by LeFey
"What's the rush?" Mac pushed him back down. He was propped on one elbow
looking at Vic's naked body. Mac was nude too, except for the simple gray
T-shirt he'd been wearing earlier.
"That mess on the floor..."
Mac shook his head as if it didn't matter.
"I don't think explaining that the floor was ruined because you were horny..."
Vic started.
"I was horny?" Mac's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Now I wish I hadn't
cleaned it up."
"You cleaned it up?" Vic started to rise to see if it was really true. Mac
grabbed his chin, and turned his head until their eyes met.
"You can't even see where it happened. These floors are waxed and re-waxed.
The staff doesn't have anything else to do around here. It would take a year
for something spilled to even get to the wood."
Vic moved his chin out of Mac's grasp. "I can still smell the lime."
"I tossed the broken glass and the limes into the waste basket in the corner.
Stop being so fucking anal. I cleaned up the floor. Let it go."
'I'm not anal. You let that go!' was about to pop out of Vic's mouth,
but he thought better of it. He wasn't in the mood for a pissing match, and
this was the perfect set-up for a bout of am not, are too. There was
still a tingle of anger charging his nerves from the start he'd gotten at being
surprised by Mac. It was quickly turning into the old frustration that Mac was
so good at triggering in him.
"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked more sourly than he'd intended as he wiped
the back of his hand across his mouth.
Mac shrugged. "Thought you must need the sleep. Besides," he glanced away,
uncomfortable for a moment, "I haven't been around you that much lately, and it
was kind of nice just to be near you." His voice trailed off as the sentiment
brought a sudden color to his cheeks.
God, how could he be so impatient with Mac, Vic chastised himself. Mac had been
through so much, being shot, the infection and the loss of the city life that he
thrived on. Vic gave him a slight smile trying to tell him that it was good to
finally be with him as well. It wasn't enough, not by half for either of them.
Vic snagged Mac by the neck and drew him down into a kiss. He kept hold of Mac
after they parted. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to keep you away.
I never meant to make you so unhappy."
Mac pulled back and sat up, crossing his legs under him. He waved one hand as
if dismissing the whole thing, but he didn't look up. "We've never really
gotten the hang of deciphering what we mean from what we do to each other." He
looked at Vic, and then smiled. "Forget about it. You said it was over, and I
hope to God it is over."
Vic sat up and pushed himself back until he leaned against the mahogany
headboard. "I should tell you I'm sorry about something else too."
Mac started to uncross his legs. "I don't think I want to hear this."
Vic grabbed his arm. This wasn't how he had planned it. The Big Apology
was a tender, sweet moment that almost always brought him to tears. At least it
had been that way all the nights he'd rehearsed it, as he lay alone in this bed.
That big apology, however, had been given to a perfect world Mac Ramsey, not the
real one that now tugged his arm out of Vic's grasp.
"Look." Mac pointed a warning finger at him. "You've heard of that don't ask,
don't tell rule? Well, I think that's the way we should operate from now on. I
don't want to hear any apologizes about other guys. Okay?"
"What? I... just... what?" Vic tried to stammer out some translation of what
he'd just heard. This was definitely not in the Big Apologyplaybook.
"I'm trying to get past Elliot." Mac wrinkled his nose as if just the sound of
the name was offensive. "I don't want to know, even if you're apologizing,
about any other guys." He arched an eyebrow. "Or in your case maybe some women
that you've been fucking around with."
Vic leaned forward, heat prickling up his neck. He'd devoted himself to Mac the
last few months, and the guy still had doubts. "Where do you get off thinking
I'm fucking around with someone else?" It was more of a challenge than a
question.
Mac's mouth screwed up into an annoying smirk. "Well, if I remember correctly
you've been infidelity central lately."
Vic raised a warning finger. If he could just get him to shut-up, get back to
the plan, and try to get on with a heart-felt apology. His best intentions
couldn't stop his frustration getting away from him. "Christ! You are the
most..." Vic stopped himself. He took a deep breath. He had to keep reminding
himself that this was the Big Apology. He owed it to Mac, despite the
fact that he really didn't think he deserved it at the moment. "I was going to
apologize to you because I couldn't get to the shooter in time to protect you."
His words came out with a terse, staccato edge despite the way he had wanted
them to sound.
Mac gave a surprised laugh. "Is that it? Jeez, really? That's your apology?
I've had people tell me to go to hell nicer than that."
"Maybe that's what I should have said." Anger crested in Vic as he began to
slide off the bed.
Mac dove at him, wrestling him back, and securing him with an arm around Vic's
waist. Vic struggled to get out of his grasp, annoyance and resentment flashing
heat through his body.
"You're not going anywhere," Mac told him as he hooked a leg over Vic's. "New
rules, you don't fucking walk away from me, ever again!"
Mac's fingers dug painfully into Vic's side to keep him on the bed. Vic
squirmed to get away from them. "Just accept my apology, or tell me to fuck
off." He slapped at Mac's hand. "But get your damn fingers out of my ribs!"
"You going to stay?"
"Yeah, okay, I'll stay." He grunted out the words, and was finally able to grab
Mac's hand and pull it away. He held the fingers in a firm grip, and looked up
into Mac's dimpled grin. "You shit-head," Vic grumbled.
"Oh Vic, what a sweet-talker."
Vic released Mac's hand, and scooted back up the bed. "Yeah? And you're so
gracious about accepting apologies," he said as he eased himself into the pile
of pillows resting against the mahogany headboard, and rubbed the sore spot on
his side.
Mac tucked his legs under as he seated himself once more next to Vic. "What are
you apologizing for? You blew the bastard's shoulder away."
"If I'd been one step faster," he stabbed his index finger into his open palm,
"you wouldn't have been shot. You wouldn't have had the infection. You
wouldn't..."
"Jeez Vic," Mac interrupted. "You know this guilt thing you do is the same as
being conceited."
"I'm not conceited!"
"Sometimes you come off like you think you can be perfect. What's the diff?
You're not perfect, Vic. You're never going to be perfect no matter how hard
you try. You couldn't keep me from getting shot, accept it. You did keep me
from getting killed. That's the important part." Mac grinned. "At least to
me, anyway. You did as much as anyone could have done in that situation."
Vic gave an abrupt negative shake of his head. "I can't accept that."
"You can't accept that?" Mac repeated the words in an incredulous tone. "Who
do you think you are, fucking Superman?"
"If we don't continue to try to be better, what's the point?"
"When has trying ever been enough for you?" Mac marked out layers in the
air with his hand. "You set up these impossible goals for yourself, and then
you're actually surprised when you can't reach them."
Mac didn't understand. How could he? Stripper, club kid, thief; he hadn't
spent his childhood as Vic had with priests, nuns and a mother who constantly
railed at him that he could be perfect if he just tried. They had all assured
him that the only reason he wasn't perfect was because he wasn't trying hard
enough. Vic frowned, a disgusted snort curling his lips. "Then what you're
saying is that I shouldn't try do my best?"
"Your best is one thing." Mac raised a finger along with his eyebrow. "One
thing that never seems to be good enough as far as you're concerned." He
shrugged, signaling his lack of comprehension. "You want to be some big
super-hero god or something. You think you can only do your best if you're a
combo of Serpico, Mother Teresa and the X-Men all rolled into one."
"What?" Vic sat forward. "Did someone die and leave you their comic book
collection? Do you really think I'm going to have this conversation with a guy
whose philosophy of life comes from... from... cartoons?"
"Good point, Vic." Mac shot his hand out, palm displayed. "We don't need to
have this conversation at all. You don't have anything to apologize for, no
matter what Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt Catechism tells you."
Frustration rippled through him. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.
Mac should show him some understanding about how bad he felt. Yeah, right. Vic
wasn't finished yet. He knew that sometimes if he verbally smacked Mac upside
the head the importance of a situation would finally sink in, and Mac would
actually pay attention.
"Listen..."
But Mac wasn't listening. "Although, certain aspects of this
conversation are pretty interesting." Mac's fingertips crept up the inside of
Vic's bare leg. "I bet you'd be smokin' sexy in tights and a cape."
"Stop it!" Vic grabbed his fingers, and jerked them away from the goose flesh
Mac had created.
"You don't want to see my super powers?" Mac grinned. "They're working
already." He nodded towards Vic's gradually rising erection. "See, I've been
able to transform you from Mr. Limp Dick into a man of steel with the power of
my erotic touch." Mac jumped to his knees, jerking his hand out of Vic's, and
flexed as if he were in a body building competition. "Because I am the ripped
and sexy Super Hero Manly Man."
Vic laughed, despite the desire to punch Mac for teasing this annoying instant
hard-on out of him. "I think you're really the goofy side-kick Delusional Boy."
Mac stopped posing and looked thoughtfully down at Vic's crotch. "I don't know,
Vic. That looks like the handy work of an evolved being who knows how to turn
flaccid flesh into tempered metal. I'll use my pump-up vision." Mac scrunched
his face and concentrated for a moment. "Look, it's coming to life right before
my very eyes."
Vic's cock jumped despite his best efforts not to play along. He shoved Mac
away as an embarrassing heat spread over his skin making him twitch even more.
"Knock it off," he warned before Mac could speak.
Mac rocked back and folded his legs under him again. "Be careful or everyone
will take you for that closeted crime fighter Tight-Ass."
"This is stupid," Vic snarled, as his body betrayed him with a series of
tremors.
Mac snickered ruefully. "You really hate it when I turn you on when you don't
want it."
"Who says you're doing this?"
Mac smiled knowingly. His gaze drifted down Vic's body appreciating the view.
He stopped when he reached Vic's growing cock. He licked his lips like a
parched man staring at a bubbling fountain.
Vic bit the inside of his mouth trying not to react. He couldn't move his eyes
away from that perfect tongue, though, as it sensually caressed that equally
perfect mouth. Mac had barely reached the middle of his lower lip when Vic
jerked as if he'd been shocked.
Mac grinned. "Who says I'm doing this? Mr. Man does."
Vic reached out and grabbed Mac's own healthy erection. He gave it a teasing
stroke. "Your man isn't exactly quiet."
Mac arched his neck as Vic found a particularly sensitive spot and tormented it.
"I'm not trying to deny it's happening." His voice broke on the last word. He
nearly laughed as he grabbed Vic's hand and shoved it aside.
Vic lunged forward and pushed Mac down. He rolled quickly onto Mac and his lips
found that place just behind his ear that drove him nuts. To Mac's credit he
held out a good fifteen seconds before he was twisting and struggling to get
free as he laughed and called out, "Stop it, man. Stop it! You're killin' me!"
Vic let up long enough to plant his full weight on Mac pinning him to the bed.
He pushed into him, feeling Mac's hardness caress his own growing erection. He
played his body across Mac's, bowing stiff members against each other until
sweet moans sang from both of them.
"It's my turn to hold you down and make you come," he whispered, and Mac arched
into him.
Vic moved his hands from where they held Mac's arms to the gray T-shirt that the
other man still wore. He had it halfway up when a vice-like grip clamped onto
his wrist.
"Don't." The word rang out in a tone of finality that he didn't think could
come from Mac. He looked into dark brown eyes that had become as hard as black
diamond.
"No." Again, the certainty that this wasn't going to happen, that discussion
was not an option was carried in that one simple word.
"Mac?" Vic tested, but didn't release the wad of jersey material he had in his
fist.
Mac raised his hand. "Just drop it."
"Come on," Vic coaxed. "I want to see the fur." That unexpected request had
made Mac laugh the first time he'd voiced it, long ago. This time his face was
set in a stony scowl.
"Forget it." Mac pushed at Vic's hand. "We do it with the shirt on or forget
it."
Vic let go of the T-shirt. The sudden exchange had left them both at half-mast.
Nothing was going to happen until they settled this. Vic moved so that he
leaned across Mac's body. Mac was ready to bolt. Vic could see it in his face.
He had anticipated this would happen, but hoped he was wrong. Mac proved that
he wasn't.
"What's going on?"
"What do you think?" Mac shot back as he pulled the T-shirt down.
"Things were pretty hot and then..."
"Come on Vic, not even you are that thick."
"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence there, buddy."
"The shirt stays until after the operations. Live with it, or go back to
jerking off."
Vic fought the heat that drove him to want to smack that smart mouth right off
Mac's scowling face. He knew Mac was going to be sensitive about the scar, but
had understood that at least the wound was healed now.
"What operations? Carolyn said you were okay." Mac gave him a don't you
know anything look that didn't help his mood.
"The doctor who came to the island last week was a specialist, a plastic
surgeon," Mac told him. "He said it could take up to four operations before the
scar was gone. The Director okayed anything the Doctor thought was necessary."
A smug tone crept into Mac's voice. "And I'm going to get my teeth capped too."
"What?" Vic wrinkled his nose in puzzlement. "What has that got to do with
your scar? Why do you need to cap your teeth, anyway?"
"They're too short."
"Too short for what?" In response, Mac flashed the impish grin that could
infuriate Vic or break his heart. Right now it was just confusing. "And that's
related to your being shot how?"
"The Doctor has a sister-in-law who is a dentist that works for the agency. He
feels that my teeth being too short could throw off my bite. That could place
undue strain on my jaw. Which in turn could throw off the alignment of my neck.
That would affect the placement of my shoulders," his finger traced down his
throat and out to his collar bone, "and cause complications with the plastic
surgery by putting too much tension on the skin while it's healing." Mac was no
longer defensive, but fully involved with the intricacies of his plan.
Vic shook his head. "Was this his idea or yours?"
"His," he replied too quickly. "Well..." He glanced away as Vic frowned at
him. "He said his sister-in-law could cap my teeth, and I sort of helped him
along with the details."
"So you're going to scam the Director to get your teeth capped?"
"She okayed anything that was necessary. And it's definitely not a scam.
The Doctor feels that it's a medical necessity."
Vic was smiling despite himself. "And it became a medical necessity when you
helped him along with his diagnosis?"
Mac cast his eyes down in his best pose of fake humility. "I can't help it if I
like to keep up with the medical journals." He looked up and batted his eyes.
"It's an interest of mine."
Vic laughed out loud just imagining the look on the Director's face as Mac used
this explanation and those oh so innocent eyes in defense of the huge dentist
bill that would appear on the budget at the end of the fiscal year. Still
smiling he asked, "Why didn't you just make a request to have your teeth
capped?"
"Didn't you read the memo that came out last quarter? The Agency isn't covering
any procedure that is purely cosmetic unless it's directly related to a job
injury." Mac's voice trailed off. "No, I guess you wouldn't have paid
attention to anything that had to do with improving your looks."
Vic mugged exaggerated offense, and reached over to cuff Mac's ear while the
other man laughed.
"Hey," Mac protested. "I don't want to have to have more work done. You don't
want to tamper with perfection."
Vic was glad to hear him laugh. Maybe now they could make some headway on this
T-shirt issue. "I still don't see why you need your teeth capped."
"They're too short," he said again baring his teeth at Vic.
"They're just fine."
"Just fine may be good enough for you, but I want drop dead gorgeous teeth."
"I don't think teeth can be gorgeous."
"Well, whatever the dental equivalent is of he smiled at me and now I can die
happy."
Vic laughed and Mac smiled back at him. He still couldn't see the reason he
wanted a change. Vic was quite content to die in his arms right now, just the
way he was. "You better not make those new teeth too long. I still want to be
able to get my pound of flesh in that mouth."
Mac made a coy nod with his head. "It may take some getting used to. We may
have to practice... a lot."
"Let's start now." Vic reached for the T-shirt, and had it up to mid chest
before Mac caught his hand.
"What part of no way in hell did you not hear before?"
"It's not the same..."
"It's the way it's going to be."
Vic tried again. "I want to see the fur."
Mac smiled and a grudging laugh escaped. "I can't believe how the straight boy
gets turned on by chest hair."
"Mac," Vic said quietly, "that scar doesn't change anything between us. I have
scars and they've never turned you off. Have they?" he asked urgently when
there was no answer.
"It's different with you," Mac started slowly. "You're this big, sexy warrior
kind of dude. You're supposed to have scars. It just adds to the sexiness.
Think about it. You can wear those crappy, cheap, threadbare jeans, and I still
want to lick you all over. I... I have to try harder. I don't have it all
naturally like you do."
Vic was speechless. The most effortlessly sexy person he'd ever met in his life
had just said he was genuinely attractive. He'd never thought of Mac as
insecure. Cocky and arrogant, yes, but never insecure. Vic had been certain
that the scar was an affront to his vanity, to the image of perfection that Mac
saw of himself. Or at least the image that Vic saw every time he looked at him.
How could he ever think he had to try? Mac only had to be to attract
anyone and everyone. Vic pulled himself up next to Mac and kissed him softly.
They parted and he looked into Mac's eyes. They were soft now and barely hiding
his fears.
"There could never be anything that could happen to you that would make you less
than perfect to me."
Mac was silent for a long time before he looked up at Vic and said softly,
"Thank you."
Vic knew it was for more than just the moment. "Yeah, you too," he whispered
back.
Mac's hand shot up to cover his mouth as his faced grimaced into a silent cry.
Vic wiped away the tears with his thumb.
After a moment Mac brushed his hand aside, and swiped at the tears himself.
"It's the damn drugs they give me," he said in a thin voice as he tried to
dismiss what had just happened. "I'm never this... this... emotional."
"Yeah, it's the drugs," Vic agreed trying to comfort him. He wrapped an arm
around Mac's waist. His hand moved to caress Mac's stomach and side in an easy
rub that he knew he liked. It wasn't long before Mac was himself again and
kissing Vic with increasing heat.
Vic raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at Mac. "I don't want to
wait through maybe four operations for things to be the way they were. Take the
T-shirt off. You take it off... for me."
He could see the stubborn refusal return to Mac's eyes. Maybe if he tried a
different strategy. Vic put his index finger in his mouth, and then quickly
wiped it on Mac's shirt. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes," he said in
his best seductive tone.
Mac's eyes popped as he choked out a laugh. "What the hell was that?"
Vic played with the hem of the T-shirt. "Come on, Mac. This shirt would look
great with your shorts in a crumpled heap on the floor."
Mac was grinning broadly. "Oh I get it now. These are your best, and I use the
word advisedly, pick-up lines."
Vic gave him the head dip, the fluttered eyelashes and his smokiest voice. "I
really want you to see how I look when you're naked."
A scream of laughter nearly doubled Mac. He stared at Vic for a moment and then
shook his head. "Buddy, buddy, buddy. Now I know why you're going
steady with your right hand."
Vic grinned back at him. "Well, how about it?" He gave the T-shirt a little
tug. "The world's not going to end."
Mac was suddenly serious again. "You're not going to let up on this are you?"
"Probably not."
Mac took hold of the bottom of the T-shirt. "We all know what a stubborn shit
you..." He froze and stared at Vic. "Not one word!"
Heat flashed through Vic. "What kind of a bastard do you think I..." He broke
off abruptly remembering that this was a true sacrifice from Mac. "Not a word,"
he confirmed.
Mac pulled the T-shirt awkwardly over his head, and kept it wadded in one hand
as if he was ready to throw it back on in a moment.
The scar tissue was still a vivid blue-red. It wasn't as large as it had seemed
when Vic saw it under the wet wrinkle of fabric at the outdoor shower. It was
only the size of a quarter, maybe a little larger. It was irregular and ridged
in places. Vic couldn't image, however, any surgeon, no matter how skilled,
making the whole thing disappear.
"Well, say something!" Mac demanded.
"You told me not to say a word!" Vic snapped back at him.
"I can't stand you just staring at me."
"I've seen worse."
"Not on me."
This really wasn't that big a deal, except if you were Mac Ramsey. Vic had seen
much worse. As gunshot scars go this was really pretty minimal, but he didn't
think he'd ever convince Mac of that.
"I've got worse," he offered. He had a scar on the back of his left
thigh from a drug bust gone bad. The emergency room visit had gone even worse.
The now white scar tissue was ridged and splattered over three square inches,
and looked like an impact crater on the moon.
"I know," Mac said with an embarrassed dip of his head. "I told you, that's
you. It's what makes you so sexy."
A little bell went off in Vic's head. He rarely remembered he had the scar
unless for some reason his clothes chaffed it. When they made love, though, at
some point Mac would always maneuver him into a position where he could kiss the
back of his legs. Vic had thought it was because Mac knew how much the teasing
kisses turned him on. He never dreamed that Mac was the one being turned on by
the sight of that scar.
Vic slowly pulled himself up towards Mac's face. "I'm telling you it's not a
big deal."
Mac looked away. "I've never had any scars on my body, ever."
"You've got a beaut of a circumcision scar."
Mac turned and faced him with an amused, but embarrassed grin. "You sick
bastard. That doesn't count."
"Neither does this one." Vic bent towards Mac's shoulder. He could feel the
other man tense, but he didn't stop. He placed his lips, gingerly over the scar
and left a sweet kiss. The world did not stop. He placed another, then traced
the irregular surface with his half open mouth. Finally, as his lips covered
the spot and his tongue explored the ridges and valleys of the puckered skin Mac
threaded his fingers through Vic's hair. The tug was slight but insistent. Vic
moved his head towards Mac and was drawn to his lips. The kiss he was given
started in a timid brush, hesitant yet needy. By the time they broke, breath
panting against each other's cheeks, it had reached a knowing fervor that
charged both their bodies.
"You're a good man, Vic," Mac whispered as his lips brushed over Vic's eyelid.
"You make me that way," Vic told him as he leaned closer, offering his other
closed eye to be kissed. He heard the soft rhythmic sniffing and opened his
eyes. His hands rose to brace Mac's face. "Don't. Come on," he encouraged.
"Don't do this. There's no reason to."
Mac shook his head out of Vic's grasp and swiped at his nose. "It's the damn
drugs, again." He gave an embarrassed laugh, but looked on the verge of
breaking down.
Vic propped himself on one elbow beside Mac. His free hand stroked through the
thicket of dark hair on the other man's chest. "You need to work with your
drugs, man."
Mac laughed again, and it had a real note of mirth in it this time. "Yeah,
right. I'm going to take that kind of advice from an ex-narc."
"Actually, I heard Robin Williams say that on TV once. I think he was speaking
from experience."
Mac raised his hand and waited a beat before Vic felt the touch of his fingers
on his cheek. For a moment he was in a vortex of memories. All the times when
they were first partnered that he had wanted to touch Mac, all the stuttering
movements that should have ended in an embrace, a kiss or at least a loving
touch like this one, that were never born. Both of them had experienced those
awkward occasions of wanting to feel the solidity of the other under their
hands. Wanting even more than that to be touched in return, only to place their
hands on the table, or in a coat pocket, or just anywhere that wasn't the other
man's body. It felt strange yet wonderful to Vic that they could be so free
with each other now.
Mac rested his palm against Vic's cheek, and Vic turned into the touch.
"I thought I was going to..." Mac started, than cleared his throat. "I thought
I'd lost you."
Vic opened his eyes, but kept his face pressed against Mac's hand. "No chance
of that." He smiled. "You're stuck with me."
"My bad luck." Mac smiled back, then looked down at Vic's hand as it continued
to stroke over his chest. "Straight boy likes the fur," he teased.
A ripple of embarrassment crept over Vic. He always felt like he'd been caught
at something when Mac noticed this attention. He fought through his discomfort
and only hesitated a moment, though, before he slid his body onto Mac's. Vic
rested his chest over the heat of the other man's groin. He bent his head
slowly, and Mac's eyes shut with anticipation. Vic turned his cheek and let the
soft, tickling caress of hair touch his skin as he moved his face this way and
that. Straight boy loved the fur, despite the fact he hated to admit it. Maybe
that was part of the allure? There was something so wrong and nasty about
reveling in the raw masculinity of Mac's hairy chest that made the act wickedly
pleasing. There was no excuse that could be made, and no escaping the fact that
he wanted to have sex with another man as the sensation of the hair under his
fingertips telegraphed heat to his cock. His guilty little pleasure, his secret
dirty desire was out in the open now. The first time he had been bold enough to
ask to see the fur he couldn't follow through. He had allowed himself a few
cursory swipes, letting the hair strafe his lips with a nearly unbearable
sensation. Too soon the feeling became overwhelming and he'd withdrawn. The
situation crumbled into jokes, and he lost any chance to explore the sensuality
the moment had promised him.
Now, he let himself feel the pure rush of giving in to the temptation of the
fur. He swam in the sensation of body hair against his skin. He slid his lips
over the mounds of Mac's pecs, and was kissed back by the tingling caress of his
wiry pelt. As he worshipped Mac's chest Vic felt pagan and primal. He wished
that this moment of lust could be captured on one of those black and red Greek
vases he had seen during a museum field trip in high school. One glance at the
painted image of two men wrestling had set off an uncomfortable erotic charge in
him then. Now, he knew it was his initial calling to be a devotee of the fur.
Only ancient peoples, still free to be fully human, could have the magic to
depict what he was feeling at this moment.
Mac moved under him, occasionally moaning as the pleasure radiated between them.
Mac's hands pushed at his shoulders, gently at first, then more insistently.
Was it all too raw for him as well? Vic knew he could convince him that this
was the way it was meant to be between them. He'd stop in a minute and explain,
in just a minute or so. He just had to feel that runner of hair in the center
of Mac's stomach glide across his cheek one more time.
Mac jerked Vic's head up by the hair. "Hey! Come back to earth! Okay?" Mac
leaned down and kissed his half-open mouth. "Jeez," he said as he pulled away
and looked at Vic, but didn't let go of his hair. "You're acting like some
glassy-eyed tomcat that's rolled in a pound of catnip."
Vic smiled a lopsided grin and licked Mac's stomach. "Maybe I have." He shook
his head free from Mac's grip and crawled up his body until their lips nearly
touched. "Maybe you're my catnip."
Mac gave a resigned sigh. "Man, it's feast or famine with you lately." He
tried to move from under Vic, but was held tightly. "Let me up, Vic." Mac lay
motionless waiting for release.
"What if I don't?" Vic teased.
"Then you'll miss out." Mac wormed one arm out and turned towards the edge of
the bed. Vic didn't budge. "I'm going to ask you one more time, let me up."
"Or you'll what," Vic leaned closer and snickered, "kick my ass?"
"Pretty much."
Vic barely felt the shove, but was rocketed to the other side of the bed. He
scrambled not to fall off the edge. "What the hell was that for?"
"I warned you." Mac's voice was muffled as he leaned over the edge of the bed.
He righted himself in a moment and triumphantly held up a rainbow striped mesh
shopping bag. "I have a surprise!" He grinned and offered the bag to Vic.
Vic raised his hands and shook his head. "I'm not eating any eel! Especially
some eel you've been storing under my bed."
"It's not eel, Doofus." Mac pushed him down and straddled Vic's thighs.
"Where'd that come from, anyway?" He didn't let Vic answer. "Although, eel
does sound good." He started pulling out objects wrapped in tissue paper.
Vic grabbed him by the chin. "Eel is not good, not under any circumstances."
Mac shook his head out of Vic's grasp. "Forget the eel, okay?" He held up a
fur-covered mitt. "We have toys!"
Vic took it from his hands, and turned it over inspecting the soft, plush rabbit
fur that covered the surface of the mitten. "Is this what you were looking for
when I fell asleep? You and your sick, fuckin' toys."
Mac pulled out another and slipped it on. "Excuse me? My sick, fuckin' toys
have taken you places that you couldn't even imagine."
Vic saw it coming, but still wasn't ready when Mac ran his gloved hand over his
stomach, up his chest and over his lips and nose. He squirmed despite his best
intentions not to.
Mac snickered. "Not so sick, but pretty damn sexy, huh?"
Vic quickly scooted into a sitting position. He pulled his own glove on and
snagged Mac's free hand, pulling it up and holding it over his head. Mac
struggled for a second, but saw his own opportunity. Mac's side and arm were
open and vulnerable, but Vic was just as unprotected as he held him.
Vic felt Mac tense as he slowly drew the soft fur of the glove over his bare
skin. The lightly tickling touch was as much of a shock to Vic when Mac touched
him. Mac's cock twitched against his as they sat chest and groin touching while
they tormented each other. As he reached that unbearable spot just below the
armpit he felt a jerk, almost a tug as Mac involuntarily tried to lower his arm.
Vic smiled at him and their eyes locked. "Tickles?"
Mac's hand found the same spot on Vic and they both swirled the fur with a
tantalizing, slow touch over the other's sensitive skin.
"You tell me," Mac whispered.
"Torture." The word came softly, but was almost a taunt.
"Want to stop?" Mac asked, still caught firmly in Vic's grasp.
"You first," Vic told him as his hand drifted further down Mac's side.
"No way."
"I'll stop," Vic returned to the spot beneath Mac's armpit and the other man
jerked again, "if you let me play with you for five minutes, nothing off
limits."
"Dream on. You'll come before I ever give up."
That was a very real possibility since Vic realized that Mac was aware of his
cock rubbing against the other man's leg.
They began to kiss. Sparring with soft teasing kisses that matched the
titillation on their skin. Vic had moved so that Mac's cock rested against his
belly and he rocked rubbing the hard member as he worked his own cock against
Mac's leg. It was all unbearably arousing, and promised an intense release that
Vic could only get from these tests of will.
Mac suddenly pushed him away, and moved towards the edge of the bed, pulling off
the fur glove. "I don't want it to end like this."
Vic was stunned. He was so close that this interruption was almost painful.
Anger bolted through him, and he slammed his hand onto the bed. "What the
fuck's wrong with you? I was gonna' come!"
"I know," Mac threw over his shoulder as he rummaged in the shopping bag again.
"You know and you stopped anyway! Funny you don't look suicidal, but
obviously you're trying to make me kill you."
"Oh shut up you whiny, fucker," Mac told him as he turned around and pushed Vic
down onto the bed. He straddled him again, and once more had two packages in
his hand. "I have more toys, and I saved the best for last."
Vic snatched the plastic encased card from Mac's hand. He glanced at it. The
fact that he couldn't make out what it was made him even more frustrated.
"What the hell is this?"
Mac jerked it out of his grasp. "If you let me open it I'll show you!" He
sounded as short-tempered as Vic did.
"Where did you get all this shit? You haven't left the grounds since we got
here." Suspicion flared in Vic. So now he'd hear how Mac had been sneaking off
on shopping trips while Vic had been agonized over his recovery.
"Rafe." Mac was having trouble getting the plastic clamshell on the package to
come apart.
"Rafe?" Vic tried to sit up as best he could with Mac straddling him. "You
mean that kid in housekeeping?"
Mac grinned. "That hot kid, and he's nearly twenty-one by the way, in
housekeeping who would do anything for Mr. Vic." He let the name ring
out in a lilting island accent.
"Are you out of your mind? You sent one of the staff off to buy sex toys for
you?"
"I had to." Mac was still concentrating on opening the package. "I was getting
tired of hearing all of his questions about you. Does Mr. Vic play soccer?
Does Mr. Vic watch movies? Does Mr. Vic read a lot? I thought if he ran a
few errands for me he'd learn that I'm what Mr. Vic does."
Vic buried his face in his hands. "This is so humiliating. I'll never be able
to look at that kid again."
"Ah, that's the whole point. Voilˆ!" Mac held up a thin cylindrical piece of
transparent purple rubber.
Vic peeked out from between his fingers. "What in god's freakin' name is that?"
"It is a streamlined personal vibrator." Mac looked pleased, and made a
sweeping display motion with his free hand.
Vic picked up the discarded package. "Jelly Joy Vibrator. No way."
"Way!"
"You've gone too far this time."
"Come on, Vic. This is going to be great."
"We had an agreement. You don't ask me to do pervert stuff, and I don't beat
the shit out of you."
"Vic, look at it." Mac's tone became cajoling as he smiled and held out the
glistening vibrator. "It's all bendy and soft." Mac manipulated the long thin
tip this way and that as he spoke. "It's not going to hurt you." He upped the
amps on his most winning smile. "It's like a big, purple, vibrating gummy
bear."
Vic gave an incredulous laugh. "Right. That's the image of something I
really want to put up my ass."
"I've got one, too." Mac produced a second package from the shopping bag. His
was bright yellow.
"Well, that's just great, but we can't use them anyway because there's no lube."
Vic smiled triumphantly, feeling that he'd pretty much put an end to this
nonsense. "Now, let's get back to getting off."
As he reached for him Mac turned back to the shopping bag. "There's lube. I
told that little shit to get lube. Where is it?"
Vic moaned. "You had Rafe buy lube for you?"
"For us. Besides, I wanted to make it clear who was doing what to you." Mac
pulled out another small bundle of tissue paper and opened it. "Why did that
idiot buy these little tubes. I told him to get a big pump bottle of
Wet."
"Fine." Vic threw down the empty package. "You play your power games with the
help. I think our moment has passed." He tried to get up, but Mac had planted
himself at the center of gravity and one well placed finger on his forehead kept
Vic from rising.
"Mac!"
Mac reached behind him and wrapped his hand around Vic's cock. "I think there's
some moment left here."
The warmth of his hand, the pressure, the silky slide of his palm along the
shaft was enough to make Vic squirm and the blood rush back.
"I don't want that purple thing." Vic's tone was husky and low as he tried to
get the words out around the arousal that threatened to rob him of speech.
There was a click and he opened his eyes at the soft metallic hum.
Mac lowered the little wand of purple to his chest. "Give it a chance and you
won't want it any other way."
He played the tip of the vibrator over Vic's nipple. The sensation was
maddening, and aroused him to the core. Vic endured it as long as he could.
Not wanting it to end, but hardly able to stand it. He grabbed Mac's wrist and
thrust it away.
"When I say stop you stop it, at that instant. Not a few seconds later, but the
second I tell you."
"Always." Mac gave a serious nod of his head. He turned off the purple
vibrator and then tore open the second one, having figured out the packaging.
He handed it to Vic. "You do me first, then I'll do you. We'll get comfortable
and turn them on together."
Vic looked skeptically at the yellow jellied rod in his hand. "I think
comfortable and this thing are two totally contradictory ideas."
Mac opened a tube of the lubricant and handed it to him. "Stop complaining,
Virg," he said as he lay down on his back and spread his legs, draping
one over Vic's shoulder. "You've had much bigger things than that up your
plaster." Mac wrapped a hand around his own cock and smiled.
"That was natural." Vic shook his head as he smeared the vibrator with lube.
"This thing is... I don't know what this thing is."
"It's fun. It's adventure, and it's about time you were putting it in."
Vic sighed. "Why do I let you talk me into this shit?"
"Because if you don't you'll end up in a basement office with no windows as a
fat, gray-haired security guard with a hairy palm. I'm saving you from your
boring self, and you're welcome. Ah!"
Mac shuddered at the initial chill of the lube being applied directly from the
tube. Vic usually warmed it between his fingers before he touched Mac, but he'd
found this could be an effective way to silence him. He worked the tight ring
of muscle until he felt the resistance fade. The slim vibrator fit easily, and
Mac gave him a lusty smile when he finished.
"Comfortable," Mac said. "I can barely feel it."
"Is that a good thing, or something you need to have corrected?"
"I'm trying to be encouraging here." Mac picked up the purple vibrator. "You
can be such a dickhead."
Vic took a deep breath and laid down on the bed, assuming the same position Mac
had. He brought up one arm to cover his eyes and waited.
"Jeez, you look relaxed," Mac said. "You want a last meal to go with that
blindfold?"
"Mac! I'm trying here. That doesn't mean I have to like it."
Mac brushed his open palm up the length of Vic's body from groin to neck, and
Vic shivered. "You will like it." His voice was smoky and filled with
genuine lust. "I promise, you'll like it."
Vic wanted to grab Mac's arm, somehow control his touch. Mac always used this
ceremony of lubrication to mercilessly tease him. He denied it of course and
tried to say it was all in Vic's head. Maybe it was. He'd never allowed anyone
to touch him like this. He'd left bruises on Elliot's throat the one time he
had even tried. It was the biggest risk he could think of, and the most
monumental act of trust he'd ever made.
Mac's fingers were like electrodes. Each touch sending sparks up his nerves,
threatening to make him jump. Mac stroked and kneaded, the lube growing warm
and slippery as his fingers breached the impenetrable. Vic always felt on the
verge of pushing him away, of admitting that it was all too arousing to stand.
Maybe it was in his head. Perhaps there was a reason why he didn't trust
anyone with this secret place. Because during each encounter Mac's fingers
brought him to the edge of insanity while he touched him.
There was a momentary loss of sensation as Mac reached for the vibrator. As
much as Vic fought not to grab his hands while he prepared him, it was equally a
struggle when the sensation ceased not to yell out, "God, please don't
stop." This had to be some definition of hell, maybe his own private hell,
this act that he couldn't endure yet didn't want to end.
He felt the initial nudge of the vibrator as Mac started to insert the thing.
It slid in with a cool touch making him aware of the heat that charged his body.
He squirmed slightly, and the pliable rod moved with him. It wasn't
uncomfortable, as Mac had pointed out, but it was definitely something that
could not be ignored.
"You doing okay?" Mac asked as he lay down beside Vic.
Vic had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Yeah, it's just... I
feel... it feels... cool."
"It'll warm up fast." Mac took one of Vic's hands and spread lube over his
palm. "Now, reach down here." Mac drew Vic's other hand between his legs as he
pressed against his side. "You feel that little switch?"
"Yeah." Vic bent one leg to give Mac access to his own switch.
"This gives a whole new meaning to turned on." Mac grinned at Vic. "You
ready?"
Vic nodded.
Mac licked his lips. "On three. One. Two. Three."
The sensation bolted through Vic. He wanted to yank the thing out of him. He
wanted to scream. He jerked against Mac and grunted out, "You're filthy."
"I knew you'd like it." Mac started to smile, but his head rocked back as Vic
wrapped his slick hand around Mac's hard cock.
Mac found Vic as well. Mac's hand was equally lubed. That made his touch silky
as he stroked. The intensity of so much sensation was hard to handle. Vic was
sure his eyes had rolled back in his head at one point. This was insane and
incredible. His entire body pulsed with arousal. He was certain that when he
climaxed every cell in his being would burst apart from the accumulated mass of
pleasure.
He jerked as Mac's fingers tickled up his balls. Mac touched the butt of the
vibrator with his thumb making his fingers tremble. He moved his fingertips
slowly over Vic's scrotum leaving a tingling trail.
"Fuck!" Vic swore into Mac's shoulder as the sensation captured him.
Mac continued to torment him, one hand tantalizing Vic's balls while the other
pumped his cock.
Vic was trapped by Mac's expert torment. He tried to let the sensation take him
and ride the pleasure rather than fight it. He was able to gain enough control
this way to attempt to do the same to Mac.
His thumb found the vibrator in Mac. He felt the buzz invade his fingers. He
couldn't visit the exact same torment on Mac that he was enduring because of the
way he was pressed against him. Instead, Vic tucked his fingertips under Mac's
scrotum and let the tingling vibration concentrate on that sensitive spot where
balls meet body. Mac moaned, and bit his lip.
Vic knew that neither of them could last long as they stroked each other's hard
cocks while the vibrators teased them from within. He could give up and be
swept away in orgasm at any moment, but he fought to hang on. He wanted to see
how far this could take him. At the same time he was almost afraid that when he
did come it would rip him apart. The concentration of sensation inside and out
was making his legs began to tremble. He could just imagine a shaking,
vibrating orgasm rumbling through his body, breaking him into glowing, crumbling
bits and pieces as the pleasure quaked through him.
Then it happened, without him wanting it to, without having any control over the
thrill, it grabbed him, and shook him, and pulsed out orgasm to every part of
his body. He existed in a moment of pleasure more pure and brilliant than
anything he thought possible.
It was only after it began to let loose of him that he became aware of Mac
bucking against him, moaning and wildly tossing his head. After a moment Mac
collapsed, his face pressed to Vic's shoulder. He mumbled something in Chinese
and then fell silent.
Vic was suddenly aware of the vibrator that continued to buzz inside him. It
was growing nearly painful now that his flesh was over-sensitized by his
earthquake of an orgasm. There was no anticipation, no building arousal to
buffer the sensation. He reached down and pulled the vibrator out. He was
gulping in air as he turned it off. He tossed it on the floor and reached over
to Mac. The other man lay motionless. When Vic touched his thigh Mac raised
his leg a little to give Vic access. In a moment the yellow vibrator was
silenced as well, and lay next to the purple one on the floor.
They lay still and quiet for some time, wrapped in each other's arms. Mac broke
the silence first. "That was fucking amazing," he croaked out as he wiped the
back of his hand across his mouth.
"Fuck, yeah," was all Vic could manage. He didn't want to move or even open his
eyes, and he was certain that there wasn't a nucleus left in any cell in his
body. Every single one had been blown out at point of orgasm, and replaced by
glowing heavy matter that made him feel he was floating yet immobile at the same
time.
"Man, you creamed all over me." Mac leaned back just a little and looked at the
sticky mess that lay in glistening puddles on their skin.
"I think half that is you," Vic said but didn't move. "Well, maybe not half."
He tried to smile, but didn't produce more than a smirk. He let a sigh escape
and wondered at how willing he was to just lie there covered in jizz. After any
other sex his compulsion to neatness would have sent him to the bathroom for a
towel. He felt too good right now to be bothered by anything so minor.
"Are you going to do something about this?" Apparently Mac felt differently.
"Since you seem to think that over half of this is yours, Grandmaster
Cum."
Vic reached up and shook a pillowcase off one of the many pillows at the head of
the bed. "You do the honors," he told Mac as he handed him the soft cotton
fabric.
Mac rose to his knees and made a few swipes across his own stomach and groin.
Then he began to clean Vic. "I think you really enjoyed our adventure."
A soft laugh escaped. "What was your first clue?"
"Umm... that slack jawed, glassy eyed look you have on your face was a dead
giveaway."
Vic stretched, luxuriating in the touch of Mac's hands as he carefully wiped
away the evidence. "Maybe we can do this again, sometime?" An embarrassed
laugh almost kept him from finishing the sentence.
"And maybe next time," Mac tossed the pillowcase on the floor and lay down next
to Vic, "you won't be such a tight ass about trying new things." They stared at
each other for a moment, then said in unison, "Pun intended." They both
laughed.
Vic snagged Mac by the back of the head and drew him into a kiss. When they
broke they smiled at each other again, and silently looked into each other's
eyes.
"What are you thinking about?" Mac broke the reverie.
"Nothing," Vic answered, reluctant and nearly unable to put into words all the
thoughts that jostled about in his mind as he looked at Mac's face.
"Come on," he encouraged. "You're not me. You're always thinking about
something, and I can always see it in your eyes."
"It's just..." Vic started, but couldn't finish. His many thoughts had reduced
down to one point, a singular defining thought that was at the same time
comforting and dangerous.
"What? This isn't fair I tell you everything."
Vic knew that wasn't exactly true. Mac did love to go on about himself and his
day. There were many things, however, about Mac's life that remained a mystery
between them. The big things, like many parts of his past, and most of the time
what he was really feeling. Those were subjects that brought the curtain down
and the walls up every time. Sure Mac talked to him, but not about anything as
perilous as what Vic was thinking about now.
"Vic!" Mac frowned, a cranky child's frown. "I did this for you." He snatched
up his T-shirt that was still lying on the bed beside Vic. "You can tell me
what the hell you're thinking for this." He shook it at him.
Vic took the waded up jersey tee from Mac's hands and held it against his own
chest. "It's just that... laying here with you... the way I feel right now..."
Mac waved his hand to hurry him along.
Vic cleared his throat. "It's just that if things were normal..." He motioned
between Mac and himself.
"This is normal," Mac interrupted. "This is normal for you and
me, Vic."
"Yeah," he agreed softly, and realized that for the first time that was really
how he thought of what went on between them. "It's just that if things were
different," he continued hesitantly, not looking at Mac. "The way I feel right
now... I'd ask you... to marry me." He looked up when silence was the only
response.
Mac looked stunned. It was never a good thing when Mac was left speechless.
Vic was feeling that old familiar fight or flight heat creep over his body. Why
hadn't he listened to his instincts and kept his mouth shut? He'd gone too far.
Mac had always wanted to hear Vic say he loved him. He'd often made it a
condition for orgasm. Maybe this admission of how he felt, how much he
felt for Mac had come off all wrong. Instead of revealing this overwhelming
need he felt to be near him, his desire to share their lives, all Mac had heard
was I want to trap you, control you.
Then the defenses came up as if a switch had been tossed. A cocky smirk moved
Mac's lips. "You're only saying that because you know there's no way it's ever
going to happen." He laughed while he shook his head as if he couldn't believe
the foolishness.
Vic smiled, playing along as if it was just a joke. "Safe bet, huh?" Mac
wasn't ready for this, maybe he never would be. Vic knew there was truth in
what he was saying. They could probably never actually be married. That wasn't
the real message in Mac's words though. This level of commitment was obviously
something that scared him. Mac didn't have any problems with a sort of
ownership over him. Vic is my boy friend. His ass is mine and you stay
away. Taking the risk of offering your life to another person, and saying
this is it and forever was a different matter.
Vic, surprisingly, didn't feel any sting from his reaction. It was what he'd
expected, and why he hadn't wanted to tell Mac what he had been thinking. Mac
seemed almost relieved when he had agreed to turn it all into a joke.
"Proposing." Mac snorted out a laugh. "How straight is that?"
Vic shrugged and tossed the T-shirt he still held onto the floor.
"You can put the cock in the boy, but you can't take the straight out of
straight boy," Mac teased.
"Hey I'm not the one who proposed to terrorist, psycho-bitch Claire."
Mac raised one finger. "Uh, wrong! She proposed to me." He flashed a
self-satisfied grin. "I get that a lot."
"Witness me, for example." Vic pointed at himself.
Mac's smile suddenly vanished, an anxious fear replacing his arrogance. "You're
not pissed-off at me are you?"
Vic wrinkled his brow, unsure of what he meant.
"You're not mad about what I said when you said what you said?" He was making a
shuffling motion between them with his hands as he tried to explain without
using the words that he apparently didn't want to hear again.
Vic shook his head no. Admittedly, he was a little disappointed. He had hoped
that after all they had been through Mac would have grown up enough to accept
the responsibility that came with making someone love him so much that a
permanent arrangement was the only logical next step. Mostly, though, Vic was
tired, too tired to risk either an argument or a gut wrenching heart-to-heart.
Still, he didn't want to let Mac off the hook altogether.
"You saying that you never want to get married? You want to miss out on having
the Director walk you down the aisle?"
Mac's face registered an instant negative, but just as quickly Vic's jibe
registered with him, and he gave an offended frown. "What makes you think I'd
be wearing the dress?"
Vic smiled at the expected reaction. He ran his fingers lightly over one of
Mac's biceps. "Well, you've got these long willowy arms..."
Mac jerked away and reared his head back. "Excuse me? If anybody has the bone
structure to wear a tiara and veil it's you, RuVic. Remember what Elliot calls
you? Gorgeous."
"I was the best man at your almost wedding. The best man," Vic looked
down at his own cock, "with everything that implies."
"Well, hang on to that delusion buddy because the truth is I am the man, as in
manly man, who really should shave twice a day." He triumphantly stroked the
stubble on his chin. "What do you do," he reached out and ran a finger down
Vic's cheek, "dab on a little Nair once a month?"
Vic brushed his hand aside. "In point of fact I remember someone complaining
after the best night of sex in his entire life..."
"Your welcome," Mac interrupted with a smirk.
Vic ignored him. "That he had whisker burn from my manly beard on his
lips, and his ass, and his stomach and his..."
"I'm the one with hair on my chest." Mac nodded as if that finished the
conversation.
"What you've got goes way beyond hair, you've got fur," Vic replied. "Just
because I don't look like I'm wearing a sweater when I'm naked doesn't mean I
don't have hair."
"You keep telling yourself that." Mac leaned a little closer, and his eyes
widened with surprise. "Oh, you're right there's one right there." His hand
shot out and he yanked out a few fine hairs near Vic's left nipple.
"Ouch! You shit!" Vic scowled, and pushed Mac away.
"Sorry," Mac said but negated any sincerity with a laugh he couldn't contain.
"I shouldn't have done that. Those are an endangered species, and you can't
afford to lose any."
"Speaking of which," Vic said as he rubbed the still stinging patch of skin on
his chest. "Just how big a fortune have you amassed being a donor at the hair
loss clinic."
"Enough to buy Envy Boy a chest toupee for his next birthday. Or will you have
hit puberty by then and finally be able to grow your own?"
"Ill show you who's the man here," Vic said as he launched himself at Mac. He
put up a fight, but it was easy for Vic to overpower him because the other man
couldn't stop laughing. Vic had him pinned to the bed when a loud rumble
intruded between them.
Mac let out a shriek of laughter at the noise. "Time to feed my lions."
Vic loosened his grip and rose to his knees, but still kept Mac's forearms in a
captive grip.
"You hungry?"
"Yah think? With deductive powers like that you should have made chief of
detectives." A residual chuckle rumbled out of Mac as he looked up at Vic.
"Must have been politics that kept you out of the job."
He moved his arms and Vic let him escape from his grasp. Mac didn't try to rise
though, but remained lying between Vic's legs. He reached up and absently
stroked his hand, with silent admiration, over Vic's chest and stomach. The
sensation sent a warm ripple through Vic's nerves. Mac's touch was natural and
nearly comforting.
"Somebody let my ice-cream melt," Mac said after a moment.
"You fell asleep," Vic protested.
"Well, someone's awake now." Mac patted his own stomach and smiled. "Go get me
some ice-cream." His hands went to Vic's thighs and he tried to push him away.
Vic covered Macs hands with his own. "Chef is going to serve dinner soon."
"I'm hungry now, not soon."
"She's not going to give me ice-cream before dinner."
Mac's teasing smile disappeared and he looked as if he were about to reveal a
secret truth. "She's just like the rest of us, Vic. She'd give you anything
you wanted. Nobody can deny you anything. But you don't get that." Mac gave a
sad laugh. "Lucky for us I guess. You'd be a very dangerous man if you ever
realized how easily you can make anyone do anything for you."
Vic felt almost embarrassed at the raw admiration in Mac's eyes. "Obviously you
see something that I don't."
"I always have," Mac said quietly, then reached up to Vic.
Vic didn't wait for the fingers to reach his cheek. He bent towards Mac and
placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You're the only one who can get me to do
anything," Vic whispered.
"Does that mean you're going to get me ice-cream?" There was a catch in his
voice and a sudden blush across his cheeks.
"God, you are one high maintenance son-of-a-bitch, Ramsey." Vic ran a hand
through Mac's thick unruly hair. "I'll try. That's all I can do."
Mac swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. "That's all you have to do."
Vic stepped off the bed and snagged his khaki shorts from the floor. "If Chef
comes after me with a clever," he started as he stepped into the shorts.
"Don't bring me any of that rock and roll stuff."
"It's rocky road," Vic corrected, frustration ringing in his voice.
"Whatever." Mac stopped at the bathroom door. He had donned the gray T-shirt
and was pulling up the matching jersey shorts he'd worn earlier. "I just don't
want a bowl of that frozen corn syrup you eat."
"Maybe you should get it yourself."
Mac shrugged in disbelief. "You said you'd go. I have to take a piss." Then
he made a shooing motion. "Go get it." He started to turn, but stopped. "I
want green tea."
"Now, you want tea instead of ice-cream?" Vic pulled a pale blue, batik print
cotton shirt from a hanger in his closet. The hanger flew to the floor with a
clatter while he tried to catch it. He looked at Mac, and then at the hanger
not certain which irritated him more.
"No. I want green tea ice-cream."
"There isn't any green tea in the kitchen freezer." Vic retrieved the hanger
from the floor and hooked it back on the rod in his closet. "There's mango in
the house, the green tea is in the commissary building freezer."
"And the problem is? You go to the commissary freezer and bring me back a
pint."
"The problem is," Vic shut the closet with a little too much force, "I'm not
your fucking servant." He took a few quick steps to the door. "If I can get
something out of Chef it'll be mango, and you'll like it." He stopped suddenly
and his head fell forward. He took a deep breath before he turned. "I'm sorry.
You just make me crazy sometimes. I'll see if I can get you some..."
"Vic."
"I know," Vic said as he waved a hand at Mac and turned to look at him. "No
rocky road."
"Well, yeah." Mac shrugged. "But that's not what I was going to say. You're
right, you're not my servant. And you do a lot more for me than I probably
deserve. And I never thanked you for all the time and care you've given me
here."
Vic shook his head and raised both hands in an attempt to fend off the power of
the emotion that was building in Mac's eyes. "You did thank me, earlier.
Besides, you don't have to thank me."
"I know I don't," Mac said leveling a serious look at Vic. "I know you do
things without ever expecting to be thanked. I don't really get that." Mac
displayed a slight, puzzled smile. "But that's the way you are." He glanced
away for a moment before he continued. "If I never showed any gratitude for all
the things you do for me, and feel for me... you'd probably just... do more."
"You're worth it," Vic said quietly. "You've given me a life that's... well...
That's it really. You've given me a real life."
Mac nodded, a faint acknowledging smile moved his lips. "Me too. That's why
you deserve to hear this." He suddenly shook himself like an athlete preparing
for a race. "And I should have the guts to tell you." He paused again, took a
deep breath and planted his feet. "If things were normal." He raised a hand in
a dismissive wave. "Your word not mine." Then he dipped his head sheepishly.
"Maybe I should say if I were normal." He cleared his throat and looked
squarely at Vic. "I'd ask you to marry me."
Vic was silent for a long moment. "You mean that?"
"I said it didn't I?" His tone carried just how much it had cost him, and a
plea not to be made to say it again.
Vic wanted to rush to him and take him in his arms, but was afraid that Mac
would shove him away. There was a tangible embarrassment between them now. As
much as Vic wanted to hug, kiss and let his hands show the emotion that welled
in him, a physical display might overwhelm Mac and make things even more
uncomfortable.
Vic wasn't sure what to say, but he knew that Mac needed to hear that he
understood what a struggle it had been for him to utter each word. There had to
be some way to tell him how much the act meant. But even that might be too
volatile an admission at this moment.
He looked at Mac and could see that he was equally uncertain about what to do
next. Finally, Vic decided to use the same simple words that Mac had spoken
earlier. These words had caused a rush of love and pride in him that he was
with, in every way, this funny, irritating, lovable, frustrating and totally
remarkable man, Mac Ramsey.
"Thank you." His voice threatened to break, but he managed a smile. "Thank
you, Mac."
Finale
ic drifted slowly awake. The room was silent; Blind Boy Fuller's blues CD
having long since ended. A slight breeze from the open balcony doors moved the
gauzy curtains, cooling the bedroom from the late afternoon heat. The tang of
lime scented the air. Vic suddenly remembered the glass he had slapped from
Mac's hand during their argument. It had shattered on the hardwood floor.
Water, citric acid and wood were a bad mix. He must have been wasted not to mop
it up before he fell asleep. He turned quickly to leave the bed, and slammed
against Mac. Vic jerked, startled by Mac's unexpected presence. An
embarrassing anger flashed through him at being taken by surprise.
