The Bonds Of Love

The Bonds of Love By J.M. Snyder Chapter 1 The gray, cinder block walls of the men’s restroom did little to deaden the pounding bass and heavy guitar riffs coming from the outdoor stage. Standing at the urinal while he waited for his last cup of beer to piss through him, Vic Braunson stared at a spot on the wall and felt the sheer weight of the day bear down. This morning he had looked forward to the all-day concert event, ten live bands on stage at Brown’s Island for one last summer hurrah before classes started again at the college downtown. Two radio stations sponsored the event, and the promise of a day in the sun with Matty seemed the perfect way to spend his first weekend off in months—drinking beer from frothy plastic cups, eating hot dogs and cotton candy, listening to hard rock music from a handful of local acts and one or two bands with national appeal. But now, after several long hours in the hot sun, the music matched the constant pounding behind his eyes and his stomach churned from too much alcohol and grilled food. A glance at his watch showed it was just quarter after ten in the evening, but to Vic, it was well past time to go home. With a shake, he tucked himself into his pants and zipped up as he stepped away from the urinal. Matt waited for him outside the restroom, and Vic suspected his lover would have no objection to calling it a night. He could barely stumble straight, and when Vic had propped him up against the building before heading inside to take a leak, Matt’s eyes had slipped shut with something like relief. If they were lucky, they might clock in a little snuggling time once they crawled into bed together, but for all Matt’s playful flirting earlier in the day, neither of them were up for much else tonight. At the sink, Vic washed his hands beneath icy water and frowned at his reflection in the mirror. His bald head gleamed, lathered with sun block, and the gold loops that lined his ears and pierced his left eyebrow winked in the bare bulb above him. A black tribal tattoo on his right temple looked almost blue in this lighting, and the glowering eyes that glared back at him were hard, uncompromising. To someone who didn’t know him, Vic looked like one mean son of a b***h, stocky at six foot even, with muscled arms and thick thighs and hands that seemed able to crush the skulls of small children or yapping dogs. His dark eyes were dangerous and deadly. The biceps that bulged from the sleeveless armholes in his torn shirt were riddled with tattoos and veins. A devilish goatee framed his thin lips, cinching the look. Vic stared deep into the eyes that stared back at him, still unable to believe this hulking bastard he faced off with on a daily basis was helplessly, hopelessly in love. And loved back. By a man as wonderful as Matt diLorenzo. They’d met three years ago, at the gym where Vic worked out and Matt coached the swim team. From the first moment Vic saw Matt’s olive skin and long, lithe legs, he knew he wanted him. But he wasn’t quick enough—Matt was already dating Kyle, a co-worker of Vic’s at the city bus station. But Vic was patient, and he bided his time. Things didn’t work out between Kyle and Matt—Vic hadn’t thought they would—and by the end of that summer, Vic caught up with Matt again at one of the stops on his bus route. Matt joined him for a cup of coffee at the end of his shift. After a good laugh about Kyle, they agreed to see where things might lead between them. Matt wanted to take it slow, and Vic agreed. He’d waited a couple months already; what were a few more? A man like Matt was worth waiting for, Vic knew. Still a few years shy of his fortieth birthday, Vic had been looking for someone like him for so long, and the sudden tumble into love left him breathless and shaky and unsure. It both thrilled and terrified him. He was all too willing to wait it out, see if it disappeared on its own or blossomed into something heady and real. As the weeks went by, Vic fell for every little thing about Matt, from the tight black curls that crowned his head to his toned swimmer’s body, his quick grin and deep green eyes and dusky skin that smelled summery and clean. Vic was a foot man, and Matt’s feet were large and finlike and oh-so-suckable, with long toes that curled in Vic’s palm when he strummed the soles just right. In his experience, Vic had found the old adage about big feet to be true, and Matt was no exception. When they finally made love, Matt’s long, thick c**k filled Vic completely. Seven months after they first met, at midnight on New Year’s Day, they crossed the tenuous line between friends and lovers in one orgasmic moment that shook Vic’s world apart. And then he discovered the super powers.