by Jalabert
ou certainly know a lot about fetishes."
"I know a lot about a lot of things." Mac smiled archly as Vic handed him a glass and slipped into bed beside him. "Wine, Vic?"
Vic shrugged as Mac took a sip of wine and nodded approvingly.
"You going classy on me?"
"Not a chance," Vic replied as he took a sip. "But I took the liberty of helping myself to a few bottles from Santorini's stash before the shootout back at the warehouse."
"Why Vic, I do believe I'm beginning to rub off on you."
Vic looked down significantly.
"You could have fooled me."
"I meant that I was becoming a bad influence," Mac said with mock exasperation.
"You've always been a bad influence," Vic replied with a smile as he nestled against his bedmate. "Now, as I was saying—you seem to know a lot about fetishes."
"Yeah," Mac said absently as he rolled over and began to trace his fingers lightly over Vic"s pec.
"You came over tonight and declared that I had a fetish—a very specific fetish—after seeing me at the warehouse today. Most people probably have never heard of the term 'sploshing,' much less be able to recognize a splosher in action."
"What's your point?" Mac said as he put his glass down to free up his other hand to explore Vic's body, still moist from their recently shared shower.
"As I said: you seem to know a lot about fetishes."
"If I concede that point can we move on?" Mac asked as he bent to nibble at Vic's skin.
"How could you tell?"
"Huh?" Mac lifted his head and looked at Vic in confusion.
"How did you know I was a splosher?"
"I know you, Vic." Mac sighed and bent his head to Vic's throat.
"You only saw me get sploshed the once."
"And you had a hard-on the size of a battleship."
"Maybe that came from seeing you," Vic suggested huskily.
"So, seeing me through a veil of tomato sauce turns you on?" Mac said dryly.
"Yeah, well..."
"And then there was that food fight."
"What food fight?"
"You remember when Liann was in the hospital and she and I began using plastic spoons to catapult apple sauce at one another? You broke up the fun, but not before I noticed that you were a bit glassy- eyed and hard. For a moment I thought you were going to lick me clean."
"For a moment I thought I was going to lick you clean. But again, the defining factor was you."
"And food."
"And food," Vic said wryly. Mac kissed his smile.
"So now that we've discussed my fetishes, what about yours?"
"Then there was that night with the ice cream," Mac persisted. Vic smiled at the memory.
"I was just trying to cheer you up. You were so bummed about that case." Mac stared into Vic's eyes. "And yes, I was trying to get you out of your clothes."
"By dumping a pint of melting ice cream on yourself."
"It worked, didn't it?" Vic reasoned. It was Mac's turn to smile. "It was the start of a beautiful relationship."
"Yes it was," Mac said softly. He shared a gentle kiss with Vic.
"And I was as hard as a rock that time too—again, solely because of you."
"I didn't notice. I was too busy watching a chocolate river flowing down your chest," Mac said as his fingers danced over Vic's pecs.
"So you see," Vic said as he lifted Mac's hand and licked imaginary ice cream from his fingers, "it's not a fetish, it's you."
"And food."
Vic shrugged, more than willing to concede the point, although in his mind Mac was the only fetish he'd willingly admit to.
"But we were talking about you and your fetish."
"I don't have one," Mac repeated.
"Come on, Mac. Everybody's got some little kink. What turns you on?" He pushed Mac onto his back so that he could do a little fondling of his own.
"You mean like you and the nape of a man's neck?"
"Your neck, definitely." Vic said as he rolled Mac over a little farther so that he faced away from him. Vic spooned against Mac's back and began to nibble the area under discussion.
"Hey, I saw the way you were staring at that tall blond guy in the club the other night," Mac groused.
"Yeah and then I went home with you, didn't I?"
"But you were lusting after that guy's neck," Mac teased.
"I was looking; he had an interesting neck, all right? Your neck is the one I wanted to spend the night with." Mac chuckled, as did Vic, tickling Mac's nape and sending a tiny thrill down his spine. "It's you, Mac, just you. You're my fetish. But let's get back to talking about yours."
"I told you I didn't have one."
"Something gets you going, Mac. What gets you really hot?" Vic prodded.
"A pair of perfect breasts, a great set of legs, the sound of your voice, anything on your body—lots of things get me going, Vic. But getting one going does not a fetish make."
"Wanna bet?" Vic said as he released his hold of Mac and slipped out of bed.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back," Vic said as he disappeared from the room. Mac sighed and rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Vic returned a moment later, flipping through the pages of a large dictionary.
"Oh brother," Mac said. "You want to read now?"
"Yeah, reading dictionaries in bed really turns me on," Vic said sarcastically. "Here." He handed the book to Mac and pointed. "Read it."
fetish (fet' ish), n. 1. an object regarded as having magical power, talisman. 2. any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence or devotion: to make a fetish of sports. 3. an object or nongenital part of the body, as a shoe, undergarment, or hank of hair, that is repeatedly preferred or exclusively used for achieving sexual excitement.
"So?"
"So you really are my fetish."
"Thanks," Mac said as he returned the book. Vic rested it on the nightstand and cuddled up to Mac. "But simply being turned on by something doesn't make it a fetish."
"And I do not use food for the exclusive purpose of getting my rocks off," Vic said defensively as he nibbled at Mac's shoulder. Mac smiled.
"My neck is another matter entirely."
"Damn straight," Vic said with warmth. "So what elicits unquestioning reverence or devotion in you?"
"Nothing," Mac said, far too easily for Vic's liking. He showed his disapproval by pinching Mac's bottom.
"Ooh!" Mac crooned as he arched his body in response.
"Liked that, did you?"
Vic pinched Mac cheek a second time and after a moment he repeated the gesture yet again, this time on his inner thigh. Mac gasped and arched his body in both instances. Vic reached up to check the result of his efforts. He smiled in satisfaction.
"Found it."
"That is not a fetish. That is a natural reaction to having your body pressed against mine, especially with your dick—aah!"
Vic smiled again.
"What's the technical term for a pinching fetish? And by the way, you still haven't told me how you became so knowledgeable about them."
"This is so not a fetish," Mac said in a strained voice as Vic used both hands to arouse his partner.
"You know, I can't wait till our meeting with the Director tomorrow."
"You wouldn't dare, not that it makes a difference. I couldn't get aroused in her presence if you paid me."
"Care to make a small wager?"
"Such as..."
"Fifty bucks says you do."
"You're on."
The next day Mac gave Vic a wide berth during their meeting at the Agency. Vic observed his fidgety behavior in quiet amusement. He made no move to follow through on his threat, however.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" the Director demanded as she rose and circled the table. The three agents rose and Mac hesitated, allowing first Liann and then Vic to precede him.
"Oh and Mac?"
They were at the door when the Director called his name. He sighed and, gritting his teeth, turned around. The Director crooked her finger and he strode back across to where she stood. Vic and Liann waited for him at the door, making small talk. They spun around when they heard Mac cry out.
"Victor owes you fifty bucks," the Director said dismissively as she turned and walked away. "Maybe you can use it to buy a copy of that fetish book you were reading excerpts from on the web."
The End
