He downed the first glass in minutes, and poured himself a healthy refill while Vic nursed his own wine. They huddled together on the couch, the glow from the TV turning the wine crystalline. Sometime after Matt drained the last of the bottle into his glass, his hands began to roam across his lover’s lap, poking and prodding, teasing. Grasping the bunched fabric at the crotch of Vic’s jeans, Matt joked, “Is this present for me? Can I open it?”
“You wanted to wait.”
But Matt shook his head. “I don’t always get what I want. It’s close enough, isn’t it?” His fingers plucked at Vic’s zipper, easing it down an inch. “Oops.”
Vic laughed and caught Matt’s hand in his. “Oops, my ass.”
“Well,” Matt breathed, leaning toward Vic to nuzzle his chin, “since you brought it up…”
Vic kissed the
