Clasping Position

THE POSITIONS OF LOVE, BOOK III: CLASPING POSITION …Lowering his voice, Vic growled, “Speaking of sex…” Matt laughed again. “Tell me about it. If I don’t get a piece of you soon, things are going to get ugly.” “I’m still up for staying home,” Vic told him. “Dinner first,” Matt said. “Then dessert. You gonna be ready by the time I get home?” Now it was Vic’s turn to laugh. “You said seven. You want me ready at five? I was thinking of laying down for a bit. I could use a nap.” “Old man,” Matt teased. Vic agreed. “I told you.” A glance at the clock on his desk showed his lunch hour almost gone. Stretching in his chair, he told Vic, “You nap. I’ll wake you up when I get in. What are you wearing?” “Right now?” Suddenly an image rose in Matt’s mind, sent through the telephone wire—Vic in his favorite flannel robe, sitting at the dining room table. The robe hung open to reveal his smooth chest, his shaved genitals, and as Matt closed his eyes to savor the mental picture, he saw his lover’s hand stray to his crotch and fondle himself. In the confines of his pants, Matt’s dick grew heavy with lust. “Oh, Lord,” he murmured. “I may not make it ’til five.” “What’d you say?” Vic joked. “This was dessert?” “I’m going to eat you up tonight,” Matt sighed. Vic laughed. “You promise?”

ALSO BY J. M. SNYDER Beneath A Yankee Sky The Bonds Of Love Crushed Matching Tats Persistence of Memory The Powers of Love Under A Confederate Moon The Positions Of Love Book I: The Positions Of Love Book II: Two Pillars Position Book III: Clasping Position Book IV: Hammock Position

THE POSITIONS OF LOVE BOOK III

CLASPING POSITION

BY J. M. SNYDER

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

CLASPING POSITION AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by J. M. Snyder ISBN 978-1-60272-205-7 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CLASPING POSITION

CLASPING POSITION By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, Vic Braunson felt much more at ease buying gifts for his lover, Matt diLorenzo. Christmas had been difficult, to be sure—he hadn’t known how much to spend, what Matt expected, what he should even get. Their anniversary coincided with New Year’s, which had meant a night out on the town, wining and dining until the clock struck twelve, then a quiet celebration between the sheets of their bed in the wee hours of the morning. And now, V-Day. Fortunately, this was a holiday Vic had encountered once before—the previous year had been their first, and he’d 1

CLASPING POSITION

surprised Matt with a dozen roses sent to his office at the gym. At this time of the year, it seemed as if the entire universe conspired to make things easier for Vic. Everywhere he looked, he saw pink hearts, red roses, boxes of decadent chocolates. Restaurants around town ran Valentine’s Day specials, promising two dinners for the price of one or private candlelit tables to entice lovers to dine there. Movie theaters in town were showing a barrage of chick flicks—love movies guaranteed to tug at the heartstrings. There was even a small, independent theater in Carytown showing Brokeback Mountain for the city’s gay crowd, but if Vic were going to spend the evening in the dark with Matt, it wouldn’t be in a crowded theater. At home perhaps, cuddling naked on the couch or in bed, hands slipping between warm thighs, kisses amorous and tender. No crowds, no distractions, nothing but the two of them making slow, sweet love. But Matt had other plans. “Guess where we’re going for dinner?” This was a good two weeks before the holiday, one lazy Sunday afternoon when the two of them sat at the dining room table, Vic eating a ham sandwich and Matt picking at his potato chips as he leafed through the morning paper. From the gleam in Matt’s eye, Vic suspected his lover couldn’t wait to tell him what he had planned. Still, he admitted, “I had hoped maybe we’d have a quiet evening at home.” Matt laughed. “Quiet is relative. Ask the people below us.” Vic had to grin at that. He and Matt could get…well, randy at times, to put it lightly. At least once a week, the neighbor 2

CLASPING POSITION

living in the apartment beneath theirs banged on the floor to shut them up. Their lovemaking wasn’t exactly noisy, per se, but they did get a bit carried away at times—the bed’s springs would creak rhythmically, the headboard would knock against the wall. Once Vic rolled over the edge of the bed and fell off, hitting the floor so hard, he heard plaster crack. He was naturally a heavy guy, all muscle and brawn, but Matt’s love imbued him with superhuman strength. It was a wonder he didn’t go through the floor—what a shock that would’ve been to the guy below them, to find a big, nude, shaved man covered in piercings and tattoos beside him in bed. He would’ve called the cops for sure. A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. “I know what you’re thinking.” “You always do,” Vic said. Mental telepathy was another ability Vic gained from Matt. A variety of strange powers came and went—they were triggered during sex and dissipated within a few hours of the deed—but super strength and telepathy were constants. Vic felt his lover’s mind prod into his thoughts, and Matt laughed out loud at the image of a surprised and naked Vic lying on the neighbor’s bed. Taking another bite of his sandwich, Vic asked, “So if we’re not staying here for Valentine’s, where are we going?” “Don’t say it like that,” Matt chided. “We’re just going out to eat, babe. I don’t feel like cooking, all right? I figure we can split the tab, each of us picking up the other’s meal, then come back here for the main event.” 3

CLASPING POSITION

Vic tamped down the grin that threatened to split his face. “Which will be?” With an airy wave of his hand, Matt admitted, “Don’t know yet. But it’ll involve you and me and a ton of lube, so I think I can manage to keep you entertained.” Vic caught Matt’s wrist and leaned over his plate as he pulled his lover closer. “Come here.” They leaned toward each other until their noses bumped, and Matt laughed. “I’m thinking a steakhouse,” he murmured, kissing Vic’s upper lip. “I called around and found someplace pretty expensive, but I hear it’s the best.” “Ruth’s Chris?” Vic guessed. Matt kissed him again, with a hint of tongue between Vic’s lips this time. “How’d you know?” It was only the place to go, for any occasion, and well beyond their budget. But Valentine’s only came once a year, and if they were splitting the cost, why not splurge? Still, on his modest salary… “It’s kind of pricey,” Vic admitted. Silencing him with a kiss, Matt spoke directly into Vic’s mind. ::Hush. You’re worth it.:: Though Matt had no super powers of his own—they came from his sperm and were transferred to Vic when they made love—he shared a mental connection with Vic that enhanced and deepened their relationship. They had no secrets between them, and were in constant contact whenever they were near. As troublesome as the powers could be at times, Vic would never give them up if it meant losing that special link with Matt. 4

CLASPING POSITION

*

*

*

At times, Vic’s work schedule could be a little strange, and the week of February 14th was no exception. A bus driver for the city, he was down for four ten-hour shifts Sunday through Wednesday, and had an extended weekend before he was back on an eight hour shift the following Monday. The beginning of the week, he dragged himself home after each shift, too tired to eat or talk or shower—he fell into the bed beside Matt, cuddled up beside his lover, and fell into a deep sleep that lasted until his alarm went off the next morning. This sort of shift was infrequent enough that Matt could weather through it every so often, but it still bothered him. He missed their evenings together…and the sex. Valentine’s fell on Thursday, Vic’s first free day. Matt left him curled beneath the bed sheets, a kiss on his forehead. “Our reservation’s at seven,” he whispered, running a hand down Vic’s body, hidden under the covers. His lover’s reply was an unintelligible grunt and the sleepy thought, ::Love you.:: When Matt called home on his lunch break, Vic was awake but still very tired. “I hate working swing shifts,” he told Matt. “It wears me out, literally. I’m getting too damn old for this.” “Oh, please,” Matt said with a laugh. He doodled on his phone pad as he stared out his office window at the empty gym pool. “You have more stamina than most men half your age. God knows, you’re sexier, too.” Lowering his voice, Vic growled, “Speaking of sex…” 5

CLASPING POSITION

Matt laughed again. “Tell me about it. If I don’t get a piece of you soon, things are going to get ugly.” “I’m still up for staying home,” Vic told him. “Dinner first,” Matt said. “Then dessert. You gonna be ready by the time I get home?” Now it was Vic’s turn to laugh. “You said seven. You want me ready at five? I was thinking of laying down for a bit. I could use a nap.” “Old man,” Matt teased. Vic agreed. “I told you.” A glance at the clock on his desk showed his lunch hour almost gone. Stretching in his chair, he told Vic, “You nap. I’ll wake you up when I get in. What are you wearing?” “Right now?” Suddenly an image rose in Matt’s mind, sent through the telephone wire—Vic in his favorite flannel robe, sitting at the dining room table. The robe hung open to reveal his smooth chest, his shaved genitals, and as Matt closed his eyes to savor the mental picture, he saw his lover’s hand stray to his crotch and fondle himself. In the confines of his pants, Matt’s dick grew heavy with lust. “Oh, Lord,” he murmured. “I may not make it ’til five.” “What’d you say?” Vic joked. “This was dessert?” “I’m going to eat you up tonight,” Matt sighed. Vic laughed. “You promise?” *

*

*

As he pulled his late model Jaguar into a spot in front of 6

CLASPING POSITION

their apartment building, Matt thought it funny how easy it had been to fit himself into Vic’s solitary life. They’d been together little more than a year, and already Matt couldn’t imagine life without the man. They were so very much in love—each day only deepened Matt’s feelings and entwined their souls a little closer together. As much as he savored the here and now, he couldn’t wait for the next five years, or ten, or fifteen. He wanted to come home on Valentine’s Day twenty years in the future and feel the exact same way he felt today—like a newlywed on his honeymoon. Heading into the building, he let his mind roam ahead of him, up the stairs, into their apartment. He touched on Vic’s sleeping consciousness and drew back, unwilling to wake his lover just yet. Quietly, he let himself into their home, and turned on the lamp in the living room to cast back the shadows of the evening. Kicking off his shoes, he undressed on his way to the bedroom, his clothes strewn in his wake down the hall. “Vic?” he called out softly. A muffled snore was all the response he got. In the bedroom, he turned on the lamp on his bedside table. Vic lay on his side, away from the lamp, his flannel robe wrapped tight around his body. Matt paused to peel off his briefs, then stepped out of his socks one at a time. “Vic?” he called again, a little louder. “Time to get up.” “Mmm,” came Vic’s reply. Matt tiptoed around the bed to sit beside his lover’s legs. Vic’s face was soft in sleep, the harsh lines smoothed out, the standard scowl lost in slack cheeks and parted lips. Reaching 7

CLASPING POSITION

out, Matt ran a hand along Vic’s side, over the bump of his hip, down his thigh, around his knee to where the robe was tucked between his legs. Plucking the fabric free, Matt eased his hand inside, over smooth skin, up Vic’s inner thigh to the pillowy genitals at his crotch. He cupped Vic’s balls and gave a gentle squeeze. “Vic?” His lover moaned in his sleep. With a grin, Matt threw the robe open and leaned down to kiss Vic’s limp dick. His lips pressed to Vic’s shaved pubic mound, then the base of his shaft, then the cock itself, which fluttered at the sudden attention. Another kiss, farther up his length, and another…the third landed on the ruddy head. Before he could stop himself, he took the plum-shaped tip into his mouth and ran his tongue around the flared base. Mentally, he prodded, ::Vic? Wake up.:: Vic’s cock jerked between his lips, stiffening, lengthening. In a voice that held no remnant of sleep, Vic assured him, ::Oh, I’m up.:: Matt gave a throaty chuckle that hummed through the tip of Vic’s dick. Opening his mouth, he trailed his tongue down the underside of his lover’s cock, wetting a track that led from the slit in the head to the base. Then he tongued the soft sac of Vic’s balls, tracing circles into the satiny skin before taking the right nut between his lips. For a moment he suckled, enjoying the moans he elicited from his lover, the restless way Vic’s legs rubbed together in need. He licked out, caught the left nut, sucked that into his mouth as well. A heady, musky scent enveloped him, enflaming his senses, exciting his own 8

CLASPING POSITION

dick. Of its own accord, one of his hands trailed to his crotch to stroke his hardening length. As Matt sucked Vic’s balls, his lover’s heavy hand dropped to Matt’s head, fingers twining through Matt’s curls. Vic’s leg raised as he arched his back, trying to present more of himself to Matt’s hot mouth, his eager tongue. “Yes,” he sighed. “God, Matty, yes.” Matt ran his free hand between Vic’s legs and wrapped his arm around his lover’s thigh to hold him open. His elbow butted between Vic’s ass cheeks as his lover spread his legs apart wider. His hips thrust up off the bed, causing his erection to bump against Matt’s forehead. With one last hard suck on Vic’s nuts, Matt let them slip free and licked his way to that bulbous tip again, like a boy devouring a lollipop. His tongue swirled up Vic’s length, tasting every inch of the muscle, coating every vein, until it twirled around the head. Closing his mouth, Matt pressed his lips to the very tip of his lover’s cock in a loving, lingering kiss. Then his lips parted, and he took Vic in. Just an inch at first, enough to tease his lover. Vic dug his heels into the bed and bucked into Matt’s mouth, wanting more. Matt drew in a deep breath, relaxed his throat, and went down, kissing the base of Vic’s shaft, his tonsils tickling his lover’s cock, before he pulled back. He did it a second time— the hands on his head fisted into his hair, all pretense of sleep gone now. Vic held him down as he shoved into him, seeking release. “Matty,” he gasped, a plea both verbal and mental. ::Yes, please, yes, yes!:: 9

CLASPING POSITION

But Matt had other plans. The next time he pulled back, he let Vic’s slick dick slip from his lips and blew gently on the cooling length. “God,” Vic sobbed. His whole body shuddered at Matt’s breath. Rolling onto his stomach, he flipped the bathrobe up over his rump and raised his large ass in the air invitingly. “Don’t make me beg here, Matty. Just fuck me already.” Planting a kiss on his lover’s hip, Matt murmured, “I thought you’d never ask.” He stood and reached for Vic’s bedside table, where a halfempty box of anal lube “shooters” sat in anticipation. Small, personal-sized bottles of lubrication, the shooters had a narrow tube that allowed easy insertion into the anus. One bottle provided enough gel for a long, good fuck. Matt popped open one bottle and squirted its contents into the palm of his hand. Rubbing his hands together, he then transferred the lube to his cock, rubbing and stroking and squeezing himself hard. Beside him, Vic watched, his eyes gleaming in the low lamplight. As Matt fondled his own balls, Vic growled in the back of his throat. “I want those hands on me,” he said, his voice full of lust. With a laugh, Matt ran his hand between his legs, then turned and bent his knees enough to let Vic watch him finger his own asshole. Instantly, hands gripped his buttocks and wet lips pressed to the crack in his ass. Vic’s tongue licked down, tasting both Matt’s finger and his puckered core, then Vic nipped at the tender skin on the bottom of Matt’s cheek. “Oh yes,” Matt sighed—his dick went from “getting there” to 10

CLASPING POSITION

“ohmigod” the moment Vic’s teeth bit him. His lubricated hands stroked his length, plucked at the tip of his cock, tugging him toward orgasm. Vic slapped his ass, then returned to the bed. “Me too,” he demanded, arching his back. Reaching for another shooter, Matt turned in time to see Vic reposition his pillow beneath his hips. As Matt stepped up behind him, he saw Vic’s hard dick pointing down between his lover’s legs, and his balls were tight, red nuggets nestled just under his round ass. The pillow pushed his genitals down, cutting off the circulation so that they seemed to fill with blood and pound in time to the furious beat of Vic’s lustful heart. With his head on the mattress, his ass in the air, Vic closed his eyes when Matt spread his buttocks and inserted the tip of the shooter. ::Yes.:: Through their mental connection, Matt felt the thud of Vic’s balls and cock as if his own genitals were pinned beneath him. He felt the cool rush of lubricant into Vic’s ass, feel the tip of his own dick press between Vic’s buttocks, felt the resistance he shoved past to enter his lover. For the first few strokes, he watched the motion of his dick as it eased in and out of Vic—his lover drew his knees up, splayed his legs, sat back to drive Matt farther into him. A litany ran through Matt’s mind, his and Vic’s voices combined, their hearts and souls entwined in the act of love. ::Yes, harder, faster, love you, yes.:: Carefully, Matt knelt on the edge of the bed and pushed into Vic as far as he could go. Vic scooted forward a little, 11

CLASPING POSITION

redistributing his weight onto his knees, and sat back on Matt’s thick cock. Matt wrapped his arms beneath Vic’s belly to support it as he lay down over his lover’s back—with each thrust, he clasped Vic’s body to his. “Fuck me, Matty,” Vic muttered beneath his breath in an unconscious rhythm. Each word was punctuated by his buttocks rising onto Matt’s cock. “Yeah, fuck me, Matty, yeah, fuck me.” Vic did all the work—Matt simply held on and let his lover’s muscles work around his cock, let the bounce on his balls and the tight warmth encasing his dick draw him to release. When he came, Vic pushed back against him, Matt’s arms around his waist, and the hot spurt deep within Vic’s center triggered his own climax. Like a drowning man in a hurricane, Matt clung to Vic as they came, letting the riptide of emotion and pleasure drag them both under. Then Vic was rolling onto his back. One leg came up around Matt as Vic repositioned himself, Matt’s dick still in his ass. Without withdrawing, Matt lay down on his lover, his arms easing around Vic’s sweaty waist as they hugged each other close. *

*

*

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse was low lit, with intimate candles flickering around tables for two. Matt wore a suit and tie; Vic settled for a black blazer and button-down shirt open at the throat. If the hostess questioned two men dining together on such a romantic 12

CLASPING POSITION

evening, she didn’t say a word. She led them to a circular booth near the kitchen, and before Vic even sat down, his stomach rumbled hungrily from the delicious smells wafting through the restaurant. Opening the menu, Vic told Matt, “Good choice.” “Thanks.” Matt held up the wine list and raised one eyebrow, suggestive. “You’re driving, right?” Vic nodded. “Enjoy yourself.” “Oh, I will,” Matt assured him. “I’m with the hottest guy here.” Vic gave him a sly grin. Matt loved to drink whenever they went out. Vic didn’t mind—in fact, he encouraged it, driving when he could, because alcohol made Matt horny. A glass or two of wine with dinner and he’d soon be leering at Vic across the table. Half a bottle, and they would probably get frisky in the car on the way home. A whole bottle and hell, they wouldn’t even have to leave the restaurant. As long as the place had a private bathroom with a door that locked… When their server poured the first glass of wine, the smoldering look Matt threw Vic suggested he might not even wait until he’d downed the bottle. Alone in their booth, both Vic and Matt slid toward the middle until they sat side by side, their thighs pressed together beneath the table. Vic ran an arm around Matt’s shoulders, keeping him close, and Matt’s right hand strayed to Vic’s knee, where it rubbed a circular pattern into his pants. Each sip of the wine made Matt lean into Vic just a little more—by the time their appetizers were cleared away to make room for the 13

CLASPING POSITION

main course, he practically lay in Vic’s lap. His glass was never empty, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. The steak was excellent. Very tender and rare, just the way Vic liked it. Matt fell into a giggling fit when Vic tried to extract himself from his lover long enough to cut the steak, and then again while cutting his own food—his plate skidded away from him and knocked over Vic’s glass of wine. As Vic had been nursing the same glass for the past hour, it was no loss, but Matt scrambled to sop up the red stain while Vic patiently cut his lover’s steak into bite-sized pieces. The knife went on Vic’s other side, out of reach—he’d lost count of how much wine Matt had had, and a knife in his drunken hands was probably not the best thing. “I made a mess,” Matt announced the next time their waiter came around. His solemn words were belied by the silly chuckle that escaped him, and before the waiter could move to take the soggy napkins, Matt was laughing again. When he reached for his glass and almost knocked that over, as well, he snickered. “Sorry.” Vic moved Matt’s wineglass out of reach. “Eat,” he said, pointing at Matt’s plate. Propping his elbow up on the table, Matt leaned his head on his chin and gazed at Vic with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re so sexy,” he sighed. The waiter glanced from Matt to Vic, who caught that look and glared until the young man looked away. ::Say something,:: Vic thought, projecting that challenge into the waiter’s mind. ::I dare you.:: 14

CLASPING POSITION

But the guy wasn’t stupid—his gaze dropped to the tattoo on the back of Vic’s hand, those thick fingers bunched tight around his silverware, the knife he held, and then looked away. Ignorant of the waiter’s discomfort, Matt let his hand drift to Vic’s crotch, where he poked at the zipper. “You sparkle,” he said. “Like a holiday.” “Matty,” Vic warned. The waiter didn’t look up again, just cleared their empty plates and turned away. As Vic raised his fork to his mouth, he caught a flicker of colored light reflected in the silverware. It wasn’t the candle on their table—that burned with a golden glow. This was something almost neon, an orangey-red burst—Vic held up his fork in front of his face to stare at his reflection and saw it again, a small flash. It sparkled above his right shoulder, but when he turned, it was gone. He caught a whiff of something that reminded him of gunpowder and turned around completely to see… They sat against a wall. No one behind them. The closest table to Vic was a good couple yards away, through a fake growth of greenery that hid them from view. What the hell? With a carefree laugh, Matt told him, “Do it again.” “Do what?” Vic wondered out loud. This time he heard it—a tiny pop! in his left ear, followed by a faint fizzle that reminded him of…fireworks? When he turned, he found lit embers on the shoulder of his blazer. “What the fuck,” he muttered, brushing them off like dandruff. “Matty, what—” 15

CLASPING POSITION

“You sparkle,” Matt said again. “Like the Fourth of July.” Vic wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. When he heard another quiet electric eruption, he didn’t bother to turn around, but rather focused his attention on strangling whatever new and unusual manifestation of Matt’s abilities this might be. Some sort of energy explosion, triggered by his emotions perhaps. As Matt’s hand eased into his lap, Vic struggled to rein in the desirous fire that raced through his veins and threatened to burst around them into a pyrotechnic light show. *

*

*

After dinner, in the restaurant’s parking lot, Matt wrapped both arms around Vic’s waist and cuddled close to him. The night had deepened into a frosty darkness that made Vic wish he’d thought to wear a coat over his blazer. Against him, Matt shivered. “Warm me up,” he sighed, his hands easing into the waistband of Vic’s pants. Vic draped an arm around his lover’s shoulders and rubbed. Instantly, a shower of sparks erupted from his hand, lighting up the night. “Look at this stupid power,” he muttered. “I think it’s pretty.” Matt turned to watch the sparks—they fell from Vic’s palm and fingers like the light that spit off an arc welder. “Can you make it bigger?” “I don’t even know what it is.” Vic stopped in mid-step and moved back from Matt. Closing his eyes, he concentrated inward and felt energy coursing through him like bolts of 16

CLASPING POSITION

lightning, ricocheting from his head down to his toes. The skin on his arms and nape tingled, standing up beneath the charges swirling through him; in his pants, his cock twitched, excited. He directed the energy to his hands and could feel it arc between his fingertips. As he raised his hands to bring them together, the energy shot between them, bursting into small fireworks between his palms. Matt laughed like a little boy. “Bigger!” he said. “Like huge.” Vic opened his eyes—the fireworks that erupted in the space between his hands were just tiny sparkles of color. He didn’t know if he could make them larger, but he didn’t want to try here. Behind him, he heard the restaurant door open, a footstep scuffed in the gravel, then a little girl cried out, “Mommy, look!” “Not here,” Vic said. He let his hands fall to his sides, extinguishing the fireworks. In unison, Matt and the unseen child moaned, “Aww.” Vic threw a tight-lipped smile over his shoulder as he caught Matt’s elbow. “Come on, Matty,” he said softly. “Time to go home.” “I want to see the sparks again,” Matt muttered. Vic’s arm slid around his waist to hug him tight. “Oh, sparks will fly tonight,” he promised, nuzzling against Matt’s black curls. His lover snickered. At Vic’s car, Matt turned to lean back against the passenger side door before Vic could open it for him. Grabbing Vic’s lapels with both hands, Matt pulled him 17

CLASPING POSITION

down for a warm, wet kiss. Their bodies meshed together against the cold metal door, and Vic had to place his hands against the icy window to keep from falling into Matt. His lover’s breath was combustible, his kiss alcoholic. Thrusting his hips into Vic’s, Matt licked the roof of Vic’s mouth as if dinner hadn’t been enough to satisfy his hunger. “Love me,” he murmured against Vic’s lips. “Right here.” It was so hard to say no. “Soon,” Vic tried—the key in his hand scraped along the side of his car door, seeking the lock. When it slid into place, Vic gave into Matt’s kiss, forgetting the key and the restaurant and whoever might be watching them in the darkened parking lot. A shower of sparks shot from Vic’s hands, warming the night around them. Matt’s tongue and lips only fueled the electricity in Vic’s system, cranking it up notch after notch until all Vic heard was the sizzle erupting from his fingers. He smelled burning metal and singed fabric, and could feel the sparkling tingle like waves of electrical current washing over him, bursting from his extremities. His fingers were full of power, his feet tickled with it, even his dick danced in his briefs, spurred by Matt’s kiss, his hands, his own sheathed erection pressing into Vic’s crotch. Like Frankenstein’s monster, every inch of Vic came alive at his lover’s touch. After an eternity, Matt released him with a breathless giggle. “Talk about sparks,” he murmured, wiping his lower lip with one finger. “Open the door for me?” Vic moved to comply, only to find the key soldered into the lock. The metal had melted together during the heat of 18

CLASPING POSITION

their kiss. Stepping away from the car, Vic looked at his hands and for the first time saw sooty nails, reddened skin. The cuffs of his blazer and the shirt beneath it were singed and fraying, some threads still smoldering. Vic glanced at his feet and saw the nail of one big toe winking up at him through the top of his charred shoe. Matt started to laugh. “Cute,” Vic grumbled. “This was my best suit.” “Look at this,” his lover said, poking at Vic’s crotch. Matt’s fingers wiggled into Vic’s groin, and he caught the hand before it could go any farther. “That’s what got me so heated up in the first place.” “No,” Matt told him. “Look.” Vic glanced down and groaned as he turned his back to the restaurant. A neat little hole the size of a cigarette burn had been seared into the crotch of his pants to the right of his zipper. Vic could see the pink tip of his cock through the hole, and Matt seemed unable to keep from touching it. His forefinger worked its way into the hole, rubbing over Vic’s dick, tearing the fabric more. “Hey Sparky,” Matt purred, leaning against Vic as his hands rubbed at his lover’s crotch. “Got a light?” What would happen once they got home? Vic wondered. They’d have to make love in the bathtub to avoid burning down the whole apartment building. Getting into the car was the easy part—Vic just pulled up hard on the handle on the driver’s side door. A burst of super strength broke the locking mechanism and the door opened in 19

CLASPING POSITION

his hand. He’d have to hold it shut as he drove, and he could just imagine what the repair shop would have to say about the popped lock, but at least they could get inside. Matt clambered over the driver’s seat and into the passenger side. As he fumbled with his seat belt, Vic leaned down onto the floor boards and stared at the mess of wires up under the dash. He’d never hotwired a car before, though he understood the basics. But it was dark, and cold, and Matt shivered beside him, and every little burst of wind sent icy tendrils swirling into his shoes and the hole at his crotch. Grabbing a handful of wires, he felt power jolt from his fingers and a moment later, the engine sputtered to life. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, both Matt’s arms encircled Vic’s. His lover leaned against him, cuddling up to him in the dark. “So cold,” he muttered. Vic cranked the heat, though nothing blew from the vents but chilly air. Then he looped his seat belt through the handle on the inside of his door and pulled it shut before buckling the belt. The door tried to open, but the belt held it in place. For now. Turning to Matt, Vic wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders and rubbed warmth into them. Again, sparks flew from his fingertips, illuminating the inside of the car. Matt lay his head against Vic’s chest, huddled into his blazer, his freezing hands slipping into Vic’s shirt and snapping a few buttons as they found the heat in Vic’s armpits. After a while, his shuddering subsided, and the air from the vents poured out hot and strong. Kissing the hollow of Vic’s throat, Matt 20

CLASPING POSITION

murmured, “I love you.” Vic touched Matt’s cheek and turned his face up to catch the next kiss on his lips. He felt the energy build within him again, felt his skin begin to tingle as the electric charges in his body yearned to break free. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss and simply rested his cheek against Matt’s forehead. “You’ll be the death of me,” he teased. Matt’s grip on him tightened. “Don’t say that.” “I’m just kidding,” Vic started. But Matt shook his head—he wouldn’t hear it. “Don’t. I can’t help it, Vic. You know that. And I hate—” Vic silenced him with a kiss. “I know.” They fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the ragged purr of the car engine. Vic let his mind wander back to their lovemaking prior to dinner; his dick stiffened at the memory. “What would you call that position?” Vic wondered out loud. “It’s from your book.” Matt snuggled closer to him, sharing the moment. “The Clasping Position. Am I the only one who read it?” “I looked at the pictures,” Vic admitted. The actual writing in the book was a bit…flamboyant for him, to be honest. The lover is the most important man in the world. He is without stress, without conflict, without flaw. The world recognizes his loving heart and bends willingly to his whims, because his wishes are godlike and his desires natural. What the fuck was that shit all about? Vic could only get a few lines into it before he gave up and flipped to the photographs instead. And even they weren’t as explicit as he’d have liked. No dick in them, 21

CLASPING POSITION

for starters. If Vic were going to get off on porn, he wanted something hard and thick to fantasize over… In his mind rose an image, unbidden, of Matt standing naked before him, his cock jutting like a veined missile from his crotch. Both hands wrapped around the monstrous dick, his hips thrust forward, enticing. Vic’s whole body sizzled at that image. ::You like?:: Matt asked. With an appreciative growl, Vic told him, ::I want.:: Matt laughed. “Let’s get home,” he said out loud. “Get you a new power. What do you say?” In response, Vic put the car in gear. *

*

*

As they drove home, it seemed later than the clock claimed it to be. Just a little after ten, was that all? The streets were empty, the night sky dark and starless, and frost glittered off the metal guardrails that lined the interstate. Matt leaned against Vic, his head on Vic’s shoulder, and Vic had one arm around Matt, his hand stroking his lover’s neck as he concentrated on the road ahead. The heater still ran at full blast, and wind whistled around the edge of his broken door, which jittered and jumped against Vic’s seat belt but stayed shut. Inside him, Vic felt a storm brewing. It started like indigestion, just a faint unpleasantness around his stomach and bowels, but as it rose within him, he realized it wasn’t dinner at all but excess energy. He felt skittish, nervous, almost paranoid—electricity was building up 22

CLASPING POSITION

inside him like lightning gathering among dark clouds, looking to break out, arc away. After a few miles, he could even see it, faint lines like wires running beneath his skin, glowing in neon colors as they snaked over the back of his hand, up and down his fingers. They disappeared into the burnt cuffs of his shirt, and rippled over his face when he glanced in the rear-view mirror. He had to let the energy out somehow, cast it off. Let it run its course and get out of his system already. Too bad it wasn’t a holiday, when random fireworks could’ve gone unnoticed… Well, technically, it was a holiday… And it was late. And dark. And who’d really complain about a little light show at this hour? Halfway across the James River Bridge, Vic pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, out of the flow of traffic. What traffic? They were the only car on the interstate, it seemed. The only people out and about. Still, he put on his hazards just in case. When the car stopped moving, Matt roused himself from a food-induced doze. “Vic?” he murmured. “We home?” “Not yet,” Vic told him. Rolling down his window, he said, “I got something to show you, babe.” With a leonine yawn, Matt stretched awake. “What’s that?” “Look outside.” Matt obeyed, pressing his face to his window like a small child. The lights of Richmond shone icily in the cold February air, but the sky was dark, devoid of stars, and when Vic leaned 23

CLASPING POSITION

out his own window, he thought he smelled snow on the way. “Vic,” Matt started, gazing up at the sky. “I don’t…” “Just watch.” Raising his arms above his head, Vic closed his eyes and let the energy loose. It tore through him like wildfire, exciting his senses as it leapt away from the car into the night sky. Vic thought of fireworks displays he’d seen throughout the years, and as the energy shot from him, it formed familiar patterns— cascading sparks in a multitude of colors, zinging Catherine wheels, loud white bursts of noise and sound. “Oh!” Matt cried out with a clap of his hands. “I love them! Do more green ones.” Vic pictured his lover’s eyes behind his and felt the energy take on the same dark malachite color. Like Matt’s own personal pyrotechnician, Vic took requests—more sizzlers, more cracklers, more showers of sparks in red and yellow and blue. Vic leaned back against his door and let the energy channel through him to light up the night, and below the elaborate display, the river shone with the wetly colored lights. Releasing his seat belt, Matt stretched out across the front seat to lay on top of Vic. “You wanted to see them bigger,” Vic reminded him. “What do you think?” “Thanks.” Matt kissed Vic’s chin, then tucked his head beneath it as he rolled onto his back, his body fitting neatly against Vic’s. Through his window and the windshield, he had a great view of the lights in the sky. And the press of his buttocks against Vic’s budding erection ensured that the fireworks would continue well into the night. 24

J. M. SNYDER

An author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J. M. Snyder began self-publishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has released several books in trade paperback format and has begun exploring the world of e-publishing, working with both Aspen Mountain Press and Amber Quill Press. Snyder’s highly erotic short gay fiction has been published online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Sticky Pen, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies by Aspen Mountain Press and Cleis Press. A full bibliography, as well as free fiction, book excerpts, purchasing information, and exclusive contests, can be found at: http://jmsnyder.net

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC HOME OF AMBER ALLURE! QUALITY GLBT FICTION IN BOTH PRINT AND ELECTRONIC FORMATS

ACTION/ADVENTURE

SUSPENSE/THRILLER

SCIENCE FICTION

PARANORMAL

EROTICA

MYSTERY

ROMANCE

HORROR

DARK FANTASY

FANTASY

CONTEMPORARY

HISTORICAL AND MORE…

B UY D IRECT AND S AVE http://www.Amber-Allure.com WHERE LOVE IS B LIND TO G ENDER…