gym. Damn. There was a voicemail message as well, but Vic ignored it and hit the SEND button twice to return the call. The phone rang three times, then switched over to a different ring, one he knew was being routed to the receptionist’s desk. He waited until he heard Roxie’s bored voice answer. “Thank you for calling—” “Hey, Roxie,” Vic sighed. “It’s me.” “Hey you,” Roxie said. “Mr. Sexy just slipped out. I might be able to grab him in the parking lot, if you wait a minute.” Vic glared around the employee lounge to squint at the time clock on the far wall. It wasn’t even two thirty yet. “What? Where’d he go?” Roxie’s chewing gum cracked in Vic’s ear. “Doctor’s appointment, he said. Try his cell, maybe?” 127
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Doctor’s… No. Vic shook his head, no. Matt wouldn’t have gone to see Dr. Veej without telling him. What for? But he knew the answer—to see about maybe changing the frequency on the cock ring. It’d been Vic’s idea, and Matt had latched onto it the night before. Of course he’d call the doctor about it, see if it couldn’t be done. And maybe he had told Vic, only Vic hadn’t bothered to listen, because there was a voicemail waiting for him, wasn’t there? With a hasty, “Thanks,” he disconnected the call with Roxie and dialed his voicemail. He fumbled through his password twice before his lover’s warm voice filled his ear. “Hey, baby. Don’t get mad,” Matt said, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I know you’re trapped in safety hell, so I’m hoping you won’t get this until after class lets out. All day long I’ve been thinking over what we talked about last night, and funnily enough, who should call me but Dr. Veej this afternoon?” Funny, indeed. Vic squeezed his phone, pressing it tighter to his ear. He’d like to get his hands around Dr. Veej’s scrawny neck and strangle him the same way. “He’s got some free time this afternoon,” Matt was saying—Vic could only imagine how much free time the doctor had for his lover—“so I’m going to see if he can’t tweak this thing a bit, you know? We can try it out when I get home. Love you.” The message ended. Vic stood there for a moment, listening to the voicemail prompts reeled off in his ear. To 128
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hear the message again, press 1. To forward, press 2. To store in the archives… So Matt was heading down to Armour Labs. Alone. In the hopes that Dr. Veej would be able to help him get their mental connection back. And he had no idea Dr. Veej knew Jordan. Anger rose in Vic, so sudden, so cloying, he couldn’t breathe. Curling his hand into a fist, he flung his cell across the locker room, pissed. Fuck this. He had no powers any more, nothing to help Matt with, no way to save him…from what? He didn’t even know, and couldn’t find out. Was Jordan still hoping to get Matt’s powers for himself? Had he enlisted the doctor’s help to do that? Or did he just want to take them away from Vic? He had to do something. He had to stop Matt from meeting with the doctor, had to tell him about Jordan’s connection to the man. But when he retrieved his phone from where it had landed on the floor, the casing was cracked and the face plate no longer lit up. Vic didn’t know Matt’s cell number off the top of his head. He couldn’t just call him from Morrison’s phone… As if he’d heard that thought, his boss stepped out of his office and saw Vic kneeling on the floor by the wall. “Braunson?” he snapped, his loud voice ringing off the tiled walls. “Everything all right?” Vic shoved his broken phone into his pocket as he stood. “Fine,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He wanted to laugh but was afraid the sound would run away 129
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from him. “Just dandy. Fuck.” Morrison frowned. “Why’d the police call you?” The police… Of course. Eying his boss, Vic thought maybe he could use Kendra’s phone call as a way to get out of the rest of the seminar…and hopefully intercept Matt on his way to Armour Labs. “I have to go.” Morrison’s frown deepened in concern. “Everything all right at home?” “Yeah, I’m…” Vic shrugged, helpless. “I just need to catch up with my friend.” He stumbled over the word; from the way one corner of Morrison’s mouth twitched, Vic knew his boss had noticed. Hell, Vic was almost forty years old, unmarried, and brought Matt to any function to which spouses were invited…if Morrison hadn’t clued in by now about his employee’s sexuality, he’d never get it. Cautiously, Morrison asked, “He okay?” “I don’t know,” Vic admitted. For a moment, he thought he’d have to walk out—just turn his back on his boss and hope his job would still be waiting for him once he caught up with Matt. And he had no telepathic ability, no way to mentally coerce his boss into letting him go. But something in Morrison’s hard face softened, and in a gruff voice, he said, “Well, go find out. I reckon you’ve heard all this safety shit enough times before.” Vic felt his heart expand in his chest; he could’ve hugged his boss, if he were the affectionate type, and the man a little 130
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less homely. Instead he settled for a curt nod and took off for the double doors leading to the employee parking lot, hoping he could reach Dr. Veej’s lab before Matt. *
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Though the bus garage was south of the James River and a good ten minutes closer to Chester than Matt’s gym, Vic hit a snag on the interstate that delayed him. By the time he took the exit he needed, he was convinced Matt was already out of reach, lured into some decadent queer harem by Dr. Veej’s exotic charms. Much as Vic trusted his lover, he didn’t put anything past anyone else, and Matt’s naiveté would probably get him into trouble one day. Jordan had used it to his advantage. Why couldn’t Dr. Veej? Vic slowed as he turned into the employee lot at Armour Labs. This late in the day, the lot was half-empty, and he spotted Matt’s black Jaguar easily enough. The moment he saw it, he noticed the reflective rainbow-colored strip across the back windshield—Matt had bought that at last year’s Pride event downtown. Vic smiled at the memory that rose unbidden to his mind: his lover in a pair of khaki shorts and nothing else, his skin bronzed by the sun, his curls tight with sweat because September was still hot in Richmond. He’d asked Vic to hold his beer as he clambered onto the back of his car, laughing at the hot metal that warmed his skin. It took three tries to get the strip straight. Finally Matt said the hell with it and pressed it down against the glass, then turned to lay across the back of his car. One hand had brushed down his chiseled 131
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chest to catch the button of his fly. With a hooded expression on his face, he watched Vic closely as he undid that button, then the next. “Matt,” Vic had chided, glancing around. But they had been only one couple out of hundreds crowded into the 17th Street Marketplace for the Gay Virginia Pride celebration. Matt grabbed a fistful of Vic’s shirt and tugged him closer, pulling him down beside him on the car. “Kiss me,” he demanded, taking the beer from Vic. Letting go of the cup, Vic’s hand drifted to Matt’s unbuttoned crotch, and his cool fingers eased into the hot fabric to stroke over heated skin as their lips met. The memory stirred Vic’s blood, and he shifted uncomfortably in the driver seat, trying to alleviate the sudden ache at his crotch. Pulling into a spot beside Matt’s car, he tore the keys from the ignition and slammed the door as he exited. There was a main gate that blocked the entrance to the plant— in front of it sat a squalid grey building marked SECURITY. Vic saw a second, smaller gate controlled by a keycard; as he watched, an employee approached this gate at a run, paused long enough to swipe an ID, and hurried through the turnstile into the plant. Vic approached the security building and noticed a sign indicating visitors should register before entering Armour Labs. Unsure of exactly what he planned to say, Vic pushed through the tinted glass door that led into the building and blinked in the dim light. A young black man stood behind a low desk—dressed in a uniform, he looked maybe twenty years old. If that was the height of their security, Vic thought 132
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he might as well just waltz right on in. Noticing him, the guard grinned. “Hello, sir. Visiting Armour Labs today?” “You could say that.” Vic saw movement from the corner of his eye and noticed a second security officer circling the building outside, a lit cigarette between his lips. This man was larger, Vic’s size, a brawny Asian fellow who looked like he could’ve been a sumo wrestler in his spare time. Now that was security. The younger guard pointed to a clipboard on the desk. “If you’ll sign in here, I can give you a day pass to enter the plant.” So it was that easy. Vic leaned down to sign the clipboard and got a nasty jolt when he recognized his lover’s blocky handwriting on the line above his. “Who are you visiting today?” the guard asked as he set a keycard marked VISITOR on the desk. Vic smoothed a finger over Matt’s name. “Sir, who—” Vic glanced at what Matt had written. “Research and development,” he read. Then he added, “Dr. Veej.” With a smile, the guard joked, “He’s quite a popular guy today. Let me call him up here to meet you—” “No.” The guard’s hand froze as he reached for a phone on the desk beside him. He raised an eyebrow, his smile slipping a notch. “Sir, it’s policy. You can’t enter the facility without an escort.” 133
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“No,” Vic said again. “I…it’s sort of a surprise. He doesn’t know I’m here.” That smile came back, brighter than before, and the guard lifted the receiver, already dialing. “He will now.” There was no time to think—even without Matt’s powers in his system, Vic’s instincts took over. With reflexes that surprised him, he grabbed the phone off the desk and pulled. The cord snapped, leaving the receiver useless in the guard’s hand. As he reached for the night stick on his belt, Vic tossed the phone at him. He fumbled for the phone like an overeager quarterback trying to keep the ball in play. Vic took the moment of confusion to snatch up the day pass and bolt. Outside, he tore around the building and almost collided with the second guard, still enjoying his smoke. Jerking to a stop, Vic flashed him the day pass and an intimidating grin. “How’s it hanging, buddy?” he asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant. “Same ol, same ol,” the guard replied. “Where you headed?” Vic frowned at the fence. “R and D? Could you point me…” The guard flicked his cigarette at the first low building beyond the gate. “Behind Human Resources. They’re removing asbestos from the offices so they got the science geeks in trailers back there. Can’t miss ’em.” He took a long drag on his smoke and waved Vic through. Vic didn’t wait to be told twice. He headed for the turnstile, keeping his gaze on the gate ahead and trying to consciously 134
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slow his racing heart. He kept his pace slow, measured, despite the urgency that ran through his body. He almost didn’t dare hope the day pass would work, but when he swiped it, a light on the control box blinked green and he pushed through the turnstile easily enough. But the moment he was inside the gate, he heard a commotion behind him as the young guard burst from the security shack, yelling, “Stop! Stop!” His words had the opposite effect. Taking a deep breath, Vic raced for the building the other guard had pointed out, and the promise of finding Matt.
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CHAPTER 10 When Matt arrived at Armour Labs, he wasn’t sure what to expect. All he knew was he wanted Vic back inside his head. As he waited for Dr. Veej outside the guard house, he wondered why he even bothered getting the cock ring adjusted. Now that it was off, his balls felt loose and low, the constricting band around them gone, and he couldn’t imagine trying to wriggle back into that small piece of rubber again any time soon. Why not just toss it into the nearest trash can and go home? If he had to deal with the powers he didn’t like just to get the ones he did, then so be it. As selfish as it was to admit, Matt couldn’t stand to lose any part of his lover, and he needed Vic’s thoughts in his to feel whole again. 136
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To feel complete. Matt had almost made up his mind to call the whole thing off when Dr. Veej approached, his large grin impossibly white against his dark skin. He looked so beguiling, so energetic, that Matt felt he should at least give the man a second chance. If he could tweak the cock ring’s frequency enough to cancel out everything but the telepathy, it’d be a dream come true. “Matthew,” the doctor said through his grin. Both hands reached out to take Matt’s, and the warm palms clasped his fingers tight. For a moment, Matt almost thought the guy didn’t plan to let go. “I am so glad you’ve come to me.” “Who else would be able to help?” Matt joked. Dr. Veej took his elbow, leading him to the gate’s turnstile. Matt shook him off and stepped out of reach. Once inside the facility, he walked behind the doctor to keep those hands from touching him again. That might be acceptable where he came from, but it made Matt uncomfortable, and if Vic knew? Even without the powers, Matt’s lover was intimidating, and would probably snap skinny little Dr. Veej in half if so inclined. Matt followed the doctor to a cluster of trailers huddled in a courtyard formed by the facility’s permanent buildings. “Excuse the mess,” Dr. Veej said, holding the door to one trailer open for Matt to enter. His hand strayed to Matt’s shoulders as he ducked inside. Turning away from that touch, Matt backed up into the makeshift office. He made a show of looking around, both to calm his suddenly churning stomach and to put some much needed distance between them. He didn’t like that the inside of 137
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the trailer looked more like a cozy home office than a clinical laboratory, or that they were alone when the doctor pulled the door shut behind him. Matt felt cut off from the rest of the world, isolated, and berated himself for getting into this position in the first place. At least Vic knows where I am, he thought. Thank God he’d called Vic’s cell before leaving the gym. Unconsciously, his hand dropped to the holster on his hip, where his own phone rested, to assure himself it was there. One large desk took up most of the office—made of a glossy cherry wood, the desk was intimidating and impossibly clean. But a stack of papers in the tray suggested Dr. Veej had simply gathered them all together and tucked them away before Matt’s arrival. The executive style chair behind the desk looked like it was made of real leather, and two computer monitors jostled for position on the desk. Another three screens were spread out on the matching credenza behind the desk, fields of stars zooming into focus on their screensavers. Diplomas and various framed certificates graced the walls, and two comfortable chairs sat in front of Dr. Veej’s desk, inviting. Matt moved to one of them before he realized the doctor didn’t plan to sit there. Instead he headed for the other half of the trailer, where a thick shag rug covered the threadbare carpet and a large loveseat stretched out against the far wall. A small refrigerator hummed softly to itself, and on a nearby counter, bottles of amber liquid winked in the overhead light. Recessed lighting above the loveseat added to the ambiance. As Matt 138
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approached, he heard the sultry sounds of a sitar, playing softly from a speaker at the end of the couch. The place was half executive, half bachelor pad. Matt wanted to take their conversation back to the business half of the room, and leave the loveseat and the seductive music alone. Stopping at the edge of the shag rug, he started, “Um, I really think—” “Thirsty?” Dr. Veej asked. Before Matt could reply, he opened the fridge and poked his head inside. “I’ve got some iced tea and a few sodas, if you want. Bottled water. Some beer.” Glancing up at Matt, he cocked an eyebrow in a flirty expression. “Harder drink, too, if that’s your poison.” “I’m fine.” Matt shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, uncomfortable. “Can’t we just get on with this? I want to be home by five.” The doctor jumped as if goosed into action. “Oh, right. You want me to adjust the ring somehow? I’ll have to take a look…” His gaze drifted to Matt’s crotch, and disappointment flashed across his face when Matt extracted from his pocket the plastic box that held the cock ring. “Right here,” he said, thankful he’d thought to take it off before he left the gym. “Should I wait? Or—” “Why don’t you have a drink?” the doctor tried again. Matt assured him, “I’m cool.” Moving closer, the doctor reached for the box and Matt handed it over quickly. He resisted the urge to step back and open up more space between them. As he watched, Dr. Veej 139
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ran a thin finger over the top of the box, caressing it. “Matthew,” he said softly. Biting the inside of his cheek, Matt fought the urge to reply. He had nothing to say other than, “Fix it,” which sounded petty and demanding. That stuff only worked on Vic—between them, that sort of childish play-acting was nothing more than another display of affection. No matter how prettily Matt pouted, his lover knew exactly what he felt and thought… Or rather, he used to know. Matt cleared his throat. “Can you fix it?” he asked. It sounded a little better, at least. But Dr. Veej pointed out, “It isn’t broken. It works, yes?” “A little too well,” Matt admitted. “Do you think there’s a way to negate only some of the powers?” The doctor’s response was a little too quick. “Oh, there’s a way, I’m sure of it. But it’s really going to take some trial and error.” He flashed Matt a sardonic grin. “I can’t test it out on just anyone, you know.” Matt hadn’t considered that. He thought it would be a simple procedure—the doctor would fiddle with the ring for a while, then Matt would take it home, put it back on, and the next time he made love to Vic, their telepathic bond would return. He should’ve realized it wouldn’t be so easy. “You know,” Dr. Veej said, “this actually presents the perfect opportunity for further study.” Matt glanced up from the box in the man’s hands to find that he’d moved a step or two closer. When had that 140
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happened? Matt took an involuntary step back. “I thought you’d said you’d studied this before.” The doctor frowned at him. “How could I possibly—” “Your sister’s fiancé,” Matt reminded him. “You said he had this too?” “Oh!” A surprised look flickered across Dr. Veej’s face and was gone. “Yes, of course. He does.” Suddenly Matt wasn’t too sure. Something in those shifty eyes told him the good doctor might be lying. He took another step back, and looked around to assure himself the door was nearby. “Maybe I should just go…” A warm hand closed around Matt’s wrist. “Listen to me, Matthew,” the doctor said, his voice low and urgent. “I know you want to get rid of these powers of yours, but wouldn’t it be nice to get rich on them instead?” Matt jerked away from the doctor. “What the hell are you talking about?” A feeling of disgust rose up in him…had he honestly trusted this man? With something as serious as this? “I want them to go away, yes, but I’m not giving them to you.” “No, you misunderstand.” The doctor tried to flash him a winning grin, but it only looked false and leering to Matt. “With my scientific resources, I can study the powers, learn where they come from, learn how and why and tell the world—” But Matt shook his head, adamant. “No. No one needs to know—” “Think of what this could mean in today’s society.” Dr. Veej spread his arms wide, the look on his face exultant. “If 141
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word about your abilities came out in academic circles, if proper research was done, if we could understand how you were singled out—” “There are others,” Matt pointed out. “You said so yourself.” “Matt, listen.” The way Dr. Veej said his name made Matt realize there was no other, no one in India with the power, no future brother-in-law for whom the cock ring had been made. With a conscious effort, the doctor reined in his enthusiasm and tried again, calmer this time. “Your story could earn me a place among the giants. We’re talking the Nobel Prize here. If you’d just consent to give me say two hours a week to extract and study—” “No.” Matt backed up and bumped into a bookcase behind him. When the doctor opened his mouth to speak, Matt held up both hands in a warding off gesture. “You listen to me, doctor. Keep your damn ring already. I don’t want it if it means I have to become some sort of…of guinea pig in your quest for glory, do you hear? I don’t care how much goddamn money you’d make.” Dr. Veej corrected him. “We’d make. Together. Let me draw up a contract…” He headed for his desk, and Matt took the opportunity to sprint for the door. As his hand closed over the knob, the doctor grabbed a paper off the stack in his tray. So he’d had the contract already written—this was the reason he’d been so willing to give Matt the cock ring in the first place. This was all just research to him, steps on the path to a glorious 142
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scientific prize. Vic had been right about the man all along. As if thinking of his lover called him into existence, Matt heard Vic’s voice outside. “Matty!” “That’s Vic.” Matt exchanged a glance with Dr. Veej. Why his lover had followed him to the facility, he had no clue, but his heart sang in his chest to know he was no longer alone. With a nod, Dr. Veej said, “Good, good. Talk it over first, I understand.” You understand nothing, Matt thought as he flung open the door and stepped outside. Vic stood in the middle of the ring of trailers, legs apart and feet planted firmly as the young security officer Matt recognized from the guard house clambered over Vic’s back. He grappled with Vic’s arms and neck, trying in vain to throw his own meager weight around in the hopes of bringing Vic down. But Vic stood his ground, and when he saw Matt, he drew in a deep breath to bellow again, “Matty!” Relief rang out in his voice. Matt crossed the graveled courtyard at a jog. “Hey!” he cried to the security officer. “Get off him!” “It’s okay,” Dr. Veej called out behind him. “Alfonso, really. He’s here to see me.” Matt rolled his eyes—the doctor would wish he hadn’t interfered when Vic found out about his research request. Reaching his lover, Matt grabbed at the security officer’s jacket with both fists as he tried to haul him off his lover. “Get the hell off him,” he growled as he wrestled with the younger man. No one messed with his lover, no one. 143
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The anger that rose in him was refreshing and heady. No wonder Vic liked coming to his rescue. The adrenaline pumping through his system was an addicting rush. As his lover shrugged the security officer away, Matt dragged him down, pinned him to the ground, and would’ve started to punch him, too, if strong arms hadn’t caught his. Matt found himself pulled back, out of the fight, and held tight in Vic’s embrace. Another security officer approached, this one overweight and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Dr. Veej helped the first guard to his feet. “It’s okay,” he said, again and again. “These men are with me. Thank you for escorting them to my office. No, really! It’s okay.” “Vic,” Matt sighed. Never before had he wished for the ability to mentally communicate with his lover—he wanted Vic to know everything that had just happened in Dr. Veej’s office without having to spell it out where the doctor could overhear and interrupt. He wanted to tell his lover he’d been right about the man all along. He wanted to step out of the moment and let Vic take over. But his lover didn’t have to be able to read his mind to know that. Moving in front of Matt, Vic grabbed the back of the doctor’s lab coat and jerked him away from the security officer. When the overweight guard reached for a gun on his belt, Dr. Veej raised his hands, placating. “It’s okay,” he assured them. “Fine, thank you.” With a menacing snarl, Vic spat, “I’m surprised Jordan didn’t warn you about me.” 144
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Matt reached for Vic’s free hand and caught it in both of his. “Jordan?” he asked. His breath seemed to catch in his throat and a wave of dizziness washed over him. “What the hell does he have to do with this?” Over his shoulder, Vic gave Matt a level stare. He saw the truth in his lover’s eyes, even if he couldn’t probe Vic’s mind to learn more. Not yet. “Dr. Veej was one of the jurors at the civic trial,” Vic explained. Matt glanced at Dr. Veej, whose dark skin paled a little, and that damn grin finally slipped from his face. Vic continued. “Since then, he’s had a prison pen pal down in Mecklenburg. What I don’t know is what you hoped to get from blocking Matty’s powers.” “He wants to study them,” Matt said. Vic turned, confusion written on his face, and Matt gave his hand a gentle squeeze that he hoped conveyed at least an ounce of the love he felt for this man before him. “He’s got some contract he wants me to sign, allowing him to poke and prod and study me in exchange for deadening the powers during sex.” “It’s all very scientific,” Dr. Veej spoke up. He tried to twist out of Vic’s vise-like grip and only succeeded in tearing open the seam beneath his arm. “I want to research and document your abilities, both of you. The papers will be presented at academic conferences and shared with scientists and geneticists like myself. I’d go down in history as the man who mapped out superhuman genomes never before imagined. It’s nothing invasive, I assure you. I don’t want the powers for 145
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myself—” “You want them for the world,” Matt finished for him. “Oh, fuck no.” Vic shook his head and shoved Dr. Veej away from him. The doctor stumbled to the gravel, then scuttled back on all fours to distance himself from them. “You listen to me, dickwad. You fix the ring like Matt wants, without us signing any damn contract, and then we’re out of here. There’s no more research, no reason for you to ever bother us again. If you so much as call—” “Vic.” Matt laced his fingers through his lover’s and gave him a tug to keep him close. When Vic whirled around, his eyes flashed with rage. Somehow, he managed to tamp it down before he could lash out at Matt. But there was a bright pain in his features as he studied Matt’s face. “You can’t possibly want—” “I don’t,” Matt assured him. Without their mental bond, he couldn’t open his mind to Vic’s, so he tried to make his lover understand the way he felt in his touch, his gaze, his voice. He was exhausted, and he only wanted one thing. “I don’t want the ring back, either. I just want to go home, right now. With you. Please?” He didn’t have to ask again. With a last intimidating glare at the doctor, Vic draped an arm around Matt’s shoulders and headed for the gate. *
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They drove home in separate cars, and Matt reached the apartment first. He stayed behind the wheel of his car, waiting, 146
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until Vic turned the corner onto their street. By the time his lover parked, Matt stood on the top step of their stoop. Vic took the stairs two at a time to catch up with him. When he opened the door, Matt took Vic’s hand in his and let his lover lead the way inside. Up the stairs, to their apartment. They didn’t speak, but the silence between them was not uncomfortable. It felt as if they both held their breaths, waiting for something to happen. Neither wanted to be the first to ask the one question that hung suspended between them. When would they get the powers back? In Matt’s mind, there was no time like the present. He leaned against Vic’s side, his lips puckering to kiss his lover’s jaw just below his earlobe. With a gentle sigh, Matt spoke first, breaking the spell that bound them. “Meet me in the bedroom in three minutes.” At Vic’s smile, he added, “Naked.” Slowly, Matt backed up. He kept his gaze riveted on Vic’s; his lover didn’t dare look away. Another step back, another, and Matt was out of Vic’s reach. He shrugged off his coat, let it fall to the floor. Stepping over it, he began to unbutton the shirt he wore, one button at a time, his hands moving as if on their own accord. Vic glanced down, then up again at Matt’s eyes, then back to the fingers nimbly opening his shirt. Those blue eyes began to smolder as more of Matt’s slim chest was exposed. When Matt reached the last button, Vic’s eyes widened in anticipation. The shirt fell to the floor. Matt stepped over it, as well, and 147
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took another two steps down the hall toward their bedroom, kicking his sneakers off in the process. His hands toyed with the snap on the fly of his jeans. He thumbed it open, then ran his fingers down the front of his crotch, parting the zipper beneath them. Now Vic no longer met his gaze—he stared openly at the tight white briefs that bulged through Matt’s open fly. Inch by excruciating inch, Matt slid his jeans down his narrow hips, over his thighs to his knees, then stepped out of them and left them, too, on the floor. Then his fingers hooked into the waistband of his briefs, and with something like relief, he tugged them off, as well. With lightning reflexes, Vic lunged for him. Matt laughed and hopped from foot to foot as he tossed the briefs away. He turned, smacked the wall with his open palms, and used the momentum to throw himself into their bedroom. Vic caught up with him easily, tackling him to the bed. A wet tongue licked over Matt’s heated flesh, damp lips leaving kisses wherever they touched, hands fondling him as he squirmed in his lover’s arms. “I said naked!” Matt giggled as he lay back against the bed. “You’re still dressed.” “I can fix that,” Vic growled. Straddling Matt’s legs, he struggled out of his leather jacket and tossed it aside. His shirt was hurriedly shucked off, his work pants unzipped and pushed away. He lay down over Matt to claim a hungry kiss before he rolled onto his backside, legs in the air as he struggled to get out of his pants. Matt stood and grabbed the cuffs on Vic’s legs. With a tug, he pulled the pants off as Vic wiggled out of his underwear. 148
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The briefs only made it to his knees before Matt climbed onto him, every inch of his body aching for his lover. Cradling Vic’s face in his hands, Matt closed his mouth over his lover’s. An insatiable tongue dipped between Vic’s lips, and a hard cock rubbed along his lower belly. There was no need for telepathy—their bodies were in tune with one another, two instruments in an age-old symphony, two halves that simply wanted to be made whole. *
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The next morning when Matt’s clock radio went off, he woke with a warm glow that filled his mind and body, as if a small sun had taken up residence just beneath his heart. It was Vic’s love that filled him so completely, and the lingering aftermath of their sex the night before. But when he flung an arm out beside him, he found Vic’s side of the bed empty. With a start, he sat up. ::Vic?:: His lover’s voice filled his mind, answering his silent call. ::Up here, Matty.:: It felt delicious, hearing Vic inside him again. The rumble of Vic’s gruff voice reverberated through his head, sweeter than anything he’d ever known, and the love that filled him made his heart swell and his throat close with emotion. He had to blink away tears of relief. It was back, they were back, and nothing would ever cut off this connection between them again. Matt wouldn’t allow it. A wide smile he couldn’t begin to suppress threatened to split his face, and he threw off the covers, eager to begin again 149
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with his lover. Then Vic’s words registered—up here—and Matt glanced up to find Vic floating above him. He gasped, scrambling back against the headboard as if afraid Vic might fall on him. “What the fuck are you doing up there?” he wanted to know. Vic was stretched out, nude, and hung suspended between the bed and the ceiling, chin on his hands as if this were the most natural position in the world. Though his body defied gravity, his genitals did not—his cock and balls hung down obscenely, arousing Matt despite the earlier hour. Reaching up, he tried to tweak the tip of Vic’s cock and laughed when Vic floated an inch or two out of reach. “What is this?” Matt asked. “How long have you been up there?” “Woke up a couple hours ago,” Vic admitted. “Went to the bathroom, got back into bed. When your alarm went off, I rolled over and felt the covers fall away. Thought nothing of it, until I realized my pillow was gone, and so were you.” Matt laughed. “I’m right here. You’re the one who’s where he doesn’t belong.” With a smile, Vic told him, “But it’s nice up here. I like the view.” “Sounds like fun,” Matt admitted. “But I’m lonely down here.” Vic’s eyes flashed as his grin turned wicked. “Then come on up.” Rising unsteadily to his feet, Matt stood on the bed and stretched to kiss his lover. When Vic reached down, Matt held his arms up like a small child waiting to be lifted. Vic’s hands 150
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slid into his armpits, and his super strength flared through them both as he hefted Matt off the bed. Rolling onto his back, he pulled Matt onto his chest. Matt swung one leg over Vic’s waist to straddle him. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and Matt lay down on his lover, his feet dangling below them, his sleeping cock stirring awake at the sweet press of their bodies. Kissing Vic’s collar bone, Matt silently suggested, ::What do you think about making love up here?:: Vic caught Matt’s head in his hands and guided his lover’s face to his. His thick dick jumped to poke between Matt’s buttocks, and as their lips met, he sent one thought into Matt’s mind. ::Do you even have to ask?::
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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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Don’t miss The Bounds Of Love, by J. M. Snyder, available at AmberAllure.com! Vic Braunson has a special kind of problem—his lover, Matt DiLorenzo, somehow imbues him with enhanced superpowers every time they have sex. It’s something Vic has learned to live with in the years they’ve been together, and something he won’t let stand in the way of their relationship. Matt hates the
powers, however, particularly when they put Vic in danger, but what can they do? When Vic stops an armed robbery at a local convenience store, his picture appears in the morning paper. Later that day, Matt receives a phone call at work from Jordan Dubrowski, a guy he knew in high school. Jordan was his first, in every way—it was through him that Matt discovered his ability to transfer superpowers to his lovers. Jordan had a taste of those powers, and after reading about Vic’s role in the hold up, he’s decided he wants those powers back. But Matt is in love…and Vic won’t let him go without a fight. Still, Jordan will stop at nothing to get what he thinks rightly belongs to him…
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