Worst. Power. Ever.
By J.M. Snyder
Vic Braunson’s birthday was at the end of August. Though he didn’t say anything about growing another year older, his lover Matt diLorenzo could sense Vic’s discomfort as the day approached. They shared a telepathic connection that allowed Matt a glimpse into Vic’s psyche, and damned if the fact that the man rapidly approached the big “4-0” didn’t give him pause. Snuggling up to Vic as they watched TV, Matt tried to remind his lover, “You’re only as old as you feel.”
With a grunt, Vic admitted, “Some mornings I feel ancient.”
Matt picked at the front of Vic’s undershirt, where the white fabric dimpled above his navel. “Well,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “you’re not exactly what I’d call a morning person, Vic.”
That was an understatement—it
