by LeFey
"You look good enough to eat," he said in his best seductive whisper.
Vic rolled his shoulders out of Mac's grasp while his cheeks tinted
crimson.
"Yeah? Well, save that for later," he teased back. He poked a
finger inside the edge of his collar and pulled a little.
"This is an incredible suit." His eyes met Mac's and the sincerity
in what he was saying was unmistakable. "I've never had anything like this,
ever." His hand moved automatically to slightly loosen the tie's knot.
"I'm not really comfortable in clothes like this."
"You look great!" Mac insisted as he ran his hands over Vic's
arms. Since Victor had put on the suit Mac could barely keep his hands
off of him. "You should wear things like this all the time. You've got
the perfect body for tailored clothes, broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
You've got the height..."
Victor took Mac's hands in his, in order to stop the petting that
continued as he spoke.
"These clothes are you," Vic said quietly but firmly. "I love
that you did this for me, but it's not me, Mac."
"It could be, Vic. If you just gave it a chance."
"Stop trying to change me," Vic snapped as he dropped Mac's hands.
Mac studied him for a moment before he answered.
"I wasn't... I don't..."
Vic reached out and drew him into his arms.
"Sorry," he said, his lips pressed against the other man's cheek.
"My temper." He gave Mac a firm squeeze. "I know that's not an excuse."
"I just see so much more in you, Vic."
Victor disentangled himself as Mac began an all too familiar argument.
Vic kissed him briefly hoping to shut him up. When it didn't work he walked
towards the door.
"What time are the reservations?" he interrupted.
Mac looked startled for a moment but then shrugged and took a
deep breath. He was becoming used to Vic winning arguments by not arguing.
"Wait! Wait," he urged when he saw Vic's hand on the doorknob.
"I've got something else."
"Mac, no!" Vic called after him as he disappeared into the bedroom.
In a moment he returned carrying a full-length garment bag adorned
with a bow.
Vic had his hands up trying to fend off the gift.
"Mac, this is too much."
"Too much is never enough, Baby." Mac was grinning as he held
the present out to Vic. "Besides, it's the middle of November. I'm not
having you freeze that prize ass off. And you can't wear that damn jacket
over this suit."
Vic started to unfasten the bow but Mac was too impatient. He
ripped it off and tossed it aside. Mac had the bag open and discarded and
was beaming as he held up a long black topcoat.
Vic reached for it hesitantly; certain that as his hand neared
Mac would have it on him before he could even touch it. To his surprise
Mac stayed still and gave a look of near lust when Vic's fingers stroked
the soft fabric of the lapel.
"My God, Mac. This is too much."
"It's cashmere. Hugo Boss. I bought it after you had the suit
fitted. I gave it to your tailor to alter." He slipped the coat off the
hanger and held it open to reveal the lush maroon silk lining. "It's going
to fit you like a glove."
Vic wanted to say he didn't have a tailor. He had Thrifty's, Mark's
Work Warehouse, and a Sears catalogue. The guy was Mac's tailor. Vic just
smiled and shook his head at the thought of the improbable amount of money
Mac had spent on these clothes. Still he had promised himself earlier that
he wasn't going to say anything. He was going to make nice. He wasn't going
to spoil anything. This was Mac's birthday.
That idea brought him up short. It was the first time he'd actually
put into words, even if it was only in his thoughts, what he was feeling.
Mac was pushing the coat on him, admonishing him to hold his cuffs as he
drew the sleeves up. Any protest on Vic's part seemed useless at the moment.
He was being dressed like a precious child being sent out into the snow.
"When did you... Where did you hide this?" He managed as Mac did up
the last button.
"I brought it over this afternoon. Remember? You were in the shower
when I came in. I took your suit out and just hung the coat in the closet.
You never noticed."
"Crafty," Vic conceded as Mac flashed him a smug grin.
"Come in the bedroom and look at it. You have to see it in a full
length mirror."
Mac hustled him off to the bedroom and closed the door so Vic
could admire himself in the mirror that hung on the back of the door.
Victor looked at his image. There was a vague resemblance to the
Victor Mansfield he knew. He looked older in these clothes. They made him
appear self-important and decadent. Mac hovering behind him like an attending
manservant only increased this patrician air.
"You like it?" Mac asked and the certainty that Mac did honeyed
his voice.
"I look like a Mafia Don."
Mac stopped fussing for a moment and answered the remark with
a dismissive snort.
"Right. The only English-Irish, freckled, ex-Catholic Mafia Don
in the world." He had resumed brushing invisible specks of lint from Victor's
shoulders as he finished talking. His hands moved to Vic's hair and he
ruffled it. "You ever think about growing your hair out a little? Longer
hair is really in now. We've still got time, let me spike your hair up."
Victor batted at Mac's hand and twisted away from him. He saw
the beginning of a hurt frown when he turned.
"We better leave." Vic tried to gloss over his curt movements.
"I'm getting really warm in this coat."
Mac smiled again. "It's great, isn't it?" He leaned near Vic and
his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's a pair of Armani
gloves in the pocket."
Vic slumped with exasperation.
"Mac, for Christ sake. This really is too much."
He pulled the black leather gloves from one deep silk-lined pocket
when it looked like Mac would do it for him.
"Thank you, Mac," He said as he pulled on one of the gloves. "But
you've got to stop..." The sentence trailed off as Vic flexed his hand
inside the buttery soft leather. He looked up, astonishment lighting his
features. "These are damn nice gloves!"
"You've proved to be worth it," Mac countered and placed a kiss on Vic's
half open mouth. The kiss quickly grew from affectionate to wanton.
Vic allowed himself a minute of play as the knowing, soft caress
of Mac's tongue sent a delicious heat through his body, but when he felt
the tickle as his cock responded he gently pushed the other man away.
"Stop," he mumbled half-heartedly. "Don't do that before we go
out."
Mac leaned in to give him one more quick teasing kiss. "That's just
a little taste of what's going to happen later tonight."
"I could learn how to make this," Vic said as he sopped up the
remaining garlic butter from his escargot with a piece of crusty French
bread. "That cooking school I went to had lots of classes on French cuisine."
"Well, don't bother on my account," Mac popped off as he finished
his last bite of pate. "I can't believe you won't touch eel, octopus, shark
fin soup or urchin yet you'll go on about how delicious slugs are."
"They're snails," Vic corrected. "And besides it's the sauce."
"That's another point, everything on the menu has enough fat in
it to give you an instant coronary."
"Everything you eat is loaded with salt. The Chinese have the
highest rate of hypertension in the world. And it's because of all the
salt in the food."
"Thank you, Doctor Mansfield."
"Why'd you bring me here if you don't like the food?" Vic asked
sharply.
Mac looked up, surprised by the tone. "I like the food. I...I...
thought we were just bitching like we usually do. I didn't mean anything
by it. Jeez, you're touchy tonight! I came here because I knew you'd like
it."
"So, you did this for me?" There was a note of disbelief in Vic's
tone.
"Of course I did. It's your birthday."
"That's the rumor," Vic shot back.
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"Nothing." Vic took a sip of his expensive microbrewery beer and
glanced around. The restaurant was very elegant. There was a scattering
of couples, a man with two older women, some obvious business duos and
a few tables occupied by two men and a woman. Everyone was dressed well;
some people almost as turned out as Victor. He let the spike of anger fade
that came with thinking this night was really for Mac's benefit. This was
a setting for special occasions.
"This is a very nice place. Thanks, Mac."
"See, I know what you like. I wanted some place nice."
Vic was relaxed and enjoying himself when the meal was over and
small cups of rich dark coffee arrived. He had even kept his mouth shut
when Mac had slipped his hand along his thigh under the cover of the starched
linen tablecloth. He decided that he would let Mac do whatever he liked,
short of kissing him, as long as he was discreet. This was probably the
first and last time they'd ever come to this restaurant so he'd indulge
his affectionate partner.
"You've got the most beautiful eyes," Mac said and leaned close
to him. "Those lashes are just killer."
Vic gave an embarrassed laugh and sat back in his chair.
"Lose the pickup lines," Vic teased. "You've already got me in
bed."
"I can't help it. Being here with you... it just... well, it just
brings out the romantic in me."
Vic laughed aloud at that. "I think it's all that wine you drank
that brings out the bullshit artist in you."
Mac turned suddenly and felt for his belt.
"My pager went off."
"I didn't hear anything," Vic said.
"I've got it on vibrate."
"Oh!" Vic laughed softly. "Do you two want to be alone?"
"I left the phone in the car. Will you be okay here for a minute,
Baby?" He reached out to touch Vic's cheek but the hand was intercepted
and pushed down.
"Mac, be careful," Vic warned in a harsh whisper.
"Nobody here..."
"Just go answer your page." Vic cut him off.
"I'm going to start calling you Sybil," Mac groused as he stood
up. "I'll be back in a minute."
Vic watched him walk away. This was his own fault. He should know
better than give Mac his head. He had no restraint, no sense of where he
was. He'd let his guard down once before and humored Mac by going to one
of those techno-clubs he liked. Not only had he insisted that they dance
to the so-called music, but Mac had shoved him against a wall and attempted
to make-out. Granted there were several other couples, straight, gay and
unidentifiable around, doing a lot more than sticking their hands down
the front of their partners pants. That didn't make Vic feel any less angry
and certainly didn't prevent the fight that split them up for two weeks.
He picked up a piece of orange flavored Turkish delight from the
small silver dish that accompanied the coffee. Vic popped it in his mouth
and wiped the powdered sugar from his fingers with the heavy linen napkin
still on his lap. He washed the exquisite sweetness from his mouth with
a sip of coffee and looked towards the foyer waiting for Mac's return.
"Excuse me?"
Vic looked up at the sound of the masculine voice. The man standing
by the table was tall, with chiseled features and intense blue eyes set
in a tanned face. He extended his hand as soon as Vic looked at him.
"Hi, I'm Ross Coltrane."
Vic took his hand, noting the firm handshake.
"Do I know you?" Vic asked instead of introducing himself.
"No. No you don't. Mind if I sit down?" He motioned at the chair
beside him.
Vic nodded. 'This is just great', he thought. 'Mac leaves me alone
and I get jumped by ... what? ...Probably an insurance salesman.'
The man flashed an appealing smile after he sat down and Vic was
certain he wanted something.
"Did your friend leave?"
"Ah... No." Vic motioned towards the foyer. "He left his phone
in the car. He'd gotten a page."
"Oh?" The man looked disappointed at the explanation. "I thought
he'd left."
Vic simply shook his head no.
"I see." He shrugged a little and continued. "I'm here with my
mother and my Aunt, her sister. It's my Aunt's birthday and..." He smiled
and dipped his head then looked up at Vic, his cheeks misted pink. "You
don't need to hear all that. Anyway I was... ah...we were watching... Well,
we thought your friend had left and we just wanted to ask you to join us."
"That's very nice of you, ah, Ross," Vic started uncertain of
what this was all about, "but he'll be back in a minute. Thanks anyway."
"Of course. You're welcome." He smiled at Vic again and then looked
down and studied the tablecloth for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said finally.
"I'm not very good at this. I just thought..." He looked up and the intensity
of his attention froze Vic. "Somebody like you doesn't come along every
day. I had to at least try."
Vic shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Are you..." he struggled to get the words out. "Are you trying
to pick me up?"
"Failing, I'd say." The man gave a resigned laugh. "I wasn't thinking
of it as a pick-up really. I just wanted to meet you. I'm sorry to bother
you."
"It's no bother," Vic said quickly. He could feel the heat rise
in his face.
"I've embarrassed you. I'm sorry."
"No," Vic assured him but knew his face must be glowing. "Well,
yeah. I mean..." He laughed suddenly unable to control the foolish reaction.
The man had a bemused look on his face.
"My God, you're charming," he told Vic. "You really have no idea
the impression you make."
Vic stammered a little. He wanted to explain that the clothes
were somebody else's idea, and he usually looked pretty ordinary and he
didn't understand why he felt so damn flattered that another man found
him charming, but all he could manage to do was laugh again.
The man across the table from him laughed as well.
"You still haven't told me your name," he said after they'd sat
in silence and stared at one another for a long moment.
Vic reached out his hand. "Mansfield. Vic Mansfield." And they
shook hands again.
"Let me make some reparation for all this nonsense. Are you and
your friend going into the lounge to dance, later? I'd like to buy you
a bottle of champagne to make amends."
Vic straightened, then sat forward in his chair.
"What's this about dancing?"
The man brightened at the question.
"There is a huge dance floor in the lounge and a very good band.
If you're going to stay for the evening I'll come back after I take my
Mother and Aunt home. That is if I can steal you away from your friend
for a dance."
"And they don't mind men dancing together here?"
The man laughed. "You've never been here before, have you? The
majority of the patrons here are gay. It's a very nice place to bring relatives
and the lounge is more upscale than most places."
It was all falling into place now. This restaurant was Mac's idea.
All the petting, the sweet talk was all just the lead-in to the real reason
they were here. Mac wanted to dance. Mac always wanted to dance; the more
public the venue the better. That fucking little shit had set him up. Vic
could feel the warmth of his embarrassment turn to the heat of anger.
"Are you going to stay and dance?" the man asked when Vic didn't
answer.
"Ah..." Vic stammered as he came back to the conversation. "Dancing?
No, sorry. I don't dance."
"Oh..." the word was finished with a disappointed sigh. He suddenly
reached inside his jacket and withdrew his wallet. He produced a business
card.
"Like I said, I'm not very good at this." He placed the card on
the table in front of Victor. "If you ever want to... well... I'd like
to take you out some time. Just call me if you'd like." He extended his
hand once more. "I have to get back to my family."
Vic took his hand and smiled. He picked up the card with his free
hand.
"Thanks."
The one word brought a very big smile from the man before he turned
and walked back to his table.
A moment later Mac slid back into his seat.
"What did that guy want?"
"Who was on the phone?" Vic looked into his coffee cup.
Mac laughed. "That was LiAnn. She was fanging me about taking
you out to dinner without including her. Whoa, is she pissed!"
"She's not the only one," Vic said and turned to look at Mac.
"What?" The smile faded quickly from Mac's face.
"You want to know what that guy wanted?"
"I asked, didn't I." Mac's tone was growing defensive as he watched
the color flare across Vic's cheeks.
"He thought you'd left. He was hitting on me. Seems this place
accommodates upscale gays. There's dancing later, but I guess you knew
that."
Mac flashed that ingratiating kid grin, but it was only half-hearted.
He knew he'd been caught big-time.
"That was supposed to be a little surprise."
"It's turned out to be a big lie."
Victor took his wallet from his inside jacket pocket. He fished
out a pair of big bills and placed them on the table in front of Mac.
"There's my half of the meal." He started to rise but Mac grabbed
his arm, stopping him.
"Vic, this is my treat." He pushed the money back towards Vic
who didn't touch it. "It's your birthday. I'm getting this."
"You're not getting it at all. I don't like to be played for
a fool."
Vic jerked his arm out of Mac's grasp as best he could without
drawing attention to them; then he stood and walked away.
Mac found Victor sitting in the car. He looked away as Mac entered.
"You forgot your coat," he told him as he draped the garment along
the minimal backseat of the sports car.
"It's your coat," Vic replied, his tone flat and dismissive.
"Vic, please don't do this." Mac reached out to touch him but
Victor moved his arm away.
"Just drop me at home."
"Can't we at least talk about this? It's not fair that you always
pull this silence crap on me when things don't go your way."
Victor turned in the seat. He glared at Mac his eyes bright and
narrowed with anger.
"You've got a lot of goddamn balls to say something like that
to me. This whole night has been about you." He punched the eject button
on the in-dash CD player and snatched the disk that popped out. "We listened
to this noise, Rocket Cramps or Monkey Crap or whatever the hell this trash
is called all the way over here tonight."
He held the CD up, the parking lot lights glinting off the silver-tone
surface.
"You know I hate this stuff. You were certainly thinking of me
there." He flung the CD and it clattered against the back window.
"Hey, that's an import," Mac protested as he glanced to see where
the disk had landed. "They're hard to come by." The words trailed off as
he looked back at Vic and was met with an angry scowl. "I took you to the
nicest place I know where we could really be out together."
"I don't want to be out Mac. My sexuality is my private business."
"I'm not ashamed to let people know I'm with you," Mac challenged.
"You're an incredible looking guy, when you're dressed right. I leave you
alone for a couple of minutes, and somebody is already after you. Somebody
who is pretty damn sharp himself."
"When I'm dressed right?" Vic shook his head. "That's really what
this is all about, isn't it? You just want me to be the right accessory
for you. You treated women that way; why should I think it would be any
different with me."
Mac reached in the back seat and held up the coat.
"I bought this coat for..."
Vic cut him off. "You bought all these clothes for yourself. Ever
since we first picked out cloth for this suit you've been treating me like
some life-size Ken doll. You gave me these things so you could play dress-up
with me."
"Can I help it if there's a dress code at this restaurant? And
you wouldn't be allowed in wearing those thrift-store rags you're so fond
of," Mac shot back.
"I never wanted to come here in the first place," Vic bellowed.
"I didn't know that," Mac said quietly.
"That's a fucking lie, and you know that. I told you all I wanted
to do on my birthday was go to Parker's for ribs and spend the evening
at the Blue Note listening to music. You asked me what I wanted to do four
different times. I think each time you hoped I'd change my mind. You knew
damn well what I wanted. You are just too fucking self- centered to do
anything but what Mac Ramsey wants."
"I'm trying to show you there's more to life than watching sports
on television, drinking watery beer and wearing the same pair of cheap
jeans." Mac's voice escalated to a frustrated crescendo.
Vic gave him a bitter smile. "You know, if there is a woman in
this so-called relationship it's you. All you've tried to do from the minute
we got together is change me."
Mac stiffened at the comment.
"Vic, I'm tired of you always saying that I'm an insult to your
perfect, fucking masculinity. Especially, since you're so insecure about
it you can't even admit we have sex. You have to pretend it's some perverted
sadistic game."
Mac saw the reaction, the shadow that washed over Vic's face and would
have given anything to take back his words.
"Vic... I... ah..."
Victor reached for the door handle and froze as Mac grabbed his
arm.
"Vic don't leave. Let me make it up to you."
Vic didn't look at him, he didn't move. His voice was low and
deadly when he spoke.
"Let go of me Mac, or I'm going to say some things you don't want
to hear."
There was no resistance, this time, as Vic turned and opened the
door.
Mac sat in stunned silence for a few minutes. But then he gathered
up the cashmere coat Vic had left and went off to find him. He didn't have
to go far. As he rounded the corner of the restaurant Vic was standing
out front. For just a second Mac thought he was waiting for a cab, and
that he could persuade him to get back in the car and let Mac take him
home.
Then he heard the introductions as Vic met the two women who were with
the man from the restaurant. Mac heard Vic's voice rise in interest. He
knew the tone; he knew the reaction Vic could evoke when he turned his
attention on someone. In a moment everyone was smiling and each women seemed
to take turns touching Vic's arm as they spoke with him.
Mac felt like he was anchored to the sidewalk. He clutched the
coat to his chest and watched as the man clapped Vic on the back and Vic
turned and smiled at him as well.
How could Vic just walk around a corner and out of his life? Mac was
numb and racked with pain at the same time. The conflict froze him not
giving him an option but to watch these people take Vic away from him.
What could he do? Storm up and make a scene? Vic would have a fit. Vic
didn't like him when he was being nice let alone... A small gasp shook
him. The words had come so easily, the most natural thing to think. Vic
didn't like him. How many times, when they first met and were fighting
for possession of LiAnn, had Vic told him that? Later, when they began
to make love and brought each other to the edge of exhaustion it had become
a joke. "I don't even like you," Vic would say with a slaked smile, and
Mac would respond with a contented sigh, "Don't like you much, either."
The phrase that had started in hatred had grown to be the substitute for
the words they couldn't say. Mac had never thought it could go full circle,
but standing here, watching Vic give the attention that Mac craved so badly
to strangers, he was afraid it was true. Vic didn't like him.
A limousine pulled up and as the door was opened the two women entered.
Then Vic was ushered into the car as well.
Mac watched the car pull slowly away from the curb. Traffic was heavy.
He'd have no trouble following them.
Vic wedged himself into the corner of the elevator as it rose
to the fourth floor and his apartment. He was in a foul mood and glad to
be alone. Mac had pissed him off for the last time.
He lashed out and slammed his fist into the elevator wall. The car vibrated
from the impact.
It had been all he could do to play nice during the limo drive
home. Ross never asked what happened; why he was waiting for a cab, but
he was a little too pleased that Vic needed a ride, and he was a way too
insistent that Vic should join the three of them when his family went skiing
next week. Vic wanted to tell him he wasn't interested in guys, only in
one guy.
The thought made him cringe. As the elevator doors opened he walked
through, shaking his head. He only wanted to be with Mac, and Mac would
only be satisfied if they wound up having their hair done together.
Vic took his keys from his pocket. This was best. It was over. He'd
been alone before and lived to tell about it. He'd been alone a lot and
hated it. He stood for a moment and swallowed trying to rid himself of
the idea. He should be standing here with Mac trying to fish his keys out
of his pocket as Mac pushed him against the wall, teasing and licking and
biting while Vic struggled to unlock the door.
Vic jerked his head a little as the image generated a blush across
his cheeks. Things were just too complicated with Mac. This was best.
He slid the key in the lock and eased open the door. The lights
he'd turned off were on and a figure moved towards him. Vic's hand rose
to the inside of his jacket.
"Leave the piece alone, Vic," the tall dark-haired man said as
he stepped in front of him. He held out an ID badge.
Vic recognized it as Agency issue but kept his hand on the gun. He looked
at the badge then at the fellow smiling hopefully at him. It was the same
guy. He was olive skinned and handsome in an exotic way, Greek or maybe
Latin, it was hard to tell. He was dressed in fitted gray slacks and a
royal blue V-necked sweater that gave him a casual elegance. Vic knew the
type. This was the sort of slick, always-at-ease bastard that instantly
made Vic feel like a dork. He was in no mood for this.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Elliot Hampton." He held out an envelope with Vic's name written
on it in the Director's unmistakable handwriting.
Vic slumped.
"What does she want?" His hand left the gun and he began to pull his
tie off as he pushed past Elliot and walked into the living room.
"You could look at the card and find out," Elliot suggested as
he followed Vic across the room.
Vic took off his jacket and tossed it across the back of the couch.
He stripped off his gun and holster, depositing them on the coffee table.
During all this Elliot stood patiently offering the card.
Finally, with a disgusted grunt Vic took it.
He slipped the card from the envelope and read it.
"Section Six," he said, a note of skepticism rising in his voice.
"I thought that was some...myth or something." He looked up from the card.
"The agency's version of a dirty joke."
Elliot smiled pleasantly at him and held out his hands as if showing
himself off.
"I'm very real, and so is Section Six."
Victor's eyes narrowed. "Then that would make you an agency whore."
Elliot lowered his hands.
"My, my Vic. I never knew you had such a mean streak. Actually,
that would make me your birthday present."
"I'm not interested," Vic said as he dropped the card on the coffee
table and walked into the kitchen in search of a beer. "Get out."
"I can't, Vic. She sent me here for you, well, you and Mac. Where
is Mac, by the way?"
"Ask someone who cares," Vic said as he walked back into the living
room, beer in hand.
"Oh, does that mean you..."
"It means I'm not interested in adding to her video collection.
Now, get the hell out before I put you out."
"You mind if I have a beer?" Elliot asked and motioned towards
the kitchen.
Vic stopped on his way to the bedroom and turned, frustration
balling his free hand.
"You've got more nerve than a sore tooth, don't you?"
"Is that a yes?" Elliot was standing next to the couch and picked
up the jacket slung across the back. "You want me to hang this up for you?"
He held the jacket out and admired the garment. "Great suit." He gently
draped the jacket over his arm. "Bedroom closet?"
"Don't bother. I'll never wear it again," Vic snapped. "Now, about
you leaving?"
"You look terrific in it." Elliot smiled. "But I actually like
you better in jeans and that leather jacket of yours."
Vic gave a bitter laugh. "You're the only one."
"You look tense," Elliot said as he walked over to stand next
to Vic. "Maybe I could give you a massage and relax you." He smiled again.
"I give a great massage."
Vic threw up his hands with frustration.
"Why am I not surprised. Where'd she find you Elliot? In a bathhouse,
massage parlor or just a brothel?"
"In point of fact, Vic," Elliot's voice took on note of anger.
"I was teaching English 101 at a local Community College. I found myself
frustrated and bored. You see, I have a useless liberal Arts degree, worse
yet a pathetically useless Master's degree with a thesis on Cavalier poetry.
I was, how does that little ditty go? Underpaid, oversexed and over the
Director's knee, in that private club she frequents when career opportunity...
ahem... arose. I understand she found you in prison."
"That's it!" Vic snatched the jacket from over his arm.
"Good, so we're through insulting each other?" Elliot asked. He
took the jacket back and headed for the bedroom.
"Hey," Vic called, but the man ignored him and disappeared into
the bedroom. Vic shook his head. "Fuck this, noise!" He put his beer bottle
on the coffee table and prepared to throw this jerk out.
"That's not my bed!" He shouted the moment he entered the bedroom.
There in place of his comfortable, pressboard photo-veneered double bed
was a gigantic, brushed-aluminum monstrosity.
"She thought yours wasn't adequate." Elliot threw over his shoulder
as he hung up Vic's jacket.
"It's huge." Vic said, his voice wavering between disbelief and
anxiety
"You're lucky it fits in the bedroom." Elliot came to stand beside
him. "If it hadn't I think she would have packed the place up and moved
you into a bigger apartment." He flashed a skeptical smile "That would
have been fun, trying to convince you to move on top of everything else.
Elliot ran a hand over the brushed aluminum foot that rose in
a wave, supported by posts of differing diameters, a smaller version of
the headboard. "It's a little stark and techno looking for my taste but
I understand it is a very good bed."
"What's this?" Vic picked up the padded cuff of a brown leather
restraint attached to one of the metal posts. As he looked he noticed the
three others positioned strategically at the other side of the foot and
each side of the headboard. "Is she using these instead of bows on gifts,
now?"
"She said you were into that."
"How the hell does she know what I'm into?"
Elliot shrugged and gave a faint smile. "She knows everything,
about all of us, Vic." His voice trailed off as Vic lowered his head and
silently acknowledged that no one who worked for the Director had any secrets
from her.
Elliot eased his arm around Vic's shoulder and squeezed his arm.
"Don't!" Vic jerked away. He raised his hand in warning. "Don't, touch
me."
Elliot raised his hands as well, in an attempt to fend off the
anger that burned in Vic's eyes.
They both jumped when the phone rang.
"This is Vic. You got the machine. Means I must not be here. Leave
a message. I'll get back to you."
The beep sounded and Vic dropped his head. He knew who was on
the other end of the line even before the insistent voice started
"Vic it's, me." Mac's voice sounded stressed even through the tinny
speaker. "Pick up the phone." There was a silence that seemed to last forever
as Mac waited for him to answer and Vic waited for him to hang-up. "I
know you're up there. I saw you go in." There was another pause. "Vic,
I have to talk to you."
After the last angry plea, Vic walked to the phone.
"I don't know what I did that was so awful, but I'm sorry," Mac
entreated his voice rising with frustration. "Vic, you can't do this to
me!" There was a thud as if something had been struck. "Goddamn it, Victor!
Pick up the phone!"
Vic reached for the phone. In one fluid motion he picked up the receiver,
reached to the cradle and broke the connection. He placed the receiver,
off the hook, on the end table and turned to Elliot.
"What did you have in mind?"
Elliot beamed at the sudden change of circumstances. "Anything!
Anything you want, baby."
Vic snatched him up by the front of his sweater.
"Don't call me that!" he growled.
The smile had vanished and Elliot managed to ease himself out
of Vic's grasp. He straightened his clothes and glanced at Vic whose breathing
was still short and angry.
"Is that what Mac calls you?"
Vic scowled and raised his hand again in warning. "Just don't
call me that or I'll throw your ass out of here."
"Whatever you want, Vic," Elliot agreed. "It's just... Are you
really sure you don't want Mac here? I was sent..."
"The question is," Vic cut him off, "are you sure you want to
be here? Because if you keep talking about shit I don't want to hear you're
going to wear out you welcome damned fast. So, you want to be here?" Vic
challenged.
Elliot took a tentative step towards him.
"Do I want to be here? I beat out sixteen other agents, who would
have done just about anything, to be the one standing here tonight." His
voice was low and seductive as he drew out the last words into a sultry
whisper.
He snaked his hand around Vic's neck and pulled him close, barely grazing
his mouth with a teasing kiss.
"Now, you tell me," he said softly his lips close enough to Vic's
to make the man twitch with anticipation at each word, each kiss promised
but not given. "Do you want me here?"
Vic crushed Elliot to his chest in answer to the whispered question.
His mouth covered the others, sucking and probing. In a moment Elliot had
taken the kiss from him. Finally, they broke; foreheads pressed together
panting gently as they still held each other tightly.
"Nice," Elliot praised, in quiet astonishment. "You're a prize,
alright."
"I... I..." Vic started. His anger was draining away, and an uneasy
embarrassment was quickly overcoming him.
"What?" Elliot asked when he didn't continue. He took Vic's face
in his hands. "What do you want, Vic?" He dusted soft kisses over the corners
of Vic's mouth as he spoke, till he coaxed a shy smile from the other man.
"I've never..." He laughed softly and looked at the ceiling before
he could speak again. "I've never... not with other guys...just..."
"I know," Elliot said trying to put him at ease. "I know men aren't
your thing." He feathered more kisses over his lips before Vic could stammer
anything else. "That's what makes you so special to me."
Victor caught him up in another crushing kiss. At the end of this
one, Elliot took him by the hair and pulled Vic's head back so he had to
look at him.
"What do you want, Vic?" He gave Victor's head a short, insistent
shake. "What do you want me to do?"
"Make me forget," Vic answered in a husky whisper. "I want you
to take me out of my head. I want to just be in the sensation and have
nothing else matter."
"You want to try the bed?" Elliot suggested. He moved his hands
from Vic's hair and trailed his open palms over the soft fabric of other
man's shirt, in quiet admiration. "Because I'd bottom for you. I'd let
you do anything to me."
Vic shook his head. "No. I don't feel up to that." He looked at
Elliot for just a moment, and then he lowered his eyes as shyness rouged
his cheeks. "But you could do it to me."
"Really?" Elliot hoped the gulping swallow that had accompanied
the word wasn't as loud as it had sounded in his head.
Vic put his mouth next to Elliot's ear and began to whisper.
"I want you to make me crazy." His words were said as a hesitant
appeal. This was a man who knew exactly what could be drawn from his body,
but he was almost afraid to ask for it. "I want you to play with me, bring
me to the edge and then deny me. I want to be tormented till I don't know
where I am or who I am. I want a long, slow perfect tease that makes me
forget Ma.. my name."
Elliot gasped in a breath as Vic finished. "Are you certain that's
what you want?"
Victor raised his head and narrowed his eyes. "You can't do it?"
he threw at Elliot.
Elliot rose to the challenge by slowly pulling Vic's shirt out
of his pants.
"I can do things you never dreamed of my vanilla boy." He stared
till Vic finally turned his head as his cheeks glowed red again.
"Bedroom," Elliot told Vic and pulled him along by the front of
his shirt.
"Any rules?" Elliot asked as he unbuttoned Vic's shirt.
"No humiliation. No pain." Vic moaned as Elliot's hands brushed
over his bare chest. "If you hurt me," he managed, "I'll hurt you back.
I have a temper. It's how I'm wired."
Elliot kissed him softly. "I won't hurt you. I'll only do what
you want."
"Don't stop when I tell you to." The words rushed from Vic.
Elliot took a step back and looked at him.
"You want a word, a safe word?"
Vic shook his head. "No word. I just want to be out of my head."
Elliot put his hands back on Vic, running his fingertips over
his shoulders under the finely woven shirt. Slowly, he eased the garment
off as he leaned against him, his lips by Vic's ear.
"You have to tell me a secret."
Vic shivered as Elliot's fingers traced down his back.
"What secret?"
"You have to tell me about one secret place, that if you loose
interest, I can do a little exploration and pump up the intensity."
Vic was silent.
Elliot brushed his lips over Vic's ear.
"You're going to trust me to cuff you to that bed. Trust me with
just one secret place." He moved to Vic's mouth and kissed him tenderly.
"I won't torment you there. I'll just use it if things get dull."
"My legs." Vic looked at the ceiling for a moment, then lowered
his head. "The inside of my legs... thighs. Just the middle, not the back."
"Is it a really good spot?"
"I stroke myself there. When I jerk off. It makes me come." Vic's
voice trailed off as his face flushed again.
"Good." Elliot rewarded him with another kiss. "Put your hands
on your head."
Victor raised his arms and laced his fingers together over the
top of his head.
Elliot stroked him gently, slowly, lowering his caress to Victor's
Gucci belt. He unfastened the sleek gold buckle. He carefully undid the
zipper over the heated bulge in Vic's pants. When the pants were open,
he let them drop to the floor.
"Step out," he instructed. Vic took a step to the side. In a moment
Elliot had his shoes and sock off as well, and was stroking his ass under
the silk boxers he still wore.
"You need these?" But he'd slipped the forest green shorts off
before Vic could answer. He stepped out of them, as well, without being
asked.
Elliot stood back and admired him for a moment. Then he leaned
in and stroked the back of Vic's cock as he kissed him. A sudden gasp at
the sensation broke off the kiss.
"You're a healthy boy," Elliot told him.
"I haven't had any complaints."
Elliot laughed softly at the unexpected comeback.
"I bet you haven't." He kissed him once more and was surprised
again when Vic kissed him back. He knew Vic was bothered tonight. He had
seen the composite tape the Director had given him of Vic, at his best,
playing with Mac. The slightly mocking dominance of the last kiss gave
him a taste of what it must be like to be topped by Victor Mansfield. He'd
have to do him justice tonight. "Get on the bed."
Elliot quickly stripped off his own clothes as Victor lay down.
Vic didn't make any effort to stretch out but kept his arms at his side.
And as Elliot approached the bed he could see that his erection was fading.
"Is this what you want, Vic?" He'd give him one more chance to
back out.
Victor closed his eyes and clutched the copper colored quilted
bedspread in his fists. "Make me scream."
Elliot took a deep breath. He thought for a second he was going
to scream at the very idea of taking this gorgeous man to those levels
of pleasure.
"There and beyond," he vowed aloud and secured Victor to the bed.
Elliot explored Vic's body with his mouth and his hands teasing
at his mind with lurid suggestions of what he might do. Vic was moaning
and writhing within the confines of his bonds. A delicious heat was rising
from him as Elliot sensitized his skin. He found a particularly good place
around the deeply indented navel that made Vic buck and his cock weep when
Elliot licked him there. He was tantalizing the spot by gently scraping
his teeth across the skin while he feathered his fingertips up the underside
of Vic's shaft, when he heard his cell phone ring.
Vic pitched forward at the sound.
"Don't answer it," he said his voice low and heavy with arousal.
"Nothing's going to stop me," Elliot promised with a wicked grin.
He returned to the spot with added fervor and Vic was gasping as the phone
stopped ringing.
In a moment the phone started again. This time in a rhythmic ring,
two short rings one long.
"Shit!" Elliot spit out the word.
"Don't," Vic said, barely able to say the one word.
Elliot ignored him and rose from the bed. He reached for something
on the new glass and chrome nightstand next to the bed. There were several
things resting there that Elliot had set out when he first arrived.
He came back to the bed, the phone still ringing tenaciously.
He tunneled his hand around Vic's stiffened cock and stroked him teasingly,
with just enough pressure to stimulate every nerve but give no satisfaction.
Victor moaned out his frustration.
"Hold that thought, Lover," Elliot told him and snapped something
on around the base of his dusky cock.
Vic arched up as if in orgasm.
"You may think you're going to come," Elliot whispered to Vic,
"but there is no way with that baby on."
Vic thrust his hips up in a useless parody of sex.
"What? No one ever used a cock ring on you? You're in for some
fun tonight. You think you've been on the edge before, you're going to
be dangling over the precipice with this."
The phone continued to ring.
"Enough!" Elliot snapped as he rose from the bed. "Bitch," he
mumbled as he neared the suede and brushed aluminum chair that had come
with the bed. His jacket was draped over the back. He retrieved his cell
phone from an inside pocket and flipped it open.
"Yes," he said in a disgusted tone. He listened for a moment.
"Well, we're a little busy right now."
After another minute of silence he responded, "It is his birthday."
He only listened for a second. "He doesn't want that." Pause.
"Because he told me. He told me what he wants and believe me he's not
part..."
Elliot drew in an annoyed deep breath as he was cut off and shifted
the phone to his other ear.
"That's not what I'm saying." Pause. "I've never questioned..."
Elliot held the phone out at arm's length and whispered vehemently,
"And may a house fall on your sister." He put the phone back to his
ear. "What? No, I didn't say anything." He grimaced as the conversation
continued on the other end of the phone. "Yes. Yes," he finally conceded.
"I'll do it as soon as you let me off the phone. What?" His brows rose
with surprise. "Thank you. It's not difficult to be creative with him.
Hello? Hello?"
He snapped the phone shut.
"That woman has the social skills of a marauding barbarian."
Elliot reached down and snagged his own silk shorts that he'd
discarded on the floor. He pulled them on and went to kneel on the bed
next to Vic.
"Don't leave me," Vic managed as he tossed his head from side
to side. "Don't leave me like this."
Elliot held his head still. "I have to do something." He kissed
him, running his tongue between the parted lips. "I won't be more than
five minutes."
Vic moaned a protest.
"I promise," Elliot assured him and rose from the bed.
He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He walked through
the living room and picked up both his ID and the Director's birthday card
on his way. Elliot took a deep breath and looked himself over, before his
hand went to the doorknob.
"Thanks," he said sarcastically when he noticed his lack of erection
as he smoothed his shorts.
He opened the door just as Mac was about to knock. He put his
badge up at eye level for the startled man to read and thrust the card
into his hand. He grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him into the apartment.
"I'm Elliot Hampton. The Director sent me as a birthday present
for Vic." He shook his head correcting himself. "She sent me for Vic and
you."
Mac looked up from the card. "Section Six? I thought that was
a joke."
Elliot gave an exasperated shrug. "Why does everyone say that?"
Mac tossed the card aside and scowled. "Where's Vic? Why are you
in your underwear?"
"Vic's in the bedroom and..." Before Elliot could continue Mac
turned and had his hand on the doorknob.
Elliot took hold of him and made him stop.
"Look, I'm here for both of you." He didn't really want to say
it but knew it was expected of him. "Vic really wants to be with you tonight.
He's mad about something, he wouldn't tell me what, but you're the one
he wants."
Mac turned slowly. "Did he say that?"
"Trust me Mac, he doesn't have to. It's really obvious." Elliot
reached out and took the coat from over Mac's arm. His eye's widened as
he touched the soft fabric. "Luscious coat."
"Hugo Boss," Mac said. "It's Vic's birthday present. One of them, anyway.
One of the many he doesn't want." His voice trailed off into a sad sigh.
"The suit was yours?"
Mac nodded.
"You have great taste." Elliot reached out and pulled him into
a seductive kiss.
Mac pressed his hands against Elliot's chest and levered him away.
"Great taste in clothes," Elliot continued in a teasing whisper,
"even better taste in men. He's in the bedroom waiting for you. Come in
there with me, and I'll teach you things to do with him that will drive
both of you insane."
"You were here alone with him..." Mac started.
"I'm here for both of you," Elliot insisted. "You just showed
up fashionably late."
"He doesn't want me. You're proof of that."
Elliot moved close again, despite the pressure Mac exerted to
push him away.
"Let's talk about what you want. Vic likes to be boss doesn't
he? He always wants to top you."
Mac stopped pushing and looked at Elliot with startled, wide eyes.
"I'm offering you a chance to make Vic feel the things you feel
when he teases you till you can't take it anymore. Why not give him a birthday
present you both need."
Mac studied him for a moment before he answered. "He won't let
me. He takes it away from me even when he loses."
"He's in no position to argue, Mac." Elliot stepped around behind
Mac and took off his jacket. "Help me, Mac. Help me make him crazy."
Mac turned and didn't protest as Elliot eased off his tie. In
a few moments Mac's clothes were in a pile atop Vic's coat on the couch.
He and Elliot were pressed against each other, hands inside shorts, tongues
exploring the sensitive spots in the other's mouth.
"You have fantastic lips," Elliot told him as he rubbed against
the other man's thigh. Mac was talented and not the least inhibited, unlike
Vic. Elliot's erection was coming back nicely. "Let's not keep Vic waiting."
Mac froze in the doorway at the sight of Vic spread on the bed,
cock dusky and weeping, head thrashing as he moaned and struggled against
the restraints.
"Vic, I have another birthday present for you," Elliot said as
they entered the bedroom.
"It hurts," Vic drew out the words as he tried to roll his hips.
"You promised it wouldn't hurt."
Elliot sat on the bed beside him and grasped Vic's erection. A
needy gasp escaped from Vic as Elliot flexed his fingers, kneading the
heated member.
"It's all part of the tease, Lover. It doesn't really hurt, it's
just that the pleasure is getting extreme. You know, hurts so good."
Vic was tried to thrust himself into Elliot's fist as it surrounded
him. His efforts only served to tire him as Elliot kept the pressure firm
but unproductive.
"There's someone here to see you." Elliot motioned Mac to join
him on the bed.
As Mac moved into sight Vic bucked upward.
"I don't want him here," he yelled.
Elliot put both hands on his chest and pressed Vic back onto the
mattress.
"Vic, you can say that but we both know he's the only one you want."
"No." Vic shook his head. "No, stop."
"You set the rules. I'm not going to stop when you ask. And if
you ever want to come you're going to have to take both of us."
"I'm sorry, Vic," Mac murmured.
Elliot grabbed his shoulder. "Don't. He's yours. You don't apologize
for anything. You make him beg."
"He's too stubborn," Mac stated.
"And we're patient," Elliot cooed and gave Mac a lingering kiss.
Vic bucked again under them.
"Doesn't want you," Elliot said to Mac, "and apparently doesn't
want anyone else to have you. We need to teach Vic how to appreciate his
friends. You take that side." He pointed to his left. "We'll start at the
top. Simultaneous stimulation from two different sources is very distracting."
Elliot smiled at Mac who suddenly realized what was being asked
of him and returned the smile.
"Be creative," Elliot told him as he reached for Vic's hand.
The two men grasped Vic's hands and spread the finger's. They
gently explored his palm with their tongues and finger's till Vic was moaning
and writhing. They both moved down his arms, planting teasing kisses between
bites and tickling licks. Vic alternated between angry grunts as he tried
to control himself and stifled laughter.
Elliot was about to take a nipple in his mouth when Mac reached
out and stopped him.
"He doesn't like that."
"Yes he does, Mac." Elliot thought back to how readily Vic had
reacted to being stroked there as he was undressing him. "He just won't
admit it. Watch."
Elliot pointed toward Vic's rigid cock as he clamped his mouth
over an erect nipple and sucked. After a few swirls of his tongue pearls
of moisture appeared on the tip.
Elliot propped himself on one elbow and smiled at Mac.
"He doesn't like it because it makes him leak. Now you know the secret.
Vic doesn't like to lose control. We have to get him past that."
Mac smiled back his agreement and began to work on Vic's other
nipple, drawing a low moan from him.
They worked down Vic's body making sure there wasn't an inch of
flesh that hadn't been visited by lips or fingertips.
They paused occasionally to kiss each other and found themselves lying
across Vic's stomach as they teased over each other's lips. Vic's heated
cock bobbed next to their cheeks. Elliot rubbed his hair gently against
the back of the shaft. Victor shivered at the touch.
Elliot moved away from Mac and positioned himself with Vic's cock
between them.
"Come here, Luscious."
Mac moved closer and their lips met around the sensitive head. Vic groaned,
then bucked uncontrollably as their tongues darted out to play. Each kiss,
each probing tease included the flaring, hypersensitive head of Vic's cock.
First Mac, then Elliot would suck the cap into his mouth as they kissed.
The gentle slide of the other man's lips, the needy cries from Vic, and
the desperate, hot weeping from the tortured head was proving too much
for all of them.
Elliot pulled back and pushed Mac away.
"You're too good at this." He smiled at the other man and ran
a finger over his swollen lips.
"Not bad yourself," Mac returned the compliment.
"I think we better slow it down," Elliot told him.
Victor groaned and writhed at the notion.
"I can't... Please..." The words tumbled from him with nearly
incoherent need.
Elliot leaned over him a hand on each side of his head.
"I'm not talking about you, Gorgeous. We're the ones who can't
take much more of this. We don't have help," he reached down and tapped
the tight cock ring, "to keep us in check."
Elliot reached over and unsnapped the top of Mac's maroon boxers.
"Take those off and show Vic what he's done to you."
He moved back and let Mac in to straddle Vic's chest.
"Another healthy boy," Elliot pointed out.
"Maybe I should show you how good it can feel," Mac teased as
he took himself in hand and began to stroke. Vic moaned and squeezed his
eyes shut at the sight of what he was being denied.
Elliot pulled Mac's hand away.
"Don't do that. Although it would tease him out of his mind to
see you come. Save that for sometime you're alone. I've got another idea.
It'll take a little more time but you'll like it a lot better."
Elliot rose from the bed and went towards the door.
"Don't touch anything," he joked to Mac as he left. He stopped
at the doorway and leaned back into the room. "But stay there and let him
look at you, and remind him of how hard he is."
In a couple of minutes Elliot returned with a bowl of warm water
and a few terry cloth dishtowels. He put the water by the foot of the bed
and stepped into the bathroom for a moment. He walked back out carrying
two bath towels.
Mac was rubbing his rigid dick slowly down Vic's chest, while
Vic squirmed under him.
"If you come it will ruin everything," Elliot warned in a conversational
tone.
"This is driving him crazy," Mac said his face alight with a wicked
smile.
"Yeah? What's it doing to you?" Elliot taped him on the shoulder.
"Come on, get off him. We have bigger things in store."
Mac rolled off Vic and lay beside him. His hand traced absentmindedly
over Vic's chest as he watched Elliot work one of the fleece towels under
Vic's butt. After a moment Elliot was washing between Vic's cheeks with
one of the dishtowels and the warm water.
Vic moaned at the touch and tossed his head.
Mac had hold of Elliot's wrist as soon as he realized what he
was doing.
"Don't! He doesn't... I hurt him doing that."
Elliot moved his wrist out of Mac's grasp.
"I know what hurt him, Mac. I'm going to show you how to make
him feel good, how to make both of you feel good; I'm just washing him.
Look at his face."
Elliot dipped the towel again and stroked Vic who bucked at the
sensation.
"That's not pain. He's very responsive. It's just like before,
Mac. He doesn't like to lose control. The pleasure takes control from him."
Elliot put his hand on Mac's arm and directed him towards Vic. "Kiss him
for awhile. I'm going to get him ready."
Mac lay next to Vic and kissed him gently. Vic moved his mouth
open with an unspoken plea for more. Suddenly he cried out and tossed his
head.
Mac looked down and saw Elliot's head buried between Vic's legs.
"What are you doing?" He was about to stop him when Elliot looked
up.
"You know what rimming is?"
"Yes," Mac replied, a little stunned that Elliot's tongue licking
at Vic's ass could draw such an intense response.
"Our friend has a real sweet spot down here. When you two get
the hang of this, he's going to be begging you for it."
Elliot returned to lick and suck at Vic.
Victor could barely stand the softly intense sensation from the
knowledgeable tongue that teased at him. His body was on overload, and
his mind was, as he'd wanted, gone. Each touch was like electricity mixed
with feathers, and even as he begged for it to stop, he wanted it to continue
forever.
Mac was kissing him, caressing him and touching the places that
only he knew about. Vic moaned and gasped, not certain whether he was saying
things out loud or just thinking them in the sexual dreamtime where he
floated.
Then the prodding made him jump. Not from pain but from the incredible
pleasure that was being stroked from his flesh. Mac was kneeling with Elliot
and they were taking turns doing something. That something sparked through
his being and threatened to tear him apart with its strength of sensation.
They stretched him further each time. Each time it threatened pain, but
an exquisite pleasure took its place.
"That's the spot," he heard Elliot tell Mac. "Watch his face."
As if against his will the pure, hot, raw feeling spiked in Vic.
Again and again it flashed till he lived in a moment of near orgasm as
Elliot, or was it Mac or did it even matter, touched something or some
place that he didn't even know he had.
He collapsed and nearly cried when the sensation stopped.
"He's really close," Elliot said.
Vic felt the restraints on his ankles released. His legs were
too weak to even move. He felt hands bend and spread his legs till his
feet were flat on the bed.
"You can't have too much lube on that condom," Elliot told Mac.
"Be gentle. Be slow and stay still once you get in. You'll feel like you
want to come right away, but hold off. We're going to take the top of his
head off."
Vic wasn't certain who he was but he felt a slight pressure
on that tingling spot and moved his hips down to meet it. The feeling took
his breath away as something warm and hard slipped into him. After only
a second the sparks started again and he gasped as the pressure and pleasure
was so much greater this time.
His cock was throbbing and he was surprised that more sensation
could be pulled from it.
"AHHHH," he screamed as the tightness at the base was released.
Something, a hand maybe, took its place. The grip stopped him from coming
but it was nothing like the tightness it had replaced. A sudden rush of
sensation made him cry out again. Then the warm mouth that covered him
made him jerk. The hardness in him began to move, stroking and sparking
over the spot inside him that seemed to concentrate all his sexual pleasure.
The tongue in the warm mouth began to lick and suck in time with the other.
The pleasure grew and grew like a rain squall that became louder and louder
as it beat against the windows. Suddenly, the fingers, first tips, then
nails that traced the inside of his leg broke the storm.
"Mac!" He cried out. "Mac! Oh god. Oh... Oh... oh... Mac."
Vic murmured Mac's name quietly as his orgasm subsided, certain
he could see a rainbow against his closed eyelids.
Mac panted and strained as his own climax was ripped from him.
Elliot rested his cheek against Vic's shrunken member, and watched
the sated happiness on the other man's face. He reached down with the warm
damp towel, and brought himself off with a few expert strokes.
Mac and Elliot cleaned each other and then Vic.
When the cuffs were released from his wrists Vic rolled over and
into Mac's arms, a boneless crumpled mass.
Mac hugged him protectively and looked at Elliot.
"Thanks," he said, his cheek resting against Vic's head.
"That's why I was sent here." But a note of sadness betrayed the
words.
Vic's breathing was slow and deep in just moments and he appeared
to have drifted off almost immediately.
Elliot stroked the flat of his hand over Vic's back and smiled
admiringly.
"He's beautiful isn't he?"
Mac moved his hand away.
"He's mine."
Elliot looked surprised but then nodded an acknowledgement.
"There's a lot I can teach the two of you. I love your mouth,
Mac. There are so many things I could do with those lips. I hope you'll
let me come over and play with you again."
"I'm not blind or stupid, Elliot. I know it's about Vic, with
you."
Vic stirred and turned towards Elliot, who smiled at him.
"I thought you were asleep," he said gently.
Vic rose up on his elbow and leaned towards Elliot. He kissed
him, a long slow passionate kiss.
"Thank you," Vic said softly when they broke.
It was Elliot's turn to blush. "You don't have to thank me. Believe
me, and I mean this literally when I say it was my pleasure. I just hope..."
"Thanks Elliot, but things are complicated enough with just Mac
and me. And it really is just Mac and me. There's no room for anyone else.
Even you. Sorry."
Elliot brushed his fingers over Vic's cheek. "I sort of knew that
coming in, but one look at you and people leave their better judgement
at the door."
"Thanks Elliot," Vic smiled again. "I learned so much tonight."
Elliot leaned forward and kissed him, briefly almost delicately.
"If he doesn't take good care..."
They both laughed and left the sentence unfinished.
Elliot touched his cheek once more.
"Bye Gorgeous." He gathered his clothes and walked into the other
room closing the door behind him.
Vic fell back into Mac's embrace and after a few minutes the front
door was opened and then closed. At the sound Mac squeezed Vic closer to
him.
"Still don't like me?" Mac asked.
Vic turned his face up towards him.
"I love you, Mac. I figured that out tonight."
Mac's lip trembled as he looked down at Vic, and he tried to take
in the words he never thought he'd hear.
"I love you, Vic." His words were almost a gasp. "God help me!
I love you so much."
Connected
ac straightened the silk tie he had knotted for Vic. Black, shot through
with an abstract pattern of emerald green, it went perfectly with the elegant
charcoal suit Mac had had specially tailored as Victor's birthday present.
He smoothed the collar of the finely woven ivory shirt, and took Vic by
the shoulders, holding him at arm's length.
