Everyday Hero Box Set

Seventh Inning Stretch-6

But for Matt, abstinence was easier said than done. In his late teens and twenties, when other guys his age were hooking up and getting off on a regular basis, he had been alone. The powers his semen inadvertently gave his s****l partners had always dampened his libido in the past. He’d never trusted anyone enough to share them, not after what had happened with his first boyfriend, Jordan. And the few guys he’d dated hadn’t been interested in hanging around long enough for Matt to even tell them about the powers, much less learn if they could accept them responsibly. One date, two, a third if he were lucky, but if he didn’t put out by then, he never got a call back. By the time he met Vic, he was so close to ignoring the powers, giving in to his hormones and saying the hell with it.

Not a day went by when he didn’t thank the Lord and all the angels above for giving him the strength to wait.

Because Vic knew up front Matt wasn’t going to sleep with him, at least not right away, and he’d been cool with it. Hell, Matt had been dating a coworker of his, Kyle, of whom Vic wasn’t a big fan, but he’d gone out of his way to see if he couldn’t somehow connect with Matt through him. That hadn’t worked, but neither had the relationship with Kyle—he wanted s*x, and soon, and the more he pressured, the less Matt wanted to be with him. When he’d met Vic, the man stood out in Matt’s mind like a knight in shining armor, a promise he hoped one day to attain, if he only could meet him again. By the time things with Kyle soured, Matt had set Vic up in his mind as a prince, a standard to which no one could possibly compare, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. He’d told himself he was being stupid, he was ruining something that didn’t even exist, he didn’t even know the guy and, once he found him again, he’d discover Vic would wind up being just like all the others.

Only he hadn’t. He gave Matt space, gave him time, and never once pressured him to take their budding friendship to another level. When they finally did, Matt knew without a doubt Vic was the man for him. He knew Vic could handle the powers, and whatever came with them; he wouldn’t abuse them, or Matt for them. On that New Year’s Eve all those years ago, when Matt and Vic had finally crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers, Matt had known when he woke up that morning, this was the day to trust again. To love again.

And Vic so deserved that trust, his love.

Since their first coupling, Matt had always felt as though he were making up for lost time. Though they were both in their thirties, they rarely went more than a day or two without s*x of some type. An early morning tryst between the sheets, a soapy handjob in the shower, stolen kisses at the gym, oral pleasure on the couch in the evening, or a nice, slow f**k before falling to sleep at night. Matt thrived on Vic’s attention, and loved loving his man. He loved Vic’s scent when he first woke in the morning, the heady musk that rose like perfume from his legs and belly and groin. He loved Vic’s taste, the coffee-flavored kisses when his lover wasn’t yet fully awake or the deep, soulful foreplay of mouth and tongue when they snuggled. He loved the feel of Vic’s skin on his, so firm, so strong, the way his arms tightened around Matt protectively, or his hands smoothed over Matt’s flesh, or his buttocks flexed around Matt’s c**k. He loved every hairless inch of the man, every tattoo, every piercing. Vic was like a heady, wondrous melody that filled every aspect of his life, a song he woke to every morning, a tune that sang him to sleep every night. s*x was such an intricate part of their rhythm that, without it, Matt felt as though he heard only half the beat.

At the holidays, he liked to prolong the pleasure of their anniversary through abstinence. From Christmas Day through New Year’s, he wouldn’t allow either of them release—they could kiss and cuddle, but nothing more. Well, a few touches below the belt, a flirtatious bite at n*****s through thin T-shirts, the slightest bit of frottage in the shower, but that was it. When the week was finally up, they came together with enough electricity and fireworks, their energy alone could power that damn dazzling ball as it dropped on the stroke of midnight in Times Square.

But their yearly abstinence was a tradition now, something he anticipated weeks, even months in advance. One week wasn’t bad because he could plan for it—Christmas Eve, he and Vic savored their last moments together, lingering over favorite places, kissing intimate spots, drawing their love out in one languid, decadent evening. Deciding not to have s*x again before the charity ballgame was something that struck Matt off guard, even if he’d been the one to suggest it. He wasn’t prepared for it—if he’d known their randy f**k on the sofa would be the last one for a while, he would’ve changed it up somehow, done something different. Spent more time building up the moment, perhaps, more kisses, more foreplay. Or used a different position, one that pressed more of his body to Vic’s. There were so many places on his lover’s body he wanted to touch one last time, so many hard plains to rub, so many soft curves to fondle…

The first day wasn’t that hard, Matt told himself calmly. But it was one thing to think he could hold out; it was another altogether to watch the way the bed sheets molded to his lover’s nude body while Vic still slept in their bed. When he made a pot of coffee and Vic came stumbling into the kitchen, still half asleep, the disheveled bathrobe he wore was cinched wrong and the tip of his c**k peeked out from between the flannel panels. Matt stared at that blind eye, his own coffee cup held in a fierce grip to keep from poking at his lover’s d**k.

Work wouldn’t be so bad, he reasoned. But with the prospect of a game on the horizon, Vic stopped by the gym every day before he had to be at the bus station for his route, and Matt found any number of excuses to wander by the weight room whenever his lover was inside. From the doorway, he watched those biceps flex as Vic pumped a thousand pounds—sweat glistened on his bald head like oil, trickled down his face like tears. It plastered his sleeveless shirt to his chest, and darkened his sweats. When he stood, the jockstrap he wore bulged obscenely…or was that just a figment of Matt’s imagination? Most men looked well-hung in a pair of sweatpants, but Vic, damn. Matt wanted to rush the man, fall to his knees, yank down those pants and take that thick c**k in his mouth as far as it would go.

In that moment he hated Doug, the college kid who spotted Vic. Matt wanted to be the one standing over his lover, the one whose hands touched Vic’s as they helped set the barbell back on its bar. He wanted it to be him who clapped Vic on the back, told him he did good, and asked if he didn’t want to head over to the racquetball court to practice their pitches. He’d be the one taking the weights off Vic’s barbell—never mind the fact he couldn’t lift them, that should be him. If looks could kill, the i***t bodybuilder would be writhing in pain at Vic’s feet, his limbs curling in like a bug’s legs withering in the sun.

A hand touched his arm, making him jump. “Hey,” Vic said, his voice soft. Matt turned to find his lover mere inches from him, concern lacing his features. This close, the manly scent of sweat made Matt whimper. “You okay?”

Matt forced a tight grin. “Fine.” Then, in the same tone of voice, as if they were discussing the weather, he added, “You don’t know how much I want to f**k you senseless right now.”

Vic’s eyes widened, then a slow smile spread across his face. “This was your suggestion, Matty. You’re the one who wanted to wait. Remember?”

With a frown, Matt muttered, “You could’ve said no.”

Vic gave him a sardonic look. “When have I ever told you no?” At Matt’s pout, he rubbed his lover’s arm, a tingly touch that made Matt want to lean into him. “You know I’d do anything you asked. Anything. Hell, you could say drop trou right here and I’d fall over myself to comply. Room full of people and all. It wouldn’t take more than a word from you to get me hard and naked—”

“Okay, I got to go.” Matt pushed away from the door jamb and out of Vic’s reach. At the confusion on Vic’s face, he explained, “If I stay here a minute longer, I’m going to take you up on that offer. And somehow I don’t think getting it on in the weight room in the middle of the day will reflect very highly on me at my next employee review.”

Vic grinned. “I’m just saying—”

“Don’t.” Matt grabbed Vic’s shirt in both fists and pulled him close. Sweaty musk wafted up around him, a mix of man and exertion and soap, a scent so redolent, his eyes slipped shut and he breathed in deep, trying to capture it inside him. He’d never wanted anything so bad in his entire life than he did this man, here, now. His body tensed with desire; his senses reeled with Vic. His voice trembled when he spoke. “I want you something terrible right this second. You have no clue.”

Gently, Vic pried Matt’s hands open. “People are watching,” he murmured.

Matt laughed, wry. “Oh, heaven forbid, but you wouldn’t mind giving them a floor show if I asked, is that it?”

“Matty,” Vic warned. He glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them—the closest person was Doug, who hovered nearby at the weight rack, obviously waiting until Matt left to approach Vic. “This is hard for me, too. But we’ve just got a few more days. We can do it. We’ve done it before.”

Still pouting, Matt crossed his arms and glared at Doug, as if their abstinence were somehow his fault.

Vic gave his elbow a gentle squeeze, then leaned in close. As Matt breathed in his lover’s scent, his hands clenched so tightly, his nails dug into his palms. Through their mental connection, which still stretched strong between them, Vic teased, ::Just think how awesome it’ll be when we do f**k again.::

Through gritted teeth, Matt muttered, “I’m counting down the hours.”