The Positions of Love Box Set

Book 1: The Positions of Love-3

But the interstate was a parking lot, and Vic feared maybe, despite his best efforts, he was going to lose that day after all. The radio buzzed with commentary, reporters surprised at the record number of shoppers out this year, exclaiming about the traffic back-ups, creaming their shorts over unbelievable sales…when Vic tried to turn it down, the damn knob snapped off in his hand. f**k. Just what he needed, a burst of super strength. That power, like the telepathy, came from Matt.

More correctly, from his semen.

How, Vic wasn’t sure. But since the first time they had had s*x, Vic found himself endowed with strange superhuman powers. The strength and telepathy were constants, but others came and went. In the year they’d been together, Vic had discovered a plethora of abilities that seemed to depend on the positions they assumed during s*x. He was still figuring them out, but tried to be subtle about it. Matt was overly sensitive about the powers he bestowed on his lover; he hated them, in fact, particularly whenever they put Vic in danger. So Vic didn’t experiment much—he let Matt decide when they’d make love, he wouldn’t push it. Matt had been hurt before by men who f****d him only for the powers. Vic didn’t care for them, didn’t need them; he wanted only Matt.

Despite his appearance—Vic sported a shaved head and multiple piercings, loved leather, and had lost count of the number of tattoos scrawled all over his stout body—he preferred to bottom during s*x. He loved to feel Matt’s thickly veined c**k pierce his ass, drive deep within him, and spasm in the center of his being. Where Vic was brutish, his lover was lithe; though similar in height, Matt’s body looked taller, slimmer, and well honed from swimming. Vic’s arms and legs were thick with muscles, and even without the added strength Matt gave him, he could out-bench anyone at the gym. Matt’s olive skin was whorled with dark hair that curled on his head and at his crotch. Vic preferred to keep himself shaved, scalp and genitals both. At first glance, they seemed to be two entirely different men.

But they were perfect for each other.

This would be their first Christmas together. Last year this time they had been friends, Matt hesitant to trust Vic more, and Vic biding his time until Matt let him in. Even then, they had been moving toward a deeper relationship, one they didn’t consummate until after midnight on New Year’s Day. Three months later, the day after his thirty-fifth birthday, Matt announced he was moving into Vic’s apartment. They had been inseparable since.

Though he’s likely to leave me if I f**k up Christmas. The thought turned Vic’s stomach, and he craned his neck, trying to look beyond the cars ahead of him to see what the problem was. In the left-hand lane, traffic moved at a sluggish pace, but the cars in front of Vic didn’t even budge. If only I were over there…

A nasty jolt shook him. For a second, Vic thought maybe he’d been rear-ended—his whole body surged forward as if jerked ahead. As the windshield rushed at him, he threw his hands in front of his face, shielding it. Motherfucker—

But he never hit the glass.

And suddenly someone beside him yelled, “s**t!”

Lowering his arms, Vic glanced around. He no longer sat in his own car—he was in the passenger seat of someone else’s. The driver next to him was an older fellow, Indian, with dark skin and wide, staring eyes that eclipsed his face. “What are you doing here?” he yelled. “Where did you come from?”

Good questions. Vic turned to look out the window and saw his car, now empty, several vehicles back in the right lane. How the hell did he wind up here? And how was he supposed to get back without making a scene? “Hey!” the driver yelled beside him. “I’m talking to you.”

“Then shut up,” Vic growled, trying to think. It had to be another one of Matt’s strange gifts. Why buy me something for Christmas? he thought wryly. Look what all you’ve given me so far. Super strength, telepathy, and now this. Vic had wished he could be in the left lane and poof! Suddenly he was, albeit in someone else’s car. So how did he get back to his own? Maybe if he just thought about it…

That jolt came again, this time from the front, as if he’d been hit by a deploying airbag. Vic closed his eyes, swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat, and hoped he stopped in the right car. What exactly was this power called? The ability to think of a place and appear there instantly. He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t start reading comic books again to learn more.

As the nausea passed, Vic opened one eye, cautious. He was in the right car, sitting in his own driver seat. With trembling hands, he put the car into gear, then maneuvered out of traffic onto the shoulder of the road. Some i***t drove up behind him, perhaps thinking he’d go around everyone else, but Vic ignored the horn that honked at him. Cutting off the engine, he flicked on his hazards and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself.

Okay. So he could now…what? Teleport?

The car behind him honked again. Rage and indignation filled Vic, fueled by fear of his own powers. Unlocking the door, he kicked it open, then climbed out of the car. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. When he turned toward the car behind him, he sent one telepathic thought to the ignorant driver. ::You are so dead.::

Behind his car sat a station wagon with a man in sunglasses and a baseball cap behind the wheel. When Vic glared at him, he must have looked terrifying—the sun gleamed off his bald head and the rings in his eyebrow and ears. His arms were tattooed and muscled, bulging from the torn sleeves of his denim shirt. With a negligent kick, he closed the car door behind him and took a step toward the station wagon. If he had to miss work, at least he’d take it out on somebody.

The driver’s mouth widened into an O of surprise. Then he put his car in reverse and sped back down the shoulder, tires throwing gravel in their wake. ::Yeah,:: Vic thought, projecting into the driver’s mind. ::You better run. All I want to do is get to work—::

Another jolt shook him, this one like an earthquake beneath his feet. In mid-step, Vic stumbled; the ground rose up at him. He flung out his hands to absorb the impact…

…And landed with a thud on a hard linoleum floor.

Vic lay there, stunned, as he tried to get a grip on his new surroundings. The dingy floor and a constant drip of water suggested he was in a bathroom somewhere. As he pushed himself to his knees, he looked around—he recognized this place. It was the men’s room off the employee lounge at the bus garage where he worked. As he got to his feet, he heard a toilet in one of the stalls flush. Thank God no one had seen him arrive…

But how many people on the interstate saw him disappear? Would Matt hear about it on the news? Would his car get towed or impounded? How was he going to get it back? Or hell, get home?

At the sink, Vic splashed cold water on his arms and face. No more thinking about going anywhere, until this power wore off. What a way to start the day. f**k.