A phone rang once, twice. Vic glanced at the attendant watching him. “You gonna get that?” he asked, gruff.
She reached for the nearest plate as if it were ready to fall and she thought she could catch it. When she realized he wasn’t talking about the weights, she looked up at him. “Get what?”
Vic frowned—the sound was in his head. It cut off in mid-ring, and his lover’s warm voice filled his mind. ::Matt diLoren—::
An oily voice interrupted him, jarring Vic’s teeth and setting his nerves on edge. ::Hey there, boy wonder.::
He knew that voice; he recognized it from Matt’s memories.
Jordan.
Oh, no, he didn’t call back. The strength humming through Vic’s arms stepped up a notch, buzzing like bees beneath his skin. Anger clouded his mind, filled his senses. Pissed, he thrust the last weight onto the barbell hard enough to topple the bench press on its side. The weights slid off the end of the barbell to thud on the floor. When the attendant started to complain, he barked, “Move.”
She scurried aside as Vic stormed from the weight room. The nerve of that asshole, calling Matt back. Calling today. Vic’s knuckles cracked beneath sudden fists.
The pool was on the far side of the locker room, but he closed the distance in less than a minute. The halls were nearly empty at this early hour, and the few who saw the murderous look on his face got out of his way. The doors to the pool were chained from the inside, but Vic set one shoulder against the release bar and shoved through them. Chain links tinkled to the tiled floor in a metallic rain. Kicking them out of his way, Vic barged through the half-closed door to Matt’s office. His lover looked up from where he sat behind his desk, the phone’s receiver held to one ear. Vic snapped, “Is he still on the phone?”
The tortured look in Matt’s wide eyes answered that question. Over the emotions boiling inside him, Vic could hear Jordan’s insidious voice pouring its poison into his lover. ::I thought of you last night, Matthew. While my guy was in me, I imagined it was you. He’s not half as good but then they always say you remember your first, right? And he doesn’t make me feel the way you did afterwards, either. You know what I mean. What about your guy? Does he think you’re good in bed? Or doesn’t it matter, as long as he turns into Superman—::
Vic plucked the phone from Matt’s nerveless fingers. “Listen to me, you fucker,” he swore, his voice low and dangerous. The voice on the other end of the line fell silent. “Don’t you ever call here again, do you hear me? I will hunt you down myself if I have to, and break every goddamn bone in your body.”
For a moment, silence spanned between them. Vic could almost believe the dickhead had hung up, except for the faint breath he heard through the line. Finally Jordan laughed. Laughed—the audacity made Vic’s hands clench in rage. “Are you the bullet-proof fuck friend? What a sweet deal you stumbled onto, eh?”
It took all Vic’s super strength to restrain himself from destroying the office, the gym, the world and everything in it. Instead, he concentrated on the phone and the tiny wire that connected it to the wall. He let his mind unfurl down that narrow line, tracing it down to the source, then routing back again to seek out this jerk on the other end. The extent of his mental capabilities surprised even Vic when he managed to pinpoint the one twisted mind he sought. “Azalea,” he breathed into the phone.
Jordan’s laugh cut off in shock. “What?”
“Azalea Road,” Vic told him. “Last house on the second block. Two fifty six.”
He let that sink in. When Jordan tried to speak again, Vic couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “I know where you live, asshole. Call here again. I dare you.”
The phone went dead in his ear.
* * * *
Chapter 13
Remnants of excess strength swirled through Vic’s body, setting him on edge for the rest of the day. He felt one step ahead of himself, as if when he moved, his mind somehow blazed ahead and left his body one heart beat behind. Sounds were too loud, smells too strong; even the sunlight was too damn bright. Jordan’s phone call had interrupted his time at the gym—instead of lifting weights for an hour or so, he sat on Matt’s desk with his lover held tight against him. Matt fit into the space between Vic’s knees, his arms around Vic’s ample waist, his head tucked against Vic’s chest. Their bodies meshed perfectly, as if they’d been created for the sole purpose of loving one another.
With the door to Matt’s office opened, things didn’t progress further. Vic nuzzled Matt’s neck, planting tiny kisses behind his ear and murmuring nonsense that made them both snicker. Slowly the tension in Matt’s muscles drained away, the fists clenched at Vic’s back relaxed, and Vic managed to wash out any bad aftertaste that lingered from Jordan’s phone call. But it didn’t give him much time in the weight room. He managed to press a few thousand pounds before he had to shower and leave for work; despite the cheers from other bodybuilders who watched him, Vic wanted to lift twice that, at least. As it was, he still had enough energy coursing through him to lift a city bus, and it took much of that strength to avoid doing just that when he reached the city garage.
From the moment he clocked in, time seemed to grind to a stop. It took years for the end of his shift to come around, and the garage was dark when he returned shortly after eleven o’clock. He wanted another hot shower to ease the muscles in his shoulders and neck, and he wanted to cuddle up to Matty as he fell asleep. Nothing else mattered to him. The strength would drain away overnight, it always did. A residue would remain, a level that still dazzled other lifters at the gym, but nothing that buzzed through his body like a hive of insects, eating away at him. Matt would help smooth those jitters away. He was good at taming Vic’s anger, kissing away the anxiety and nerves. Vic could almost feel his lover’s touch, a soothing balm over his thoughts, as he punched out at the time clock.
A footstep shuffled across the floor behind him, and then Vic heard a familiar voice echo in the deserted locker room. “Hey, man,” Kyle drawled.
Narrowing his eyes at that grating voice, Vic hunched his shoulders and wished he could disappear. Just wink out of existence. Why couldn’t he have drawn the invisibility power the last time he and Matt made love? Maybe Kyle wasn’t talking to him. Maybe—
A heavy hand clapped his back. Maybe nothing, he thought. With a perturbed sigh, Vic muttered, “Don’t touch me.”
That hand drew away; Vic turned to find Kyle beside him, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, guy. Long day, ain’t it? Can’t wait ‘til these double shifts are over. They’re killing me! Not to mention screwing up my love life.”
The last thing Vic wanted to hear about was whatever passed for Kyle’s love life. Shouldering his coworker aside, Vic growled, “I’ve got to go.”
“Matt waiting up for you?” Kyle asked. An innocent enough question, but there was an almost imperceptible leer in his voice that made Vic’s step falter. Kyle noticed; quickly he added, “That’s cool. You lucked out when you stole that sexy piece of ass from me, I’m telling you. I’m having a hell of a time trying to talk my boyfriend into moving into my place.”
Vic folded one hand into a hard fist and his knuckles popped, a loud sound in the empty locker room. From the corner of his eye, he glared at Kyle. Was the man trying to piss him off? Or did he just not think before opening that big mouth of his? Vic’s voice was low when he asked, “Did you just call my man a ‘sexy piece of ass’?”
Kyle’s pale face blanched. “No, um…” He laughed, high-pitched, nervous. “What I meant to say was—I mean…hey! What about that cookout I’m having this weekend? You guys coming or what?”
Vic stood there a moment longer, silent, pinning Kyle with a fierce look that made his coworker squirm. “It should be fun,” Kyle told him, hunting for something to say. Vic could sense the fear racing around Kyle’s thoughts; more than once, he glanced at Vic’s clenched fist. “It’s sort of turning into a couples thing, you know? Bunch of my buddies from the bar will be there. My man
, your man, you…the neighbors will think Pride’s come early this year.”
Kyle’s laugh died when he realized Vic hadn’t so much as cracked a grin. “You’ll be there, right? Matt still knows how to find my place?”
That startled Vic. He took an involuntary step back, then sort of turned to face Kyle, a frown furrowing his brow. “Why should he know where you live?”
Kyle’s smile slipped a notch, but he elbowed Vic as if to remind him of a secret they shared. Vic couldn’t imagine why Kyle would even think…”He was mine first,” Kyle joked. “Bring your swim trunks, Vic. You can swim in the pool where Matt and I first got it on—”
The next thing Vic knew, he had Kyle pinned back against the lockers, one hand on his coworker’s thick neck, fingers closing in a chokehold that raised the man up on the tips of his toes. Kyle’s eyes were wide and wild, his lips twisted in a grotesque grimace as he clawed at Vic’s uncompromising grip. When Vic stepped over the bench that separated them, Kyle tried to speak, but all that came out was an unintelligible gargle.
In a voice of pure anger, Vic growled, “Stop lying, you bastard. You never had my man. Never. You can pretend he was one of your imaginary conquests on whatever scorecard you’re keeping inside that tiny little head of yours, but don’t try to tell me you fucked him. Because you didn’t.” His fingers tightened, turning Kyle’s face a livid shade of red. Flailing hands scratched at his. “I know you didn’t. Don’t you dare try to tell me different.”
For a moment longer he throttled Kyle, glaring into those scared eyes until he saw some flicker of defeat. Satisfied he’d made his point, Vic released his coworker, who slid down the lockers to the floor in one fluid motion. Kyle massaged his neck as he sputtered for breath; turning on his heel, Vic stormed off. He had a shower to take, and a lover to attend to, and could waste no more time on shit like this.
Behind him Kyle coughed, then called out, “So you’re coming Saturday, right?”
Vic didn’t bother to reply.
* * * *
Vic’s foul mood followed him home. As he unlocked the front door, he could sense Matt’s sleeping presence in the bedroom; sure enough, the only light inside their apartment spilled out into the hallway from the lamp Matt had left on by Vic’s side of the bed. His lover lay curled in the bed sheets, a paperback forgotten beside him, one hand marking his place. The glasses he wore to read were pushed up off his face at a rakish angle. His pink lips were parted in sleep.
Whatever anger Vic still harbored against the rest of the world drained away when he looked at Matt. The man was an angel fallen to earth, captured in perfect flesh. Too beautiful to be real, yet here he lay in Vic’s bed, living, breathing, dreaming beside him. Vic felt his chest swell with pride—this man was his. To hold, to comfort, to love. His, and nothing anyone could say or do would ever come between them. Vic refused to let it.
Carefully he removed Matt’s wire-frame glasses and folded them onto his bedside table. Then he eased the book from Matt’s hand; his lover’s fingers flexed for a moment, holding tight, then relaxed and let go. Vic tucked a bookmark between the open pages and set the book on the table beside the glasses. As he pulled the covers up over Matt’s bare shoulder, his lover turned onto his back and stretched like a cat upon waking. “Vic?” he murmured.
“Hush.” Vic tousled Matt’s black curls, then kissed his slack lips. With a sigh, Matt melted beneath him, drifting back to whatever dreams awaited.
The need to lay next to him grew overwhelming. To take him in his arms, to fall asleep listening to him breathe. Vic could always shower in the morning, but this moment was sacred, fleeting. The time he spent in the bathroom would be long enough for Matt to fall back into a deep sleep, and he’d lose this chance. The choice was obvious—he stripped off his work clothes as he skirted the bed and was naked by the time he clicked off the light to slip between the covers.
Before he even settled in, Matt’s warm body curled against his. Strong hands strummed his chest, a heavy head rested on his shoulder, hot breath tickled his skin. “Hey,” Matt sighed, still mostly asleep. He hugged Vic in a tight grip, held him for a moment as if to lock the memory of his embrace in place, then relaxed.
Vic wrapped his arms around Matt’s broad shoulders to keep him close. With the faintest of mental touches, he slipped into his lover’s mind, stepping over half-formed dreams strewn about, thoughts and hopes, wishes, memories made new with sleep. In the center of Matt’s consciousness Vic found his lover sprawled on cushions as he watched the scenes unfold in his mind. Entwined together in bed, Vic pressed his lips to Matt’s forehead; internally, his soul touched Matt’s in the same loving manner, the two of them coming together as one. Vic curled his thoughts around his lover’s, every part of his dream self connecting with Matt in a complete communion of love. As they lay together on the cusp of sleep, Matt’s mind soothed Vic’s, kissing away the troubled feelings that festered inside him, unruffling the feathers that had puffed up in defense against Kyle and Jordan and the rest of the world.
Making him whole again. Making him new.
* * * *
In the morning, Vic shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and grumpy. His flannel robe was cinched at his waist, revealing more pale flesh than it hid and earning him a wolf whistle from Matt. Seated at the dining room table, his lover busied himself with tying his sneakers as he leered at Vic. “You sexy thing.”
Vic growled deep in the back of his throat but didn’t bother to reply. Instead he poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to blink away the fog that clung to his waking mind. “I’m going to stop by Kroger today on my way home,” Matt was telling him. Vic heard his lover’s voice but the words themselves were meaningless. He could be speaking Greek for all Vic knew, this early in the day. “I’m thinking we should bring potato salad tomorrow. How’s that work for you?”
“Tomorrow?” Vic asked. He wasn’t quite sure yet about today. “Where are we going?”
Matt laughed. “Kyle’s? Hello?”
“Oh.” The previous evening came back to him in a rush, bringing with it all the ill feelings that had chased Vic throughout the day. He set his coffee mug down on the counter a bit harder than he intended. “We’re not going.”
He could still hear the smile in his lover’s voice when Matt asked, “When did we decide this?”
Vic didn’t bother to reply. Instead he concentrated on shaking a packet of sugar into his coffee, rattling the paper long after the last few grains had dissolved into his drink. He kept his back to Matt, kept his head down, and kept quiet.
Matt wasn’t buying it. “Vic?” he prompted.
Silently Vic chided, ::Not now.::
::Yes, now,:: came Matt’s quick reply.
Familiar tendrils of thought tickled into Vic’s mind. With a sigh, he let Matt in. His lover knew him so well; he knew just where to look to find what he wanted, and like a cop making a drug bust, he began riffling through Vic’s memories, picking over his thoughts. When he found the scene with Kyle at work and replayed the words exchanged, Vic balled up the empty sugar packet in one unconscious fist. That fucker. He should’ve strangled him when he had the chance.
Warm hands touched his shoulders; then Matt leaned against his back. He smoothed his hands down and around Vic’s arms, until he hugged Vic’s waist. Soft, damp lips kissed the nape of Vic’s neck. “Why do you let him get to you?” Matt murmured. “I live with you, babe. I sleep with you. He’s the one who should be jealous, not you.”
“I’m not jealous.”
But Matt cut him off. “Bullshit. Why let him get under your skin then?”
Vic tried to move away but Matt held him tight, so he settled for turning in his lover’s embrace. Anger clenched Vic’s jaw as he glared at Matt. “What am I supposed to do, let him talk shit about you? Just stand there and listen to his goddamn lies?”
“Shh.” Matt kissed the corner of his mouth as his hands stroked Vic’s back in a placating gesture. “He’s not worth arguing
over.”
“He is lying,” Vic muttered. When Matt kissed his cheek, he added, “Isn’t he?”
Matt leaned heavily against him, pressing him back to the counter. Vic found his arms easing around his lover’s waist to keep him close. “Look at me,” Matt said, cradling Vic’s face in both hands. He forced Vic to look at him, in the eye, to really see him. “Me, Vic. Only me.”
Then he touched his forehead to Vic’s, creating an intimate space between them that canceled out everything but those deep malachite eyes staring back at him. Vic could see each individual eyelash on Matt’s lids; this close they looked thick and curved like a girl’s.
Once he had Vic’s attention, Matt opened his mind and an image filled Vic’s head. One of Matt’s memories, something from his past Vic hadn’t seen before. The event unfolded before him like a movie, his mind peering into Matt’s from a distant perspective. He saw a house he didn’t recognize, with a pool in the backyard, a hot tub at the far end with water already beginning to bubble. The indigo sky, held back by footlights that framed the pool, told Vic it must’ve been a late summer evening. Two men lounged by the pool in shorts and T-shirts. Matt was one of them.
Kyle was the other.
Vic tensed but Matt kissed him. “Shh. Watch.”
Distant laughter drifted to Vic from that day long ago. He noticed the wary look in his lover’s eyes, and saw at a glance that Kyle had had too much to drink. With a tumble, he rolled off his lounge chair and tried to crawl into Matt’s, but Matt kept him at bay. Rebuffed, Kyle tugged off his shirt, exposing a flabby, sun-burnt chest. In the memory, Matt glanced at the pool, the house, the night sky beyond the trees, anywhere but at the man beside him. Kicking off his deck shoes, Kyle pulled down the front of his shorts and waggled his hips at Matt. “Eh?” he asked, his voice tinny with time. “What do you think?”
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