Vic and Matt Omnibus

Chapter 17

The Arc Position

Two weeks before Halloween, Matt diLorenzo was sitting at his desk at work, writing out monthly expense checks, when a small, orange envelope sailed over the top of his computer monitor to land on his keyboard. He glanced up to find Roxie, the gym’s receptionist, leaning against the doorway to his office. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the envelope.

“Open it,” she replied. Her fire-engine-red hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, what looked like chopsticks holding it in place. Two long strands of hair framed her face—these she had dyed a bright purple, and the ends were pointed as if she’d been chewing on them. When Matt reached for the letter opener, she sighed. “Just rip into it, Matt. You don’t have to save the envelope.”

He brandished the sword-shaped opener. “Why do you think they make these things? For all I know, you poisoned the glue. I get a paper cut tearing it open and die. And then what?”

“Then I comfort Vic,” Roxie said, so bluntly that Matt had to laugh. “He’ll be sad at first, I’m sure, but given time…”

“You’d drive him crazy.” Matt got the envelope open and extracted a gaudy Halloween card. A cartoonish vampire loomed over an open grave, and written in the clouds behind him were the words, I vant to vish you… Matt frowned at the card. “Um, thanks, I think. But aren’t you a little early?”

Exasperated, Roxie reached across the top of his monitor to open the card. “It’s an invitation, dumbass. Though I swear, why I even bothered…”

Matt’s interest was piqued. “An invitation? To what?”

“Read the card.”

Matt countered, “You’re standing right there…”

But at the dark look on Roxie’s face, he ducked behind the monitor to hide his grin. Inside the card, it read, Happy Halloween! Under that, written in Roxie’s flowing script, was the phrase: Come celebrate with Bloody Marys at Roxie’s Monster Mash.

“You’re having a party?” Matt asked. “That’s pretty cool.”

“You have to dress up,” Roxie told him. “No wearing a pair of Speedos and coming as a swimmer, either. I want a real costume. You have two weeks to put it together.”

Matt had never been to a Halloween party before that he could recall—as a kid, everyone went trick-or-treating and didn’t bother with parties. Maybe in college he went to a frat house once or twice, but nothing he had to dress up for. Setting the card up on his desk, he said, “Thanks. It should be a lot of fun.”

Roxie closed the card quickly. “Put that away. You’re the only person here I’m inviting.”

“I’m so honored,” Matt joked, but he tucked the card back into its envelope. Then a sobering thought hit him. “Wait, only me? Can I bring somebody?”

Roxie gave him a strange look, as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “You better bring Vic,” she said. “Now if he wants to put on a pair of Speedos, I’ve no objection to that.”

With a laugh, Matt asked, “Are you going to get drunk and hit on him at this thing?”

“Who said anything about needing to be drunk?” Roxie replied. “You’ll both be there, right?”

Matt turned the envelope over in his hands and noticed it was addressed to both him and Vic. Somehow, he didn’t think his lover would be all that excited about a party, especially one where costumes were required. “I have to talk to Vic first.”

“Oh, please.” Giving him a sweet smile, Roxie batted her eyelashes and folded her hands under her chin. In a childish voice, she sang, “Oh, Vic, I want to go to Roxie’s party ever so much. Do let’s attend.”

Matt snickered. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Oh, Vic,” Roxie continued in that sappy, sing-song voice of hers. “I love you so. I wouldn’t want to have to go to Roxie’s party all alone.” With a dramatic flair, she raised her arm and set the back of her hand against her forehead, a classic “woe is me” gesture. “Oh, Vic.”

Matt felt a prickle of annoyance rise within him. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. “Maybe Vic won’t want to go to your little party. Maybe we’ll just do something else that night.”

Reaching over his monitor again, Roxie slapped the top of his head. “Matt, please. I’m just teasing. Take it like a man.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Matt said. He heard the pout in his own voice and frowned around it. When Vic was at the gym, Roxie didn’t pick on him as much.

She rubbed her hand through his hair, mussing it. “All you have to do is look at that man and he’d curl up and die for you if you asked. Surely you can use your…special talents, dare we say? To convince him to come to my Halloween party. He doesn’t have to wear the Speedos.”

Matt smiled at the thought of his burly lover squeezed into a tight latex bikini—bald head, heavy tattoos, and multiple piercings notwithstanding, Vic would look damn hot. The sight of all that bare, shaved skin would turn Matt on something fierce, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off his lover the whole night. And that would be different from any other night how?

“I’ll come,” he told Roxie. “But I don’t know about Vic, and don’t give me that look, Roxie. You know his shifts are screwy sometimes. If he’s off work—and he wants to go—I’ll bring him along. I can’t give you any more of an answer until I talk to him, okay?”

Roxie’s mouth twisted sardonically. “Fine. But you have to dress up. I’m serious about that. Don’t even bother to come if you’re not wearing a costume of some sort.”

As she left his office, Matt thought his lover probably wouldn’t mind a party, but even he wouldn’t be able to convince Vic to dress up.

* * * *

To Matt’s surprise, Vic didn’t immediately shoot down the idea. Matt brought up the subject after dinner, when the two of them were in the living room watching TV. Vic sat at one end of the couch in boxers and a T-shirt, legs stretched out with his sock-covered feet propped up on the coffee table. Matt lay across the length of the couch, his bare feet in Vic’s lap. Absently, his lover massaged Matt’s long toes and tight insoles as the day drained away from him.

Through the psychic link they shared, a result of the superhuman abilities Matt gave Vic during s*x, Matt could feel Vic’s breathing even out as his mind slowed and his body relaxed. He held one of Matt’s heels against his pillowy crotch as he kneaded the other foot. The sensation was maddening—Matt gripped the arm of the couch behind his head to avoid touching the ache that throbbed at his crotch. By the time they turned off the television, both men would be horny to the point of distraction, and Matt already looked forward to a slow bout of love-making before they called it a night. The wait between now and then would make it that much sweeter.

During a commercial, Matt prodded Vic’s crotch with his foot. When his lover looked over at him with hooded eyes, Matt said, “Roxie invited me to this party she’s having. Don’t say ‘no.’”

Confusion flickered across Vic’s face. “I’m not saying ‘no.’ When is it?”

“Halloween.” Matt waited a beat, then took the plunge. “It’s a costume party. You have to dress up.”

For a moment, Vic was silent. Matt caught his lower lip between his teeth as he waited for his lover’s response. He could feel Vic’s mind within his, poking around for more information, but Matt had nothing further to give. When Vic saw Matt’s memory of the cheesy vampire on the card, he grunted. Matt couldn’t tell if that meant he was in or not.

Giving Matt’s foot a gentle squeeze in his lap, Vic said carefully, “Sounds like you want to go.”

“I want us to go,” Matt clarified. “It’d be no fun by myself. Who would I kiss at midnight?”

Vic gave him a sardonic smirk. “That’s New Year’s, Matty.”

By shifting his legs just an inch, Matt rubbed his foot across the slight bulge at Vic’s crotch. His lover’s eyes slipped closed as pleasure spiraled through him, and the hands on Matt’s foot clamped down to hold it in place. For all her teasing, Matt thought, Roxie was right. Vic might look like a fierce grizzly to the rest of the world, but at Matt’s touch, the man turned into a teddy bear.

“Are you saying I won’t get a kiss at midnight then?” Matt joked. He pulled back his leg slightly, until his toes could dig into the front of Vic’s boxers. They rubbed along a hard length still hidden in the folds of fabric. “So we’re going?”

“Matt,” Vic sighed. Then he realized they were still in the middle of a conversation, and he forced his attention off his rising libido to frown at Matt. The wrench was almost palpable—in his own mind, Matt felt Vic’s thoughts click back into place. “Wait. What? Going where?”

Matt twisted his toes into Vic, doing delicious things to his lover’s still-sheathed c**k. “To Roxie’s party. You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

When Matt’s foot began to grind against his crotch, Vic caught both feet and raised them an inch or two in the air, off his body. Matt twisted, but his lover had a tight grip on his ankles and he couldn’t break loose. A slow smile spread across his face. “No fair.”

“So tell me,” Vic said, all playfulness gone. “Roxie’s party, Halloween. We have to dress up. Why do I want to go to this?”

Matt tried to tug his legs free of Vic’s hands and couldn’t. “Free booze,” he offered. At the impassive look on Vic’s face, he added, “Come on, Vic. One beer and I’m ready to f**k. Give me an open bar, and I guarantee you’ll get more than just a quick kiss at midnight from me.”

“I want more now.”

As Vic leaned over, he folded Matt’s knees until his legs were crossed back against his chest and tucked between them. Vic’s weight turned Matt on something fierce. One of the hands on his ankles dropped down to smooth over the backside of his own boxers, the thin fabric across his balls and ass pulled taut by the way his body was folded. Matt felt that hand glance over his buttocks, then cup his balls, before tracing the outline of his d**k in his boxers.

With a moan, Matt leaned back against the side of the couch. Vic kissed his bare knee, his tongue damp and ticklish. Matt sighed. “So?” he asked. “Are we going to the party?”

He felt Vic shrug against him. “If it’ll make you happy.”

Carefully, Matt unfolded his legs. Vic dropped into the span between them, his hands rubbing over Matt’s crotch to find purchase on either side of his hips. Matt waited for Vic to crawl closer before he crossed his ankles behind his lover’s back, trapping him. As Vic’s lips found his, Matt murmured, “Let me make you happy now.”

“You always do,” Vic replied. Then Matt thrust against him, their erections brushing together, and Vic gasped in delight. “Just got happier.”

Matt silenced him with a kiss.

* * * *

Once Roxie knew they were going, she hounded Matt about what they planned to wear. “I haven’t thought about it yet,” was his standard reply, though truth be told, he’d thought of nothing but what his costume might be since Vic had said they’d go. Matt wanted a couples costume, something that would make them stand out, something that would say they were together, but a search online only uncovered items for straight couples. There was no way Matt would wear a dress, and he just couldn’t see Vic as Sandy from Grease. He’d never fit in that skirt, anyway.

As the day of the party approached, he began to panic. After work, he’d troll the costume shops and Halloween sections of the department stores, looking for ideas. Vampires were overdone and wizards seemed all the rage, but Matt didn’t want to spend the evening being asked which Hogwarts professor he was supposed to be. Maybe zombies? Too much makeup. Batman and Robin? No, too bulky, too hot. Well, the Batman suit was; the Robin suit looked designed to freeze him to death. But damn, if Vic could squeeze into those tights…no, no superheroes. That hit a little too close to home for Matt’s comfort. So no capes, either, and no masks, nothing that might even remotely hint at the powers his lover had.

A pair of silver handcuffs caught Matt’s eye. Now those were kinky. As he approached the display, he saw the blunt billy club, the shiny badges, and generic patches sewn onto a dark blue fabric…policemen. How many cop shows had he watched as a young boy, his mind full of what might happen between the two gruff men off-screen? On TV, the police always traveled in pairs, and the thought of using those handcuffs on Vic after the party was tempting. A private role-playing game of good cop/bad cop would be fun. Those blue pants unbuckled and pulled down to Vic’s knees as he bent over the edge of their bed, that plastic billy club whacked against his ass—just enough to redden the flesh, nothing painful; Matt thumped it against his palm to make sure it wouldn’t sting. That classic cop cap would look fetching c****d on Vic’s bald head, and Matt could imagine his hands fisting in the back of his lover’s mock uniform as he eased his d**k between Vic’s large buttocks. Vic’s hands would clench as they f****d, caught in the steely grip of the handcuffs.

Suddenly Matt knew exactly what they’d wear to Roxie’s party. Without further thought, he scooped up two of everything they’d need to go as cops.

* * * *

Vic didn’t mind the costume—he seemed to be taking everything in stride, and the evening before the party, Matt asked, “Are you all right? You’re going along with this without even putting up a fight. I thought I’d have an uphill battle convincing you to come along.”

“It’s only one night,” Vic reasoned.

They were in bed, the hour late, but it was a Friday and their nude bodies pressed together so comfortably beneath the bed sheets that neither was willing to call it a night yet. Vic leafed through the latest copy of his tattoo magazine; Matt lay beside him, arms wrapped around Vic’s waist, his head on his lover’s hip, and glanced at the pictures in the magazine. Each time he blinked, it grew harder and harder to open his eyes again, so he shook his head to rouse himself and snuggled closer to Vic. A random ad in the magazine depicted a cop stopping a biker, and that reminded Matt of the costumes hanging in his closet, ready to wear. They had tried them on earlier in the week—the moment Vic stepped out of the bathroom, the blue uniform crisp on his large frame, complete with thin tie tucked into the buttons of the shirt and that cap at a rakish angle on his head…it had taken all the strength Matt had not to jump his lover right there, tackle him to the ground, and f**k him silly.

The memory still made him smile, and his blood rushed at the thought of getting a piece of that after the party.

Picking up on that thought, Vic raised his arm and rested it on top of Matt’s head. A shake settled it down around his neck, where the heavy weight seemed to pin him to Vic’s side. “You wanted to go,” Vic reminded him. “The way I see it, I could’ve said ‘no’ and then you’d just change my mind, which is the way it always happens between us.”

Matt kissed his lover’s bare hip. “Roxie said, and I quote, ‘that man would curl up and die for you if you asked.’”

“She’s right.”

Closing the magazine, Vic set it aside and eased down to lie next to Matt. On his side, his head propped up in one hand, he stared at Matt as if memorizing the curve of his chin, the green of his eyes, the curls like a halo around his face. With one hand, Vic touched Matt’s cheek, the touch barely there and so seductive, Matt found himself leaning into it.

“I love you, Matty,” Vic murmured.

Matt let his hands smooth down his lover’s hips until they clasped Vic’s ample buttocks, then Matt pulled him close. Pressing his mouth to Vic’s, Matt delved into his lover’s mind as easily as his tongue dipped between Vic’s lips. ::Love you, too, big guy. Thanks for putting up with me.::

He felt Vic smirk against him. ::You’re not the only one who plans to put those handcuffs to good use,:: Vic replied.

An image floated between them—Matt in his costume, sitting on one of the dining room chairs. Shirt unbuttoned, pants unzipped, the whole front of his uniform undone to display dark hair, ruddy n*****s, a slick c**k. The cap pulled down over his eyes, blinding him. His hands secured behind the back of the chair with the handcuffs. Matt suspected they’d get their money’s worth out of them.

As he watched Vic’s daydream play out, Vic himself entered the picture. Naked, buff, facing Matt, he placed a hand on the back of the chair on either side of Matt’s head. Then he moved closer, straddling the chair, his hard d**k poking at Matt’s bare stomach, his balls hanging low over Matt’s crotch. ::f**k me, Matty.::

No argument there.

* * * *

Vic woke to kisses.

Soft, fluttering, ticklish over his lower belly. He lay on his back in bed, the covers still tucked in around him, warm from his own body heat. Though the arm stretched out on Matt’s side of the bed was empty, Vic sensed Matt beside him even as he felt his lover’s lips massage the trembling skin below his navel.

With a soft moan, Vic rolled onto his side. A strong hand rubbed over his hip, around his buttock, between the cheeks of his ass to pet the achingly tender flesh hidden below his balls. Vic moaned again, spreading his legs wide to allow his lover access to his most secret spaces. A warm, pliant tongue rimmed his navel, then trailed down the faint stubble of hair to lick at his hairless pubic mound. It found the base of his p***s, which had begun to stiffen, and Vic’s hands fisted in the pillow as that tongue swirled up the length of his c**k. He hardened at the touch, Matt’s saliva cooling along his shaft, and when Matt reached the tip of Vic’s d**k, he took it into his mouth to give it a long, suckling kiss. All pretense of sleep fell away as Vic gasped and thrust farther into his lover. ::God.::

Matt’s breathy chuckle hummed through Vic’s c**k. ::Naptime’s over, lover boy.:: The thought passed between them easily, Matt too busy stimulating Vic to pause and speak. ::I thought I’d wake you up.::

Vic moved against the bed, pressing the contours of his body to the mattress, aroused. “Oh, I’m up,” he assured his lover. “What time is it?”

“Two.” Beneath the covers, Matt climbed over Vic to slide into place behind him. Their bodies molded together perfectly. As his arms came up around Vic’s middle, Matt breathed on the back of his lover’s neck, sending shivers of delight down Vic’s spine. “We still have a little while to go.”

The pleasure roiling through him made it difficult for Vic to concentrate. “Two,” he murmured. He couldn’t wrap his mind around that. Waking up came hard to Vic, and Matt liked to tease him before he was fully alert, which only added to the confusion that clouded his thoughts. He felt his lover nod against his back and he asked, “In the morning?”

Matt laughed. “In the afternoon, silly.”

He nipped at the folds of shaved skin at Vic’s nape while his hands did wonderful things to Vic’s belly, rubbing lazy patterns into his skin. For a moment, Vic savored his lover’s body on his, the roaming hands, the hot mouth, the hard c**k pressed against his buttocks as if begging for entry. One of Matt’s knees was raised over Vic’s hip, a heavy, welcome weight. All he had to do was spread his legs just a little farther apart, let his lover in…

But wait.

Two in the afternoon? That bothered Vic. What day was it?

Picking up on his discomfort, Matt kissed behind Vic’s ear and whispered, “It’s Halloween. Remember? We’re going to Roxie’s party in a few hours.”

With a groan, Vic buried his head in his pillow. Yes, he remembered now.

A hand trailed down his stomach to grasp at his erection. “You remember,” Matt purred against his ear. When Vic nodded, Matt took his earlobe between his teeth and ran his tongue behind the gold hoops Vic wore. His fingers squeezed Vic’s c**k gently, then slipped lower to cup his balls. “If you’re not in a rush to get ready, maybe we can take care of this.”

“I’m in no rush,” Vic assured him as he thrust into his lover’s hand.

Suddenly Matt rolled away and was gone.

Still drowsy from his nap, Vic stretched out his thoughts to brush over his lover’s mind. ::Matty?::

::Hold that thought,:: came his lover’s reply.

Vic closed his eyes. Beneath him, the mattress shifted as Matt moved to his side, and the sound of a drawer opening told Vic his lover was hunting for some lubricant in the table beside the bed. Then he paused to shuck off his pants. By the time Matt crawled back into place, kneeling behind him, Vic had begun to drift off to sleep again. A quick slap on the ass woke him. “Hmm?”

“Roll over,” Matt commanded.

Vic started to roll onto his stomach, but his lover caught his shoulder and pulled him back. “Other way.”

“Matt,” Vic sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to try anything new—hell, he was still half asleep. Besides, the last thing he needed was some new power he couldn’t control. They had to be at Roxie’s in a few hours…

Picking up his worry, Matt massaged Vic’s meaty bicep. “It’s Halloween,” he said, a mischievous grin in his voice. “If you get anything really freaky, just play it off like you dressed up that way on purpose. Come on, babe. I want to see all those sexy faces you make when we fuck.”

Vic let himself be rolled onto his back. His buttocks hit Matt’s knees—he sat on the bed with his legs folded beneath him, his hard d**k jutting from his crotch—but Matt just spread his legs a little and positioned Vic’s ass between his thighs. Lifting Vic’s right leg, Matt placed it on his other side until Vic straddled him. Vic’s head was on the pillow, his upper body flat against the mattress, but his hips were raised, his butt in Matt’s lap, his bent legs on either side of Matt. His feet were planted firmly on the bed, but Vic already suspected this position would wreak havoc on his lower back. “What the hell is this called?” he wanted to know.

“The Arc,” Matt told him. Grabbing his own pillow from beside Vic’s head, Matt tucked it under Vic’s hips, cushioning them and alleviating the strain on his back. “You sort of arc away from me, see? How’s that?”

“Better.” Vic let his lover reposition him, scooting forward when Matt indicated, until the cleft of his ass butted firmly against Matt’s belly. Vic’s hard c**k stretched out along his pubic mound, aiming for his navel.

Matt reached between them for his own d**k and laid it out alongside Vic’s. Kinked hair tickled Vic’s shaved balls, and the familiar touch of his lover seemed exotic and new in this strange position. Gripping Matt’s knees in both hands, Vic leaned back against the bed, eyes closed, body arched as Matt drizzled lube over both their erections. His hands rubbed along the two lengths, kneading them, lengthening them, drawing the blood from the base to the tip with each long stroke. The velvet crush of his c**k on Vic’s felt amazing, and Vic’s hips rose off the pillow to thrust more of himself against his lover. “Yes,” he sighed. “Oh, yes.”

As he massaged them both, Matt murmured, “My hair looks like it’s yours.”

“f**k me,” Vic replied.

Matt laughed. “Shut up, Matty,” he teased. “Who cares what it looks like down there? Just f**k me already, will you?”

Opening one eye, Vic gave his lover a stern glare. ::I didn’t mean to—::

A rush of love surged through him. ::I know. I’m playing. Let me enjoy the view for a minute, will you?:: Aloud, he added, “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Vic rolled his eye shut and shook his head. “You must have a warped sense of beauty.”

Matt’s fingers danced along the length of his shaft, tweaking with the smallest of pinches, rousing Vic’s pulse and exciting his blood. “Strength is beautiful to me,” Matt admitted. “You’re the strongest guy I know. I think that’s incredibly sexy.”

“You make me strong.” With a shimmy of his hips, Vic prompted, “We are going to do this before we leave for the party, right?”

Matt laughed again. “Hold your horses,” he said, giving Vic’s balls a hard squeeze that made him bite his lip in pleasure. “You were strong before you met me and you know it.”

He rubbed beneath Vic’s nuts, slick fingers fumbling over taut skin before they slid into the fold between Vic’s buttocks. Vic felt a thick thumb rim his anus; he widened his knees to open himself to his lover. Matt lifted his ass a little as he guided his d**k into place. Vic felt the fisted tip push between his cheeks and used his feet as leverage, pushing against the bed to rise up and allow Matt entry. “Please,” he sighed. “Oh, please, oh, Matty, God, please already. Just—”

“f**k me,” Matt joked. “I know. The fact I can make a man as strong as you so damn weak has got to be the biggest turn on ever. Do you know that?”

“Please,” Vic said again. His hands gripped Matt’s knees, his buttocks flexed, trying to draw Matt in. “Do you like making me beg?”

Matt admitted, “I like making you want me.”

“I do.” Vic’s words were a breathless rush. “Matty, I love you, I want you, please just f**k me already, will you?”

With a laugh, Matt thrust into him. There was a momentary flare of discomfort, a burn of entry as Vic stretched to take his lover in, a searing flash that caused him to cry out in guttural tones. “Yes,” he gasped, using his feet to push himself up, along Matt’s stiff c**k. “Ah, yes. God. Matty, harder, faster, yes.”

But Matt moved with an aching slowness, matching Vic thrust for thrust. He rose up on his knees to push deep into Vic, then sank back down to the bed. Vic timed his movements to Matt’s, raising his hips off the bed as Matt sat up, then dropping to his lover’s lap when he sat down again. There was no rush—their love simmered like a banked fire, warming them both as they stoked their desire. Matt’s hands played across Vic’s stomach, fingers tweaking his navel or plying his d**k, bringing him to the brink of orgasm and then backing off to fondle his balls or massage his thighs as the urgency in him relaxed.

It seemed they moved together for hours, yet the moment of release came all too soon. Matt sat down and pulled Vic’s legs to him, thrusting into his lover as far as he could. Their bodies pressed flush together, interlocking pieces of an intricate puzzle. Vic felt his lover in his ass, in his heart, in his soul—Matt’s thoughts were a wordless mash of lust and desire, draped over Vic’s own mind like a blanket. With quick little thrusts, Matt drove himself in farther, his c**k tapping out a rhythm on Vic’s prostate that finally pushed him over the edge. He came in one fast burst that slicked his belly and trickled into his navel; the sight of his orgasm triggered Matt’s own, and at the fiery spurt deep within him, Vic came a second time, his c**k spasming in Matt’s hands.

For a moment, Vic lay back against the pillows, trying to catch his breath. He was awake now, no question about that. Carefully Matt crawled over him, slipping free from Vic to lay beside him. Turning Vic’s face toward him, Matt kissed his mouth, a lingering kiss that made Vic’s tired c**k twitch with interest. “Now,” Matt sighed as he tucked his head beside Vic’s, “what’s not sexy about that?”

* * * *

Later Vic stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel around his waist, his shoulders and back still damp from the shower. The air around him was humid and close, even though the door was open. Over the sound of the bathroom fan, he could hear the phone ring, and the water in the kitchen sink cut off as Matt hurried to answer. They had less than an hour before they had to be at Roxie’s.

Vic studied his reflection in the mirror, a scowl etched into his face. There was a light dusting of shadow along his scalp—new growth, which he wished he had caught in the shower. Vic wasn’t a fan of body hair on himself, though he preferred it on his lovers. Like Matt, for instance—with his Italian genes, the man’s whole body was covered in dark hair. It curled on top of his head, at his crotch, along his arms and legs and chest. Vic loved to lie beside Matt, his fingers toying with the short strands below his lover’s navel, or bury his face in Matty’s crotch to breathe in deep the musk that clung to his pubes, or press his nose to the base of Matt’s neck and let his curls tickle Vic’s cheeks. Vic had no problem at all with Matt’s hair.

Himself, though…he kept his body shaved, as much of it as he could. Scalp, cheeks, chest, pubes, balls, butt. He had an electric razor for touch-ups and once a week spent an extra half hour lathered with hair-removal cream that he washed away in the shower. He liked the feel of smooth skin beneath his hands, and he loved how large his c**k and nuts looked bare. The only hair he fancied on himself was the short goatee he wore that gave him a devilish appearance.

Now, frowning in the mirror, Vic noticed the goatee looked long and shabby. He’d just trimmed it two days ago. As he aged, it seemed to take his body longer and longer to regenerate the hair he shaved away, but now he could feel the faint bristle of growth when he ran a hand over the top of his head, and his cheeks felt rough. The goatee would need to be trimmed, too. Absently, he scratched at the front of the towel, where a sudden itch had bloomed.

The moment he clicked on his razor, though, Matt was in the doorway and Vic clicked it off again. His lover wore his policeman’s uniform and Vic had to admit it was a good choice. The blue fabric hugged Matt’s body—with the cap squashing down his curls and a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt, he looked like one of America’s finest. With a grin, Vic asked, “Can’t we blow off this party and just f**k again? Damn, you’re hot.”

“I can’t wait to say the same about you.” Matt stepped up to claim a quick kiss, his lips curving against Vic’s. “Guess who that was on the phone.”

Vic glanced over Matt’s thoughts. “Roxie.”

“No fair,” Matt said with a laugh. “You peeked.”

Turning back to the sink, Vic hefted the razor in one hand and met Matt’s gaze in the mirror. “What’d she want? We’ll be there shortly.”

Matt grimaced. “Girlfriend said her landlord wants their pool emptied out and covered up before the party. Seems last year things got out of hand and several idiots went skinny-dipping despite the weather. I mean, Jesus. It’s freaking October.”

Vic clicked on the razor and took a swipe at the bottom of his goatee. A few hairs fell to the sink. “So she called you why?”

“Because apparently they haven’t cleaned it in forever.” With a shake of his head, Matt rolled his eyes. “So when they started to drain the water, the pipes clogged. And guess who says, ‘Oh, wait, I work with a guy who knows a thing or two about swimming pools?’”

Vic groaned, and Matt nodded. “Exactly. She asked if I couldn’t come over a little early to help her get everything squared away. I was going to suggest we leave now if you were ready…”

He trailed off. Vic gave him a sardonic look in the mirror and asked, “Do I look ready to you?”

A slight frown tugged at Matt’s lips. “Do you mind if we drive separate?”

For a moment, Vic didn’t answer. He had wanted to take one car, save on gas, maybe park somewhere dark and private afterwards to relive their afternoon tryst. Driving separately would prevent that. And if Matt wanted to get drunk, he shouldn’t be driving home anyway.

Reading that thought, Matt leaned against Vic. His arms snaked around him in a tight hug. “How’s this sound?” he asked, his voice low. His breath tickled Vic’s skin as he kissed Vic’s bare shoulder. “We drive separate but you drive home. I’ll just leave my car there overnight and we can pick it up sometime tomorrow. That way I get what I want—I get drunk—which leads to what we both want—more s*x. What do you say?”

Vic glanced at his reflection again. If Matt left now, he could follow at his own pace. So he could take the time to shave before leaving. And Matt was right—they’d both get what they wanted in the end, which was each other.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Vic was still in front of the bathroom mirror, staring in horror at his reflection. The razor lay on the counter, silent. Tufts of downy, light brown hair littered the sink and floor; more filled the waste basket. The towel was pooled at Vic’s feet, discarded. One thought circled through his head, over and over again.

Fuck.

Fine hair covered every inch of his body. Every inch. The only things Vic could discern were his lips, his eyes, and the smooth tip of his d**k. Everything else—his c**k, his balls, his buttocks, his legs and arms and chest, his back, his face and neck and head—hair sprouted everywhere, creating a soft, warm pelt. The color reminded Vic of a thin layer of caramel coating over vanilla ice cream. Where his skin was tattooed, the hair was black, like spots. His goatee stood out as well, darker than the hair around it. But his smooth skin, his pale flesh, the artwork he sported and even the piercings he wore, they had all disappeared beneath the…the fur.

Fuck.

In Vic’s mind, this ranked as the worst power he’d received to date. Possibly ever. Nothing could top this, he felt sure. Nothing could be this vile.

At first he had tried to shave the hair away. The curls and clippings on the floor and sink proved as much. But it grew as fast as he could cut; when he’d buzzed a long swathe into his forearm, the hair regenerated as he watched. How could he go out in public like this? He couldn’t even bear to look at himself. If Matt were here, they could get in a quick f**k, try for something else, but he was already at Roxie’s, and he expected Vic to join him.

How the hell could he?

His lover’s words came back to him. If you get anything really freaky, just play it off like you dressed up that way on purpose. So what, he was supposed to pretend he wore a dog suit under the police uniform? Vic didn’t think so. Give him a length of chain, a leather collar, and maybe he could play it off…

Wait. He had chains, and collars, and leather gear in his closet.

Hands on his hips, he assessed himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He might be able to pull it off. But with the way he looked now, all hairy and animalistic, he suspected he would have to wait for this power to wear off on its own. He couldn’t imagine Matt would be the least bit interested in a midnight romp tonight.

Sweeping the excess hair into the waste basket, Vic hung up his towel, then headed for the bedroom to see what kind of a costume he could find among his fetish wear.

* * * *

Roxie lived in a large house downtown. The first two floors housed a total of four apartments; Roxie rented the entire attic space, and the landlord kept the basement unit. A large, in-ground swimming pool comprised most of the backyard. When Matt arrived, the water was half-empty and Roxie squatted beside the pool, a large skimmer net in her hands, the handle dipped into the water as she poked at the register cover on the pool’s drain. A thick clump of dead leaves clung to the drain cover, and from her angle, she couldn’t dislodge it. She should’ve climbed into the pool, but Matt noticed she was already in costume—she wore a gray ragged dress that looked like torn strips of cloth; her hair was once again pulled into a loose bun on top of her head, and a pair of iridescent wings glittered on her back. As Matt approached, he called out, “Just what are you supposed to be?”

“A fairy.” She glanced up, her gaze raking the front of his uniform, then looked past him. “You look nice. Where’s your better half?”

“Still getting dressed.” Matt took the net from her hands, turned it around, and dipped the business end into the water. “You scoop it out this way. You look too depressing to be a fairy.”

Roxie shot back, “Who says they have to be happy all the time?” She watched him toy with the net for a minute before adding, “It’s stuck, Einstein. Why do you think I called you? If I could’ve done it myself—”

“I’d be home with Vic,” Matt finished. “You’re lucky you called when you did. Ten minutes earlier and I would’ve been too busy to answer.”

“Oh, well, hey,” Roxie joked. “Don’t want to interrupt that.”

Matt flashed her a quick grin. “Not if you want Vic to like you.”

For a while she stood and watched him work, making comments that were anything but helpful. It appeared to Matt that the pool hadn’t been used for some time, and since it had been left uncovered, the bottom of the pool had filmed over with falling leaves, small twigs, rocks, stones, and other debris. Instead of cleaning that gunk out first, Roxie had simply cranked up the pool’s pump, which Matt suspected had been turned off for a while now. Checking the pump’s filter showed it was full of crap from the bottom of the pool. Once he cleaned the leaves away from the drain, he realized the cover wasn’t in place, and he figured there was some sort of blockage somewhere between the drain and the pump. Grumbling, he muttered, “And you told me not to wear a swimsuit.”

“I didn’t know you’d need it,” Roxie shot back.

Matt sent her to search the shed for other pool cleaning tools, hoping to get her out of his space for a bit, but she was back almost immediately, a long-handled bristle brush in one hand, a bottom-hugging pool vacuum in the other. “Will one of these work?” she asked.

“Roxie!” Matt cried, taking the brush from her. “If you had a vacuum, why didn’t you use it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how to clean this thing. That’s why I asked you to come over.”

Matt ran his hands through his hair, knocking his policeman’s cap to the ground. As he retrieved it, he told her, “Just put the cover on for tonight. Vic and I drove separately so we’ll leave my car here and I’ll ride home with him after the party, then come back here in the morning to fix this mess. I just don’t have the time right now.” With a smirk, he added, “Where do I send the bill?”

“Ha ha,” Roxie said. “Very funny. How do you put the cover on again?”

Reluctantly, Matt helped Roxie cover the pool. By the time they had finished, guests were beginning to arrive, and Roxie trotted off, leaving him to put the cleaning tools away in the shed. He took the vacuum and brush first, then went back to retrieve the skimmer net. As he made his second trek to the shed, he swore he really would bill her, just send her an invoice for his services, if only as a joke. He knew she wouldn’t pay it, but he’d get the last laugh…

::Hey, babe.::

Vic’s voice echoed through Matt’s head, warm and gruff, improving Matt’s mood immediately. ::Hey, yourself. Looks like I have to come back tomorrow anyway. This pool’s a mess.:: From the street, he heard a car pull to a stop. ::Is that you? How do you look in your costume?::

::Wait ‘til you see.::

Matt didn’t understand Vic’s cryptic reply, and when he tried to peek further into his lover’s mind, he found himself shut out. ::Show me,:: he demanded. Something was off. ::Vic—::

::You’ll see in a minute,:: his lover said.

In mid-step, Matt switched direction, veering away from the shed to head back to the pool and the house behind it. ::I’ll see now.::

Skimming net still in hand, he followed the sounds of laughter and cat calls from the party’s guests. Around the house, through the gate, onto the front yard. Roxie’s porch light tossed back the night’s shadows, pinning them out of the way. Scary sounds and eerie music blared from speakers that sat on the porch steps. On the front lawn, several costumed characters milled about, some with plastic cups Matt hoped held beer or something stronger. Down the street, a bevy of kids out trick-or-treating were already making a bee-line for Roxie’s place, where the light and spooky music beckoned.

Matt scanned the crowd but didn’t see another blue uniform. He found Roxie easily enough, chatting with some large brute in a dog suit. There was a scrawny kid dressed in a state trooper outfit, black jacket and tan pants, white helmet, wide black shades. Not Vic. Mentally, Matt prodded his lover. ::Where are you?::

Vic’s only response was, ::Woof.::

Matt’s gaze snapped to the guy near Roxie. It wasn’t…it couldn’t be. But when the man in the dog suit looked at him, Matt saw Vic’s blue eyes staring back and he barely managed to suppress a laugh. ::Oh, s**t. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to wear this? Where the hell did you get it?::

His lover’s mind opened, allowing Matt a glimpse at the last hour Vic had spent in the bathroom, frantically trying to shave the hair away. Matt didn’t even try to hide his mirth—crossing the yard, he was laughing out loud by the time he stepped up beside Vic. Roxie saw him and quipped, “Oh, look, here’s Animal Control now.”

Reaching out, Matt petted Vic’s forearm. The hair was silky and smooth beneath his touch; it called to mind a favorite teddy bear, and the thought of having those powerful, furry arms hold him close brought back nostalgic memories. The first s*x toys he’d used had been stuffed animals, just rubbing against them, savoring the feel of their fur on his c**k and balls, humping against them quietly in his bed as his parents slept. “Damn,” he murmured.

Vic had shirked the policeman’s garb in favor of his leather gear—he wore the same leather pants and harness he had on his birthday, only this time there was a dog collar around his neck, and a thin leash led from the collar to wrap around one fist. “Damn?” he asked. One eyebrow rose in question, a dark mark in the hair on his face. Lowering his voice, he admitted, “I feel like a freak. So much for that little role-play scenario you had in mind.”

Matt fisted his hand in the hair on Vic’s upper arm and tugged, testing it, before he petted it back into place. The thought of guiding his hard d**k between furry buttocks was wrong in so many ways, and Matt had never been overly attracted to hairy guys, but this was Vic. His man, his lover…

His mate.

With a sly grin, Matt eased the leash from Vic’s grip. “Change of plans,” he said, tugging on the leash to pull Vic a step closer. When they kissed, Vic’s fur tickled Matt’s clean-shaven face. In a playful voice, Matt murmured, “Who’s a good dog?”

A low growl rose in the back of Vic’s throat. ::Matty,:: he warned.

Matt ignored him. ::Growl at me again, mister, and you’ll get a rolled up newspaper slapped across your ass.::

He felt Vic’s lips curve into a smile against his own. ::Now that’s more like it.::