by Amazon X
He didn't even hear the door when Mac and LiAnn knocked and came
in. He was part way through a bottle of tequila when LiAnn used
her key to enter the apartment to see why Victor was ignoring their
calls to his apartment and cell phone. They walked in and looked
down at the man who was sprawled on his couch, in the
cheerfully-painted yellow apartment, bottle lying against his
chest, tears streaking his face.
"I'll start coffee, you get the bottle, Mac," LiAnn said, walking
into Victor's small kitchen. Mac sat next to the man who sat
slouched, legs spread akimbo, head lolling back on the couch.
"Hey, Vic, what's wrong with you?" Mac reached out for the bottle
and got a growl and a swat from the man who suddenly came to life
when threatened with the loss of his new friend, Jose Cuervo.
"Fuck off, Mac. Lemme 'lone, kay?" Victor drawled, bringing the
bottle to his lips again. Mac snatched it away and grabbed the cap
to screw back on the bottle. He took it into the kitchen and
looked at LiAnn.
"He's really drunk. This is new. What should we do?" Mac didn't
want to give too much away to LiAnn. Even though she was their
trusted partner, they kept her in the dark about their
relationship. Even though LiAnn was very open about having slept
with both men without benefit of marriage, the woman was otherwise
uptight about all things sexual. Calling her vanilla didn't quite
cover how uptight she was. They also did not need to hear how the
two men she left while engaged to them were coming together to push
her from their minds.
That couldn't be further from the truth. Both men had a hidden
bisexual history, and one night, after drinking a bit, they played.
And found that when they weren't antagonistic over LiAnn, they
were surprisingly compatible. So, they were together, albeit
secretly. Yet, both men knew that the director was fully aware
they were together. There was no way getting around that. Victor
could shoot out only so many cameras before the neighbors called
the police on him.
"Mac, something is drastically wrong if he's drinking tequila
straight from the bottle. It's not like him at all. Victor only
drinks socially with us, and then, he'll nurse a bottle of beer as
long as he can. You know he's not a drinking man, not since he
left the police department."
Mac nodded, and looked back at the man sprawled on the couch. He
walked back in and sat in the overstuffed arm chair opposite the
couch, looking intensely at his friend. "OK, Vic, you wanna get it
off your chest before you and Jose go worship the porcelain god?"
"No. Go the fuck home, Mac." Victor draped an arm over his eyes
and took a deep breath. The room began spinning and he did not
like what that would mean. He never drank tequila. He was a
Jack-on-the-rocks man. Tequila must be Mexican for gasoline, he
figured.
"We have a meeting with the director in an hour, Victor," Mac
explained. "This is something I would do, get wasted before a
meeting with Her Evilness."
"Mac, this isn't your business." Victor knew he struck a chord in
Mac's heart with that. Although the men never said the "L-word" to
each other, they both knew it was true. Guys didn't say that,
girls did. And you said it to girls to make you happy. Guys were
about fucking, hockey and beer, and Mac was learning the finer
points of why the Canucks were the greatest team on the planet,
regardless of all the cups the Habs had.
"Isn't my business? You're my fucking partner, Vic! What bothers
you bothers me. And don't forget, it bothers LiAnn about three
times as much. So, you either spill it, or we take you to the
dungeon like this."
As if on cue, the phone rang. With speed that surprised himself,
Victor beat Mac to the phone and he raised it to his ear. "What?"
"Victor," came the sickly sweet drawl of his boss, nemesis, and
savior, and at one time his lover, the Director. "You and your
partners are excused from today's meeting."
"Why thank you! How uncharacteristically kind of you."
"Call it a favor. You will owe me for this, Victor." The line
went dead after that. He threw the phone at the floor, where it
bounced off his thick area rug. LiAnn walked in with coffee, sugar
and cream on a tray and both she and Mac reached to doctor Vic's
coffee for him. Thinking better of it, Mac sat back and let LiAnn
add the single rounded teaspoon of sugar and the healthy dollop of
cream to his coffee.
"OK, Vic, time to sit up and drink some coffee," LiAnn said, trying
to get Vic to move, but he swatted at her hands, which is something
he'd never do, hit a lady, much less LiAnn.
"Hey!" Mac shouted. "Be nice, Vic, or I'll get your old cuffs
out."
"How do you know he still has handcuffs, Mac?" LiAnn asked, a
skeptical look on his face.
"Told me 'bout 'em," Mac explained quickly. She nodded, but kept
that look trained on him.
Victor reached for the coffee and his hand shook a bit as he tried
to drink it. "Thanks," he said, settling back, mug balanced
precariously on his thigh.
"So, Vic, my man, what's up? Why are you suddenly drinking
like...well, like me?" Mac asked.
"Mac, LiAnn, just...you guys can go. I'll be fine, I promise."
"No way, Vic. You gotta spill now. We're partners. Just tell
us."
"Fine! My dad's going into alcohol rehab and my mom called me to
guilt me into going to the intervention! OK! You happy now!"
Victor stood and threw his full mug at the wall, and knew he would
soon regret it.
"Victor, I'm so sorry," LiAnn said. "I know how hard this is for
you. Are you...I mean..."
"No, I'm not going. Fuck him. Not after..."
"After what, Vic?" Mac asked, uncharacteristically softly.
"Never mind, don't worry about it. OK? This is my problem, I'll
handle it."
"No, you will not. I know your dad and you have a bad past, and
that's why you left home at 16. You won't tell me what happened to
you while you were on the street, Vic. At least tell me why you
left."
LiAnn sat back and let Mac take over. Victor seemed to be
responding to him.
"Mac, look..."
"No, you look. You owe me. Tell me." The force in Mac's voice
snapped Victor awake. Victor sat up straight and pressed the heels
of his hands to his eyes. He took a last sip of his coffee and
looked at his friends.
"You want to know why my dad and I hate each other, then I'll tell
you. It's a shitty story..."
"Victor," LiAnn started, "just tell us. We'll love you no matter
what."
"OK. Well, You guys met Alice, my sister..."
"Allegra?" LiAnn asked.
"Alice, OK? Can I tell my story?"
"I'm sorry." Mac looked over at LiAnn and glared at her. She
frowned back at him.
"Well, we have a huge age difference. Alice was born when I was
about fifteen. I had a sister before her, Suzie. She
was...precious. Long golden hair like my mom, big green eyes
like..."
"Like you?" Mac said.
"Yeah, like me. Mom's eyes. Alice looks just like dad, and I
think he prefers it that way. Well, Suzie was about four and I was
eight. I had a cold and I was supposed take that orange cold
syrup. The only one that tasted remotely good. I didn't want to
because it made me sleepy and I wanted to watch some game show, I
think. I used to love game shows."
"You don't watch game shows," Mac commented. Then realized his
slip, quickly glancing at LiAnn who continued to look at Vic.
"Not anymore. I left the bottle on the counter in the kitchen.
Mum had gone to the neighbor's house to have an Irish coffee, which
my dad never lets her forget. How I was supposed to watch my
sister after taking my medicine and be sleepy, I couldn't figure
out. So, I skipped my medicine and lay on the couch to watch TV.
I didn't see Suzie get up and go to the kitchen. She apparently
got up onto the counter and drank the whole bottle of medicine and
then drifted off to sleep."
"Oh my God, Victor," LiAnn said. "You never told me..."
"I never told anyone. When my mom came home, and found the bottle
open and empty, well, we tried to wake her. We took her to the
hospital and she was in a coma, on dialysis and under close
observation. She...um..."
LiAnn leaned forward and took Victor into her arms as he started to
cry. Mac sat across the room, dying to get up and join the
comforting hug, but he knew it would make Victor more upset.
Victor pulled away and reached over to the tissue box that sat on
the side table. Mac smiled, always like Victor to be prepared.
Victor wiped his eyes and laid his head on the back of the couch.
"My dad, he never let a chance go by to berate me over something,
my grades, my friends, my hair."
"If you tell me you had long hair, Vic, I'm gonna laugh," Mac said.
LiAnn glared at him for the comment, but it had the desired
affect.
Victor smiled over at Mac and said, "No, my hair was around about
near my collar. A little floppy, I guess. My dad was a Marine, US
Corps for over twenty years, stationed at the same place. It
killed him when I went to work for the Toronto police department.
'Can't even get into an American cop outfit, can you, boy!' he'd
shout at me over the phone when I would call my mom. He wouldn't
even hold the phone, just yell across the room."
"Victor, it's over now. You're here," LiAnn began but Victor
stopped her, holding his hand up.
"My mother wants me to go the intervention. So does Alice.
And...look, fuck it, I'm not going."
"And miss the opportunity to show your father that you're better
than he is?" Mac said. "Aside from this little...foray into old
Mexico, you're a sober guy, Vic. A beer, maybe two, and you're
done. Go and show him that no matter what he's tried to do to you,
no matter what he's said, no matter how many times he hit you, you
are better than he thinks. If you go, and blow him away, maybe
you'll get all this guilt off your back, man."
"Thanks, Mac." Victor smiled and closed his eyes.
Mac stood and called LiAnn out to the kitchen. "Hey, I'll stay
here with him, clean up and let him sober up. You can take off and
see how pissed Her Meannnes is. Kay?"
"Yeah, she likes me better than you two, anyway." Mac thought back
to the nights that the Director spent in his bed, when he and
Victor had compared notes on the woman, and how the Director had
complained that LiAnn was just too heterosexual for her tastes. He
smiled and nodded, not revealing his thoughts.
After closing the door behind LiAnn, Mac went to the kitchen to get
the things together to clean up the glass and coffee that Victor
had found made a good projectile. Victor sat up and said, "Hey,
man, leave that. We'll get it tomorrow."
Mac looked over his shoulder at Victor, who was still sprawled out
on the couch. "Tomorrow? What makes you think I'll be here
tomorrow?"
"I have a sneaking suspicion that you'll be here for a while."
"Vic, man, you think what? I'm easy? You can just blink those
pretty green eyes, and pout those juicy lips and I'm all over you?"
Mac was already rising and walking to where Victor sat. He eased
beside Victor and leaned in to kiss the older man.
Victor pulled back. "I thought you weren't easy."
"I lied."
Mac leaned back down and pressed his mouth to Victor's, infusing a
kiss that smoldered between them. Victor lay back and allowed Mac
to climb on top of him to control them. Mac liked that, starting
out on top, but Victor eventually would take over, topping the boy,
all the while whispering wonderful things in his ear.
Mac reached up and began unbuttoning Victor's shirt, smiling at the
ever-present white t-shirt. Mac took hold of the collar of
Victor's shirt and tore it open down the front, smiling down on
him.
"Hey! That's my shirt, Mac!"
"I'll get you another," he said, just before leaning down to kiss
Victor again. It always amazed Mac at how soft Victor's lips were.
He never thought men's bodies were as soft and wonderful as
women's bodies. Victor's body, while fit and strong, had a layer
of thick flesh that softened angular lines into luscious curves
that begged to be touched, kissed and bitten on occasion.
Victor loved the feel of Mac's lips on his throat. Mac's mouth was
plump and pouty. The boy had quite a talent for blowjobs. The
slow progress Mac was making from Victor's mouth, across his cheek,
to his ear and down his throat was making Victor shiver in delight.
Mac continued down to Victor's nipples which weren't as sensitive
as Mac liked to think, but it felt nice to have the juicy mouth
traveling over his chest.
Slowly, past the small tuft of hair at the center of Victor's chest
and down to his fuzzy navel, Mac followed Victor's dark, downy
treasure trail to where the waist of the well-worn 501s stopped
him. "Vic, baby, these gotta go, OK?"
Victor stood, pulling Mac up with him and said, "Come on. The
supplies are in the bedroom. We can get more comfortable in
there." Victor started toward the bedroom and looked back for Mac
to follow him.
"You just wanna get me on my back so you can fuck my face, again."
"And you're arguing? Hey, you have a kind chin!" Both men laughed
until Mac charged Victor and tackled him on the bed, bouncing them
high into the air. Both men laughed heartily, slowly calming and
looking into each other's eyes.
"Vic, look...I...I can leave if you're really feeling down."
"No, Mac, stay. Make love to me, and give me something to hold
onto tonight. I...don't want to be alone."
"You got it," Mac said before bringing his mouth back down on
Victor's. Mac's hands had latched onto Victor's shoulders and were
slowly making their way down his sides, stroking and soothing the
heated skin to get to Victor's jeans. The buttons popped open
under Mac's gentle pressure and let the air into Victor's boxer
shorts, making him shiver. They were plain light blue, something
he'd worn all his life. Victor was a creature of habit, a man who
had routines and patterns to get through the days and nights of his
crazy life. Happily, though, he disrupted those routines to allow
Mac into his life.
Mac was proving to be supremely attentive that night, getting off
the bed to remove Victor's boots and socks, then pulling his pants
off and tossing them over the back of the chair in the corner.
Victor didn't complain too much when Mac made an attempt to respect
the natural tidiness of the older man. Mac took the time to remove
his own clothes, but just left them on the floor. Victor decided
it was a battle better fought another time. Mac's cock stood
proudly from his body, long and slender.
Mac took his time crawling up the bed to where Victor lay, waiting.
Mac's tongue snuck out a time or two, teasing Victor's thighs
before zeroing in on the place he wanted to be most. Victor
inhaled sharply when Mac began licking the head of his cock,
teasing him gently, just slightly before engulfing the entire organ
in one slurp. Victor just about came off the bed. Mac had a real
talent for making love.
He didnŐt spend long on that, but long enough for Victor to feel
the pressure build up in his balls as Mac swirled his tongue around
the head and under the ridge, down the underside along the thick
vein. He pulled back, and gave Victor's balls a little tug and
squeeze. "God, Mac, I hate it when you do that!" Victor shouted,
but he knew he needed it. Mac was ten years younger than him. And
even though he was only thirty two, he still had a lover in his
sexual prime to satisfy.
Mac crawled up to lay beside Victor, but instead of kissing Victor,
waiting for the older man to roll on top of him to make love to
him. Mac never admitted it, but he preferred to bottom to Victor.
Mac collapsed on the bed beside Victor and lay there a moment.
Victor reached up and brushed the few errant strands of Mac's hair
from his forehead. "What's wrong?" Victor asked quietly.
Mac sighed. "We don't talk, Vic," he said resignedly. It was
almost like he was saying it to a woman.
Victor smiled at him. "We'll talk later. I gotta come first.
Kay?"
Mac smiled again. "Yeah, baby. Get in my ass and I'll recite the
Magna Carta for you."
Victor smiled and rolled on top of his lover, nestling himself as
Mac spread his legs wide. Victor knew Mac was ready, wanted him by
the way he thrust against Victor's belly to get a little friction
on the bottom of his cock. Victor steadied his movements with one
hand and reached to the nightstand with the other. The lube was
always out, being used regularly, and they were tested for
everything regularly, so both knew the other was clean.
One thing Victor loved about being with a man was no long,
complicated foreplay. When they wanted to get right to it, they
did. If they wanted to kiss and touch, they could, but it wasn't
always necessary. He lubed his cock liberally and slid between
Mac's lush cheeks, burying himself balls deep.
"Oh, yeah, that's good," Victor moaned in Mac's ear. He pulled
back and slid forward again.
Mac pulled Victor down onto his chest and held him tightly. "Oh,
Vic, hard and fast, baby, please."
"Anything, Mac," Victor said, before beginning to thrust into Mac's
body, rocking the bed with the motion. He moved faster, slamming
his hips into Mac's thighs, not caring if he bruised them. He
could kiss them better later. Mac pulled Victor's face down to
kiss him, whimpering into his mouth as Victor battered his
prostate. The jolts became so much that Mac writhed with each
stroke, rubbing Victor's cock more. Victor knew it was getting
close so he took Mac's cock in hand and stroked him firmly, the way
Mac liked it and counted to three. At three, as if on cue, Mac
sprayed come all over Victors belly and his own. The rhythmic
squeezing on Victor's cock pulling him down the same path.
Victor collapsed on Mac's chest and smiled into the sweaty neck
pressed against his face. Mac's fingers curled around Victor's
ass, squeezing the flesh. Their mouths met again and Victor moved
to get off the bed and remove his condom. After cleaning up, he
settled back on the bed beside Mac. Mac curled up around Victor,
head above and pulling the older man to his chest.
"Thanks, Vic. That was wonderful."
"It always is. You're a great lover, Mac."
Mac looked down into Victor's eyes and couldn't help but get
another kiss from him. "You know, Vic, this is the weirdest
relationship I've ever had."
"Me too. Usually, with a girl, it's easy. Well, not so much easy,
but it's what I know."
"Me too. But you, I mean, you're..."
Victor kissed Mac's mouth quiet. "S'ok. You don't have to say
anything. Just go to sleep, OK?"
Mac smiled and settled down. He pulled Victor closer, and Victor
allowed it, and with the light out, they drifted to sleep.
ictor slammed into his apartment and threw his jacket on the
floor, knocking over a lamp in the process. The crash of the
ceramic felt good, giving fuel to his seething anger. He went to
the kitchen and when he realized he was about to rip the room
apart, his sacred temple, he stopped to take a breath and calm
down. He didn't have to let his father get to him, and he wasn't
going to make anyone suspicious at his behavior. He had a meeting
with the other agents and the director later that day. He needed
to get his emotions in hand before going there.
