V: The V in Vengeance

by Snyder, J. M.

  Taking both dicks in hand, Matt held them together and thrust his hips up at Vic. Eagerly, Vic pulled down one side of his boxers, raising his knee to slip off the underwear. “Fuck me,” he sighed, resting his leg alongside Matt’s thigh to grant his lover access. When Matt didn’t move fast enough, Vic grabbed his hand and guided it to the cleft between his buttocks, muscles clenching as if to draw Matt’s fingers into his ass. “God, Matty, what are you waiting for?”

  A wicked smile flickered across Matt’s face. “I was just thinking…”

  “Now?” Vic cried.

  Matt’s eyes glistened mischievously. “Let’s go down to Double T’s for dinner.”

  Vic frowned in consternation. Dinner was the last thing on his mind at the moment. “What?”

  With a grin, Matt explained, “I want us to go—”

  “Yes!” Vic growled like a caged beast, hungry to satiate his desire. “I don’t care, whatever you want, I promise. Just fuck me already, will you?”

  Kissing Vic’s nose, Matt whispered, “I love you, big guy. Where’s the lube?”

  Vic knew exactly where Matt kept it.

  * * * *

  Later, Vic stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel around his waist and a disposable razor in one hand as he studied his reflection. A thin film of mist covered the mirror, which had fogged up during Vic’s shower. He’d shaved already, but found he tended to miss spots around his ears when showering alone. All the more reason to entice Matt to join him…

  He sent that thought to his lover, who laughed from the bedroom where he was getting changed. “I did join you!” Matt called out, bringing a smile to Vic’s stern reflection. “It’s not my fault you decided to shave after I left.”

  Vic held the razor and leaned on the counter to better assess the few straggling hairs behind his right ear. “You didn’t have to rush through it,” he said, raising his voice when he turned on the water. “We could’ve taken our time.”

  Matt appeared in the doorway, buttoning up a black shirt with verdant pinstripes that matched his eyes. A slow grin crossed his face. “Any longer in there and I would’ve fucked you again.”

  Flicking his wet fingers at Matt, Vic countered, “Like I would’ve said no.”

  Matt stepped closer as he tucked his shirt into his jeans. “I’d like to go to dinner before the place closes,” he murmured, kissing Vic’s bare shoulder. The touch of his lips sent a shiver of lust through Vic, stirring his libido again. “Get something to eat, have a few beers, get drunk…”

  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively—Vic knew what that meant. A drink or two and his lover would be ready to rumble again. Alcohol made Matt horny, and the prospect of another coupling loomed ahead, making Vic’s palms sweaty and warm.

  Too warm. As Vic leaned over to catch Matt’s next kiss on his lips, the razor in his hand grew hot, hotter, scorching his fingers. The sink’s countertop also heated up where Vic leaned against it. There was a moment of perfect clarity, frozen in time, sealed by their brief kiss, when the only thought going through Vic’s mind was a weary, Not again.

  Then the razor in his hand detonated like a small bomb.

  With a shocked cry, Matt stepped back. Vic pulled his hand off the counter fast and frowned at the red imprint his palm had scorched into the linoleum. As he watched, the thin veneer began to bubble from intense heat. In his other hand, nothing was left of the razor but a few flecks of black ash.

  “Vic!” Matt cried.

  Glancing down, Vic noticed faint trails of smoke curled up from the floor where he stood on the bathroom rug. “God damn,” he muttered, stomping his feet. What new power was this? He’d had a similar one before—everything he touched had burst into flame, and he’d been forced to stay in the bathtub naked until it wore off. If he’d drawn that unlucky card again, dinner was out. They’d have to order in and eat in the bathroom until Vic stopped setting the world on fire.

  Closing his eyes, he calmed his raging thoughts. Deep breaths helped steady his nerves, until he could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. Then he pictured himself holding tight to the power, whatever it may be. In his mind’s eye, it took the form of long, red-hot cables, spitting and hissing like downed electrical wires. Vic imagined he held those cables in both hands—his flesh sizzled beneath the power but his grip didn’t slip. As he concentrated, he breathed in and saw himself reel those cables toward him, reining in the power. When he breathed out, he kept his hands fisted tight, unwilling to let go.

  The heat simmering on the balls of his feet cooled. He flexed his hands—physically, not mentally—and couldn’t feel the power building in his fists. This wasn’t that same power, he realized. Or rather, if it were, his own prowess had grown to the point where he could control it now. It wouldn’t get away from him again.

  To test this, he grasped the towel around his waist. Matt gasped. “Vic, no.”

  But a moment passed without incident, and another, and another. No heat built up in Vic’s hands, and the towel stayed unsinged. Vic let his concentration slip just a notch and felt the first smolder in his palms, but he quashed it quickly. “It’s okay,” he assured his lover. “I can handle it.”

  Cautiously, Matt stepped up behind him and touched his shoulder. Matt’s fingers were cool on Vic’s still damp skin, but when he didn’t get burned, he rested his forehead against the back of Vic’s neck. With a shaky sigh, he muttered, “I hate these powers. What happens if it gets out of hand while we’re eating? What if you blow up the whole restaurant, or set the damn car on fire?”

  “Matty, I’ve got it.” Turning, he eased his arms around his lover’s shoulders and hugged Matt close. He kept his hands bunched into fists, though, to avoid losing his concentration. How many times did Vic have to tell Matt the powers came from their love? From him—they were a gift Matt gave him, no matter how bizarre or inconvenient they could be. Vic wouldn’t give them up if it meant he had to lose Matt in the process. He loved the man too much to allow something as stupid as kinetic manipulation get in the way of their relationship. The power was transient, as fleeting as the flames it conjured, and would burn itself out soon enough.

  In the meantime, they had a date Vic intended to keep. Planting a kiss on Matt’s temple, Vic’s voice was gruff when he promised, “We’ll get through dinner just fine. And hey, when we get back home? If you’re still interested in doing something about this power? Maybe we can see if we can’t switch it out for something new. If you’re up for it…”

  Matt’s grin lit his face. “Get a few beers in me and I may not wait until we get home to have at you again.”

  * * * *

  It wasn’t a fire ability, exactly; Vic had dealt with that before. This was more of an… exploding ability, he would say. If he didn’t focus on controlling the power, anything he held onto heated until it just blew up. Something in his touch seemed to excite the very atoms that made up other objects—the more agitated the atoms grew, the hotter the object’s surface became, until there was so much activity inside its molecules, it simply couldn’t stay in one solid piece any longer. The razor started it, but before they managed to leave for dinner, Vic had set off small bombs all over their apartment. The bottle of lube he moved off the bed popped, splattering his clean T-shirt with clear gel. One of the knobs on the dresser blew up in his hand as he pulled the drawer out to retrieve a new shirt. When he scooped up his car keys off the table, Matt plucked them deftly from Vic’s fingers. “Oh no, mister. I’m driving. Your steering wheel’s practically falling apart as it is.”

  “Matt,” Vic moaned. His steering wheel worked, didn’t it? So it had cracked over the years, a result of Vic’s super strength and any number of odd powers he’d manifested. The duct tape held it all in place.

  But Matt shook his head, adamant. “We’re going out. We look good. I’m in an awesome mood and you’re hot as shit. We’re not driving down Cary Street in your car, I’m sorry. I want us to make an entrance.”

  Vic narrowe
d his eyes, not buying it. Matt’s Jaguar put Vic’s Toyota to shame. “You want to show off.”

  “I do,” Matt admitted. Sidling up to Vic, he leaned against this lover’s side and laid his head on Vic’s shoulder. The warmth of his body did terrible things to Vic’s blood, and the smell of burning rubber drifted up from the soles of Vic’s shoes. “Everybody, look at me. I have a kick ass car and the sexiest man in the city. I’m getting drunk and then getting laid. Eat your heart out.”

  Personally, Vic wasn’t a fan of sports cars. They were too damn small, for one thing, and too low to the ground. As Matt drove, Vic felt every bump and pothole in the street. The shocks on the Jag were horrid. Add a fifty pound dog into what passed as the back seat of the car, her whole body pushing against Vic’s seat so she could stick her head out the window, and the experience of riding with Matt was far from pleasant. The stereo rocked, the bass loud and pounding around them. But a very small part of Vic did like the way other drivers glanced at them, just out of the corner of the eye at first, then doing a double take or slowing down to get a better look. When Matt had shifted the car into gear, he slid his hand over Vic’s thigh, angling for Vic’s crotch. Catching Matt’s fingers in his own, Vic raised them to his lips and kissed the back of one finger before opening his mouth to nip at the knuckle.

  Beside him, Matt laughed. Because they couldn’t speak over the driving music, Matt opened his mind to communicate directly with Vic’s. ::Change of plans. Let’s order in and fuck on the floor.::

  ::What about showing off?:: Vic countered. Now that they were already in the car, he didn’t mind the thought of dining out. Plus they had brought Sadie along, and the dog adored car trips. If they turned back now, she’d probably whine the rest of the evening.

  Matt squeezed Vic’s hand in his. ::See how easy she weaseled her way into our lives? She has you trained..::

  ::She has you trained,:: Vic countered. ::I’m not the one thinking about ordering her a platter of ribs when we get to the restaurant.::

  Matt laughed but didn’t deny the thought flittered around the back of his mind.

  The next exit off the Powhite Parkway deposited them at the start of Carytown, a one-way street of eclectic shops and restaurants at the bottom of Richmond’s Fan District. Vic lowered the music as Matt eased off the gas. Double T’s was at the far end of Cary Street, serving the best barbeque in town, and Matt slowed as they neared the restaurant, eying the cars that lined the curb in the hopes of snagging a parking spot. As they eased along, Vic pointed at the glowing taillights of an unwieldy SUV along his side of the street. Some drivers sat idling at the curb, lights on though they had no intention of moving. Vic dipped into the driver’s thoughts, just a quick scan, and told Matt, “Let her in. Then you can take her spot.”

  Matt did just that, stopping in mid-traffic and turning on his signal to show others he planned to park. The SUV didn’t move at first, the woman inside preoccupied with digging a tube of lipstick out of her purse. So Vic sent a mental prod toward the driver. ::Go.:: In the SUV’s side view mirror, Vic saw the woman jump as if goosed, but she checked the road, saw Matt waiting, and floored the pedal.

  The Jaguar slid in the empty spot. “Good call.” Matt pulled up the parking brake, turned off the car, then leaned across the seats toward Vic. “Come here, you. Kiss me already.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice, but Vic hadn’t managed a quick peck before someone else wanted in on the action. From behind them Sadie leaned forward, pushing her head between the front seats, her wet nose cold where it nuzzled Vic’s cheek. He brushed her away, only to have her lick his hand. “Sadie!”

  Scratching the dog’s ears, Matt snickered. “She wants some lovin’, too.” In a childlike tone of voice he reserved specifically for talking to Sadie, Matt cooed, “She loves her some Vic, don’t she? Don’t she?”

  Sadie woofed softly, encouraged, as her tail thumped off the leather seat. When Vic rolled his eyes, Matt laughed again. Leaning over the gearshift, he caught Vic’s chin in his hand and turned his lover toward him to claim a real kiss this time. He held onto Sadie’s collar to keep her from interrupting them again.

  * * * *

  Like most of the restaurants along Cary Street, Double T’s had outside dining on a wooden patio that overlooked the sidewalk. Because they had Sadie with them, Matt stayed outside while Vic went in to tell the server they wished to eat outside. The dog lay with her head on her paws around one side of their small table, and Matt scooted his chair over to sit beside Vic. His hand started the evening on Vic’s knee; a few beers later and it had crept its way steadily up Vic’s thigh, until the fingers angled into Vic’s crotch. Every now and then Matt would prod the front of Vic’s jeans, where the beginning of an erection stiffened at his touch. As the evening wore on, Vic found it increasingly hard to concentrate on reining in this new kinetic power of his with the pleasant distraction of his lover beside him.

  When their food arrived, Vic ate fast, hoping to avoid blowing up his food in the process. The fries weren’t a problem—he popped them into his mouth a moment or two after picking them up. The barbecue was a little trickier. He held the sloppy sandwich in one hand and every so often the next bite would be so hot, he’d have to set the bun down to avoid a scene. The last thing he needed was a small explosion at his table, barbecue and cole slaw raining everywhere, the waitress rushing over to help them with a bevy of napkins in one hand while passersby and other patrons gawked. A scant few people knew of his abilities, and he didn’t plan to put on a floor show that evening if he could help it.

  Matt watched Vic eat, chewing thoughtfully, lust shining in his eyes. He was up to his second beer already while Vic nursed a warm, watered down soda that seemed incapable of retaining ice. Vic knew his lover had a food fetish—he enjoyed watching a man eat, for some strange reason. He’d admitted to Vic in the past that there was something erotic about watching the jaws work, the lips open, the teeth bite. Vic couldn’t imagine what that something might be, and it could grow a little uncomfortable when they dined in public. Matt stared at Vic with such intensity, their server often hesitated to approach the table. When she finally did so, Matt never lifted his gaze from Vic’s. “Another beer, please.”

  “That’s your third,” Vic pointed out.

  Matt grinned as the server left to retrieve another brew. “It’s okay. I’m not driving.”

  Stopping in mid-bite, Vic asked, “Then who is?” Why didn’t they take his car in the first place?

  Hearing that thought, Matt laughed. Beneath the table, his foot nudged Vic’s. “You, silly. I’m drinking, you’re driving, remember? Unless you want to fly us home.”

  Flight wasn’t in Vic’s arsenal of constant powers, thank God. He hadn’t managed to draw that one yet. Oh, he’d developed a curious lack of gravity once or twice, and could vividly recall the time they made love floating six feet above their bed, but actual flight the way Superman did it, up up and away and all that crap, no. Vic didn’t think he’d enjoy that power too much. He imagined his face would look like the windshield of his bus at the end of a long day—bugs splattered in his teeth, eyes dried out from the wind, bird shit staining the top of his bald head. No, thank you. Besides, flying was probably the easy part. What happened when he wanted to come down?

  Softly, Vic chastised, “You know I can’t do that.”

  Their waitress approached, a fresh glass of icy soda in one hand and Matt’s beer in the other. As she set the drinks onto their table, Matt suggested, “I’ll make you fly, babe. We’ll fly so high, we’ll never come down. When we come—”

  Vic cleared his throat and nodded at the waitress, who ducked her head to stifle a giggle.

  “What?” Matt looked around as if dazed and noticed the waitress for the first time. Grabbing the fresh beer, he hid his own embarrassment behind the bottle and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool, trust me. We get all types.” She flashed them a winning smile as she bent to retrieve the plate in
front of Sadie. Matt had insisted the dog get a platter of pulled pork sans barbecue sauce and Sadie had licked the plate clean. “You fellas up for dessert?”

  “Just the check, please,” Vic told her, suppressing a grin.

  By the time the third beer was in Matt’s system, he had trouble standing. Vic untied Sadie’s leash from where it had wrapped around the table legs, then held Matt’s chair out of the way as his lover tried to rise. With one hand holding the dog’s leash, Vic kept the other firmly under Matt’s arm so he wouldn’t tumble to the floor. Sadie led the way down the patio steps to the sidewalk, Matt leaning heavily against Vic the whole way. “I think I might be a little bit drunk,” Matt murmured.

  His breath was enough to make Vic’s head swoon. “You think?”

  Matt laughed wildly and wrapped both arms around Vic’s waist. Vic eased his arm around Matt’s shoulders, letting Sadie pull them down Cary toward their car. Though the sidewalk was a little crowded, Matt staggered so much, most people gave them a wide birth.

  “I want you,” Matt sighed. He leaned heavily against Vic, hands fisted in Vic’s shirt, breath hot along Vic’s neck. Warmth spread down Vic’s body, a line of heat stemming from Matt’s touch, his closeness, his desire, igniting Vic’s libido. Licking out, Matt tongued Vic’s earlobe and they both stumbled. “Right here.”

  “Not here. We’re almost at the car. Can you hold on two minutes?” Vic glared at the people they passed, daring someone to say something, but his fearful appearance deterred any comment. He suspected they could get it on in the middle of the sidewalk if they wanted and no one would say a word.

  But as much as he hated an audience, it took all the strength he had to keep Matt’s hands from drifting below his belt. When Matt faked a grab at Vic’s crotch, Vic caught that hand in his.

  “Mine,” Matt said, reaching for the front of Vic’s jeans a second time. “Let me…”