by Lianne Burwell
Drowning Sorrows Side Story
They'd been in Paris for nearly two months now, carefully building the
background
for their new identities. They were even moving a faster pace than Mac had
expected. Vic had found a job with a security firm, and Mac had enough
bodyguarding jobs that he should be able to quit the bouncer job pretty soon.
At
this rate they should be able to build up enough of a reputation to go
independent in the security field inside of a year.
And on a night like this, he felt that it couldn't come too soon.
"Hey, Vic!" he called out, opening the apartment door. There was no answer.
"Vic?"
Mac looked around. The only light he could see was a dim glow from the
bedroom.
Maybe Vic had gone to bed. The gala assignment would have let him come
home only
an hour ago, and he'd said that morning that he would wait up for Mac, but
perhaps he'd fallen asleep.
"Vic?" Mac walked into the bedroom, then stopped dead in his tracks.
Suddenly, he
wasn't as tired as he'd thought.
The bed had been made with new sheets and a new comforter, all in shades
of green
that made Vic's eyes glow. Nearly every solid surface in the room was
covered
with lit candles. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the bedside table.
And
Vic was stretched out on the bed, an inviting smile on his handsome face.
Vic was nude. Not naked. A Playgirl pinup was naked. A fine work of art was
nude.
And Vic was a work of art. No doubt about it.
Ever graceful, the older man rose from the bed and padded over to Mac,
completely
unselfconscious about his lack of clothing. Mac eagerly opened his mouth for
the
heated kiss.
Then Vic pulled away with a grimace. "You stink of cigarette smoke," he
groused.
"Take a shower. But don't dwaddle. I've got plans for you."
The leer on the man's face was all that Mac needed to propel him into the
bathroom where he kept his shower short, just barely long enough to wash
the
smell from his skin and hair. He stuffed his clothes into a hamper, not
bothering
be careful with them. He grabbed a towel, and headed back to the bedroom,
his
hair still dripping.
"What's the occasion?" he asked, as Vic took the towel from him and started
drying his hair.
"What, you don't remember? Well, technically speaking, neither do I, but still.
What happened one year ago?"
Mac searched his memory, then blushed. He had a lousy memory for dates,
but how
could he have forgotten...
"That's right," Vic said in a husky tone. "One year ago tonight, LiAnn told me
she wanted to put the engagement on hold. I got stinking drunk, and when you
took
me home, I dragged you into my bed."
Mac felt lips brush the back of his neck, then the towel rubbed across his
hair
one last time and was discarded. He quickly turned, and captured Vic's mouth
in a
deep kiss. "How could I have forgotten?" he said with real regret. If he'd
remembered, he would have bought something for Vic. He made a mental
note not to
forget the following year.
Vic smiled, and brushed a finger across Mac's lips. "Don't worry about it, Mac.
Still, at the time, I thought it was the worst night of my life." He leaned in
for another deep kiss. "Pity I don't remember any of it." He leaned over, and
grabbed the two wineglasses that he'd obviously filled while Mac was in the
bathroom. He held one out to Mac, and raised his own to toast the younger
man.
"Here's to the worst night of my life, which led to the best decision in my
life."
Mac obediently tapped the rim of his glass against Vic's. "Decision?" he
asked,
sipping at the excellent red wine that Vic had chosen. It was so like Vic not to
go for the obvious champagne.
"To seduce you, of course." He reached a hand to stroke Mac's cheek. "Thank
you
for letting me."
Mac grinned back at him. "No. Thank you," he said, honestly meaning it.
He'd
had some pretty bad experiences in his life, and Vic's patience and love had
helped him to over come them.
"Still," Vic said, thoughtfully. "You never did tell me what happened that night.
At least, not in any detail."
Mac shook his head, still grinning. "To be honest, not much."
"Tell me?"
Mac stretched out on the bed, pulling Vic down with him. They propped
themselves
up on the pillows, Mac idly thinking that Vic must have gone out and bought
extras, because they were piled higher than usual.
"Well, you were pretty damn sloshed by the time I got you home," he said,
turning
onto his side to face Vic, remembering that night. He hadn't been terribly
sober
himself. "You kept going on about LiAnn, and how it was my fault. I pointed
out
that there were other girls out there, and you were so cute that you'd find
someone else fast."
Vic snorted. "Cute?"
"Cute. You complained about the term then, too. Said it wasn't fair that I was
handsome and exotic, while you were just cute. Not that there's any 'just'
about
it."
Vic smiled. "Handsome and exotic. That describes you, alright." Mac quickly
squashed the urge to blush.
"Anyway, you started listing all my physical attributes, then insisted that I
return the favor."
"Hmm?"
"Then you started stalking me."
"Stalking?"
"Yep. Right across the room. Then, when you caught me you did your best to
harvest my tonsils with your tongue."
Vic smiled brightly then. He took Mac's glass from him, then put both on the
bedside table. "Like this?" he purred, then proceeded to kiss Mac breathless.
When he pulled away, Mac was reeling. "Yeah," he breathed.
"Then..."
"Huh?"
Vic slapped Mac on the side of his ass. "What happened next?"
Mac shook his head, trying to clear it enough to continue. "Well, when I was
coherent again, you'd somehow managed to get me to the bedroom,
undressed and
into bed. Don't ask me how, because I don't remember. Damn, you're a good
kisser,
Vic."
Vic grinned. "Only when I've got the right inspiration."
That earned him another kiss before Mac went on. "Well, I was a little worried
about the potential fallout, but you said that since the Director liked sexual
tension in a team, let's give her real sexual tension. Give the triangle a
third side, so to speak."
"Makes sense to me," Vic said, running his hand up and down Mac's side. The
hand
slipped down, for a moment, to cup Mac's genitals, and he completely lost
track
of what he was saying.
"So, what next?"
"Ummm," Mac hissed, and tried to thrust his hips towards the touch, but it
disappeared. He groaned in frustration. "Next?"
"After I shot down your argument."
Mac took a deep breath. "Well, you got me so hot and bothered that what you
said
actually seemed to make sense, so I decided to go with it." He grinned,
suddenly
remembering what happened next. He quickly flipped over, and pinned Vic
under
him. "So I decided to check you out. Thoroughly."
And he proceeded to do just that. A year ago, he'd only had his knowledge of
his
own body to go by. Now, he knew every hot spot that his lover had. He made
sure
he hit all of them.
At least twice.
"Then?" Vic gasped, barely coherent, when Mac pulled away.
"Then you pushed on top of me." Vic did just that. "And touched me." Mac
whimpered at the intensity. "And rubbed yourself all over me," he gasped,
almost
airless.
Abandoning his attempts to talk, he reached around and grabbed Vic's ass-
cheeks,
pulling him in tighter. Moaning into Vic's mouth, he thrust up, harder and
harder.
The tension built, until they were both groaning. Then with a cry, first Vic,
then Mac exploded, their semen smearing the space between them.
A few minutes later, Vic lifted his head from where it was pillowed on Mac's
chest. "Then?" he said, and Mac laughed.
"Then you fell asleep, and I thought about calling a cab, but fell asleep before
I could even move. And I'm sure you remember what the next morning was
like."
Vic snorted. "The worst hangover I've ever had in my life," he said. "But man,
was I relaxed." He tilted his head up to meet Mac's lips in a soft kiss.
"Thank you for telling me," he said, barely above a whisper. Mac nodded, too
tired for anything else. "And I promise to remember this time. Love you."
Mac smiled, drifting into that sweet post-coital haze that hovered between
sleep
and consciousness. "Love you too. Happy anniversary."
"Happy anniversary."
THE END
ac trudged up the stairs to the fourth floor apartment that he and Vic
were
living in, weary to the bone. It was nearly three in the morning, and he was
just
getting home from his shift as bouncer in one of the Paris discos.
