Birth of a Hero Box Set

The Powers of Love-4

Four months later on New Year’s Eve, Vic couldn’t wait any longer.

Matt sat beside him on the couch, a glass of sparkling clear champagne in one hand that he raised to toast the TV when the ball began to drop in Times Square. The bubbly made his eyes shimmer, his cheeks flush. His thin wrist looked as delicate as the stem of the glass he held so carefully, his skin dusky in the low light. The dark curls that clung to his head begged to be combed through, but so far, Vic had managed to keep his hands to himself.

As the rest of the east coast counted down, Matt turned to him with a wide grin. “Here’s to us.”

Plucking the glass from Matt’s hand, Vic set it on the coffee table and eased an arm along the back of the couch behind his friend. As his fingers strummed Matt’s neck just below the hairline, he murmured, “Matty.”

Matt’s eyes widened and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly, but his hand found Vic’s knee, his touch encouraging. Cupping the back of Matt’s neck, Vic leaned closer as he pulled his friend to him for their first tender kiss. After all the waiting, the wanting, they meshed together easily, a perfect fit. Matt opened to him, lips parting to take Vic in, his tongue already licking out to taste his friend. As Vic’s other arm wrapped around Matt to hold him close, Matt clenched Vic’s knee, then let his fingers explore the taut denim along his friend’s inner thigh until he found the bulge throbbing at Vic’s crotch. Against his mouth, Vic whispered, “I know you want to wait but, Matty, I need you. From the moment we met—”

Matt silenced him with an ardent kiss.

Strong hands slipped beneath clothing to knead firm muscles, heated flesh. Matt let Vic lay him down on the couch, lips damp and mouths hungry, shirts tugged up and jeans uncomfortable between them, belts unbuckled, pants unzipped. “Please,” Matt moaned, and “Vic,” and “Yes,” over and over again as if he had no other words for this moment.

Vic kissed each one away before trailing his tongue along the underside of Matt’s chin, down his throat, to the hollow between his collarbones, unbuttoning Matt’s shirt as he went. His lips found one hard n****e, dark and succulent like a chocolate kiss. As his tongue rimmed the tender skin, Matt rocked beneath him, thrusting his hips into Vic’s.

“The hell with waiting,” he sobbed, his hands rubbing over Vic’s shaved head as if looking for purchase. “Oh, yes, please, yes.”

Farther, easing down jeans and underwear, Vic finally traced the contours of his friend’s lanky body. The belly like a flat plain between his hips, the line of dark hair that trickled into his briefs to pool in a thick patch of curls at his crotch, the red-tipped erection that rose to meet Vic’s hot, damp lips. Matt bucked as Vic took him in, one hand rubbing below his friend’s fuzzy balls to thumb over his tight, hidden hole.

At the last moment, Vic half-stood on the couch and shucked off his own jeans. Behind him on the end table was a half-empty tube of hand cream that he used this time of the year to keep his knuckles from cracking with the dry weather. Now, he slathered his hands with the unscented lotion, then slicked both their c***s with the oily sheen. Positioning himself with one knee on either side of Matt’s narrow hips, Vic leaned down for another kiss, and a second, a third. A trail of tiny kisses led him along Matt’s jaw, as between them, their hard c***s pressed together with a sweet ache. Into Matt’s ear, Vic whispered, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to feel you in me.”

“Oh, I know,” Matt assured him. “Seven months, thirteen days, four hours, twenty minutes, how many seconds?” At Vic’s laugh, he added, “Hey, but who’s counting?”

Cradling Vic’s large frame with both hands, Matt rubbed down the cleft between his friend’s buttocks and one finger poked into him unexpectedly. At Vic’s sharp intake of breath, Matt guided him down onto the head of his d**k. Above him Vic groaned, “f**k me, Matty.”

He sat back, pushed past the discomfort, and finally, finally took Matt in. Now he was the one gasping “Yes” and “Please” and “Oh, oh, OH.” Matt filled him up inside, completing him, his hands on Vic’s ass and chest and arms, his mouth clamped to Vic’s earlobe as they moved together with a synchronous rhythm harder, faster, yes. Vic rode Matt’s hard shaft as waves of desire crested over him. He raised up on his knees until Matt threatened to slip free and then plunged down again, taking in Matt’s entire length, as far as he would go, feeling him deep within. His heart hammered in time with their hard, steady thrusts; the couch bumped against the wall with a faint knocking that matched their beat. Their breathy gasps and guttural moans of pleasure drowned out the noise in the apartment below. All that existed for Vic was Matt—in him, under him, holding him close.

It was over all too soon. When Matt came, Vic felt a burning rush that shot through him like a single flare on a dark night, lighting up every inch of his body, setting every nerve aflame, igniting his own orgasm. He felt alive, in a way he had never felt with another lover, and he held Matt in just to cling to this moment, this man. Before Matt could slip from him, Vic wrapped his arms around his friend, cuddling him into the couch as he kissed the sweat from Matt’s neck. “Love you.”

The admission startled them both. Vic never thought he’d say it out loud to another, ever. Once it was free he tried to play it off, sucking at a tender place behind Matt’s ear to distract his friend, but he felt the c**k in him thickening in response and then Matt sighed, “Me too.”

So it’s not just me. As he kissed the words away, Vic moved against Matt, hungry for more.