V: The V in Vulnerable

by Snyder, J. M.

  Another sound came from out of sight. Matt heard the murderous squeal of metal twisted out of shape and knew his lover’s super strength was tearing the store’s back door from its hinges. Even though Vic wasn’t linked to him, Matt reached out with his thoughts anyway. ::Vic, I told you, he has a gun!::

  A thin scream tore through the back room. The two burglars exchanged a worried look, and the gunman leveled his pistol at the door leading toward the sound. When it burst open a few seconds later, he tensed as if to fire a shot, then aimed the gun at the ceiling and swore colorfully at his other accomplice who barreled through it. “Fuck, Barry! I almost took your head off. What the hell—”

  “There’s an army of ‘em,” Barry cried, sparing a look back over his shoulder.

  From where he sat, Matt couldn’t see into the back room, but the man’s words bothered him. An army of what? Had Vic led the police through the back of the store?

  The gunman shook his head, visibly pissed. “What are you talking about? What the hell was that noise? And you screaming like a girl—”

  Barry scrambled around the counter to put it between himself and the door. “It’s the same man. Every single one of them. Like some fucking Terminator or something!”

  The gunman started, “What—”

  But that was as far as he got before Vic’s bulk filled the doorway. Matt’s heart swelled and he had to suppress a cheer. Never had the sight of his lover filled him with so much emotion.

  With a grimace, the gunman aimed and fired. As Matt watched, Vic went down—no, he didn’t fall so much as…well, evaporate, it seemed. One word clawed at Matt’s throat, rising from him in an anguished wail. “No!”

  * * * *

  The moment Vic’s first clone dissolved, another rushed to fill its place. And a second, and a third. Vic had more doppelgangers than the gunman had bullets, and he’d keep coming at the guy until the weapon ran out.

  But he had forgotten about Matt, who didn’t know it wasn’t Vic himself who’d been shot. Anguish tore through Vic when his lover thought him killed. The emotion was so staggering, so immense, Vic reeled from it. Without conscious thought, he opened the mental bond between them again and felt Matty rush in to fill him. His body tingled as a dozen phantom hands patted him down to find a wound. ::God, Vic! He shot you! He…he—::

  Vic caught Matt’s frenzied mind in his own calm grip. ::I’m fine, I promise.::

  In the main showroom, Matt cried out as he watched Vic fall again. His thoughts whirled through Vic’s mind with a frantic pace. ::What the hell’s going on? How are you doing this?::

  It would take too long to explain. Instead Vic just opened himself fully to his lover, allowing Matt free reign to his memories. Matt riffled through them, learning about Vic’s current ability. Still, the knowledge that it wasn’t Vic getting shot was slim reassurance when Matt’s eyes saw him fall. With each gunshot, Vic felt a little pang of heartache as Matt winced. Beside him, Roxie could be heard pleading with the gunman to stop, please, for the love of God, stop shooting already. Cries rose from the other hostages, and curses from the robbers as Vic threw himself at them again and again.

  ::Close your eyes,:: he told Matty. ::I don’t want you seeing this. When he runs out of bullets—::

  ::He’ll reload,:: Matt said. Relief poured from him as he obeyed, shutting his eyes to the sight of Vic being gunned down. ::He has a second clip in his hand. How many shots has he fired already? How many do you think he has left?::

  Vic glanced over the gunman’s thoughts—the weapon was a Beretta 9 mm pistol, loaded with twenty rounds. A small part of his mind had begun counting when the first shot was fired, so he knew eleven bullets had been expended. Twelve, thirteen…the guy was running on autopilot at the moment, firing because Vic seemed unable to die. Though Vic felt the usual burn in his muscles that told him his powers were being exerted, he knew he could easily send in another forty doubles, sixty if there were two clips, eighty if necessary. But how long would it take the gunman to realize he wasn’t doing any real damage and come after Vic himself?

  Or, worse, turn the gun on his hostages? On Matt?

  Counting down the first clip, Vic knew what he had to do. Grimly, he told Matt, ::When he stops to reload, I’m coming in.::

  * * * *

  Panic rose in Matt at Vic’s announcement. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head. Telepathically, he added, ::Vic, don’t do this. You can’t.::

  ::I got to get you out of there,:: came Vic’s reply.

  Matt shook his head harder as the gun fired, its steady rapport loud in the small showroom. Beside him, Roxie held Matt’s arm in a painful grip, her nails digging through his shirt sleeve and into his skin. She moaned, rocking back and forth. “God, Vic,” she said, over and over, occasionally punctuating the moment with a loud cry. “Stop! Vic!”

  Covering her hand with his own, Matt tried to tell her, “It isn’t him.” But the sound of the gun was deafening, and even if she could hear him, he wasn’t sure she’d believe him anyway.

  Then Matt heard something so startling, it shocked him into opening his eyes—the hollow click of an empty gun. Deep within him, Vic rumbled, ::Showtime.::

  Matt’s lover barreled through the stockroom door, his bulk filling the frame before he stepped aside and a twin took his place. That got through to Roxie—she gasped, clawing at Matt. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Matthew, what the fuck? How is he doing this?”

  “You know how.” Matt wrested free from her grip as he watched the gunman reload. Which of those clones was the real Vic? How many shots would the gunman fire before he hit struck flesh and bone?

  Matt didn’t want to find out.

  Surging to his feet, he tackled the gunman and knocked the guy’s legs out from under him. They hit the ground with a thud, the gun skittering away across the tiled floor. Matt grappled with the gunman for a moment or two—he was larger than the kid, and his daily workout assured he was stronger, as well—but a kick to the ribs sent him rolling away. The one called Barry glared down at him, foot poised to strike again. “You all right, Chuck?”

  “Where’s my fucking gun?” Chuck sat up and pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt, which had come up over his head during the struggle. When he didn’t see the gun immediately, he punched Barry in the knee, almost dropping his friend. “I said, where the fuck—”

  Vic interrupted him. “This?”

  Matt rolled toward the sound of his lover’s strong voice. “Vic, thank God.”

  Chuck and Barry whirled, eyes widening as the real Vic Braunson edged around the display case and casually stepped on the discarded gun. It cracked beneath the bulk of his weight like a child’s water pistol.

  “Get him!” Chuck cried. He punched Barry again, almost toppling his friend in an attempt to throw Barry between himself and Vic. “Where’s Sam? Get that asshole, will you?”

  But when Vic stepped forward, the gun crunching underfoot, Barry shook his head. He backed up and tripped over Chuck, falling on his butt. “Not me, man. You want him? You get him.”

  Chuck seemed to reconsider. As Vic neared, he scrambled away, crab-like, in his haste to put some distance between them. But Matt stuck out his foot and caught Chuck in the small of his back, holding him in place. “Not so fast.”

  Reaching down, Vic grabbed a fist full of Chuck’s hoodie and hauled the gunman up off the ground as if he weighed nothing at all. Matt rose, knees trembling at the sight of his lover. When Barry tried to back away, he found himself against Matt’s legs, and one good kick in the ribs crumpled him over. Vic scooped him up, too, as if he were taking out the garbage. “Weren’t there three of them?” he asked.

  “Here,” came the response. Matt turned as the third young criminal rose from behind the display case, both hands already laced behind his head. “Don’t hurt me, man. This was all Chuck’s idea.”

  “Tell that to the cops,” Vic growled.

  The kid paled visibly. “Oh, shit,” he whimpered. “My mom is
gonna kill me.”

  * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, the police had the scene secured. The hostages had been led outside where officers took their statements while the three young burglars were cuffed and deposited into the back of a police cruiser. Inside the store, one officer cataloged the damage while another helped the clerk sift through a bag of jewelry that had been scooped up to steal. With Matt close by his side, Vic led Kendra into the back room to show her where he had forced entry into the building.

  “Thank God you showed up,” Matt said, slipping his hand into Vic’s.

  Vic gave his lover’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Kendra called me.”

  Dark clouds furrowed Matt’s brow as he glanced at the officer beside them. “You do this often?” he asked, anger lacing his voice. “Call up Superman to the rescue? I thought that was your job. He isn’t invincible, you know. He could get hurt, or killed—”

  ::Matty,:: Vic warned silently.

  “I saw your car in the parking lot,” Kendra explained. “I knew it from the night it was vandalized, remember? When we emptied out the other stores and you didn’t turn up, I figured you had to be inside this store here. Yes, we were at a stand-off, but we would’ve gotten inside eventually. I just thought Vic should know what was going on.”

  “She didn’t ask me to come over,” Vic told Matt. “She just told me what was happening. But how in the world could I have stayed away knowing you were in danger?”

  Matt’s fingers trembled in Vic’s grasp. “You terrified me,” he admitted, “when I thought that first bullet shot you down. God, Vic. I almost died seeing you…”

  Raising Matt’s hand to his lips, Vic kissed his lover’s knuckles. He suspected Matt was more scared about the whole ordeal than he cared to admit, and now the incident was behind them, his emotions bubbled out as misplaced anger. “Shh,” Vic murmured against Matt’s hand. “It’s over with, isn’t it? We’re both fine.”

  Kendra led the way back to the main showroom of the store, Vic following and Matt trailing behind. His steps lagged, widening the gap between himself and the others, and the hands connecting him and Vic helped separate them both from the police officer. When Kendra reached the doorway, a junior colleague appeared with a question that drew her attention away from Vic and Matt. But before Vic could step out into the showroom after her, he felt Matt tug on his hand, pulling him back.

  Vic turned, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. A half-smile toyed at the edge of Matt’s mouth, an almost-smirk Vic wanted to kiss away. Without protest, he let Matt pull him back into the storeroom. He stepped aside as Matt kicked out the block holding open the door, letting it swing shut.

  Then Matt leaned back against the door and gave Vic a sexy, smoldering look. The lusty fire in his gaze ignited Vic’s own desire. Wordlessly he pulled Vic closer, until Vic’s legs straddled Matt’s and their bodies pressed flush together. When Vic leaned down to claim his kiss, however, Matt interrupted him with a soft whisper. “Promise me something.”

  Vic sighed. It was an old argument between them, and the root of the problem was Vic’s powers. Time and again he had tried to explain to Matty how the powers were a gift Matt gave him, and because of the love they shared, he knew for certain the abilities couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him come to harm. Matt’s feelings for him bloomed in his body whenever the powers were activated. That love kept him safe. Matty kept him safe.

  But Matt wouldn’t listen. The powers came from him, yes, but they terrified him, too. If something happened to Vic because of them, Matt would blame himself. Vic knew his lover feared losing him more than anything else in the world, but how could he stand aside and let something preventable happen just to save himself? Matt’s powers protected him. Vic couldn’t explain it any other way.

  Now, in the quiet of the stockroom, Matt rubbed his nose against Vic’s and said again, “Promise me.”

  Vic sighed, knowing what was coming and knowing, too, he couldn’t agree to it. “Matty, if this is about the powers again, can’t we argue about this at home?”

  “Fuck the powers,” Matt growled playfully.

  The sexiness in Matt’s voice made Vic grin. “That’s sort of how I get them. What’s this promise?”

  Matt kissed him, a quick peck on the lips that hinted at so much more. It left Vic unsatisfied—with the other customers and the criminals in the store, then the police arriving on the scene, he hadn’t had a chance to say hello to his lover properly since he’d shown up. Now that they were alone, he wasn’t going to settle for such a little kiss. Instead, he caught Matt’s mouth with his, lips hard against Matt’s own, tongue demanding as he delved into his lover. With a gasp, Matt welcomed him, letting Vic press him back against the door with the strength of his desire.

  When they broke apart, breathless, Matt had a glassy look in his eyes Vic recognized all too well. Running a hand down his lover’s chest, Vic stopped at the waist band of Matt’s jeans and popped open the button on his fly. Easing down Matt’s zipper, Vic rubbed into his lover’s pants and grinned. “So what’s this promise?” he asked again.

  Matt moaned as Vic rubbed his stiffening cock through his underwear. With his lower lip caught between his teeth, he looked so damn sexy, Vic ached for him. Maybe neither of them had to return to work this afternoon. That didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually…

  With effort, Matt extracted Vic’s hand from his jeans. Cupping it in both his, he slipped something between Vic’s fingers, then folded them over the object now nestled in Vic’s palm. Curious, Vic opened his hand to find an exquisite ring resting there.

  Suddenly his throat closed and his eyes stung. He blinked rapidly and had to swallow a time or two before he managed to find the words. “Matty, it’s beautiful.”

  “Put it on,” Matt said.

  Vic did. The ring fit perfectly on the third finger of his left hand, as if it were made especially for him. When Matt took that hand in his, Vic noticed a matching band on Matt’s ring finger. The sight of the two rings opened a sweet ache in the center of his chest. Matt looked up at him, eyes glistening, and Vic choked on his own emotions. Softly, Matt said, “Promise me forever.”

  Leaning down, Vic kissed Matt again, gently this time, and rested his forehead against his lover’s temple. Matt’s wayward curls tickled Vic’s bald scalp. “You deserve nothing less,” he sighed. “I love you, Matty. I promise.”

  THE END

  * * * *

  ABOUT J.M. SNYDER

  A multi-published author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began writing boyband slash before turning to self-publishing. She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press, Aspen Mountain Press, eXcessica Publishing, and Torquere Press, and has short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Aspen Mountain Press, Cleis Press, eXcessica Publishing, Lethe Press, and Ravenous Romance. For more information, including excerpts, free stories, and monthly contests, please visit jmsnyder.net.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!