V Box Set

The V in ValorVic Braunson opened one eye, his mind still muddled with sleep. The clock on his bedside table read a little after ten, and it took him a minute to figure out why the alarm hadn’t gone off. It was Saturday—no need to get up early because he didn’t have to go to work. Then why bother to wake up at all? Gripping his pillow in a bear hug, he burrowed down into it and sighed as he shut his eyes again. More sleep sounded heavenly. As his whole body relaxed, his mind stretched out beyond the confines of the bedroom to fill the rest of his apartment, searching to connect with his lover, Matt diLorenzo. But the apartment was empty. Vic drifted farther, his mind reaching past the solid confines of the home. Into the hallway, down the stairs, outside where Matt stood on the front stoop, morning newspaper in hand, chatting with a little girl whose overly eager Siberian husky craned its neck up toward Matt to be petted. When Vic’s consciousness brushed over his, Matt sent a loving thought Vic’s way. ::Morning, sexy.:: With a slight groan, Vic answered, ::I ain’t up yet.:: Though the smile on Matt’s face never changed, Vic sensed his lover leer at him suggestively. ::I can fix that. Give me five more minutes here and I’ll come get you up.:: With a contented sigh, Vic reeled in his thoughts and sank deeper into his pillow. The telepathy he shared with his lover stemmed from their lovemaking—something in Matt’s semen gave Vic a plethora of superpowers, including superhuman strength and the ability to read minds. Different powers came and went, depending upon a variety of factors when they made love, but the telepathy was a constant. One Vic wouldn’t give up for the world, if he were honest. It deepened the relationship with his lover, and he never wanted to lose that intimacy. In his opinion, Saturdays were for sleeping in, but if Matt had other plans, then Vic wasn’t about to change them. He could think of no other way to be pleasantly awoken than by his lover’s soft kisses and gentle touch. The anticipation alone stirred his groin, and he had to shift into a more comfortable position on the bed, raising one leg to alleviate the throb at his crotch. A minute passed, two, and the ache drifted higher. It grew more insistent, no matter how Vic turned in the sheets. Then he realized it wasn’t his libido at all but the urge to urinate that had him restless in the bed. Throwing off all pretense of sleep, he stretched as he stood, nude, and left the sheets behind him to head for the bathroom. The cool morning air prickled his skin into goose bumps. For a long moment after the flush of the toilet had faded away, Vic stood at the bathroom sink, studying himself in the mirror. He was one ugly motherfucker, what with the facial tattoo that curved around his temple and the piercings in his eyebrows. Scrunching up his nose, he growled at himself and, not for the first time, wondered what Matt saw when he looked at him. The bared teeth, the devilish goatee, the mean eyes? Why his man had ever spared a glance Vic’s way, he’d never know. But God, not a day went by when Vic didn’t thank heaven Matt had looked at him, not once but twice, and that double take had snagged Vic’s notice, as well. Running water into the sink, Vic splashed the cool liquid on his face and neck. Then he stretched out for a towel on the rack behind him. He couldn’t quite reach, but before he could take a step back, he felt a surge of energy spiral down his arm and into his hand, then the soft terry cloth brushed his fingertips. In the mirror, Vic watched as the towel flew into his hand on its own accord. Another day, another odd superpower to deal with. What was this one? Telekinesis, maybe? Moving things with thought alone… As he toweled off, he tried again, staring at his razor on the edge of the sink. It didn’t move an inch, but the moment he opened his hand above it, he was able to make it dance. So the power was somehow channeled through him, he suspected. Good thing it was Saturday. Vic could sit around the apartment with his hands balled into fists until the power passed. Down the hall, Vic heard the front door open and knew Matt had returned. ::I said I’d get you up,:: he teased when he sensed Vic no longer waited for him in bed. ::I plan to hold you to that,:: Vic replied. ::I may be out of bed but that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere near awake.:: Through the bathroom door, he heard his lover’s surprised laugh and he grinned into the towel. He was a bear in the mornings, he knew, and damn it, but Matt loved to mess with him when he wasn’t quite coherent. He should go into the kitchen and show off his new power in a dramatic way, just to get Matt worked up. Pour his coffee without touching the mug, perhaps, or mentally turn the pages of the newspaper as Matt tried to read it. If he closed off his thoughts and snuck up on his lover, he might get a good laugh or two before Matt figured out what was happening. The smile was back, and on his reflection, it looked scheming. Vic dropped the towel, but instead of falling at his feet, it flew back to its place on the rack and settled itself neatly across the bar. Then he raised a hand and his bathrobe jumped off its hook as if waiting to cover him. Vic shrugged into it, not bothering to close the front panels or tie the robe around his waist. This was proving to be a pretty convenient power to have. Leaving the robe open, Vic left the bathroom. He could hear Matt talking softly in the kitchen…to himself? That was odd, but he didn’t want to open the mental channel between them because that would blow any chance he had to fool Matt with his latest ability. Then his foot found the one floorboard in the middle of the hallway that creaked whenever something passed over it. So much for sneaking up on his lover. As Vic headed for the kitchen, Matt called out, “Morning, babe. We have company.” Adrenaline shot through Vic’s veins, jumpstarting his heart and setting his hands into motion. Quickly he tugged the front of his bathrobe shut. The ties jumped into his hands to be cinched tight around his waist. Jesus, he thought, covering up. All he could imagine was that little girl Matt had been talking to earlier on the stoop, sitting innocently at their dining room table and getting more than a glass of milk when Vic came into view. As it was, the thought of company did little to dampen Vic’s ardor, and he had to push down the front of his robe, which threatened to tent over the budding erection he’d sported since waking. As he stepped into the kitchen, he groused, “You could warn a guy, Matty.” No one waited for him in the kitchen, and the dining room table was empty. “Matty?” The kitchen was a walk-through, the hallway at one end and the dining area at the other. The living room was adjacent to the dining area, and it was from there that Matt appeared. In his arms, he held a very large, very orange cat. “Look who’s up,” he said, his voice pitched higher than normal. Taking one of the cat’s paws, he waved it at Vic. “Hi, Mr. Vic. My name’s Tibbles.” Vic narrowed his eyes, unamused. “Where did you get that?” “Followed me home.” Matt set the cat down on the dining room table as he passed, then ran a hand along its back from neck to tail. Even from this distance, Vic could hear its ragged purr. “I think it’s one of Mrs. K’s. Maybe it got out when she left to get her groceries. What do you think?” “Why is it on the table?” Vic asked, though he knew the answer already—Matt had put it there. Still, he didn’t know what else to think. He wasn’t an animal person, really. He didn’t love them, didn’t hate them. They just sort of existed in the same world as he, and as long as they minded their own business and left him alone, he’d do the same. Hell, Vic could say that about most of the people in the world, as well. All the people in the world, if he were being honest. Save one. Matt sidled up to him, arms easing around Vic’s barrel waist as he pressed himself against his lover and puckered his lips to claim a kiss. “If it got out of the building, you know Mrs. K would have a fit, and her local superhero would have to spend his whole Saturday tracking down one lousy cat. Since it followed me in, I thought why not let it stay here until she gets back? You help her with the groceries, give her back the cat, and save the day. Even Superman doesn’t have it so good.” “Superman doesn’t have this.” Vic wrapped his arms around Matt and gripped his lover’s buttocks in both hands as he pulled him closer for another kiss. Matt laughed. “I don’t know. I often wondered about that Olsen kid. I mean, sure, Lois is hot, but who says Clark Kent didn’t want a little d**k on the side?” To Vic’s still-waking mind, Matt made no sense. “What?” Another laugh, and Matt kissed the tip of Vic’s nose once before his lips found Vic’s again. “Jimmy Olsen? From the paper?” Vic wasn’t following. “What paper?” “Never mind.” Extracting himself from Vic’s embrace, Matt nudged his lover aside with his hip and opened the refrigerator. “Cats like milk, right?” “Don’t feed it,” Vic muttered. Too late—Matt backed out of the fridge with the carton of milk in one hand and a small leftover container in the other. Inside the container was a small section of smoked salmon, all that remained of their dinner the night before. “Good thing I saved this,” Matt said as he deposited the container on the stove. When he turned to retrieve a dish from the dishwasher, though, he found Vic still standing in the middle of the kitchen as if lost. “Hon, you’re in the way.” The glare Vic leveled at him only made Matt laugh. It earned Vic a smack on the ass and a kiss on the cheek, as well. “Go sit down,” Matt murmured. “I brought in your paper. Let me get your coffee and what, some eggs? How’s that sound?” With a confused shrug, Vic let himself be steered from the kitchen. Mornings weren’t exactly his best time of the day, and Matt seemed to relish making them more hectic than they had to be. A cup of coffee and a piece of buttered toast, and the paper stretched out in front of him across the dining room table. Vic didn’t ask for much. But as he sank into one of the chairs at the table, the cat stopped grooming itself and slinked over to join him. As it butted its head against his forearm, Vic elbowed it aside—gently, though. He didn’t wish the cat any harm. He’d just like it to get the hell off the table. When the cat approached him a second time, Vic picked it up gingerly and set it on the floor. It meowed once, a pitiful sound, and watched him as he settled into his seat. The moment he was comfortable, with the paper open before him, the cat nimbly jumped back onto the table. “God damn it,” Vic muttered under his breath. From the kitchen, Matt snickered. “There’s no arguing with a cat,” he told Vic as he came into the dining area. He held a full mug of coffee in one hand and a saucer of milk in the other. “You might as well just get used to it now. It’ll get what it wants in the end.” Sipping his hot java, Vic murmured, “Now who’s that remind me of?” “Hey!” Matt wrapped his arm around Vic’s head and pulled him close. Vic let him, leaning against Matt’s abdomen as he set his coffee aside. A warm hand rubbed over the top of Vic’s bald scalp, the touch followed by the damp imprint of a kiss. “You love me, admit it.” “I do.” Vic turned his face to kiss Matt’s stomach through his shirt. “But I already have one spoiled pet. I don’t need two. Does it have to eat on the table?” He meant the cat, who had found the saucer of milk and now sat hunched over it, lapping at the cool liquid. Tiny little drops appeared around the bowl, reminding Vic of splattered c*m. But Matt released Vic and dropped into the chair by the cat’s bowl. “There’s plenty of room. Where else would it eat? On the floor?”