With This Ring

by J. M. Snyder

  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.”

  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.”

  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.

  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 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, 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 balled-up 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.

  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.

  * * * *

  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.

  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.

&nbs
p; * * * *

  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 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—”

  “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.

  * * * *

  When Vic entered DiMaggio’s, Kendra was already there, camped out in a corner booth by the windows so she could 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 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. “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 i
n 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 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?”