Title: Veritas 1: In Vino

Authors: Jennie, Jami Wilsen and Jamie Joyce

Fandom: Once a Thief

Pairing: Mac/Vic

Rating: NC-17

Status: New - first in a series

Spoilers: Assume all of OaT - just to be on the safe side

Archive: Yes, to NickZone, RatB and Fries

Disclaimers: None of these boys are ours - no money made here - no copyright infringement intended.

Notes: Huge thank you to Sue and Laura for the beta.

Summary: Vic, Mac, booze, revelations, smut

Veritas 1: In Vino

by Jennie, Jami Wilsen and Jamie Joyce

His head cocked to a contemplative angle, Mac sat, hunched over his glass, his weight on his elbows as he leaned on the bar. "I believe I'll have - rum next. Yeah. Rum."

Vic knocked back his scotch, flashing the other man a quick glance from the corner of his eye. "You're going to pay for all those, later." It was a simple statement and not in the least judgmental.

"Variety, they say, is the spice of life," Mac reminded him, accepting the grudgingly offered tumbler of dark liquid from the bartender. "Though I've always wondered exactly who the heck "they" are," he added in an abstracted tone.

Vic stared numbly into his own empty glass as if expecting to see answers revealed by the removal of its golden contents. Finally, he shook his head and looked back up at the bartender with his most appealing expression. It was clear what he was asking for, and equally clear he'd passed sober some time before.

With a put-upon sigh, the bartender relented. "One more, but that's the last." He took the glass from Vic's hand and turned back to the bottle-lined shelved grumbling under his breath, "No point in dirtying another glass...."

After a few moments, Mac broke the heavy silence. "At least she's going to be okay."

Vic snorted. "No thanks to her date. You'd think she would have more sense."

"T'wasn't her fault," slurred Mac, his attempts to sample the local bar's entire "top shelf" finally catching up with him. "She wasn't driving."

Vic accepted the last scotch and threw it back as easily as he had the others. That was the thing about drinking very old single malt. Every one was as smooth as old silk.

"Serves him right," Mac muttered, glaring into the glass that dared to once again be empty.

"I'll drink to that," Vic said, lifting his own. Too late he remembered that it too was empty. He grimaced. "Damn, maybe I won't."

The latest target of scorn, Li Ann's unlucky date, had been disliked intensely upon first inspection by her two ex's. They had swiftly joined forces in trying to impress upon her the unsuitability of the 'computer guy'.

Brian Pendleton, argued Li Ann, was a gentleman and a lot of fun. She had been completely stubborn and insisted on accepting his invitation to dinner - to the dismay of both Mac and Vic.

Their fears had seemed frighteningly justified when Li Anne hadn't shown up for work the next morning. The boys were instantly convinced that the man was a rapist, serial killer, or closest axe murderer. The reality was only slightly less disturbing to Mac and Vic's overactive imaginations.

It seemed Li Ann's gentleman had a bad habit of talking on the phone whilst driving... and had subsequently driven them into a tree, neatly wrapping the front fender around it and leaving Li Ann out of action for several weeks. The Director herself was more than a little put out - you'd almost have thought she'd have preferred the axe murderer....

Both Mac and Vic had rushed off to the hospital upon hearing the news. When they'd arrived, the ER nurse had informed them that their partner was in surgery and wouldn't be able to have visitors until the next morning. They'd exchanged a look, silently agreeing that they'd stay until surgery was over and Li Ann was safely in recovery.

Shown to a waiting area for the families of surgical patients, they'd waited. Predictably, Vic had paced incessantly while Mac sprawled in a chair giving every appearance of complete and utter relaxation. For once, they'd not argued. Four hours in a small area, and not one snide remark.

Mac couldn't believe it. Odd, how they seemed to have reached this silent agreement that their usual snappish digs at each other were out of bounds for those hours.

Then, much to their relief, the surgeon had come out to speak with them, reassuring them that Li Ann had come through surgery with flying colors and would be fine. They were so relieved, in fact, that they went straight to a bar.

Since then they had been busily downing drink after drink as they discussed - at great length - exactly WHY this Brian-the-computer-guy was completely unsuitable for Li Ann. And how many ways there were to make a grown man disappear.

While neither Mac nor Vic would have admitted to a case of sour grapes, the truth of the matter was this "computer guy" was smart, suave, well-educated, good-looking and apparently offered Li Ann a more stable, solid relationship than either of them could. Something she insisted she wanted even as she kept her two partners 'dangling' with the occasional shred of hope.

"He's irresponsible," Vic insisted, as if this was the worst possible sin a man could possess. "I mean, you DON'T use your cellphone when you're driving! That's just - just common sense."

Mac nodded sagely, ignoring the fact that he, himself, usually drove with a cell phone in one hand while the other was busy adjusting the radio. "Unsafe. How can she go OUT with a guy like that?"

"After she turned both of us down," Vic added, finally getting to the heart of the matter.

"For being too reckless," Mac rejoined.

Vic turned to him, squinting slightly to bring his partner into proper focus. "Actually, you were the one she called reckless."

Mac shrugged, unimpressed. "She called you predictable."

Vic scowled, not at all happy with the turn the conversation had taken. "Okay, okay. The bottom line is: he isn't good for her."

"And he's boring. Like, what's the attraction of cricket, anyway?"

The bartender came over to them, arms crossed and stared at them meaningfully.

"What's HIS problem?" Mac asked Vic - in what he thought was a quiet voice.

Vic shrugged, almost falling off of his barstool in the process. "I think he wants us to leave. Idiot thinks we've had enough to drink."

"What?" Mac's eyebrows rose in a comically stunned expression. "My good man," he slurred, leaning halfway across the bar to give the bartender his most sincere look, "we are just fine - not drunk at all." Satisfied that that was resolved, he added grandly, "Another round, please. I'll have vodka and tonic this time. On second thought, hold the tonic."

The man shook his head emphatically. "Not a chance, boys. You're both way over the legal limit. I'll just call you a cab so you can go home and sleep it off."

"Don't need a cab," Mac responded, as if pointing out the obvious. "Car's just outside - we'll be fine." Unfortunately, he waved one arm to emphasize his statement and lost his balance. Only quick reflexes on Vic's part saved Mac from an intimate acquaintance with the questionable cleanliness of the floor.

"C'mon, Mac," Vic intervened. "He's right - let him call us a cab - we can pick up the car tomorrow."

Mac shrugged him off, and surged to his feet. Ignoring the annoying tendency the floor had apparently developed to sway at irregular intervals, Mac questioned angrily. "You think I can't make it?"

Vic merely squinted a little harder and chuckled at him.

"What's so damn funny? I'm fine," Mac declared. Realizing he was towering over the still seated man, Mac tried to put his superior position to good use by glaring at his partner. Vic's mockery of his ability to hold his liquor was thoroughly pissing him off.

Vic snorted. "Right. Like I'm gonna let you behind the wheel so you can drive me into a tree of our very own."

"I could make it," Mac grumbled. But the reminder of Li Ann's accident had taken the wind out of his sails. And it also reminded him of that damned "computer guy" setting him off on a new round of complaints. "I just don't get it. What has he got that we haven't?"

Vic groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. "What'd you have to do THAT for?"

"What?" Mac stared.

"Mention HIM, again. Could you not do that? You're wrecking my buzz."

"You brought it up, I didn't."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"Didn't."

"Did, too. You talked about the tree."

"No, I didn't. I was talking about your...driving ability. In your current state. Of in- in- inebriation." Though Vic might have been willing to argue his sobriety a short time before, the fine Scotch he'd consumed was finally making itself felt.

Mac sniggered. "Good one. I dare you to try and say that again."

"You heard me the first time," Vic grumbled with wounded dignity. "You're drunk, I'm drunk - be sensible for once, Mac, and accept the damned cab. Neither of us can operate a car tonight."

Pouting, Mac narrowed his eyes at Victor. "Okay, maybe we shouldn't drive, but if you think I'm leaving my car in that parking lot overnight, you're drunker than I thought."

With a heavy sigh, Vic let his head thud onto the wooden bar. Mac and that damned car. He'd never understand why the man insisted on driving a vehicle that cost more than most people earned in years.

Moments later, inspiration struck and Vic pulled his weary head from the wooden surface. "Wait a minute, I think I know a few of the guys who still work this neighborhood. We'll just let the police know your car will be here overnight and ask them to keep an eye on it." Vic frowned and glanced around looking for a phone, "I have a couple of friends who wouldn't mind doing it - lemme just make a call."

"Friends?" Mac asked in mock amazement. "YOU have friends, Victor?"

"Fuck you, Ramsey," Vic growled. "I'll have you know that I have plenty of friends - PLENTY of friends."

"Riiight," Mac agreed in an obvious attempt to ward off the you-don't-know-me-I-have hidden-depths lecture he'd heard one too many times. "I'm sure you do, Victor." When the other man sliced an icy green glare his way, he added, "Really."

He sighed and nudged Vic's shoulder with his own. "Go on... make your call. BUT - if anything happens to my car, I'll... I'll... well, I'll think of a suitable revenge."

By the time Vic had completed his call, the cab had arrived. The two men tottered out and poured themselves into the back seat.

"Where to, gentlemen?" The driver asked.

"Well, the night is young," Mac said, musingly.

Vic shot him a disgusted look. "My place," he said. Then at the driver's questioning glance, he remembered that the man had no way of knowing where he lived and began giving directions, or at least trying to as Mac began to complain bitterly.

"No! Not your place. No, no, no. That simply won't do, Vic. I'm allergic to your apartment. I really am. I'm not going there. You can drop me off at mine on the way."

Vic jabbed him with a well-placed elbow, hoping to shut him up. "Hey. Cut it out. Or ... I'll cook."

Mac spread his hands beseechingly. "No! Anything but that. Please. I'll - I'll - look, I'm behaving. Your place it is. Just don't cook anything."

Vic frowned at him. "I'm not THAT bad! And I'll have you know that I've improved, too, since you were last over."

Mac regarded him pleadingly. "I'm begging you. Vic, it isn't much to ask. Just this one time. Please. One tiny favor."

His feelings more than a touch hurt, Vic gave a put-upon sigh and shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Fine, Mac. I won't cook tonight. In fact, I won't ever inflict my cooking on you again."

Half expecting an apology, he sat back and shot a reproving look at Mac.

"Thank god for small favors," Mac responded.

"Go to hell, Ramsey!"

"On my way there now, Mansfield."

"You calling my place hell?"

Mac smirked. "Well... maybe not hell. Purgatory."

"Fine," Vic announced emphatically. He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. "After you drop me off, you can take this guy to his own place."

"Fine," Mac sneered.

"Fine," Vic sneered back.

The driver shrugged. Another couple of drunks. Nothing new in the world there.

As soon as the cab pulled up in front of Vic's building, he hurriedly scrambled out of the back seat. Unfortunately, he forgot about the uneven sidewalk and ended up on his face within two steps.

"Jesus Christ, Victor!" Mac laboriously clambered out of the cab and reached down to haul his partner to his feet.

Swaying unsteadily, trying to regain his balance, Vic leaned against Mac. Mac abruptly found himself wondering at why it felt...so... good, yeah, that was it. It was good. Having Vic leaning on him, against him... In fact, Vic was warm and smelt good, too. He didn't push Vic away, as he would have done under other circumstances. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered something about it being entirely inappropriate for him to be standing there, paralytic, letting Vic lean on him.

The rolling down of the window behind them shattered his reverie. "Hey!" shouted the driver.

Vic cursed under his breath and dug his hand into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet, and stumbled back to the cab.

Mac drew a deep breath to try and clear his head, then turned to go into the building. He'd completely forgotten that he'd sworn he wasn't going to stay at Vic's place.

Other considerations had taken pre-eminent position in his sluggish brain. /That did NOT just happen. It didn't./

Once they'd arrived at Vic's apartment, Mac waited with ill-concealed impatience while Vic located his keys then fumbled to unlock the door. Finally, after Vic had managed to try every key - except the correct one - dropping the ring onto the floor several times in the process, Mac snorted in disgust and grabbed them from Vic's hand.

"Allow me," he offered gallantly. On his first try, Mac got the door opened and ushered Vic into the living room.

"My hero," Vic said sarcastically.

Mac immediately made for the kitchen - and the cabinet where Vic stored his liquor. Vaguely curious, Victor followed. "You're gonna have ANOTHER drink?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am," was the defiant response. "And so are you."

Vic sighed. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," came the disembodied reply that floated from the depths of the cabinet. Mac emerged a moment later with a bottle of scotch.

"Hey, you can't just open that. That's mine," Vic said, coming forward to grab it from him. "C'mon, Mac; at least get an open bottle. Give- give me - that -" They were grappling over it now.

Mac stepped back, wresting the bottle from Vic's hold with a firm pull backwards. As Vic opened his mouth to complain, Mac said, "Okay, okay! Get an open one then." He handed it back with a sardonic look.

As his partner turned away, Mac found himself struggling to suppress the sudden mental image of grappling with Victor on the floor, and not over possession of a stupid bottle. Hm-mmm... The jolt of arousal that accompanied the image couldn't be denied. Maybe they'd been going about this all the wrong way. Suddenly sure things were about to get very interesting, Mac grinned - widely.

Vic had put the whisky back and, after a moment, turned with a bottle gripped triumphantly in his hand. There was only a couple inches of liquor left in the bottom. "See?" he waved it slightly in the air between them, "Just enough." He stopped, frowning suspiciously when he noticed Mac's grin. "What is it now?"

Mac continued to grin, tilting his head slightly to regard Vic, and said, "Nothing. Just thinking. You realize we didn't argue ONCE while we were waiting in the hospital, worried about Li Ann, right?"

Vic stared at him then shook his head briefly, as if made dizzy by the sudden change of topic. He looked about him, and then went to the cupboard to get two clean glasses. Putting them down, he opened the bottle and poured a healthy helping, finishing off the last of the scotch. "So? So what?"

"You DID notice that, right?" Mac was insistent.

Vic picked up one of the glasses, and hesitated, before chugging it back. His eyes watering slightly, he said, "Yeah. I noticed that you had the decency to restrain yourself. You actually managed to keep your mouth shut for, well, several hours, wasn't it?" He turned his head to regard Mac. "You want a medal for that, or something?"

"Victor, Victor," Mac sighed. "Here I am on the verge of an epiphany regarding our relationship and you're making fun of me. I'm hurt, Vic. Deeply hurt."

Vic stared in amazement. "Mac, have you lost your mind? We don't have a ... a RELATIONSHIP. We're co-workers, partners, we both loved Li Ann and were both rejected by her. That's all we have in common."

Lifting his glass to his lips, Vic blinked when he saw that it was empty. How the hell had that happened? He set his glass on the counter and returned to the cabinet for the recently rescued unopened bottle.

"Hey," Mac protested. "Thought we couldn't open that one. Decide not to save it for that special occasion - you know, if you ever actually manage to get a date?"

Choosing to ignore Mac's needling, Vic concentrated on opening the bottle and pouring himself another drink. "Let's go in and sit down, Mac." Vic headed rather unsteadily out to the living room, glass in one hand, bottle in the other, and collapsed bonelessly onto the couch.

Picking up the second glass though he no longer wanted a drink, Mac drifted in Vic's wake and followed his example, sitting himself down a few inches over on the same couch.

Vic glared at him momentarily. Then returned to contemplating the amber liquid in his glass.

Christ, talk about thick-skinned, thought Mac. Trying to rile Victor now was proving even more difficult than reasoning with him. It had to be the scotch. It had to be. Mac decided to take another tack. "Are you planning on sharing that, or keeping it all to yourself?"

Victor handed him the bottle without a word.

As he poured, Mac rattled on. "You're right, of course. Why bother trying to plan for any kind of a future? Our asses belong to the Director; our brains too. Put them on the line every day for...what? But you're getting to the end of the road, aren't you, old boy?" He winked at Vic, cheerily.

Vic glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mac shrugged. "Well, you're running out of options, I'd say. Unless you're planning to, like, make a move, like, on Jackie," he said, in an irritating imitation of the Janczyk ex-mob queen.

Vic snorted, meaningfully. "I'd have to get through your favorite pal, Dobrinsky. At least I'm not still in love with Li Ann. Unlike you, poor unfortunate fool that you are." He stopped at Mac's curious frown in his direction. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, Ramsey? This is a first! I'll drink to that." He reached ineffectually for the bottle of scotch.

Mac kept it just slightly out of his reach. "Vic? What are you implying?"

"Not IMPLYING anything. You're still in love with Li Ann, and we both know it."

So incensed was he by the smug words, Mac momentarily forgot to protect the scotch from Vic's grasping hand. He stared; silently amazed that his partner had completely missed the fact that Mac was long recovered from his romantic involvement with Li Ann.

Vic poured himself a generous shot of single malt and settled back into the comfortable couch, proud of the fact that he'd managed to strike Mac speechless. He pointedly ignored the glare Mac was sending his way and sipped his drink with a contented sigh.

"I," Mac announced indignantly, "am SO over Li Ann. YOU'RE the one still carrying a torch for her."

"Bullshit."

"No, Vic, truth. You've never accepted the fact that she turned you down," Mac informed him in serious tones. "You should probably see someone about that, you know."

But Vic was basking in the fact that he'd gotten to Mac and he merely smiled. "You can kid yourself about it all you want, Ramsey. I've seen the way you watch her. When you think no-one's looking."

Mac grinned at him though, at this. "Why, Vic, I didn't know you cared. How long has this been going on, then?"

Vic stopped, a little lost. "How long has WHAT been going on?"

"You. Looking. Watching me." Mac waved the bottle expressively. "You can tell me, Victor. I won't laugh. I promise."

Victor scowled at him. "I'm an operative for a shadowy government agency, remember? It's my JOB to watch people."

Mac snorted derisively. "Try again, Vic. It's your job to watch criminals and evildoers - not me. And you have been watching me... 'specially my ass."

Choking on the mouthful of scotch he'd been in the process of swallowing, Vic stared at Mac from reddened eyes. "Your ASS?"

Grinning, Mac leaned to one side and patted the ass in question. "Yes, Vic - This ass. You seem to have fixated on it lately."

He wanted to respond with a suitably crushing comment, but Vic found himself staring at Mac's rear end in silent wonder. He had to admit, it was a rather nice ass, as asses went - but...

"I have NOT been staring at your ass. Or any other portion of your anatomy, for that matter."

Mac frowned in puzzlement. "But - you HAVE. In fact, you're doing it right now, Vic."

Vic tore his eyes away and gruffly said, "Maybe if you stopped... doing that."

Mac tutted, shaking his head. "You're losing your touch." He leaned forward and took the bottle back again. "One more for the road?" He poured another whiskey, aware of Vic's fuming beside him. "It's okay, Victor. I'm flattered, actually. No, really, I am. But you realize what this means, don't you?"

Acidly Vic replied, "That you're a shameless exhibitionist with delusions of grandeur about your own ass? What makes you think that I've noticed it before just now, with you," he made an irritated motion in the air with his hand, "waving it around like that?" He charged on before Mac could reply, "Besides, this says more about you than it does me. Why have you been watching ME?"

Mac raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me? Watching you?" He laughed.

Vic donned his I'm-being-patient-with-you-because-you-can't-help-being-an-idiot expression and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "Mac, I've noticed you watching me. I know you think I don't see, but I do. You're younger than I am," Vic said, ignoring Mac's snort with dignity, "and I suppose you're still a little ... curious. Sexually, I mean. It happens, I'm the closest male friend you have and so you've fixated your interest on me. It'll pass."

Rather than the loudly defensive denial he'd expected, Vic was stunned to see Mac blush and turn his face away.

Uh oh.

"Mac?"

Trying to recover his poise, which he feared was long gone by now, Mac cleared his throat. "Actually, you're not. My, uh, 'friend', that is." Jesus, that sounded lame even to him. Damn. Shit. HELL. "-And - and anyway, you don't think I'm going to believe that coming from you, do you? You just don't want to admit what you REALLY think of me." He tried to adopt a knowing smile but he figured it probably looked rather sickly at this point. His face was hot and he swore to himself silently, wondering if it was as red as it felt.

Vic was still staring at him, realizing that he'd called Mac's bluff. Finally. At last. He'd managed to gain the perfect upper hand over Mac. Strangely, he didn't feel very jubilant at being right. In reality, he'd just been shooting off his mouth, looking to piss the other man off, with his pointed summation of Mac's problem...

And now... Now it appeared he'd been right. Mac really DID have... what? A curiosity? Fascination? Infatuation? With HIM? Outlandish as that idea at first seemed, the violent blush that still hadn't completely faded from Mac's face gave it credence that couldn't be ignored. Vic attempted to swallow with a suddenly dry throat.

He said, his voice roughened, "Mac, are you -"

Mac jumped up and said, almost angrily, "It's always about you, isn't it? Poor Victor, the one with all the reasons in the world to feel sorry for himself. Maybe if you stopped trying to justify your existence by attempting to save basket-cases and mending broken wings, you'd see that you're not the only one who feels anything."

Vic gaped at the other man. Where the hell had that come from? And did he really mean the unprovoked attack?

Mac sighed, frustrated. Running a shaking hand through his curly hair, he turned away, pacing restlessly in the crowded space between the sofa and the coffee table. He hadn't meant to say that; hadn't meant to say anything like that at all, in fact. What he'd wanted to say was something far different. He'd just felt so exposed, so vulnerable...

Mac took a deep breath, and forced himself to regain his inner balance, despite the alcohol in his blood. Looking down at his seated partner, once more in control of himself, he stated, "Victor, let's just - just drop it. I don't think I want to have this conversation with you, right now especially. I mean, let's just forget about it; call it a night, and tomorrow we can carry on like it never happened. Just like always. Right?"

The guarded defensiveness of Mac's words touched something deep inside of Vic. He didn't want to hurt Mac - not really. Leaving things off here, trying to pretend that this stilted, awkward excuse for a conversation had never taken place, would be the end of whatever Mac and he meant to each other.

"I don't think we can do that, Mac." Vic rose from the couch and turned to face the younger man. "I, for one, won't be able to forget. And, I'm not sure that I'd want to, even if it were possible. We need to talk about this," he said steadily.

Mac stared at the glass in his hand with desperate intensity. Anything to avoid looking into that piercing green gaze. "Victor," he almost whispered the word. "I don't think... I'm not sure that there's much to talk about. I want you. You're straight. End of discussion."

It was Victor's turn for his face to feel suddenly heated, and he knew it was more than the scotch. He'd been plastered for a while now and it hadn't felt like this.

Letting the 'fuzziness' of the scotch insulate him, Vic considered his partner's words. The thought of Mac...wanting him... DESIRING him... It set off a chain reaction somewhere in the region of his brain, then down to his heart, then reaching evil fingers all the way down to his cock. Vic realized that despite his inebriated condition, he was responding to Mac's serious and open declaration.

He licked his lips and tried to focus. He didn't want Mac walking out of here after a statement like that. He would be certain he'd ruined everything between them and there'd be no saving their rather odd friendship. He wanted to talk about this but found himself instead reacting physically, with the curious need to feel Mac's body against his again. It was like a tactile flashback to the brief moment outside when they'd arrived at the building... There'd been a frisson of illicit excitement in the contact between them. A moment that had been so completely outside of normal, familiar reality...

He shook his head. "Mac, you're making assumptions about me again.

"Huh?" Mac stared at Vic, a frown of confusion creasing his brow. "What the hell...?" He blinked, reran his last comment through his alcohol-soaked brain, and the light slowly dawned. The only assumption he'd made...

"You mean... you mean you're NOT straight?" He asked incredulously. "Victor, I am seriously worried about your mental state, here. You are just about the straightest man I know."

Vic just smiled.

"Aren't you?" Mac asked, suddenly feeling as if he had somehow fallen into a parallel universe - and that the Vic in this particular universe was gaining a perverse enjoyment out of driving him mad.

Vic swirled the tiny amount of liquid remaining in his glass, watching it with rapt fascination. It was far easier to look at than the stunned, perplexed expression on Mac's face. He wasn't sure he knew what he was doing but the sense of liberation he was gaining from it was too exhilarating to ignore. "Like I said, you assume a lot. You don't know me; you think I'm this clueless, hopelessly uptight and 'straighter than an arrow' guy... Mac, you don't know the first thing about me. So you just fill in the blanks as you go along. Hey," he added, catching a glimpse of Mac's wounded expression, "I'm not accusing you - I'm just saying that maybe we don't know each other as well as we thought we did. After all, you kind of took me by surprise there, with that statement of yours. Why shouldn't I have a few surprises."

Mac shrugged. Deal with it, he told himself, just fuckin' deal with it. It was surreal, but hell, it was where he was at the moment. Vic's place. Yeah. Okay. He sat back on the couch, leaning backwards, looking up at the ceiling. "Vic, just tell me one thing. As crazy as this sounds, are you - do you - am I the only one here who's been thinking about, you know, 'us'? As a possibility?"

Vic frowned a little. He didn't look over at Mac. He sighed through his nose and drained the last of the whiskey from his glass. He was tired. Suddenly, he really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Sure. I mean, yeah, I've THOUGHT about it. But not in this context." He had to stop and wonder at that. What did he want? Did he want Mac? It was one thing to have someone wanting him... it was quite another to reciprocate. And Mac was, well, MAC. Irritating, annoying...

And, he had to admit as he gazed at his partner, gorgeous. Funny. Smart.

Hell. If he actually made a move - or allowed Mac to make a move - what would that mean in the long term? After a few hours pleasure, what would happen? Could they go back to the way things were? Did he even want to go back... or, did he want to chuck his reservations to the wind and give this thing a try.

Whatever the hell 'this thing' turned out to be.

Carefully, Vic leaned forward to set his glass on the table, then carefully seated himself beside Mac, their thighs touching lightly. "I... Mac, what do you want? From me, I mean."

Mac closed his eyes. "I don't want anything from you, Vic."

Vic regarded him, carefully. The jocular playboy seemed long gone and in his place was a Mac that was almost vulnerable. And they were both far too drunk to be dissembling at this point. He took in Mac's expression. His partner looked - sad? Resigned? Something shifted in Vic and he leaned forward, giving in to the impulse.

"Look, let's just leave it. I don't-" The rest of what Mac might have tried to say was abruptly cut off by the sensation of a warm, firm and surprisingly soft mouth on his. Mac's eyes snapped open. The taste of the whiskey mixed with Vic's breath was intoxicating in more ways than one, and then he almost moaned with disappointment, as Vic moved back to look into his eyes.

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" Vic suggested, a trace of humor in his husky, velvet voice. But when Mac only stared at him like he'd finally flipped, he added, "You really want to walk away, leave it like this? Mac, I'm not going to be able to forget what you've said. It doesn't have to mean anything more than this." He moved in once again to press another slow kiss on Mac's paralyzed lips. Raising up only a millimeter, he smiled and whispered, "Let's find out what it is before we throw it away. Okay?"

**

Mac opened his mouth to respond. Luckily, Vic swooped down and captured his lips before he could say anything too embarrassingly revealing about just exactly how long and how badly he'd been wanting exactly this.

A sly tongue slipped past his lips and teeth and Mac's higher brain functions decided to take the rest of the night off. His world narrowed to include only Vic - the way he tasted, the warmth that seemed just to roll off of him and envelop Mac. And his hands... damn! Victor's clever, clever fingers carefully traced the line of his neck, his shoulders, and his arms.

Someone groaned - Mac couldn't be sure, but he suspected he was the source of the rather embarrassingly desperate sound. And he couldn't have possibly cared less. No, he had other far more important things to worry about. Like, how to get his muscles back under conscious control so that he could do more than sit in stunned stillness, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. God, he wanted to explore this amazing man fate had tossed into his lap. He wanted to touch. To taste. To FEEL.

Another groan and... Yes! Somehow, Mac's body had remembered what to do, automatic responses kicking in even though his mind was currently unable to function. With a move he could never quite recall, he managed to maneuver until he was reclining on the couch, anchored in place by the weight of Vic's body.

The sheer deliciousness of this position sent a lightning like jolt of sensation through his system that was almost enough to make him come right then and there. Gasping as Vic's mouth trailed over his chin, down his neck, Mac struggled for control. Damn. Those beautiful, hot lips nibbling most delightfully on his sensitive skin were driving him crazy. Tipping his head back to allow Vic better access, Mac stared upwards, contemplating the ceiling in an attempt to slow down his raging libido. Some tiny rational corner of his mind made the absent observation that there was an awful lot of dust on the ceiling light above his head - and what was that....

The light fixture had a tiny, glowing red dot that was just visible because of the odd angle from which he was viewing it. Mac closed his eyes, disgusted at the evidence of the Director's meddling in Vic's life. Knowing, however, that there was little to be done about it, he struggled to forget about it, her, their job, even Li Ann, the whole kit and caboodle.

But Vic noticed the sudden cooling of his response and pulled back up to stare down into his face. Vic's expression was glazed, his pupils dilated and his face flushed with arousal, but concern and confusion were also clearly evident. Mac found himself slightly shaken by the fire in Vic's eyes, the eager intensity of his desire.

"What is it?" Vic asked, roughly, as if finding the effort of holding back a strain.

Mac shook his head slightly, not willing to let this moment escape. "Nothing. Just - no, it's nothing."

Vic stared at him, going still. "You're having second thoughts," he stated, his eyes narrowing. "Aren't you?"

"No. No, I'm not," Mac exclaimed, and brought up his hands to cradle either side of Vic's face, pulling him down once more.

Warm, wonderful, wet and hot, oh God... This was better. Much better in fact. He no longer cared what the Director saw or thought. That bitch wasn't going to ruin the best thing that had happened to him in longer than he could remember.

And then the way that Vic carefully, exquisitely ground his hips against Mac's, deliberately and slowly, bringing their hard erections into a teasing contact through the fabric of their respective jeans, sent all further thought flying from Mac's mind.

Mac was twisting and arching under him with such enthusiasm that Vic feared he'd be thrown right onto the floor. He used one knee to nudge Mac's long legs apart and settled his own weight between them, holding onto the arm of the sofa with one hand. A little insurance never hurt. He settled in, his free hand cupping the side of Mac's face, and started tracing a careful route from jawline to throat to... What the fuck was this material doing in his way?

Impatiently, Vic lowered his hand to tug at the hem of Mac's shirt. "Off," he demanded. "Take it off, Mac."

With a low grunt of approval, Mac struggled with the shirt. Vic rode the move out, loving the way the long, lean body undulated beneath him. A delighted smile bowed his pouty lips as the younger man wiggled delightfully.

"Victor," Mac protested breathlessly. "You're not making this any easier." He pushed at Vic's shoulders with both hands. "Get up."

"Nope." Vic's grin widened. "I like where I am." He sighed and settled even more of his weight on Mac with a contented wriggle. "In fact, I like it a lot."

"Vi-ic," Mac whined. He stopped moving and fixed a reproachful brown gaze on the face smiling down at him. "The least you could do is help me out here..."

"Oh, believe me, I intend to, Ramsey," Vic promised in a raspy whisper, a rather devilish glint coming to his eye, one that Mac really hadn't seen before. Mac actually gulped, wondering what he had unleashed in Victor. And, for the first time, concerned whether or not he could handle it.

The phone rang, cutting into what Vic was about to say, making both men start guiltily and say, "Damn!" in unison.

"That *bitch*," Vic growled, the sound of it sending an arrow of lust darting through Mac's entire body.

Vic leaned over him, his eyes closed, a look of extreme annoyance marring his beautiful features... Mac caught himself grinning up at Vic like a mindless high-school kid with a crush. Let the Director just sweat this one out - for it couldn't be anyone else, not at this time of night.

But Vic sat up; moving back to sit on the end of the couch once more, catching his breath and listening as the answering machine cut in.

After Vic's brief, almost terse, greeting message, there was a pause. Then... silence. For several beats, nothing but silence. Such weight did that silence bear, Mac found himself staring at the machine with growing apprehension. He swallowed heavily and glanced up at Vic - only to find that his partner was glaring at the machine too.

"Victor," came the often hated, much feared and always to be avoided sound of the Director's voice, "and Mac." Heavy sigh. "Boys, I must say that, while I've been expecting this for quite some time, I DO hope that you'll not let your... hormones get the best of you."

Mac's mouth dropped open and he blinked. "Huh?" He turned to look at Vic. "What's she talking about?"

"I'm talking about safe sex, gentlemen," she answered smoothly.

Vic sighed and leaned his head back. "That's not why she's doing this," he insisted harshly. "She wants to ruin the *mood*!" This last word was hurled with surprising force and volume towards the ceiling.

Mac's body had that distant, anesthetized feeling that comes from too much alcohol and too much adrenaline. He was feeling no pain and found his 'care factor' hovering somewhere down around zero. He shrugged. "Hey, let her try, if she has to. She can't-"

"I can and I will," the disembodied voice interjected. "I may not have been able to get you here before now but if you will insist on playing, you'll do so responsibly. I shouldn't have to remind you."

Mac stared, his jaw dropping. He looked up, automatically, at the glowing red dot. "You're giving us Sex-Ed lessons, now? Over the phone?" He grinned at the absurdity of it. "Hey, I'm game if you are, Vic. She can give us tips if we need help."

But Vic swiftly sat up and stalked over to the answering machine, ripping the cord out of the wall and throwing the machine on the floor. It bleeped once but didn't appear to break.

He passed a weary hand over his face then stood, hands on his lean hips, as he studied the discarded hunk of electronics. "You know," he finally said contemplatively, "the worst of it is that she's obviously watching us. The timing's just too good." Looking over at Mac, he deliberated in silence for a moment. Apparently reaching a decision, he started for the bedroom, pulling off his shirt enroute and saying, "Are you coming in, or would you rather stay out here and sleep on the couch?"

"Hey," Mac protested, as Vic disappeared from view. Rising to his feet, he followed along in Victor's wake. Avoiding the shirt was easy. The jeans he nearly stumbled over in the doorway though, caught him by surprise. "Shit," he cursed, struggling to avoid falling when his feet became tangled in the heavy fabric.

"Hurry UP, Mac."

Hearing the bedsprings protest, Mac knew that Vic was already in the big bed. Forewarned was not, however, forearmed, in this instance. In fact, Mac concluded, there wasn't a warning in the world that could ever possibly prepare him to face a naked Victor, sprawled languidly on his side across the bedspread - waiting for him.

Mac moistened his suddenly dry-as-the-Sahara lips and seriously considered fainting dead away.

Vic watched him from under sinfully long eyelashes; his jade eyes the merest flash of color. Waiting until he was certain he had the younger man's attention, Victor raised the hand not propping up his head to his own tumescent cock, lazily stroking himself. After a moment, he released the now fully erect organ and held the hand out to Mac in imperious invitation. "Come here to me, Mac."

Mac moved woodenly forward, drawn to the sight like a sailing ship about to dash itself upon the rocks, lured by the siren's call of Vic's nakedness and the tone in his voice. Automatically divesting himself of his clothing as he went, Mac came to the edge of the bed and crawled onto it, devouring Vic with his eyes.

"I didn't know, I-." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I didn't think you were this beautiful," he stammered, wondering where he'd found the nerve to say THAT. Then wondered why the hell he was spouting bad poetry and decided to blame it on the liquor. But there was a niggling voice in the back of his head that said he'd always known exactly how beautiful Victor was.

Vic blinked at him, obviously surprised at the statement. Nonetheless, he simply said, "Are you just going to sit there? How many times does one usually have to invite you to have sex with them, anyway?"

Suddenly remembering he prided himself on being an unflappable man of action, Mac forced himself to push his sense of awe aside before this amazing opportunity passed him by.

Lurching into motion, Mac crawled forward until his knees were tight against Vic's chest. His legs folded under him, Mac leaned forward to trail a hand rather too reverently over the muscular shoulder, across the bare chest and cute belly, then up along the curve of rather lovely thighs and down to Vic's knee. Mac's eyes had followed the passage of his hand and now he looked back up to Vic's face, to see a large question mark dancing in bright green eyes.

Mac realized that now that he'd finally gotten something he'd been wishing for, he really had no idea what to do with it. Despite his womanizing reputation as a carouser and a smoothie, he'd never had much traffic with men. And despite the gossip that circulated at the Agency - the rumor mill had him doing everyone, regardless of gender, at least once - he'd not given the mechanics of such an undertaking much thought.

And even if he had considered the idea of sex with men, Mac certainly hadn't considered Vic as even a remote possibility. He tried to dredge up some saliva as he licked his lips and said, lowly, "I want this, I want you." Mac suddenly regretted all the alcohol he'd consumed earlier, realizing that the drinks really weren't helping him now, and that he was making a complete and utter ass of himself in front of Victor.

Hell, he thought bitterly, what else is new. I might as well go the whole mile. "I think I've wanted it for a long time."

Dryly, Vic raised a brow at him and said, "Only just now figuring that out? Look, why don't get you get closer." Sitting up, he grabbed Mac by surprisingly tense shoulders and pulled until the younger man was completely wrapped in his arms. With a smooth, practiced move, Vic rolled them so that Mac was on the bottom once more.

Vic shook his head with a slight smile, looking down into Mac's wide, startled eyes. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

"I am not!" Mac tried for indignant but was embarrassed to hear the words come out as more of a breathless squeak. "I've probably had more sex than you," he added in an attempt at bravado.

"I mean with men, idiot," Victor teased, finding the flustered expression in the brown eyes as charming as the blush that painted the high cheekbones.

"Oh. Well, um, yeah," Mac reluctantly admitted, feeling more than a little vulnerable at this point.

Quickly closing his eyes, Vic shielded the triumph his now confirmed suspicions afforded him. No need to embarrass the kid, or even, god forbid, scare him off. Because he knew now - no more doubts - that Mac was a... Damn. He swallowed heavily, stunned at the arousal the mere thought of his partner's virginity caused.

Hard on the heels of that wave of masculine satisfaction came the realization of the enormity of the trust Mac was showing in him. Mac was not a person to expose his weaknesses to anyone - not unless he trusted them completely. Then, to Vic's further dismay, the enormity of the trust he was offering to Mac became clear in his mind. This had suddenly become far more than just a drunken buddy fuck.

Mac's quiet voice broke into his reverie, "Vic?" The older man could hear the worried frown clearly in that one word.

"Shh," he hushed Mac. Opening his eyes, Vic smiled. He raised one hand and laid two fingers across Mac's lips. "We're fine," Vic murmured, gently tracing a line around that wonderfully pouty mouth. Moving slowly, he lowered his head so that he could map the line of Mac's neck with his teeth. He nibbled lightly at the smooth skin, stopping every inch or so to whisper to Mac.

"I want you, too," he assured.

"I need you," he admitted.

Mac tilted his head back at that, closing his eyes and baring his throat. The silent plea embedded in the simple gesture tore at something Vic had kept carefully hidden from himself.

He was offering Mac far more than kindness and caring. He was offering far more than mutual trust.

He was offering Mac everything.

"Please, Mac," Victor begged, suddenly overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings.

Riding the crest of Victor's amazingly effective seduction, Mac was way past thought, far beyond the ability to comprehend what Vic was requesting. He opened his eyes and looked back up at Vic, blinking a couple of times, trying to clear his fuddled mind. This all felt like a dream, an incredibly powerful and sensuous dream that was sweeping him away with the force of an unstoppable tide.

What did Vic want? Why had he stopped that touching and kissing that felt so incredible? Meeting the older man's intense gaze, it finally dawned on him that he'd been asked a question. That Vic was asking permission to take this farther... To do more than merely rutting on each other, nakedly squirming on Victor's bed...

And no one was more surprised than Mac when he realized it was exactly what he wanted. "Anything. Whatever you want, Victor."

Grinning, widely, easily, Mac tried to lighten the suddenly intense mood. "You didn't have to ask... Although, I do have to admit I like the way you sound when you're begging. It's kind of a new one for you."

The bravado fading as quickly as it came, Mac lowered his eyes and shyly bit his lip, wondering what the next stage really was. "So, uh, how do we - what happens now?"

Vic swallowed. He hadn't really expected to be going all the way with this. In fact, to be honest, he hadn't expected to be here, period. But his own natural reticence - and the very real awareness that he'd been driven in here by his need to defy the Director - haunted him somewhat. Not to mention that both Mac *and* he might regret it later.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to just lay everything out for his partner, to give him the opportunity to make an informed decision rather than being carried away by the heat of the moment. "Mac, I want to fuck you, I want to be inside of you when I come." Just saying the words was an incredible rush. "Are you up for that? I mean, really? And not just physically. Are you ready to face how this will change things? You're not going to go all weird in the morning and act like a despoiled virgin or anything, are you?" At Mac's frown, he added quickly, regretting the way that last bit had come out, "I just want you to be sure, is all."

Mac's eyes narrowed as he realized Vic was offering HIM a way out. Jesus. Sometimes the guy was just too self-sacrificing for his own good. Mac snaked both hands up to grip Vic's face and bring him down to kiss him soundly. Heatedly. Letting them both up eventually for air, he said, "I'm sure, Vic. I'm really sure. All right?"

That inner knot of doubt and tension released its hold on Vic and he smiled down at Mac. "Yeah," he said, slowly, huskily. "It's more than all right." And began to slide down Mac's length, all the way down his body.

Mac yelped as Vic's mouth opened on his hard cock, slowly sucking him in. Easily controlling Mac's helpless surge of response, Vic anchored the younger man in place with one hand on a slim hip and his own weight resting on the other hip and thigh. Self-preservation and logistics taken care of, Vic concentrated on driving Mac crazy.

Which - to Vic's complete lack of surprise - proved incredibly easy. Not to mention gratifying. Mac was hugely responsive - amazingly so, even. Whether this was the man's normal response in such situations, or a Vic-induced state, he didn't care. He just hung on, relishing every moan, every twitch, every single restless movement of Mac's hands as they roamed aimlessly over Vic's head, neck, and shoulders. He'd tensed when the long fingers had woven their way into his hair, but Mac never pushed or pulled, didn't insist. He only stroked, combed, caressed.

Opening his eyes and glancing up the long body, Vic caught Mac's dazed stare. Daring Mac to hold his gaze, Vic lowered his head, swallowing as the head of Mac's cock hit the back of his throat. Carefully, moving very slowly, Vic eased down until his lips brushed against wiry pubic hair.

"Jesus," Mac breathed.

Vic raised his head, a tiny increment at a time, filing away every gasp and reverent sigh from Mac in his memory for future contemplation and enjoyment. Teasingly, he released his hold on Mac's erection, nuzzling lightly along its length.

With a muffled groan, Mac couldn't help bucking upwards a little at the loss. "Jesus, please, Vic, come on, please," he whispered hoarsely.

Vic was grinning at him. Surely... he wouldn't leave him like this.... Mac's mind was whirling, suddenly concerned that this was some sort of perverse game of one-up-manship. The doubt crept over him, then was abruptly pushed aside as Vic gripped his cock firmly with one hand, saying, "Hold that thought. I need to get some things."

Mac let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Vic wasn't just dicking with him... Well, yeah, he was, but he wasn't teasing. Or mocking. He wasn't planning to lead Mac on then leave him wanting. In fact, as he lay there and watched Vic rummaging around in several drawers of the bedside cabinet, Mac mused upon the fact that Vic seemed genuinely caring... And more than happy to take the lead. In fact, Vic did indeed seem to know what to do. Something about this lingered in his mind. In his lust-clouded, alcohol-addled state, he couldn't quite put his finger on why that was significant, but he could swear it had something to do with the fact that Vic seemed entirely TOO experienced, too okay with this.

Vic was climbing back onto the bed, dressed in only a satisfied smile and bearing lube and a box of condoms.

Mac nearly opened his mouth to ask a snide question about the expiration date of the products and how long they'd been around when he suddenly realized he didn't want to. It was a habit, the sniping, and not a good one to indulge in right now.

Vic held up one of the condoms with a Cheshire grin and said, "This is your lucky night, Ramsey."

Mac stared at the package in stunned silence as the reality of just what he was allowing - hell, asking - Vic to do sank in. Swamped with nerves and wondering if there was a way to back out without coming off as a total idiot, Mac decided there were a few more things that really needed to be said and redirected his eyes, concentrating on a point just beyond Vic's right shoulder.

"I've never, ah, actually-" Mac closed his mouth, halting the stumbling words, and swallowed. "You'll be... careful?" he asked in a low tone, risking a glance at the features of the man hovering over him.

Vic smiled with a gentleness and reassurance Mac had never expected to see directed at him. And yet, there it was, backed by a heat that scorched through Mac's body, searing his nerve endings and stilling the butterflies in his stomach.

Unable to do anything else, Mac arched under the intense green gaze, offering himself with a trust he'd never have suspected he had to offer. And Vic - *thank you, god, thank you* - stretched his body atop Mac's, claiming his mouth once more in a hungry kiss.

Distracted by the manipulations of Vic's tongue against his own, Mac hadn't the presence of mind to complain when the body that covered his so nicely shifted to one side. By the time his dazed brain registered the loss, one of Vic's hands had moved to caress his cock, tracing random patterns along the shaft.

The light touch was almost tickling, not enough to really provide any real satisfaction, and for a moment Mac again wondered what Vic was intending. But Vic retracted his hand and was suddenly busy with the condom, unrolling it onto his own hard erection and then taking up the lube to slather himself with it. With his other hand, Vic took Mac's leg and began to help him draw up his knee and spread his legs farther apart.

"Need to get you ready for this, you know," Vic commented, that gentle smile still on his face, comforting and letting Mac know that this was pretty standard. Although it wasn't standard at all to feel Vic's strong, hot fingers slick with lube against the crack of his ass, one digit easing its way down to slide against his anus and gently slip inside, admitting just the tip.

Mac couldn't help tensing at this, despite the fact that the pleasure was different, exciting in a completely mind-blowing way when he considered they were VIC'S fingers on, er, IN his ass. And just that single digit made him feel so full, he was suddenly sure he couldn't handle something bigger up there. Forget about something the size of Vic's rampant erection. But Victor was relentlessly, soothingly drawing just the one finger in and out, getting him used to the sensation. "You're so tight, so hot," Vic murmured, that smoky voice low and curling deep into Mac's body, making his cock suddenly leak and twitch in reaction. A predatory grin lit Vic's face as he realized that Mac was responding to his words. He leaned in a little closer to Mac's ear, continuing his probing and stretching of Mac's nether hole, saying, "Do you like this? Do you like having me inside you like this? Yeah, I think you do..." He added another finger, slowly. "I think you like it a lot."

Mac inhaled harshly as his sphincter stretched to accommodate a second finger. "Breathe, Mac," Vic whispered into his ear. "That's it," he approved as Mac exhaled, relaxing into his touch. "Mmm," Vic hummed. "You're gonna love this. I promise you, I'll make it perfect."

He adjusted the angle of his invading fingers, turning and crooking them just so... And, yeah. Oh boy. Mac nearly bucked them both off of the bed in his enthusiastic response.

"Again," he demanded breathlessly. "Whatever that was, Vic, do it AGAIN."

Vic chuckled. "Patience is its own reward, grasshopper. I'll get us there. You just relax and let me-"

Mac bucked again, almost screaming as Vic dragged the tip of his middle finger over the sensitive gland, once, twice... a third time.

"Vic, stop." Mac warned urgently. "You have to," another stroke made Mac shudder and roll his head from side to side on the pillow. "Oh god, Vic...VIC!"

Vic, having absolutely no mercy in his soul, bent down and swallowed Mac's erection whole.

"Oh FUCK," Mac groaned.

Vic's mouth was full, unable to comment, but his gaze rose again to fasten on Mac's face. Mac dragged air into his lungs, wondering why he hadn't exploded at the overload of sensations cartwheeling through him under Vic's extraordinary attentions. Vic's expression looked positively knowing and mischievous.

But the fingers were withdrawn suddenly and Mac cried out at the loss. "No - don't-"

Vic pulled his mouth away from Mac's cock with an audible slurp. "Nice. Don't worry, we're just getting started here." He took up a bit more lube and reapplied it to his cock. Then began to gather up Mac's legs, a hand under each knee. Moving into position, Vic said, "You want it? You want me inside you, Mac?"

Mac groaned. "Just fucking *do* it, Vic! Please!"

Vic was chuckling softly. "Slut," he whispered, a little endearingly, a little teasingly as he pressed the head of his cock to Mac's twitching anus. Vic was enjoying the way Mac was actively drawing both his knees up, waiting for him, exposing himself, his legs trembling.

With a slow and gentle movement of his hips, Vic started pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle guarding Mac's entrance. Vic remembered his own first time, he'd been excited, fearful, and curious in equal measures. And his partner had shown such patience - never rushing things, giving him plenty of time to grow accustomed to the new sensations - that he'd come out of the experience filled with warm pleasure and the knowledge that sex between men was something he wanted... needed.

Vowing to himself that he would show Mac the same consideration, leave him with the knowledge that male sex was a wondrous experience - something to be shared and enjoyed without fear or shame - Vic gazed into Mac's eyes and smiled. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he gasped. "I'm fine, Vic." He drew in a deep breath as Vic's cockhead made its way past his sphincter.

Vic paused, giving Mac a moment to grow accustomed to the reality of having a cock up his ass. "Relax for me, Mac. Deep breath... Yeah," Vic moaned as the tight muscle stretched to accommodate the girth of his penis. "You're perfect, Mac. Just perfect."

Mac was too drunk on Vic and the intensity of the moment to wonder what he meant by 'perfect'. And breathing seemed to be something that would have to take care of itself because the burning and overwhelming feeling of having Vic's cock enter him was too much - yet, somehow, not enough. He managed, with a moan, to gasp, "Vic, please, do it, fuck me..."

As Vic obediently slid another inch or two into him, so agonizingly slowly, Mac felt his bones go weak and melt. He belonged to Vic now, just a willing and limp body filled with pleasure and wild sensation. He'd never imagined exactly what it would be like, and the reality was far beyond anything he had expected. He was abruptly grateful that Vic was being so patient - in his place, Mac wasn't sure he'd have the same restraint.

"Vic," Mac whined. "What's taking so long? I want you to fuck me NOW."

"Easy, babe. Trust me, you don't want me to rush this!" Vic ran his hands over Mac's torso, delighting in the unaccustomed feel of the soft hair on his chest, toying with the hard little nipples. "Just relax. I'll take care of you."

And his words seemed to serve as a sort of tranquilizer on the younger man. He relaxed under Vic's ministrations, and his complete trust in Vic's promise shone in his eyes. Suddenly, easily - as if this was meant to be - Vic's cock slid smoothly into that silken passage.

"Oh my god, Vic," Mac said huskily, "this is... you're... Damn!" Brown eyes reflected Mac's awe. His joy. His pleasure.

Vic grinned down at his lover. "I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured. "Now, are you ready for the main event?"

"Jesus, Vic - you mean there's more?"

"Oh yeah. Much more, Mac."

As Vic began to move, rocking gently in and out, Mac groaned at the feeling of being filled by Vic's cock as well as the jolt he felt throughout his body when that magic spot inside of him was stimulated. And Vic kept doing it, relentlessly, slowly. Mac was open-mouthed, his world now centered only on the man possessing him. The Director could drop in through the ceiling, arrange a pay-per-view crowd - Dobrinsky could arrive and give a running commentary and he wouldn't give a damn.

Fervently, Mac gasped, "Fuck."

Vic's grin took on slightly more evil proportions. "Yeah, gonna fuck you now, Mac. You ready?" And pulling back slightly, he thrust into him more forcefully, deeper into Mac's ass, smiling at the way Mac whimpered under him and squirmed.

"Jesus, Vic, if I were any more ready I'd explode," Mac panted.

"I'm not hurting you?"

Wrapping his legs around Vic's back, pulling him even closer, Mac hissed with pleasure. "Dammit, Mansfield, just get on with it already. You feel... This is..."

Vic rotated his hips and Mac gasped as the head of that wonderful invader brushed against his prostate again. "Oh, god," Mac moaned. "Do that again. Harder. More."

And for once, no arguments, no protestations - Vic did exactly as he'd asked. Nearly overcome by the repeated stimulation of that sensitive little gland, amazed that this was VIC giving him such pleasure, Mac couldn't stay the sounds coming from deep in his chest. Sounds of pleasure beyond anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Unable to take his eyes off of Vic's intense face, Mac stared up at his partner with a desperate need.

"Vic," he managed to say in an embarrassingly begging tone. "Shit, don't stop - I'll DIE if you stop." He released his death grip on the bedspread to reach down with one shaking hand to stroke his own cock, not even aware of what he was doing.

"Ah ah," Vic admonished, knocking Mac's hand aside. "That's mine."

Whimpering, Mac flailed momentarily, then his hand returned to grab at the cover on the bed, bunching it tightly in his fists.

Vic began to let go now, letting his hips take over with the deeper thrusts that he had been desperately holding back. Sliding easily in and out of that tight, clenching, hot little ass, grinding, rotating into Mac with every push forward, harder, faster... Loving the open-mouthed cries as Mac's eyes squeezed shut, muscles tensed and little shudders running through him under Vic's attentions.

Vic had to bite his lip, and tried to remember that he wanted this to last. Keeping an even rhythm, he pumped his cock into Mac slowly, wanting the incredible sensations to continue as long as possible. But, DAMN, he was so close, so very close.

Adjusting his weight, Vic wrapped one hand around Mac's weeping erection and started stroking. He closed his eyes, concentrating on making this last just one more moment... two... three... Sparks danced before his eyes as he held back his orgasm by sheer dint of will.

"YES!" Mac yelled, arching into his touch and sobbing his pleasure. "Vic... Oh, god, Vic ... There! Just there..."

It was too much. The overload of Mac's cries and his bucking under Vic joined the almost painful need to fuck himself senseless in Mac's welcoming ass. With his cock sheathed in that undulating, hot channel, Vic was coming; slamming into Mac again and again, his own voice rising to mingle with Mac's and echo around the room.

He automatically jerked Mac's cock in time with each thrust, reveling in the wave of pleasure that splashed all throughout his body as he climaxed, Mac coming under him at virtually the same moment.

The need for air finally brought Mac out of his post-fuck daze. "Vic," he rasped in a hoarse voice. "Can't breathe."

Moving sluggishly, Vic slid to one side, pulling out of the younger man and disposing of the condom. After dropping it carelessly onto the floor, he pulled Mac's sweaty body close and nuzzled at his hair. Inhaling deeply, enjoying the almost forgotten odors of male sweat and spilled semen, Victor allowed himself another moment of languid repose. Finally, he pulled back so that he could see his young lover's face. "You okay, Mac?" he asked hesitantly. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

Mac snorted, "I'm fine, Vic. Shit, "fine" doesn't begin to cover it. That was ... well, it was something I'll never forget - you may have ruined me for other lovers."

Vic was silent for so long Mac started to worry. Prying open one heavy eyelid, he tried to focus on the nearby features. "Was it okay for you, Vic? Did I do -- was I all right?"

"Oh yeah, Mac," Vic was quick to reassure. "You were perfect. It's been a long time and you were - damn - I can't imagine a better lover."

Mac was quiet, Vic's words ringing into a sudden empty stillness. It was as if both men had just heard the recently spoken words and were just beginning to understand their significance.

Vic cleared his throat and whispered, "C'mon, let's enjoy this moment - no regrets, no thinking, no talking - just for what it is, you know?" He stopped, pausing and licked his lips. "Maybe we should get some sleep. Let's get under the covers."

Feeling like he had been fucked upside down, sideways and back to front from last Thursday into next week, Mac obediently crawled in beside Vic, who turned off the light and then snuggled against him.

Vic's voice was low. "Mac?"

Drifting in a haze of post-coital bliss, Mac was slow to respond. "Hmmm?" he finally asked drowsily.

"You don't feel like I coerced you in any way... Do you?"

That opened Mac's eyes in a hurry. "Coerced? Are you kidding me, Vic? I was with you all the way."

"Yeah... but I started it - kissed you first - I was pretty aggressive..."

Mac raised his head, meeting Vic's questioning look with one of assurance. "Vic, you didn't do ANYTHING I didn't want you to do - I've wanted you for ages. Lucky for me, you recognized that and acted on it."

Vic was quiet. Then he grinned. "Ages, huh? I WAS right." He kissed Mac, holding his lips prisoner for a while before pulling away and adding, "You let me know if you feel like a little coercion later on then."

Mac chuckled, low in his throat. "Oh, I think I'd be up for it. Later. Once my ass recovers. God, Vic, you're hung."

Vic snickered at him. "I did ask if you were okay."

Mac answered, dryly, "Yeah, well, we'll see how it is when the shoe's on the other foot. Or in this case, the other dick. I've had to watch YOUR ass bouncing along the halls for too long now."

A jolt of arousal shot through Vic's body at the words. "Any time, Mac. Any time."

Mac licked his lips. "Really? You mean that you'd..."

"Not a case of would, Mac." Vic answered seriously. "I want you to fuck me - I'd LOVE for you to fuck me."

Brown eyes opened wide in stunned amazement. "You do? You would?"

"But," Vic sighed with regret, "I think I've shot my wad for this evening. The spirit is willing, however the flesh..."

"In the morning, then?" Mac asked eagerly.

"Mmm," Vic agreed sleepily. "In the morning."

Mac yawned and smiled sheepishly. "'m tired, Vic."

"Then go to sleep," Vic said. He pulled Mac down to rest against him and closed his eyes.

End part 1