Vic and Matt Omnibus

Chapter 12

Kneeling Butterfly Position

For Vic Braunson, the three most dreaded words in the English language were, “Let’s go shopping.”

The gene that made some gay men cream themselves whenever they passed a shopping mall did not exist in Vic. He hated crowds and long lines at the checkouts and those annoying loudspeakers shouting out specials that made normal conversation impossible. If Vic had his way, everything in life would be delivered to his door—groceries, clothing, shaving cream. When he had to buy something, he parked as close to the store as he could, and glared at anyone who got in his way. A man with a purpose, he went directly to the aisle where he would find the particular item he needed, then left. He didn’t stop to look at the displays that crowed for his attention; he didn’t bother with sale ads, or clearance bins, or price comparisons. He didn’t window shop, or trail up and down aisles aimlessly, looking for something to buy. He got what he needed and left, as quickly as he could.

His lover Matt diLorenzo couldn’t have been more different.

Matt’s favorite part of the Sunday paper was the advertisements. He leafed through them like a child through a wish list, oohing and aahing over the latest gadgets on sale, the clothing, the linens, the furniture. He received a fair number of catalogues on a regular basis, and would pour over them in the evening when he cuddled up to Vic in their bed. Commercials on television made his eyes light up like a little boy’s, and he was always stopping at the store on the way home from work to pick up a few groceries for dinner or buy another pair of sunglasses or a couple new shirts. He couldn’t even take his car in for an oil change without getting a new license plate frame or the latest trendy air freshener to hang from his rear-view mirror.

One of Matt’s favorite things to do on his days off from work was go to “the store.” Any store would do—bookstore, grocery store, clothing store…even in an office supply store, he’d find something to buy. He always wanted his lover to come along with him, which was, to Vic, the biggest sacrifice he had to make in their relationship. While he loved being with Matt, he didn’t understand why they couldn’t just stay home. But whenever he asked, Matt always had a quick reply. “I want to show you off,” he’d say, snuggling up against Vic in a manner that would guarantee he’d get his way in the end. “Tell everyone, look at my hot man, bringing sexy back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vic asked with a laugh.

Matt nuzzled behind Vic’s ear, his breath warm against Vic’s bare skin. “It means come with me. I’ll buy you something.”

Vic laughed again. “I don’t need anything.”

“So come along anyway.” Matt caught one of Vic’s hands in both of his and laced their fingers together. “Be my arm candy. Keep the other guys at bay.”

That caught Vic’s attention. “What other guys?”

With a wicked grin, Matt teased, “You won’t know unless you come along. You are coming, right? You’re coming.”

“Do you know how spoiled you are?” Vic asked.

Matt kissed the corner of Vic’s mouth. “You wouldn’t love me any other way. Now get your shoes on. Let’s go shopping.”

* * * *

One spring morning, Vic woke to the sound of rain beating against his bedroom window. In the distance, thunder rumbled as if in a dream, far off and vague. There was a dank quality to the air, an oppressive feeling that made Vic burrow down a bit farther into the blankets and hug his pillow tightly to him. Opening one eye, he saw the bedroom awash in faded blue shadows, and the pale light that filtered through his curtains had a flickering, drowned look to it. The red digital numbers on his bedside clock showed 9:59. As he watched, the numbers changed to 10:00. He braced himself for the sound of the alarm.

It didn’t ring.

For a moment, Vic frowned in consternation, confused. Without moving a muscle, he stretched out his mind, searching for Matt. His lover should’ve been at the gym, where he ran the swimming pool, but Vic sensed his presence in their living room. ::Why…?::

As he brushed over his lover’s consciousness, suddenly Matt filled his thoughts. ::You awake, baby cake?::

::What day is it?:: Vic wanted to know.

He heard Matt’s laughter from the other room, as quiet and distant as the thunder. ::Last night wasn’t that wild, was it?::

A low growl tickled the back of Vic’s throat. ::Matty. Why isn’t my alarm going off?::

Faint steps creaked across the wooden floor in the hall, and without rolling onto his back, Vic knew Matt had entered the bedroom. Two seconds later, strong arms hemmed in Vic’s hips, sliding up either side of his body, an almost phantom touch through the satin bed sheet that covered Vic’s nakedness. Then Matt laid down on top of him, his weight heavy and comforting in the darkness. Warm lips touched the nape of Vic’s neck in a breathy kiss. “You’re off today,” Matt murmured into his skin. “Don’t you remember?”

“I just woke up,” Vic reminded him. Mornings weren’t his strong suit, and Matt knew it.

For some reason, his comment struck Matt as funny; his lover chuckled into the dimple at the base of Vic’s skull, then kissed the spot. His tongue darted out, licked along the length of smooth skin, from the jut of bone down the back of Vic’s neck to the span between his shoulder blades. Resting his cheek against Vic’s back, Matt sighed and let his entire body relax to conform to Vic’s. “Oh, babe,” he sighed.

Vic closed his eyes and savored the weight above him, pinning him down. If he didn’t have to be at work, why not enjoy this tender moment with his lover? Outside, the steady drizzle of rain made everything else seem indistinct, everything but Matt’s touch, his body above Vic’s. Easing his arms around Vic’s, Matt sought Vic’s hands beneath the pillow. They lay together for long minutes, the robe Matt wore and the sheet covering Vic’s body the only things separating their bodies. Their breathing slowed, and Vic found his mind drifting back to sleep, comforted by Matt’s presence. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend such a dreary, lazy day…

Into Vic’s ear, Matt whispered, “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”

Vic groaned—he knew what was coming. “No.”

But Matt circled Vic’s ear with his tongue, tracing the curved flesh, biting around the gold hoops in Vic’s earlobe. “Let’s go to the new mall,” Matt said. His hips humped Vic’s in his eagerness. “What do you say?”

“I thought I said no.”

Matt ignored him. “Please?”

Vic turned his head to release his ear from between Matt’s teeth. “Why do you always want to go shopping?”

“Why do you never want to go?” Matt countered. He shifted above Vic, moving to the other ear, which he nibbled on until Vic shook him off. “Come on. What else do you have to do?”

“What do you have to buy now?” Vic asked.

He felt Matt shrug above him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Stuff. I’m sure if we look around, we’ll find something to get.”

His arms tightened around Vic, and he snuggled against his lover as if that alone would be enough to convince him to change his mind. The sad thing was, Vic didn’t need much convincing to give into Matt. As much as he would have liked to stay in bed, with each passing second he became more and more awake. “We can see a movie, maybe,” Matt suggested, whispering into Vic’s ear.

His breath was ticklish and hot along Vic’s skin, and did delicious things to the rest of his body. Every part of him was beginning to rouse itself, from the skin on his nape to the c**k and balls already throbbing between his legs.

“We can get something to eat for lunch,” Matt continued. As he spoke, his words reverberated through Vic’s chest, exciting him further. “And we can get you a new suit…”

“I don’t need a new suit,” Vic told him. “We can eat lunch here. We can stay at home and watch a DVD.”

Matt wriggled his hips against Vic’s, grinding him into the mattress with a sweet ache. “I hear they have this new store there called Wet Dreams. You have to be twenty-one and older to even go in.”

“So?”

“So?” Matt asked, incredulous. “So?”

Burying his face in his pillow to hide his smirk, Vic arched his back and felt Matt’s interest pressed hard against the cleft of his buttocks. “So,” Matt said, rubbing his erection into Vic’s backside, “I want to check it out. And I’m not going into a s*x shop by myself, mister. I’m bringing you along. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to come with me, even if that means I have to blow you in the dressing room.”

Vic froze at the heady thought of the two of them getting frisky in such a public place. Every synapse in his body seemed to fire at once, striking him numb, and he even came a little bit, just enough to dampen the bed sheet under him. “Actually…”

He let that thought trail off. With a laugh, Matt sat up, knees sliding apart to straddle Vic’s legs. “Oh God,” he sighed, a silly grin evident in his voice. “I was only kidding, Vic. We can’t…I mean, if we get caught…”

Turning onto his side, Vic gave Matt a suggestive look that said he didn’t care. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“I was just saying.”

“What?”

Their eyes met, each daring the other to say something first. Finally, in a quiet voice, Vic murmured, “Dressing room doors do lock.”

A slow smile slid across Matt’s face. “So does that mean you’re coming?”

“I better come,” Vic joked.

* * * *

By the time they reached the mall, Vic had already changed his mind. They should’ve stayed home, he thought, squinting through the rain that beat against his windshield as he navigated the mall parking lot to find a spot. They could have put in a movie and made love on the couch. Then they wouldn’t have to inch through standing water, or step out of the car into muddy puddles when they finally parked, or race through a torrential downpour to get to the entrance of the mall. Matt held Vic’s hand as they ran, and damned if he didn’t seem to jump into every single puddle they passed. When they reached the mall’s entrance, Vic’s jeans were soaked from being splashed. Matt just laughed as Vic tried to pat them dry. “We’ll buy you new ones,” he promised.

“Matty,” Vic groaned. He didn’t want to shop for jeans, or a new suit, or hell, even s*x toys anymore. He just wanted to go home.

But Matt was a hard man to resist, and when he stepped into the span of Vic’s arm, the warmth of his body more than made up for the damp denim clinging to Vic’s legs. Despite the crowd that hemmed the other side of the mall’s doors, waiting for a break in the weather to rush to their cars, Matt took Vic’s face in both his hands and stared at him until Vic met his gaze. “Love you,” he whispered against Vic’s mouth. His lips pressed against Vic’s in a chaste but hungry kiss. “Thanks for humoring me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” Vic teased.

Taking Vic’s hand, Matt led him into the mall. The crowd parted as they pushed through the double doors, and from the way some of the people stared at them, Vic would have thought they’d never seen two grown men being affectionate before. But no one dared say anything—the black look that had descended on Vic’s features stymied any commentary. A couple of tough-looking boys near the food court snickered, but even that dried up when Vic leveled a stern glare their way.

Matt ignored the looks they got and held fast onto Vic’s hand. Perhaps he thought if he let go, Vic would slink back to the car to wait for him. Or maybe he didn’t want them to get separated in the crowd. Whatever the reason, Matt’s palm grew warm in Vic’s, and once they cleared the food court, he closed the distance between them, holding Vic’s hand in both of his to lean against Vic’s arm as they walked. Though it looked as though Vic were in the lead, Matt was the one with a destination in mind. “Where are we going?” Vic wanted to know.

Like a child at Christmas, Matt stared around at the stores with wide, hungry eyes. “Jeans first,” he announced, tugging on Vic’s hand to pull him toward a men’s clothing store. Something Outfitters—Vic didn’t catch the name before they were inside, surrounded by racks of denim in various shades of blue. “Let’s dry you off before we get you all wet again.”

Vic stood, impassive, as Matt began to shop. A rosy glow pinked his cheeks and lit up his eyes, making them a darker, sexier shade of green. He kept biting his lips, the bottom one mostly, catching it between his teeth as he chose one pair of jeans over another and, before long, his lips turned a deep red, giving them a bee-stung quality that Vic wanted to press his mouth against to see what they felt like on his own. Every so often, Matt ran a hand through his black curls, disheveling them, and they twisted around his face in crazed angles that gave him a windswept beauty.

Vic wasn’t the only one who noticed—two young men who worked at the store circled around them like birds of prey, each swooping in from time to time to ask if Matt needed any assistance. The way they looked him over suggested they would love to guide Matt to the dressing rooms and help him try on the jeans, unzipping his and stripping them away if need be. After the third go round, Vic placed a hand low on Matt’s back and growled, “He’s picking out the pants for me.”

The sales assistant blanched—he saw the intimacy in that touch and held his hands up as if to ward off the displeasure he heard in Vic’s voice. “It’s cool,” he said, taking a step back. “Just holler if you need me. I’ll be at the register.”

Vic’s menacing glare followed the guy to the opposite end of the store. His coworker met him halfway, but Vic caught the slight shake of the first assistant’s head and didn’t need to bother with telepathy to interpret the surprised look thrown his way. ::Yeah, that’s right,:: he called out, a mental broadcast that stopped both men in mid-whisper. ::He’s mine.::

With a low chuckle, Matt asked, “Are you intimidating the help?”

“You have your fun,” Vic told him, “and I’ll have mine.”

Matt turned and foisted an armful of heavy denim onto Vic. “Let’s see how great you look in these, boyfriend.” He spun Vic around and, with his hands firmly on Vic’s back, guided him toward the back of the store. “Dressing rooms are usually behind the checkout in a place like this.”

“I know what size I wear,” Vic countered. “Can’t I just buy these and if they don’t fit, bring them back?”

But there was no reasoning with Matt. “No. We try them on here. That way we only buy what we really want. Which means we can spend more in the long run.”

The dressing room area was located in a small alcove to the left of the register. Past a pair of swinging doors, there was a large area with a comfy-looking loveseat framed by two long clothing racks on rollers. Clothes others had tried on and discarded hung from the racks. Opposite the loveseat were three doors that led to individual dressing rooms, and the far wall of the room was a floor-to-ceiling mirror. One look at his own gruff countenance in that tempered glass and Vic had to fight the urge to turn around and run, like the Cowardly Lion had upon meeting the Wizard of Oz. As it was, when he tried to sink down onto the loveseat, Matt grabbed his elbow and hauled him to his feet. “Oh no, mister. You get in one of those rooms and take your clothes off right this instant.”

With a groan, Vic admitted, “I never thought I’d dread hearing you say that.”

Matt steered him through the door to the dressing room at the end of the row. “This is how I play,” he told Vic. “You try on each pair of jeans, even if they’re all the same size. I’ll wait out here, and you have to show me how each pair looks on you, okay?”

“Matty,” Vic sighed. “This is really pushing me to the limit here.”

With a quick peck on his cheek, Matt gave Vic’s butt a playful smack. “Do it for me.”

::As if I could possibly say no.::

The thought was only mumbled in his mind, but Matt picked up on it through the mental connection they shared and laughed. “You can’t say no to me,” he pointed out.

“I’m getting close to figuring out how,” Vic muttered darkly.

Inside the dressing room, with the door shut behind him, Vic took a moment to talk himself into a better attitude. He didn’t want to be there, no, but he was with Matt, and his lover was having a good time. Reaching out with his mind, he whispered into Matt’s consciousness, ::I’m sorry I’m being so difficult.::

From the other side of the dressing room door, Matt told him, “Hush. You’re just being you. I know I owe you big time for this.” Impatiently, he shook the door knob, rattling the door against its frame. “Let me see how those jeans look.”

“I haven’t tried them on yet!” Vic said with a laugh.

With an exasperated sigh, Matt asked, “What are you waiting for? I’ve never had this much trouble getting you naked before.”

* * * *

Several changes later, Vic was beginning to get bored. They were alone in the dressing room area—Matt seemed to be the only customer who bothered trying on clothes before buying them. The only sounds were the soft hiss of denim sliding up and down Vic’s legs as he dressed, the tuneless rock music piped in through the store’s stereo system, and beyond that, the steady mutter of thunder outside. If it weren’t for Matt’s constant presence in Vic’s mind, he could have believed he was alone in the dressing room like the last survivor of an apocalyptic war or a soul trapped in hell, condemned to an eternity of struggling into stiff, unwashed jeans in front of a mirror that showed all of his flaws.

Vic had a routine. He’d step out of one pair of jeans, kick them to one corner of the dressing room, and pull on the next pair in line. Jiggle them into place as he checked out his profile in the mirror. Zip up the jeans and, barefoot, step through the dressing room door to the waiting area, where Matt sat on the loveseat with piles of clothing on either side of him. Amid his lover’s wolf whistles, Vic would parade past the loveseat, turn at the swinging doors, and walk back to the mirrored wall like a model on a runway. As he advanced on his reflection, he amused himself by watching a myriad of emotions flicker across his face and eyes—lust, anger, happiness, contempt.

By the third pair of jeans, Vic had stripped off his long-sleeved flannel shirt and just kept on his tank top underneath. It helped make the change of clothing easier—he didn’t have to hike up the shirt to let Matt see the way the pants fit around the waist. With his bald head and earrings, and the tattoos that covered his neck and arms, he looked vicious crossing the room, something between a street thug and Mr. Clean. But when Matt glanced in the mirror and saw Vic’s “come hither” look staring back, he burst into giggles. “Are you hitting on yourself?” he teased.

With a wink at his lover, Vic told him, “I’m practicing for later.”

Before he returned to the dressing room, Matt made him turn completely around, then bend at the waist to see how the jeans moved with him. That earned Vic another whistle from Matt. “Look at that sexy ass,” he said. “It’s a shame you have to hide it in a pair of pants.”

“If you love it so much,” Vic countered, “why don’t you kiss it?”

Matt didn’t have to be asked twice. He slid off the loveseat to kneel on the floor, grabbing Vic’s hips to hold him still. Through the denim, Vic felt Matt’s face press to his left buttock; his lover opened his mouth wide, biting at the thick material, before puckering up. In the mirrored wall, Vic watched Matt nuzzle his ass, his lover’s breath hot through the jeans, his hands kneading the folds of Vic’s thighs where he bent over. If he weren’t wearing the jeans, Matt would be rimming him; the thought made blood rush to pound at Vic’s c**k like a second heart, and his d**k pulsed against the crotch of his new jeans. “Hmm,” he moaned, fisting his hardening length at his crotch.

Suddenly, the swinging doors opened and in the mirror, Vic saw one of the sales associates who had been eying Matt earlier. The guy took one look at them—Matt on his knees, face pressed against Vic’s ass—and without a word, backed out of the swinging doors, eyes wide.

“We have an audience,” Vic murmured. The guy continued to peer over the doors, his gaze riveted to them.

Matt’s hands eased around Vic’s hips, reaching for the front of his jeans. “This is nothing,” he said as he blindly unbuttoned Vic’s fly. “Let’s give him something to watch.”

“Matty…”

Then the jeans were open and Matt peeled the fly apart as the zipper slid down. Vic splayed a hand across the front of his crotch to hide the erection that bulged in his briefs. Using his teeth to help, Matt pulled the jeans down—they slid off Vic’s legs, exposing the smooth skin of his meaty thighs below the tight cut of his briefs. “Take it off,” Matt growled, pulling the jeans away. He pushed up the hem of Vic’s tank top and eased his fingers into the waistband of his lover’s briefs. “Take it all off.”

The sales associate still watched. Vic gave the man a deadly stare, but it didn’t have quite the same effect as it did when he was fully dressed. The guy was too busy to be intimidated—he couldn’t take his eyes off the twin moons of Vic’s pale ass when Matt tugged his brief’s down in the back. Vic clutched at the front of his underwear, but Matt’s laughter made it difficult to try too hard. By the time the briefs ripped, the fabric tearing across the bottom of Vic’s buttocks, they were both snickering. Vic’s whole body felt as if it were on edge, every nerve buzzing, every synapse alive. He’d never felt more naked than he did in this anonymous dressing area, one large mirror reflecting his nudity back to him, a nosy onlooker gaping as Matt undressed him.

Still, he wasn’t about to put on a show. Taking a step toward his dressing room, Vic caught his feet in the jeans around his ankles and stumbled. The remnants of his briefs tore—the back half in Matt’s hands, the front held to Vic’s aching c**k and balls. Falling onto one knee, Vic practically crawled to the dressing room. “Matty,” he said, trying to catch his breath amid his laughter, “you are so bad.”

Before Vic could disappear into the dressing room, he felt his lover’s hands on his backside again, and then a hot, damp tongue licked between his buttocks. In his hand, his c**k jolted fully erect, and he couldn’t stop his knees from spreading wide. Fisting his d**k, he thrust into his palm once, hard, savoring the feel of skin on skin. “f**k me,” he begged, a plea both vocal and mental. He heard the sales associate’s shocked gasp but didn’t care. At this moment, he wanted only one man in him, on him, loving him. “Matty, please.”

That earned him a resounding smack! that stung his buttocks, then Matt was crawling into the dressing room after him. “I thought you’d never ask. Does this thing lock?”

In one corner of the dressing room, a low build-out from the wall formed a bench where customers could sit while dressing. Vic used the seat to pull himself to his feet; the jeans and what was left of his briefs lay stretched out on the floor of the waiting area, pointing toward Vic’s dressing room like an accusation. On his knees before Vic, Matt fumbled with the front of his own pants, struggling to get them unzipped in his haste to have s*x. When Vic turned, Matt lunged for him, mouth open, tongue darting out to taste the tip of Vic’s d**k.

The sensation was maddening. Vic grabbed at the open door and its frame to keep from falling into a puddle on the ground. “Matty!” he gasped, thrusting his hips toward his lover’s face.

Matt obliged, catching Vic’s c**k between heated lips. One hand circled Vic’s shaft, squeezing the length with a firm rhythm, as inside his mouth, his tongue swirled around the swollen tip, licked along the slit at its base, suckled on it. His hand moved along Vic’s length, as if drawing out the pleasure building up inside Vic, guiding it into him instead.

Leaning heavily against the door, Vic bucked into his lover’s mouth, Matt’s name breathless on his lips. The only thing that stopped him from coming right there was the faint squeal of an unoiled hinge. He stopped in mid-thrust, listening, and heard a shuddery breath near the swinging doors. In a voice more thought than whisper, someone asked, “What do you mean, they’re doing it?”

Vic glanced behind him at the mirror—the other sales associate had joined his coworker, and together they had crept into the dressing room area. The guy who had been there first had a hand between his legs, rubbing himself as they both strained to listen, to see, to watch…

With a thunderous thought directed into their minds, Vic roared, ::Get the f**k outta here!::

The swinging door slapped its frame in reply.

Matt let Vic slip from his mouth and began to kiss along his thick length. “You scaring the little boys again?”

“They’ll be back,” With a last look in the mirror to ensure they were alone for now, Vic closed the dressing room door and threw the flimsy lock into place. Matt still knelt before him, but his lover’s jeans were open now, shoved down to his knees, and the ruddy tip of his c**k pointed up at Vic from under the buttoned hem of Matt’s shirt. “How are we going to do this?” Vic asked. “I’m sure we don’t have much time before they throw us out of the store.”

“Are you kidding?” Matt asked as he stroked his own d**k. “They’re about to bust a nut over the thought of us doing it back here. I bet you anything tonight when the store closes, they stay after to fool around in this same dressing room.”

“Yeah, well…” Setting his hands on his hips, Vic looked around the tiny room and wondered how exactly this was going to work. The thought of s*x here where anyone could walk in on them, anyone at all, turned him on something fierce—hell, loving Matt did that; the fact that they were in public just added another element to the lust that roiled within him. But still… “Where do you want me?”

Matt nodded at the build-out corner. “Have a seat, sunshine. Slide your butt down over the edge and spread ‘em wide.”

Vic did as he was told, sitting down on the corner seat, then spreading his legs as he slid down. In the mirror on the opposite wall, he saw his own ass pressed flat against the seat, his balls hanging low to hide the dark hole at his center, his c**k jutting up to lie along his lower belly. Stroking his length, Vic frowned at his reflection. “Don’t they have cameras behind those mirrors?” he asked, his fingers strumming his c**k. Then, glancing at Matt, he asked, “What are we waiting for?”

Matt had a sample pack of hand lotion he’d swiped from a display near the register on their way into the dressing rooms. He tore at it with his teeth, cursing under his breath. “Damn piece of shit.”

“Let me—” Vic started.

But the foil finally tore, and a white cream like c*m squirted along Matt’s lips and fingers. With a laugh, he rubbed it onto the tip of his d**k, then lathered his shaft. “Why can’t you get a really useful power sometime?” he asked. On his knees, he scuttled into place between Vic’s legs, one hand on Vic’s leg as the other guided his c**k between Vic’s buttocks. “You know, like a self-lubricating power, or something. Squeeze your left ball, you get a handful of lotion, you know?”

“Squeeze it hard enough,” Vic told him, “and you’ll get something, all right.”

Matt’s cockhead prodded at Vic’s ass. With both hands on Vic’s thighs now, Matt pulled him a little farther down, until only the small of his back still sat on the corner seat. Spreading Vic’s legs apart, Matt thrust into him, a single hard f**k that stole the breath from Vic’s throat and made his hands on Matt’s shoulders fist to tear at his shirt. “Yes,” he sighed as his lover filled him. Matt rose on his knees, driving deeper, and Vic slid down a little on the seat, taking him in as far as he could go. The next sound that tore from his throat was a guttural moan. “Yes.”

It was an awkward position—Matt knelt before him but couldn’t push in completely; Vic’s legs got in the way. So Matt sat back and Vic, unwilling to lose the thick muscle pulsing within him, sank to the floor on his knees as well, his legs spread wide around Matt’s hips as his lover’s c**k pierced him. His arms hooked over the seat behind him, giving him much needed leverage as he humped Matt’s hard length, using the strength in his legs to push himself onto his lover’s shaft. Matt’s arms wrapped around Vic’s waist, holding him close, as Matt kissed and nipped Vic’s n*****s through his shirt. First one teat, then the other, was bitten and tweaked, ravaged as Vic writhed against Matt’s hot mouth, his ass clenching around his lover’s meaty length. Throwing his head back, Vic cried out, “Yes,” and “Matty,” and “God, yes, f**k me, yes,” until he came in an orgasmic rush that covered Matt’s shirt with beads of c*m.

Then Vic’s energy waned, and he sank down into his lover’s lap, Matt’s wilting c**k still shoved deep inside him. His lips found Matt’s in a velvet crush. A whisper passed between them, “Love you,” before Vic gave into his lover’s tender kiss.

* * * *

As usual, Matt had a name for the position—the Kneeling Butterfly. “When your partner lights upon your erect c**k like a butterfly kissing a flower,” he quoted from the Kama Sutra he’d given Vic for Christmas.

“What did you do,” Vic wanted to know, “memorize the whole book?”

“Just the parts I liked,” Matt admitted. He leaned against the mirror as he zipped up his jeans, giving Vic room to get dressed. “I thought that was one of the positions we’d never pull off, though. I mean, it’s a little…”

“Difficult?” Vic snorted, pulling on a pair of new jeans he planned to wear the rest of the day. The new denim chafed his ass and c**k, but his underwear lay in shreds on the other side of the dressing room door. His damp jeans were shoved in a corner of the dressing room and had begun giving off a faint odor, almost like a wet dog. Coupled with the musky spunk of s*x in the tiny room, it wasn’t a very pleasant smell.

He shrugged on his shirt, and Matt grabbed his collar with both hands, pulling him in for a kiss. “Who knew you were so flexible?”

“I highly doubt I could do that again.”

“Me either,” Matt agreed. “My legs are numb.”

Vic smoothed a hand down the front of Matt’s shirt, tracing the muscles in his lover’s chest through the thin fabric. But when he reached Matt’s stomach, his fingers glanced over his own juices, drying on Matt’s shirt. “You can’t wear this.”

Matt frowned at the sticky mess. “I can grab one off the rack—”

“I’ll get you one.” Vic kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then finally his lips. Matt’s mouth parted beneath him as his hands pulled Vic closer. It took every ounce of Vic’s superhuman strength to step away from his lover. “Wait here—I’ll be right back.”

Buttoning his shirt, Vic stepped into his Tevas and exited the dressing room. He stopped to retrieve the jeans still laying on the floor. Throwing them over the top of the dressing room Matt was in, he balled up his briefs and chucked them in the waste basket by the swinging doors. The sales associates were gone, and when Vic stepped out into the main part of the store, he didn’t see them hovering around. Maybe they’d gone to lunch. Good.

A display of shirts in bright, vibrant colors caught his attention. He drifted over, drawn to one short-sleeved polo shirt in particular—a deep black, the shirt was decorated with variegated stripes in shades of green. The colors reminded Vic of Matt’s eyes. Quickly he began to riffle through the rack, looking for his lover’s size.

The overhead lights flickered once, eliciting a stifled scream from the front of the store. Vic glanced around, but the lights stayed on so he turned back to the shirts. Must still be storming pretty good out there. Much as I hate shopping, I’m glad I’m not out driving in that s**t.

Just as he found Matt’s size, the lights flickered again, longer this time, then doused completely. In the sudden silence that descended over the store, Vic heard thunder crack like a whip above them. Reaching out with his mind, he connected to Matt’s. ::You okay?::

::Fine,:: his lover assured him. ::Jesus, it’s dark back here. I can’t see shit.::

Thunder rumbled again, ominous, and then the soughing sound of steady rain filled the store. ::Just stay put,:: Vic told Matt. ::I’m sure they’ll have the power back on in a minute.::

The store wasn’t completely dark—light came from the front of the store, out in the mall concourse. The tall ceiling above the common areas of the shopping mall was nothing but pane after pane of heavy, reinforced glass, so the light that filtered through was dismal and dreary from the storm clouds above. Vic drifted toward the front of the store to get a look at the storm; he wasn’t the only one. More than a few people stepped out into the mall, unpurchased clothing in hand, to stare up at the water lashing the glass above.

“Hey!” someone yelled behind Vic. He turned to see one of the sales associates who had been interested in Matt. “People! You can’t walk out with that stuff—you need to buy it first!”

Vic stepped aside as the associate breezed past him, snapping at customers. “Put those back,” he told one woman holding a pair of jeans up to her son’s waist. “The registers are down so you can’t buy it anyway. You—”

He saw the shirt in Vic’s hand and turned, but whatever he planned to say dried up. With a shaky laugh, he said, “Do whatever you want. What can I say to stop you?”

Before he could hurry away, Vic asked, “You want me to stand out front?”

“What?” The guy turned back toward Vic as if surprised he could speak. “What for?”

With a shrug, Vic suggested, “Make sure nobody walks off with your stuff.” When the salesman didn’t answer immediately, Vic thrust the shirt he carried at him. “Just hold onto this for me. We want to buy it when the power comes back on.”

“We…” Looking around, the salesman asked, “Where’s your friend?”

An image flashed in his mind, so bright that Vic picked it up without even trying—Matt sneaking out of the store, an armful of unbought jeans, as Vic let him slip past. Taking a step toward the guy, Vic growled, “He’s in the dressing room. We ain’t the ones you should be worried about stealing your s**t. How many people have already walked out the store? Carrying bags you didn’t check?”

A slow look of horror dawned on the guy’s face. Vic glanced down at his nametag, Chad; beneath it, he could see the words, Asst. Mgr. Trainee. Sucks to be you, pal.

Vic continued, “Without power, those gates aren’t going down, and you can’t keep everyone here until the lights come back on. So you want me to stand up there and make sure no one else rips you off, or what?”

Chad ran a hand through his short crew cut and sighed. “Follow me.”

At the front of the store, two older women picked over a display of long-sleeved shirts. The fact that the power was off didn’t seem to deter them in the least. When they saw Chad approach, one woman held up a white chambray shirt striped with denim piping. “Sir,” she asked, stepping in front of Chad, “excuse me. Do you have this in a men’s 2-X tall?”

His training kicked in, and Chad actually started to tell her, “Let me check…”

Then he turned and ran into Vic, who glowered at the women. Couldn’t people stop shopping two minutes during a power outage? But when he spoke, it was to ask Chad, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Outside the wind picked up—this close to the front of the store and with the windows above, Vic could hear it whistle around the building. His blood surged at the sound; he felt the hairs on his arms and legs stand on end, felt the skin prickle along the nape of his neck, as if the wind whipped around him, too. The stronger the gale outside, the stranger the feeling that rose in Vic—his arms stretched out at his sides on their own, as if drawn to the power of the storm, and he closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations brewing within. In his new jeans, his d**k had grown hard again, stiff against the top of his thigh.

A fearful voice spoke up in his mind—Matt’s. ::Vic?:: his lover asked, concern lacing his thoughts. ::What’s going on?::

Vic replied, ::Hell if I know.::

He sensed Chad stepping away from him, sensed disbelief in the stares of the other customers. The next jolt of lightning that flashed in the clouds above caused a similar spark to arc from Vic’s palms. Several people gasped and moved away from him. The wind that blew outside somehow seemed to pick up inside the mall as well, pouring forth from Vic to rush through the concourse like a gale of hurricane force—he closed his hands into fists and reined in the wind, pulling it back. It blew over his face and neck, ruffled the collar of his shirt, whipped through the store behind him.

He was the wind now, the lightning, the storm. Somehow, he could control it, here, in the mall. The weather inside obeyed his command.

::Here’s a new one for our collection,:: he told Matt, whose fear hadn’t dissipated as Vic gained control over the power. ::Just call me the Weatherman.::

::Vic,:: Matt began, worried, ::I don’t think…::

Something hard thudded against the windows—Vic glanced up and saw a tree limb skitter across the glass before being torn away in the wind. Someone screamed as the glass cracked a little, fine slivers tinkling to the tiled floor below. Through the opening, the sounds of the storm intensified, and another, larger branch struck the windows. The heavy clouds outside looked angry as they darkened and swirled. A whisper ran through the crowd, the people in the store infecting those who lined the concourse and watched the storm rage above. One word jumped from person to person like lightning, striking over and over again.

Tornado.

Snapping back to the moment, Assistant Manager in-training Chad raised his voice over the wind that shrieked around Vic. “Get back, everyone!”

No one listened—they stood frozen in place, watching the clouds churn. A few abortive funnels formed, each longer than the next, each accompanied by gasps and tiny screams from the people below.

::Vic,:: Matt tried again. ::Jesus, get back here, will you?::

::You’re safe there,:: Vic told him.

Matt’s frustration colored his thoughts. ::I know I’m safe. It’s you I’m worried about. If those windows break…::

Another tree limb struck the glass, but this time it caught in the broken pane and stayed in place. Lightning streaked the sky to dance over the fallen branch, sizzling and popping along the dead length of wood. “Get back!” Chad called out again; this time, a handful of people moved into the store, but most stayed on the concourse, necks craned to watch the light show above.

If those windows broke, everyone in the concourse would be showered with glass.

Without thinking, Vic gathered the air around him like a blanket—he drew it to him, balled it up between his hands, then used both arms to push it aloft. The wind whooshed past the onlookers to buffer the ceiling; through its protective covering, Vic could feel the window shudder under the strain of the storm.

The next bolt of lightning that struck shattered the glass.

People screamed, finally scrambling into the stores that lined the concourse. The glass burst into a million shards, each jagged and deadly, but Vic’s control of the wind harnessed every last piece—not one fell. Concentrating on the power that flowed through his hands, he created a small tornado that whirled within the confines of the mall and gathered the glass into its funnel. Once the shards were contained, he forced the wind to deposit the glass in a small pile in the center of the concourse, where the rain outside poured into the mall and kept everyone away from beneath the broken window.

As he allowed the tornado to dissipate, he felt a hot stare on his back and turned to find Chad, mouth open in shock. “How did you do that?” he whispered. Then, confused, he added, “And what did you do?”

With a sigh, Vic released the air from his grip. His hands trembled with unspent energy, and all he wanted was the strength of another’s arms around him. Matty’s arms.

“Can I have that shirt back now?” he asked, holding out a hand to take Matt’s new shirt from the sales associate.

* * * *

The lights came on as Vic reached the dressing room area. Matt pushed through the swinging doors, arms full of the clothes Vic had been trying on. Fear and anger warred across his features. “My God, Vic,” he admonished. “Don’t you dare do that again. I was terrified—”

Before Vic could begin to apologize, Matt dropped the clothing at his feet and caught his lover in a strong embrace. He kissed Vic’s cheeks, his nose, his mouth, anywhere he could press his lips. His thoughts washed over Vic. ::Don’t ever…you always have to be so damn brave, don’t you?::

Vic tried to explain, ::If I didn’t do it, who would have?::

Matt shook his head, negating that. “I love you,” he murmured against Vic’s mouth. “But don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear? Where the hell’d you disappear to, anyway?”

Vic held out the shirt he’d chosen. He was right—the green matched Matt’s eyes perfectly. “I got you a clean shirt, remember?” When Matt rolled his eyes, Vic grinned. “You know, if this whole weather thing bothers you, we can always shoot for a different power. What do you say, you want to try this on?”

“I want you where I can keep an eye on you,” Matt admitted, “where I don’t have to worry about you trying to save anyone else.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that he was tired. “s**t. I never thought I’d say this but I’m tired of shopping. Can’t we just go home?”

Vic kissed Matt’s forehead, relieved. “I thought you’d never ask.”