Vic and Matt Omnibus

Chapter 9

Hammock Position

The weather had been getting increasingly warmer throughout March, but by the last week of the month, the blustery wind had calmed down and the sun seemed intent on burning away the last of the frost that clung to newly budding crocuses and jonquils. The stubborn patches of snow so prevalent during the winter months finally melted away, and brown lawns once again unfurled their green lengths to bask in the light. Dead tree limbs came alive with pink-tipped buds and tender, half-curled leaves.

In another few weeks, a thick layer of yellow pollen would rain down over the city of Richmond, blanketing the confectionary colors of spring and running in thick, mucus-like rivulets alongside the streets. Then the allergies would kick in, and the heat, and before Vic Braunson knew it, summer would be back, which meant long hours working double shifts and little time to spend with his lover, Matt diLorenzo. So Vic took a week’s vacation at the end of the month, and Matt scheduled some time off, as well.

The first day the temperature rose above sixty degrees, Matt suggested they head downtown along the James River. “It’ll be fun,” he promised Vic. “It’s still early enough that no one else will be around, you know? We’ll stop for lunch somewhere and make a day of it. What do you say?”

What could Vic say? Matt was his heart and soul, and he’d do whatever it took to make the man happy. Seeing Matt’s smile was enough to set his blood afire. And if the weather proved a little too chilly down along the banks of the James, Vic could think of a few ways they might warm each other up.

Vic dressed in an old pair of light denim jeans and a long-sleeved thermal undershirt, over which he wore a faded blue sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off. Matt liked the color on him—”It matches your eyes,” he said as he sat on the bed, pulling on a pair of wooly socks. When Vic came close enough, Matt kissed the back of his lover’s hand. “Change of plans. Let’s stay here and have s*x instead.”

With a laugh, Vic ran his hand through the thick thatch of black curls that topped Matt’s head. “Let’s take the lube and f**k on the rocks,” he suggested.

Matt’s dark green eyes went wide. “You don’t think it’ll be too cold?”

An undercurrent of lustful excitement laced his thoughts. Through the mental connection they shared, Vic picked up on his interest like a hound on a scent. Trying to keep his voice nonchalant, he shrugged and added, “We could always take a blanket.”

Without argument, Matt surged to his feet and yanked the comforter off their neatly made bed. “Hell, yeah. You about ready yet, or what?”

They took Vic’s car—it had more leg room than Matt’s Jaguar, and Vic hated the way he felt every bump in the road when he was in the sports car. Another month or two and he’d let Matt drive; then they could open the sunroof, put on their shades, and cruise around the city before finding a dark lot in which to park. Until then, they’d take Vic’s aged Toyota Corolla. If the river rocks were too cold, there was always his back seat.

Beside Vic, Matt held the comforter folded on his lap and wore his sunglasses even though wispy strands of dark clouds scuttled across the sky. He looked beautiful, with his tousled curls, the raspy stubble he’d forgotten to shave off his chin, and the wide grin he kept flashing Vic’s way. The flannel shirt he wore was Vic’s, a size too large for Matt and tucked into the belted waist of his tight jeans. As they wove through traffic, Vic kept stealing glances at his lover from the corner of his eye and found it hard to concentrate on the road ahead. Whenever anyone they passed checked Matt out, Vic leveled a challenging glare at them until they looked away. Mine, that glower said. Look all you want but he’s going home with me. He’s in my car, in my life. He’s mine.

At one stoplight, a warm hand rubbed over his knee, then trailed up his thigh to curve into his crotch. “Are you scaring everyone away?” Matt teased.

“Only the ones who look too long,” Vic replied.

With a tug on his arm, Matt leaned across the gap between their seats. “Come here,” he murmured. “Let’s give them something to watch.”

Matt’s parted mouth brushed over Vic’s lips with a gentle caress. Then his tongue licked into Vic, tasting him. Matt’s lips were sweet, softer than Vic had ever imagined a man’s could be, and each press made Vic hungry for more. Matt kissed him once, twice, and turned his head slightly for a third when a car horn blared behind them.

Surprised, Vic took his foot off the brake. The car jumped ahead, threatening to stall out, but Vic pushed in the clutch, popped the gear into first, and floored the gas. The engine roared as they shot through the intersection. “Fucker,” Vic muttered, glaring in the rear-view mirror at the car behind them.

He sent the word out in a psychic shout that the other driver would hear loud and clear. In fact, everyone within a mile radius heard it, and heads turned to follow them as they passed.

Matt’s hand returned to Vic’s lap, where it rubbed along Vic’s inner thigh in a soothing gesture. “Another few minutes,” he promised, “and it’ll just be you and me, all by ourselves at the river, and that asshole who’s so eager to get back to work will be stuck in a cubicle, watching the clock.”

Vic glanced in his driver’s side mirror at the man in the car behind them, who tugged on his tie with one hand as he avoided meeting Vic’s reflection. A quick scan of his mind showed that, yes, he was running late coming back from lunch, his boss would probably yell at him when he made it to the office, and the rest of his afternoon would be spent trying to find cheap porn on the internet to distract him from a PowerPoint presentation due at five. A presentation he hadn’t even begun to work on yet. Vic let himself chuckle, smug. Sucks to be you, pal.

Feeling quite generous all of a sudden, he found he couldn’t quite suppress the cocky grin spreading across lips that still tingled from Matt’s kiss.

* * * *

For lunch, they stopped at a Thai restaurant in Carytown and ordered take-out. Then they drove down to Tredegar Iron Works, an old industrial site on the James River near one of Richmond’s many Civil War museums. Vic had to navigate around three big yellow school buses that took up most of the free parking lot. “Damn field trips,” he muttered when he finally found an empty spot behind the buses.

Matt laughed as he handed Vic the blanket to carry. “And yet you love kids.”

“What?” Vic shook his head. “I never said—”

Matt gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “You were great at that party as Santa Claus,” he reminded Vic. “The kids loved you.”

“Everyone loved me,” Vic pointed out. “I had some sort of hyped up pheromone discharging power that made me Mr. Popular that night.”

“And you still went home with me.” Matt kissed him again, a real kiss, a lingering press of lips with no impatient driver behind them interrupting this time. “I’m so lucky.”

“Keep talking like that,” Vic warned, “and I’ll want to skip lunch and cut right to dessert.”

Matt carried the bags of Thai food; Vic took the blanket. Together they made their way down the rocky slope that led from the parking lot to the paved Canal Walk, which wove for a mile or so along the city’s waterfront district. Despite the gorgeous weather, it was the middle of the week and very few people were out. Vic spotted another couple walking hand in hand along a pedestrian bridge connecting to nearby Brown’s Island—a man and woman, the distance between them greater than the space that separated Matty and himself.

No one else was around.

Shifting the blanket to his other arm, Vic stepped closer to Matt and eased an arm around his lover’s waist. Instantly, Matt leaned into him. “Where do you want to eat?”

“The Hollywood rocks,” Vic replied.

A crowded family favorite in the summer, the rocks had an abandoned air to them this time of the year. Nicknamed after the cemetery that overlooked them, they helped create the rapids that would bring kayaks and canoes to the James River once the weather warmed up. Spray from the river slicked the smaller stones, and white-capped waves crested over a few of them completely, but there were still quite a few large, broad, flat rocks that would be perfect for a picnic lunch. Just a short walk from the Iron Works, the rocks offered an excellent view of the busy interstate bridges and railway viaducts leading into the city.

Vic found a spot he liked, leaving the pavement behind and taking Matt’s hand in his as he led his lover to a particularly flat rock. When he spread the blanket down, it covered the rock completely, the edges of the fabric stopping a scant inch or two above the cold water that raced around them. It seemed as though they could see the whole city from this vantage point, a fact Matt pointed out as he unpacked their lunch. “If we get busy here,” he told Vic, handing his lover a container of pad Thai noodles, “we’ll be on this evening’s news. Gay couple caught screwing in public, more at eleven.”

Opening his take-out container, Vic prodded the noodles with a fork and added, “Psycho pair of super villains loose in the city. News teams brought down, cops thwarted, people dead. Still at large, the dynamic duo was last seen pleasuring each other on the banks of the James. If you see this man…”

Matt laughed. “Hands off, people. He’s mine.”

* * * *

After lunch, Vic stretched out on the rock, hands folded behind his head, and closed his eyes. His senses seemed stronger than usual—every sound amplified, every scent sharpened. The river rushed around them with an almost earthy smell, and along the bridges that spanned in the distance, he heard the rush of traffic. A faint breeze rustled the still-bare tree boughs above them, and through the blanket, their rock was hard and cold, unyielding. Still, he had the whole day ahead to enjoy himself…and his lover. This was the life.

Beside him, Matt gathered their trash together and stuffed it into the take-out bag. Then he lay down, his body curving along Vic’s, and rested his head on Vic’s upper arm. “Hey,” he purred.

Vic kept still, his eyes shut. He felt Matt cuddle up to him, draping one leg over his, running an arm around his waist. His hand slipped beneath the ragged sweatshirt to pluck at Vic’s long johns. “Vic,” Matt sighed, drawing the word out into two syllables.

Vic didn’t move.

With a huff, Matt blew into his ear, his fingers tickling up Vic’s stomach to rub at his chest. Now came the mental prod Vic had been expecting—he felt Matt’s consciousness hovering on the edge of his thoughts, poking at his mind. He could almost see Matt’s frown, and it took all the strength he had not to grin and ruin the moment. ::Vic?:: Matt asked, confusion lacing his thoughts. He started to sit up, hand pressed to Vic’s chest, the first drops of concern trickling through him. ::This isn’t really funny—::

Spurred into action, Vic let out a terrifying roar and rolled onto Matt, pinning him to the blanket. Matt shrieked with laughter, his arms trapped between them. Kissing him quiet, Vic murmured, “Got you.”

Beneath him, Matt relaxed. As Vic kissed his lover’s scruffy chin, Matt eased his arms around Vic’s neck, hugging him close. “Now this is more like it,” he admitted.

Vic’s mouth was hot and damp on his jaw, and Matt leaned his head back as his lover trailed tiny kisses down the length of his neck. At the base of his throat, Vic nipped at his clavicle, nosing open the collar of Matt’s shirt to expose more skin. One by one Vic worked the buttons on Matt’s shirt free with his teeth, then pushed the fabric aside to lick down the dark hair that covered Matt’s chest. When he was far enough, he kissed across Matt’s pectoral muscle to catch the ruddy flesh of one n****e between his teeth. As he bit at it, Matt writhed beneath him. “God,” he gasped, pulling Vic down to him even as he thrust up against Vic’s hard body. “Yes, yes, yes.”

::You like that?:: Vic asked silently.

Matt nodded and whimpered as Vic bit harder. His lover bucked beneath him, his hands fisting in Vic’s shirt, and Vic tugged at his n****e, growling as the swollen bud stiffened in his mouth. ::Please,:: Matt begged, his thoughts a blur of desire like a dervish whirling between them. ::Oh God, oh, Vic, oh PLEASE, oh yes, oh yes.::

When Vic released his n****e, Matt actually sobbed. Kissing his way to the other teat, Vic caught that one as well and nibbled on it, rolling it between his lips and teeth as Matt gasped in delight. He covered the n****e with his mouth and tongued the stiff bud as he massaged it, suckling. Matt ground his hips beneath Vic’s, turned on by the playful bites. Between them, Vic felt an erection thickening in Matt’s tight pants. “Gotta have you,” Matt told him, breathless. He tugged at Vic’s shirt, eager to pull it off, toss it away. Vic didn’t need to read his mind to know Matt wanted to f**k him. “Now, Vic. I’m serious, right here. Now. Take it off, take it all off. I need you.”

Vic covered Matt’s mouth with his own, silencing him. He felt his lover’s desire in their heady kiss—it rose like a tidal wave between them, threatening to drown them both. As the moment deepened, Matt kneaded Vic’s shoulders, rubbing him, wanting him. Vic trailed one of his own hands down the length of Matt’s body, angling for his lover’s crotch. Savoring Matt, tasting him, kissing him back against the rock, Vic thumbed open the fly on his lover’s jeans and eased his fingers inside the taut material to strum over Matt’s sheathed c**k.

Nearby, bicycle tires crunched over gravel strewn near the paved Canal Walk. Vic ignored the noise—he could feel the outline of Matt’s hard d**k through his lover’s briefs, the tip already damp from his ministrations, and nothing would distract him from his goal.

Nothing but a hushed whisper, as loud as a shout in the quiet stillness around them. “Oh my, God, Julie, that’s two guys.”

The silver tinkle of a bicycle bell punctuated the woman’s words. Through the psychic connection they shared, Matt told Vic, ::f**k them.::

His hands gripped Vic’s shoulders, holding him down. His lips kept Vic too preoccupied to glance up at their visitors, but he heard the bikes slow as their riders gawked. A second woman—Julie—made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Get a room, perverts.”

Anger clouded Vic’s mind, spoiling Matt’s kisses. Reaching out with his mind, he sent out a psionic blast that rippled from him like a sonic wave. In a telepathic voice that must have sounded like the wrath of God in their minds, he yelled, ::Who the f**k are you to judge us?::

One woman gasped, the other cursed under her breath; then Vic heard a satisfying crash as one of the distracted bikers rode off the path and into the bushes. “Julie!”

Pulling away from Vic, Matt sat up and turned to see what had happened. “You didn’t.”

A couple yards down the path, two bikes lay on the ground, discarded. One rider stood—an older woman, Vic didn’t know if she were Julie or not and cared even less. Sprawled on the ground was a second woman, about the same age as the first, with perfectly styled hair and a diamond tennis bracelet that glittered on her arm as she held out her hand for assistance. Both women glared at Vic and Matt, but wisely kept their mouths shut.

With a snicker, Matt asked, “Did you do that?”

Vic shrugged. “She fell. Guess she wasn’t watching the road. Where were we?”

But Matt didn’t lie down again, so Vic sat back on his knees, waiting. “Matty?”

“It’s too open here,” Matt said. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he rubbed some warmth into his biceps. “The rock’s hard as s**t, even with the blanket, and it’s so damn cold. I swear, my ass is numb.” He threw a dirty look over his shoulder at the cyclists. “And then there’s the audience.”

“We put on a good show,” Vic teased.

Matt told him, “I want a private performance.”

Vic sighed. Short of heading home, he didn’t know where they might go to be alone…

The car.

Picking up that thought, Matt grinned. “Perfect.”

* * * *

Vic had parked behind the empty school buses, which blocked the view of their car from the road. Any cyclists or pedestrians passing the parking lot would never even know that less than a hundred yards away, two men were getting frisky in a battered Toyota. As Matt climbed into the back seat, Vic glanced around but they were completely alone. Yeah, you thought that on the rock, too.

But it was still fairly early—just a little after noon. If he remembered anything from his own schoolboy days, it was that field trips always included a brown bag lunch. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the thoughts of those around him. Matt came through in sharp detail, but Vic let his mind expand, unfurling out like a sail catching the wind. He found the women again, riding their bikes along the pedestrian bridge; the couple they’d seen earlier, walking back to their car; a man and his dog strolling down the Brown’s Island walkway…farther, to the museum and the bored man seated at the reception desk who was trying to figure out how to connect the office intranet to check his personal e-mail.

Skirting the buildings that housed a variety of Civil War exhibits, Vic cast his mind out a little bit farther, until he found what he was looking for—a large congregation of children sitting on the grassy lawn behind the museum. Lunch bags open, girls shrieking as a couple of boys chased them around a statue of Abraham Lincoln, a weary teacher yelling at someone to knock it off before she turned back to her Harlequin paperback. Perfect.

Matt touched the back of his hand, interrupting him. “Vic?” he asked, taking the hand in both his own to tug Vic down into the car. “You coming, or am I going to have to do this alone?”

Tossing the blanket into the front passenger seat, Vic climbed in. He closed the car door behind him as he hunkered down beside Matt in the back seat. He’d always thought he had a fairly roomy car, but two grown men crammed together gave him a new perspective. “I feel like a teenager again,” Vic grumbled.

With a laugh, Matt scooted over to give him more room. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. Excitement gleamed in his eyes as he gave Vic a wink. “This is kind of fun.”

“It’s cramped and uncomfortable.”

But Matt grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down on top of him for a kiss. “We’ll make it fun.”

Still, it was crowded. Vic felt hemmed in with the roof so close above him—there was no real room to stretch out. He couldn’t seem to get his hands between his body and Matt’s because he kept hitting his elbows on the front seats. Twice he hit his head on the window lever. “Oh, poor baby,” Matt said with a laugh. He caught Vic’s head in his hands and kissed the red mark on his bald scalp. “Maybe we’re doing this wrong.”

“Maybe we should go home,” Vic suggested.

Matt eased an arm between them and squeezed at the front of Vic’s jeans, where a thick erection already cut into the fabric. “And lose this? Not on your life, mister. Sit up.”

Vic did as he was told, sitting back against the far door to give Matt some room. Propping his feet in Vic’s lap, Matt unzipped his own jeans and shucked them down to his knees, briefs following suit. His own erection stood up from a mass of black curls, the skin dusky, the tip already damp. Without thinking, Vic leaned down and caught the fisted cockhead between his lips. Suddenly Matt’s scent filled his nostrils, a heady, glorious musk that made Vic’s libido soar. If all they did was sit here and suck each other off, he wouldn’t complain.

But Matt had other plans. “Easy there,” he said, pushing against Vic’s chest when he came closer to take more of Matt’s d**k in his mouth. Holding him back, Matt slid toward the middle of the back seat and moved his feet off Vic’s lap onto the floor. Vic sat back just long enough for Matty to get situated; then he was leaning down again, angling for another taste of that hard c**k. With one hand, Matt stroked his own length, leaning down in the seat to thrust it up into Vic’s willing mouth. His other hand curved around Vic’s chin, petting his cheek, toying with the trim goatee Vic favored.

“Yes,” Matt sighed, raising his hips off the seat to push himself into Vic. Vic’s tongue licked down his thick length, savoring every inch, swirling around the base of the shaft and slicking Matt’s fingers as he took his lover in. Slowly, he moved back up to concentrate on the swollen tip. Curling his lips over his teeth, he massaged Matt’s cockhead between his lips, rubbing, humming, kneading it until Matt couldn’t hold it any longer and came a little in his mouth.

Suddenly Matt was pushing him away. Confused, Vic sat back. “Matty—”

“You know what I want,” his lover replied. Motioning at Vic’s pants, he told him, “Unzip it, buster, and climb up on my lap. I’ll take you for a wild ride.”

Vic laughed, but he obeyed, unzipping his pants and half-standing, hunched over, so he could shuck them off. As he bent to step out of the jeans, he felt the cold window press against his bare ass and could only imagine what someone would say if they saw that. A quick mental scan of the area proved they were still very much alone, and he’d be lying if he said the thought of having s*x right here, where anyone could see them, wasn’t a huge turn-on for him. Before he even kicked the jeans away, his d**k jutted hard and strong from his shaved crotch.

Matt’s feet rested on the hump in the center of the floor; he had slid down until his buttocks sat on the edge of the seat, his knees pressing in between the front seats of the car, his d**k standing up firm and thick, waiting for Vic. Stepping over Matt’s legs, Vic faced his lover and sat down on Matt’s knees. “Down here,” Matt said, wagging his d**k with one hand. “You missed.”

Vic reached into the front seat and extracted a tube of lubricant from the blanket. He squirted a healthy dollop of clear gel onto the tip of Matt’s d**k as if adding syrup to a sundae. “Is there a name for this position?” he teased. “We can call it ‘Shifting Gears.’ Ask them to add it to the next edition of the book.”

“Actually,” Matt said with a laugh, “it’s the Hammock Position. You sit down and then sort of rock back and forth like you’re in a hammock, I guess. But if you want to call it something different…”

Rising off Matt’s knees, Vic knelt on the back seat, a leg on either side of Matt’s bare hips. Positioned perfectly, he sat back and felt Matt’s wet fingers rim between his ass cheeks. Then the spongy tip of his lover’s c**k poked into him—Matt held him open, guiding himself in, but Vic couldn’t wait. He wanted it hard, he wanted it now, and he sat down on Matt’s lap, taking his lover’s full, thick length into him.

Matt filled him completely. The first hard thrust butted his prostate and Vic gasped in delight. Matt held his hips as he rocked, hands grappling at the front seats as he leaned back between them. Each movement sent pleasurable sensations shooting through him and he found a quick, fast rhythm that seemed to rock the car around them. “God,” Vic sighed, spreading his knees as if he could drive Matt into him any farther. “Yes, harder, yes, God. f**k me, Matty. f**k me.”

To be honest, Vic was doing all the work. Every roll of his hips, every slight motion one way or another, every tiny hop up and down on Matt’s shaft felt amazing. After experimenting a bit, he settled for leaning back against Matt’s knees and pushing his knees against the back seat to slide himself along his lover’s erection. The faster he moved, the harder the thrusts, and he gripped the head rests on the front seats as he gave into the moment, the lust, the love that warmed the air around them and fogged the windows. “Yes,” Vic sighed, over and over again. “Yes, Matty, oh, oh, oh yes.”

Once he found a steady rhythm, Matt let his hands play across Vic’s stomach, lifting his shirt to rub over smooth skin before moving lower to encircle the hard c**k that pointed out at him. With lubricated hands, Matt tugged at Vic’s d**k, one hand stretching it out to the full length, the other following right behind it, as if trying to elongate it. When it reached the end, Matt’s hand would close into a gentle fist that squeezed Vic’s already throbbing tip.

“Come on me,” he said, pausing long enough to unbutton his flannel shirt and throw it open. Dark hair whorled across his chest, tapering into a thin line that led to the brush at his crotch. Then his hand found Vic’s c**k again, stroking it, milking it. Rubbing his chest, Matt told him, “Right here. Shoot it here.”

“Matty,” Vic sighed. He was close—his whole body trembled on the cusp of release. Moving faster, picking up the pace, he lay his head back and stared at the interior light above him as he gave himself up to the man in him, on him, loving him. When he came, it was a thick spurt that he couldn’t control, and Matt’s orgasm triggered a second spasm that drained him dry.

When he sat back up, he saw his own jism splattered across Matt’s chest and neck. A few drops flecked his unshaven chin. Leaning toward him, Vic kissed his lover’s lips, then licked his own juices off Matt’s Adam’s apple. He tasted sticky and sweet. ::You told me to,:: he reminded Matt silently. ::Guess my aim was off a little.::

“A little?” Matt laughed. “Jeez, you just about put my eye out.”

Vic kissed him again. ::I told you doing it in a car was uncomfortable.::

* * * *

Because the parking lot was still empty, Vic stepped out of the car to get dressed. He rolled down the window a crack, tucked one end of the blanket into it, then rolled it up again. When he opened the car door, Matt held the other end of the blanket, giving him a small space in which to hide. Bending low, he stepped into his underwear and jeans, his heart pounding in his chest. His c**k stiffened in the cool breeze that caressed his bare skin, but Vic tucked it unceremoniously into his pants. Then he took the blanket from Matt and moved out of the way so his lover could step out to zip up, as well.

At one end of the parking lot, there was a water fountain and an overflowing trash can. As Vic threw away the remains of their lunch, Matt rinsed off in the water fountain. “A little help here, please?” he asked, trying to push down the release button with his elbow to wash both hands.

Vic leaned down on the button and Matt ran his hands under the spigot’s flow. Then he opened his shirt, baring his chest. “How good were you at spraying the other kids in school at the water fountain?” Matt wanted to know.

With a grin, Vic stuck his thumb over the spigot, splashing them both with icy water. A slight adjustment, and he hit Matt dead on with the spray. As his lover rubbed the drying c*m off his chest, Vic admitted, “Guess there are some things you just never forget.”

“Who needs long division?” Matt teased. “Or dangling participles? Just hose me down at the water fountain, I’m good to go.”

Vic laughed. “Dangling what?”

Stepping out of the spray of water, Matt leaned over and kissed the tip of Vic’s nose. “Come back to the car and I’ll show you.”

But when they reached the car, Vic saw a ragged line of children streaming from the museum and heading their way. “Oh God,” he groaned. “Get in.”

He started the car but before he could put it in gear, the kids had reached the parking lot. They raced each other for the buses, crowding around the idling car and effectively blocking Vic in. “How many you think I can take out?” he joked, gunning the engine.

The kids closest to the car scattered amid piercing shrieks of laughter. Matt put his hand over Vic’s where it rested on the gear shift. “Just wait,” his lover told him. “They won’t be long.”

Ten minutes later, the teachers were still wrangling everyone together. Vic gripped the steering wheel with one hand, waiting for an opening that never appeared. Beside him, Matt lay back against the seat, dozing. His hand rubbed over Vic’s in an absent gesture. Vic was feeling tired himself. He should turn off the car—he was wasting gas—and maybe roll down the windows a bit. It was getting stuffy now, and the smell of s*x hadn’t dissipated any…

Even as he thought about it, the key turned in the ignition on its own, cutting off the engine, and the windows rolled down an inch or two, letting in a stiff, cool breeze. With his eyes closed, Matt turned his face to the open window and murmured, “Mmm. Thanks.”

Vic glanced around him. “Matty,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as unnerved as he felt. “I didn’t do that. I just thought about it—”

“Telepathy?” Matt asked. Then he sat up and frowned at Vic. “No, wait. Tele-something. Moving things with your mind. Telekinesis? Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“I don’t know,” Vic admitted. “I’ve never done it before.”

Matt squeezed his hand on the gear shift in encouragement. “Try to do it again.”

Vic concentrated on the keys in the ignition. In his mind, he heard the engine roar and felt the car rumble beneath him. He imagined his thoughts taking the shape of a large hand that gripped the keys in a tight fist and turned them, starting the car again.

As he watched, the keys jingled slightly, then twisted in the ignition. The car started with a smooth purr. Beside him, Matt laughed. “Too cool. Sort of gives all new meaning to the phrase, undressing someone with your mind, eh?”

“Now there’s a thought.” Vic sent a mental image to his lover—the two of them in their bedroom, Matt standing while Vic lay on the bed, staring as Matt’s clothes seemed to strip themselves off his body. “What do you think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Ready to head home?”

“Hell, yeah.” Blowing Vic a kiss, Matt winked and grabbed his crotch. “I could certainly go another round or two.”

Vic waited for the last kid to climb onto the school bus before putting the car into gear. Unfortunately, before he could maneuver out of the parking lot, the first bus in line pulled away, blocking his path. The other two fell in behind the first, and Vic grumbled as he picked up the rear. At this rate, they’d never get home.

* * * *

The three buses stayed in front of them like a formidable barricade Vic couldn’t pass. He hung back, waiting for an opening, but nothing presented itself. He followed behind them all the way to the entrance ramp onto the interstate. Even after they merged onto the James River Bridge, he couldn’t get over because the traffic sped by at a higher speed. “This f*****g sucks,” he muttered.

“Take the expressway,” Matt offered. He pointed at a sign indicating the downtown expressway was the next exit off the interstate. Relieved, Vic put on his turn signal and started to move into the turning lane.

Suddenly a horn blared beside him. He glanced at the passenger side mirror and saw a sporty little Camaro zooming into the space between Vic’s car and the concrete guard rail on the edge of the bridge. “Asshole,” Vic spat.

The horn blared again, and the Camaro lunged at them like a fierce dog tugging at a leash. “Let him pass,” Matt said, glancing back at the aggressive driver. “It’s not worth it.”

“I could toss his expensive piece of s**t over the edge of the bridge,” Vic threatened. “See how the hell he likes that.”

As if calling his bluff, the driver leaned on the horn again. “Vic, don’t.” Matt placed a hand on Vic’s arm—his anger dissolved at the touch. “Just let him pass.”

“Some people don’t deserve to drive,” Vic grumbled.

Matt nodded. “I know.”

Reluctantly Vic eased back into the lane, letting the dickhead pass on the right. ::Learn how to f*****g drive!:: he thought, broadcasting into the driver’s head as he zoomed by. Vic saw his head whip around at the words, and for a second, their eyes locked. ::Yeah,:: Vic told him telepathically, ::I’m talking to you, asshole. What are you going to do about it?::

Apparently cut him off. To avoid rear-ending the Camaro, Vic swerved right, into the turning lane, and took the exit ramp onto the expressway at a higher speed than necessary. Vic’s anger was back, simmering below the surface of his mind. All he wanted was to get home, was that asking too much?

Matt gripped the dashboard with both hands. “Vic,” he started.

“What.”

The word was clipped—Vic refused to be drawn into conversation, even with Matty, because he didn’t trust his own emotions and didn’t want to say anything he might later regret.

Above them came the squeal of brakes and a satisfying crunch of metal that Vic hoped was the Camaro. “Vic,” Matt said again, “slow down. Stop!”

Vic was already stepping on the brake because the car in front of him had stopped. Great—a goddamn traffic jam. Just what he needed now. His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, turning white. “Matty, please. I’m trying—”

But Matt wasn’t watching the traffic on the expressway—he leaned forward in his seat, staring up at the bridge above them. “My God, Vic. Look!”

Vic leaned forward and looked up through the windshield at the James River Bridge. Directly above their cloverleaf exit ramp, one of the school buses had plowed into the concrete guard rail—the falling debris was what had stopped traffic in front of them. As they watched, the bus’s front tires spun off the bridge and out into thin air. Without realizing he did so, Vic reached out to scan the minds of the people around him. He heard screams and yells, confusion clouding the minds of the children, the bus driver’s fear. It seemed that after cutting off Vic, the driver in the Camaro had swung around the first bus on the right, intending to zoom around it using the exit ramp as he had done to Vic. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized there was another bus ahead of it, and when he cut back into the flow of traffic, he clipped the front of the bus behind him, which sent him plowing into the back of the next bus. Which hit the third, like a deadly game of dominoes.

That third driver had been unprepared for the accident and lost control, sending the bus into the rail and almost halfway off the bridge itself.

Reacting on pure instinct, Vic pulled up his parking brake and hit his hazards. “Call the police,” he instructed.

Matt nodded, digging his cell phone from the holster on his hip. Vic stepped out of the car—he wasn’t the only one; there was a small crowd gathering now, women sobbing and men talking into their phones. Somewhere above them, the whirr of a helicopter could be heard over the traffic. Leaning against the guard rail beside him, Vic closed his eyes and concentrated on the bus above them. Every couple of minutes, it inched a little farther over the edge, and the people gathered below gasped or screamed. But Vic imagined that large hand again, the one that had turned his car on and off by mere thought alone. Once he had it firmly in place, he opened his eyes and stared at the bus, seeing nothing else. Please work, he prayed, extending his mind like an arm to support the bus. God, don’t let them fall. This better f*****g work.

The front of the bus shook as his power took hold of it. The shriek of metal on concrete was drowned out by the cries of the onlookers below. It took all his strength to support the dead weight of the school bus with his mind—he felt the strain like a fire burning down his neck and along his shoulders as his muscles clenched in concentration. Too much of the bus hung off the ledge, and when he tried to push it back onto the bridge, he found another one of the buses directly behind it. He couldn’t possibly move both of them, not using a mental ability he’d just discovered. Already his head throbbed from stress, and something trickled from his nose. He thought it was sweat, but when he licked his lip, he tasted blood.

Then Matt was there, wiping his face gently with the hem of his shirt. In a low voice, he asked, “Jesus, Vic. Are you holding that?”

Vic couldn’t reply—he had no energy to expend on anything that wasn’t the bus suspended from the bridge above. Matt touched his shoulders, felt the tensed muscles, and began to massage some feeling back into them. “Police are already on the scene,” he assured Vic. “They’re unloading the kids from the emergency exit, hoping they get them all out before it falls.”

“They will,” Vic muttered. He wouldn’t let it fall before then.

* * * *

Matt saw the police officer navigating through the bystanders and positioned himself to block her view of Vic. She was a young woman with a pretty, heart-shaped face and a blonde bun pinned beneath her police cap. She had a pad in hand, and seemed to be taking names of potential witnesses. When she looked over at Matt, he shifted his attention back to the bus and tried to fashion his features into a look of concern. It wasn’t the accident that worried him—Vic had that under control, and Matt believed him when he said the kids would get free before he allowed the bus to fall.

But Vic looked drawn and pale, his sweaty face tense, and there was a stubborn trickle of blood from his nostril that Matt couldn’t seem to stem. That scared Matt. Vic wouldn’t let the bus fall without a struggle, but what if he lost that fight?

“Excuse me.”

Matt turned to find the police officer right beside him. Damn, she moved quick. With a glance past him at Vic, she asked, “Can I get your name?”

In his head, he heard Vic warn, ::Matty.:: Taking a step away from his lover, Matt guided the officer to their car to give Vic room to concentrate. “Excuse me?” he asked, in the hopes of buying some time.

The officer frowned at him. Jones, her shirt read. “Your name,” she said again. Looking back at Vic, she added, “And his. What’s he doing?”

Matt flashed her a charming grin. “Thinking.”

She didn’t return his smile. “Look, Mr….?”

“Matt.” He held out a hand for her to shake, but she didn’t take it. “Matt diLorenzo. And you are?”

“Kendra—” Catching herself, she rolled her eyes. “Officer Jones. Who’s your friend?”

He looked at Vic and was dismayed to see another runnel of blood from his nose. Closing the distance between them, Matt wiped the blood away with the hem of his shirt, which was beginning to look like a discarded bandage in the ER ward. He sensed the officer approach and stood in front of Vic as if trying to hide him. “Is he all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” Matt assured her. At least, he will be. I hope.

“What’s wrong with him?” She spoke in hushed tones, as if afraid Vic might overhear. “He’s just…just sitting there.”

Matt took her arm to steer her away, but she shrugged out of his grip. “I told you. He’s thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, suspicious.

Suddenly Vic spoke. “Last kid’s clear,” he said, spooking them both. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Hold what?” The officer looked from Matt to Vic and back again. “What’s he talking about, the last kid?”

Matt nodded at the bus above them. “Can you call someone and check to see that all the kids are off the bus?”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

Patiently, Matt asked again, “Can you call someone up on the bridge and make sure all the kids are off the bus?”

The officer shook her head, flustered. “They’re working as fast as they can,” she assured them. “The kids will be fine—”

“I’m not asking that!” Matt resisted the urge to tackle her and wrest away the radio at her hip. In what he hoped was a calm voice, he tried a different approach. “Don’t you think that bus is sort of defying gravity, hanging off the bridge like it is? Almost as if someone’s holding it up, waiting for the last kid to get off before letting it fall. Wouldn’t it be a shame if he let it go without knowing everyone was clear?”

“What…” The officer looked at Vic again, as if seeing him for the first time, and her mouth dropped open into a perfect O of understanding. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “That’s impossible.”

Vic spared her a quick glance. ::Is it?::

His voice filled Matt’s mind, and from the look on the cop’s face, she heard him speak in her head, as well. “I don’t believe this,” she whispered, even as she scrambled for her radio. “Damn it the hell, I don’t believe this. Officer Jones here,” she said into her radio. Her words were punctuated by a burst of static, then she radioed in again. “Jones to Leland. What’s the status on the rescue operation?”

Another burst of static erupted from her handset. Matt waited, holding his breath. Vic wouldn’t last much longer—Matt could feel his lover’s energy waning, the telepathic power running its course from overuse. Finally, when he thought he’d scream just to release the tension winding up inside him, a woman’s voice broke through the static. “All clear. Repeat, all clear. Trying to shore up the vehicle now.”

“Tell them not to bother,” Matt said. “Vic—”

“I heard.”

With a massive screech, the bus slid over the edge of the bridge. People screamed and scattered from its path, but it didn’t fall straight down. In fact, it missed the ramp beneath it completely—with a slow, graceful arc, the back of the bus teetered over, flipping the heavy vehicle in mid-air, and it fell in slow motion over the side of the ramp to the placid waters of the James River below. Veins stood out on Vic’s temples at the strain to control the bus. When it finally hit the water with a thunderous splash, Vic seemed to collapse in on himself—his legs gave way and he sank to the ground, hands trembling as he raised them to hide his face.

Officer Jones stood with the rest of the crowd, dumbfounded and stunned. Ignoring her, Matt knelt beside Vic and took his lover into his arms. Vic’s entire body shook uncontrollably. “It’s okay,” Matt murmured, rubbing Vic’s arms and shoulders. “Oh God, Vic. You’re amazing, you know that? I love you.”

“Matty,” Vic sighed. He grasped Matt’s arms and used them as leverage to help him stand, but the first step he tried to take spilled him into Matt’s embrace. “f**k,” he muttered. “Don’t ever let me do that s**t again.”

With a shaky laugh, Matt guided him to the passenger side of his car. He deposited Vic in the seat, then buckled him in when he made no move to do so himself. Wiping one last time at the dried blood beneath Vic’s nose, Matt kissed his pale lips. “Let me get you home.”

“Please,” Vic replied.

Matt closed the door and skirted around the back of the car to avoid the police officer. She had moved to the edge of the bridge and leaned over with the rest of the spectators, as if they could possibly see the bus in the river below. Quickly, Matt slid into the driver’s seat of Vic’s car and started the engine. Traffic started to move on the shoulder, and when he saw an opening in the lane beside them, Matt took it. Glancing into the rear-view mirror, he saw the officer turn, probably looking for them, but they were already on their way.

Beside him, Vic sighed. “She knows.”

“She suspects,” Matt corrected. “Two entirely different things. We can always say we don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Vic shook his head. Even that small gesture seemed to wear him out, and he leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. “We’ll see her again,” he muttered. “You can count on it.”

Matt sighed. “I know.”

THE END