The V in Vulnerable

Chapter 2-1

The V in Vulnerable

By J.M. Snyder

Sunday evening found the Braunson-diLorenzo household in a state of domestic bliss. The dinner dishes were washed and drying on the counter in the kitchen. The television was on low, the channel turned to a Nascar race. In the living room Matt relaxed in Vic’s oversized recliner, feet up, a bowl of seedless grapes on his lap. On the couch, their dog Sadie lay curled on the cushion closest to Matt, head in her paws, gaze trained on Matt’s hand as he raised the next couple of grapes to his mouth. The patient look in her large eyes said she didn’t know if those little green balls were tasty or not, but if he was eating them, then she wanted some, too. Unfortunately he was glued to the TV screen and didn’t see her sad expression, so her attempt at begging didn’t work.

In the bathroom, Vic stood in nothing but a pair of thin boxers and studied his reflection in the mirror. Sunday was his night to shave, and nothing escaped his razor except the thin goatee he wore trimmed close around his mouth. The hairs on his arms and legs were pale and blond, almost nonexistent, and he wasn’t one of those guys who had much on his chest, so he didn’t bother wasting his time on those areas. But everything else would have to go.

He stared at his body critically, raking his gaze over the week’s growth. Dark shadows itched along his crotch, and the crown of stubble along the back of his head reminded him just how badly his hairline had receded. He never really had much to start with; as a kid, he’d favored buzz cuts because they made him look tough. Sometime during his early twenties he had noticed there was less and less to cut, until finally he said the hell with it and took a razor to the rest. He loved his appearance, particularly the way his bare skin showed off his tattoos, but he hated the upkeep. Electric razors didn’t shave as close as he would have liked, and invariably he nicked himself with the cheap disposable ones. If he lived alone, he probably wouldn’t bother with the weekly ritual.

But there was Matt to consider.

Before they met, Vic only shaved if he were heading out to the clubs or looking for s*x. Now with Matty in his life, Vic didn’t need to look good for anyone else but his lover. He could’ve stopped shaving altogether, to be honest, but Matt loved the feel of Vic’s smooth skin. A few nicks here and there were worth the price of Matt nuzzling into Vic’s nuts, growling playfully as he rubbed his cheeks over Vic’s newly shaved balls. “It makes you look so damn big,” Matt often told him.

How could Vic not want to hear that?

Reaching into the cabinet under the sink, Vic shook out a new razor from a pack of disposables. The can of shaving foam Matt used every morning already sat on the back of the toilet. Vic turned on the faucet, one hand under the spigot so he could tell when the water was warm enough for him. He liked it to be scalding when he shaved—it invigorated his scalp and stung his c**k, but felt incredibly good. He could spend almost an hour in the bathroom on Sunday nights, first shaving and then in the shower rinsing off. More than once he’d been interrupted by Matt coming in to use the toilet, and the shower’s spray would turn to fire the moment Matt flushed.

As he leaned over the sink, waiting for the water to heat up, Vic called out to his lover with his mind. ::Matty? You need to use the bathroom before I start?::

The telepathy they shared was a gift, one Vic wouldn’t give up for any reason. It allowed the two men a deeper intimacy than they would have had otherwise, and their relationship flourished because of it. There were no secrets between them. If Matt were upset, Vic only had to glance through his lover’s thoughts to learn the reason why, and they each knew exactly how the other felt whenever their minds brushed together. It still staggered Vic at times to see just how sexy Matt thought him to be, and Matt never wondered about Vic’s own feelings because they were a constant between them. Just a taste of the love they shared was enough to fuel their desire for one another, even years after they first met. Time had mellowed the passion, perhaps, but their telepathy kept the lust burning.

That wasn’t to say they didn’t have their moments. Most of the time Vic thought they had an edge on other couples, but men were the same the world over, and when Matt’s attention was focused on the television, no amount of telepathic ability could distract him. Maybe if Vic shucked off the boxers and stood in the hall naked, Matt might notice. But his mental question only received a shift in Matt’s consciousness so subtle, Vic might have missed it if he wasn’t waiting for it. A glance away from the TV screen, a faint awakening as if coming out of a trance, then Matt reached for the remote and thumbed down the volume as if that would allow him to hear Vic better, even though they weren’t in the same room. ::What?::

Cupping his hands under the spigot, Vic splashed hot water on his face and gasped as it trickled down his neck and chest. ::Do you need to pee?:: he asked, bluntly this time. ::I’m going to shave.::

Like a man just waking from an unexpected nap, Matt blinked and shook his head. ::Oh. No, go ahead. I’ll just come in if I have to go.::

Vic groaned, a low warning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t respond. If there was one thing he’d learned from loving Matt, it was that some arguments weren’t worth pursuing. He could allow himself to get mad at every little thing, but Vic wasn’t that type of guy. Most things rolled off him without a second thought, and he’d rather have Matty in his arms every night than go to sleep angry over something as stupid as flushing the toilet while he was in the shower. Scalding water wasn’t going to kill him, but losing the special bond he shared with his lover just might.