Tripod Position

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  THE POSITIONS OF LOVE

  BOOK IX: TRIPOD POSITION

  by

  J. M. SNYDER

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  Tripod Position

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  http://www.amberheat.com

  http://www.amberallure.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2008 by J. M. Snyder

  ISBN 978-1-60272-329-0

  Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by J. M. Snyder

  All Shook Up

  Beneath A Yankee Sky

  The Bonds Of Love

  Crushed

  Matching Tats

  On Company Time

  Persistence of Memory

  The Powers of Love

  The Regent's Knight

  Under A Confederate Moon

  With This Ring

  The Positions Of Love

  Book I: The Positions Of Love

  Book II: Two Pillars Position

  Book III: Clasping Position

  Book IV: Hammock Position

  Book V: Two Dogs Position

  Book VI: Cowboy Position

  Book VII: Kneeling Butterfly Position

  Book VIII: Pillar And The Ivy Position Book IX: Tripod

  Book X: Lotus

  Book XI: The Arc

  Book XII: Sideways

  TRIPOD POSITION

  * * *

  Just inside the door to the apartment he shared with his lover Matt diLorenzo, Vic Braunson kicked off his heavy work shoes and unbuttoned his shirt as he headed down the hall to the bathroom. When he shrugged out of the sweaty material and dropped it to the floor, he felt the long, hot hours he'd spent at work driving the City bus fall away from him with the shirt. Unbuckling his belt, he pulled it free from his work pants and unbuttoned his fly, as well. Then he placed a hand against the bathroom door and eased it open. "Matty?"

  "Hey, sexy." A splash of water accompanied his lover's greeting.

  Matt lay in the bathtub, hidden beneath murky water glazed with a thin scrim of soap. A cache of bubbles dried amid his thick, black curls, and his face glistened wetly. His eyelashes were clumped together into dark spikes that made his eyes look wide and alluring. As Vic entered the bathroom, Matt sat up, exposing his bare back and the knobby nubs of his spine that trailed down to disappear into the water.

  Perching on the edge of the tub, Vic dipped his hand into the water to find Matt's knee. He gave it a loving squeeze as he leaned down to claim a kiss. "Looks like my birthday came early this year," he joked. Beneath the water, his hand slid up Matt's leg, his fingers tickling along the underside of his lover's dick. "What a delightful present."

  With an embarrassed grin, Matt rolled his eyes. "Vic, please. You get this every night."

  That earned Matt another kiss. "Lucky me."

  Matt eased back, stretching out within the confines of the tub. For a brief moment, Vic found his hand caught between Matt's legs as his lover clenched his thighs together, then Matt relaxed. Trailing his hand along his lover's body, Vic touched Matt's knee again, slipped his fingers under it, and raised the leg from the bathwater. His hand continued down Matt's calf, around his ankle, until his foot breeched the soapy film. Water trickled down Matt's leg. With a laugh, he wiggled his toes as if waving to Vic. "So that's what you're after. I should've known. Here I am, naked and wet, and all you want to do is play with my feet."

  Through the psychic bond they shared that linked their minds together, Vic replied, ::I love your feet.::

  His lover's reply echoed in Vic's thoughts. ::I love you.::

  Vic raised Matt's leg higher, bending the knee, and pressed his mouth against the ball of Matt's foot. The bottoms of his toes were wrinkled from the water and Vic rubbed at them, trying to smooth them out. His thumb traced small circles into the arch of Matt's foot, massaging it. Then Vic opened his mouth and gently nipped at the fleshy pad beneath Matt's toes.

  The foot flexed in his strong grip, toes splaying apart, as Matt slid down into the tub. His shoulders disappeared beneath the bath water, which rose to lap at his chin. "Hmm," he moaned, closing his eyes. "Don't stop."

  Vic blew on Matt's foot, cooling it. Through the mental connection uniting them, he felt Matt's delight at his touch, the shivers racing up his spine when Vic caressed the sole of his foot, the warmth flooding him when Vic took each toe into his mouth, one by one, to suckle on it. Matt was fastidious about his large feet, mostly because he knew Vic loved to love them. He had weekly pedicures, and carefully massaged lotion into his skin each night before they went to bed. Vic realized the attention and care Matt showed his feet were just one of the ways he let Vic know how much he loved him. "What'd I tell you?" Vic sighed, licking Matt's pinky toe. "Happy birthday to me."

  "No, seriously." Matt wiggled his toes to get Vic's attention. "Your birthday's what, in two weeks? What do you want?"

  Placing Matt's foot flat against his chest, Vic reached beneath the water again and grinned as he encircled Matt's dick with his fist. "I've got it all right here."

  Matt nudged Vic with his foot. "For a big, scary motherfucker, you're honestly the cheesiest guy I know."

  The grin dissolved, replaced by Vic's signature scowl. But the glower he leveled at Matt only made his lover laugh out loud. "You don't scare me," Matt said. "You should write Hallmark cards for bikers. 'Happy fucking birthday, you bastard.' Speaking of..."

  He trailed off, and Vic felt Matt's presence blossom inside him. The connection that linked them stemmed from the powers Matt conveyed to Vic during sex, and Vic for one wouldn't lose that part of their relationship for the world. Despite Matt's harsh language, Vic knew his lover was only teasing--if he needed any reassurance, he found it in the love that filled his mind whenever Matt's thoughts touched his. And when his lover projected himself into Vic, as he did now, the sheer depth of Matt's feelings staggered him. He didn't deserve the man, he knew, but he'd never, ever give Matt up without a fight.

  As they sat there, Matt in the tub and Vic on its edge, one hand stroking Matt's leg where it rose from the water, Vic felt his lover surge into his mind. He closed his eyes and Matt was there behind them, nude, water dripping from him as if he'd just climbed out of the tub. ::What are you doing?:: Vic asked, bemused. His gaze was riveted to the thick patch of curls at Matt's crotch, and the ruddy length hidden within.

  Distracted, Matt told him, ::Looking for something...::

  Suddenly Vic's mind filled with memories, images of himself in times and places he thought he'd forgot. Matt riffled through them, searching for...for what?

  ::A birthday gift,:: Matt said. Vic came up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around Matt's damp, slim waist. ::Something fun. Something different. Hold up.::

  Vic caught a glimpse of himself in ass-less, black leather chaps, and groaned. ::Matty, no.::

  The memory was an old one--Vic in a leather club he used to frequent years before he met his
lover. With a sly smile, Matt glanced over his shoulder. ::I didn't know you were into this scene.::

  ::It was so long ago,:: Vic said, dismissive. ::We're not going.::

  ::Why not?::

  Matt held the memory up like a photograph, examining it. With his tattoos and multiple piercings, Vic had looked wicked in the chaps and the thin straps of a black leather harness. The memory stirred something deep within Vic, awakening his libido. His groin trilled with unspent sexual energy, humming for release. Leather turned him on, no doubt. But a club? In public?

  Apparently Matt was equally aroused. ::Let's do that.:: He turned in Vic's embrace and smiled at the frown on his lover's face. ::For your birthday, how about it? We'll both get dressed up and go out to some leather club. What do you say?::

  Vic's frown deepened. A bar meant other people, scantily clad twinks and tough leather daddies and who knew what else. Vic wasn't sure he was ready to hit that scene all over again. What if Matt saw someone else he liked better? Someone handsomer, stronger? Someone--

  Matt picked up that worrying thought and laughed. ::Yeah, right.:: He planted a quick kiss on Vic's nose as if staking claim. ::No one holds a candle to you, Vic, and you know it. I love you. I want you, only you. And I want to make you happy.::

  Shaking his head, Vic opened his eyes. From the bathtub, Matt stared at him, his own gaze shiny and lustful. Aloud, Vic asked, "Why bother going to the club if you're not looking for sex?"

  "Who says there won't be sex?" Matt countered. Extracting his foot from Vic's grip, he slid it down into his lover's lap to prod at the bulge at the front of Vic's work pants. "When I see you in leather? I'm going to be so hot for you, I'll bust a nut, I swear it. I'll fuck you in the car, in the bathroom, even on the bar if I can, you know? God, what a turn on. I never knew you were into this."

  Vic caught the heel grinding into his crotch. "It was so long ago."

  But Matt sat up, pulling his leg back into the tub, and leaned forward, lips puckered. "Kiss me," he demanded.

  Vic obliged.

  Before he could sit back, Matt grabbed the front of his undershirt in one wet hand. "It still turns you on, right?" This close, Vic could count every eyelash clustered together, and Matt's gaze flickered as he studied Vic's face. "So let's do this, one time, just for kicks. What do you say?"

  Matt let him think about it, but he kept his hand on Vic's shirt, holding him close, and a tiny voice inside Vic's mind pleaded, ::Please? For me?::

  Well, shit. If Matt wanted to go clubbing, then Vic would want it, too. His frown smoothed out, a slow smile taking its place. When he looked at Matt, his eyes shone with a promise that ignited his lover's sexy grin. "Let's do it."

  * * * *

  Vic's birthday was at the end of August, and though he didn't say anything about growing another year older, Matt sensed his discomfort as the day approached. More than once, Matt pointed out, "You're only as old as you feel."

  With a grunt, Vic dismissed that. "Some mornings I feel ancient."

  "Well," Matt replied, choosing his words carefully, "you're not exactly what I'd call a morning person, Vic."

  That was an understatement.

  Almost a full two years older than Matt himself, Vic had a fine physique, healthier than most men their age. Hell, few guys in their twenties had anything on him--Matt knew, he'd been looking a long time before he found Vic. Even without Matt's semen giving him a bevy of super powers, Vic was built. He exercised religiously, fitting in trips to the gym around his hectic work schedule, honing his body in the weight room. His arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, his chest firm and ripped, and his stocky abdomen sported legendary six-pack abs any man would kill to have. His tattooed skin stretched taut over solid muscle. Even without his powers, he was strong. Every inch of him was chiseled to perfection, from his tight ass to his thick neck, his sturdy hands to the heavy length of his large cock.

  Nearing forty or not, in Matt's mind, his lover was fucking hot.

  Strength was a huge turn-on for Matt; the fact that a muscular man like Vic would willingly submit to him was a heady rush that kept him in a constant state of arousal whenever they were together. And when they were apart, Matt couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting to his lover. They coupled like horny teenagers--sex was an almost daily occurrence, and Matt had no intention of slowing down in the years to come. As much as he hated the powers he inadvertently gave Vic when they made love, he couldn't keep himself off the man.

  * * * *

  In the bottom of Vic's closet hid a box of black leather clothing he'd never bothered to throw away, so Vic dug out the box and let Matt go through it. Inside he found a vest with snaps down the front and a pair of tight shorts with a breakaway crotch...now those had potential.

  There were also boots--shiny and black, the kind a biker might wear. Some leather pants, well-worn and soft to the touch. Mesh shirts with leather trim, arm bands, collars, and belts coiled tightly together. There were thongs, some with silver accents, some with chains, most just small swatches of soft leather that didn't look as if they could cradle a cock the size of Vic's. Whatever came of their night out, Matt would make sure a few of those found their way into his lover's underwear drawer, for those times when they needed something a little sexier than boxer briefs to get things rolling.

  On the night of his birthday, Vic switched shifts with a coworker to have the day off. Matt cooked a succulent dinner of steak and shrimp, two of Vic's favorite foods, and they shared a bottle of wine to chase down the meal. By the time they headed to the bedroom to dress for the club, Matt had begun to laugh a bit too loudly--the wine was getting to him, and suddenly he found every little thing funny. He couldn't hold his liquor, a fact Vic thought delightfully cute. Stripping out of his T-shirt, Vic asked, "Are you drunk already?"

  "Already?" Matt echoed. He stepped up behind Vic and reached around his lover's girth to rub the smooth skin of his belly. Vic's arms were raised above his head, caught in his shirt, and he felt damp lips press between his shoulder blades as Matt kissed him. "This ain't nothing, babe. Just you wait."

  The leather clothing lay out on the bed. Once Matt released him, Vic stepped into the leather pants, savoring the feel of the fabric against his bare skin. He didn't bother with underwear--the soft leather slid easily into place, cradling his buttocks, molding to his balls, caressing his dick. As he snapped closed the fly, his cock began to stiffen beneath his fingers, the leather straining against him. He loved the way it cupped his length, the skin supple on his own. Each move he made rubbed his dick along the suede-like interior of the pants, turning him on, and the animalistic smell of treated leather rose around him like heady cologne. By the time he had selected a mesh tank top to wear, his whole groin throbbed with a sweet ache.

  Matt chose the boyshorts. The polished leather gleamed like latex as it curved over Matt's ass, and the breakaway crotch bulged against his cock and balls. He opted for the vest, and the hemmed darts framed his package nicely. Catching Matt's hand in his own, Vic reeled in his lover for a smoldering kiss. ::Love you.::

  "Happy birthday, big boy," Matt sighed. The alcohol on his breath stirred Vic's blood, and when he dipped into Matt's mind, he felt the wine buzzing like an undercurrent through his lover's thoughts. "Let's go show you off. What's the name of this place again?"

  Vic laughed. "You don't remember?"

  "Something 'Cover,' isn't it?" Matt spread Vic's arms apart to step into their span and press his body against his lover's. Through the mesh of Vic's shirt, Matt picked at his lover's pert nipples, his brow creased in thought. "Why am I thinking sewer? That can't be right."

  Given his lover's weakness against booze, Vic wasn't surprised Matt didn't remember. "It's called the Manhole."

  Matt's eyes widened. "That sounds promising in so many ways."

  * * * *

  The Manhole was a converted warehouse in Richmond's downtown canal area, where parking meant finding a spot on a side street and hoofing it to the club. D
espite the humid evening, Matt felt underdressed in the shorts and vest, and he avoided looking at the people who stared as they passed. Vic kept a horrible scowl on his face to deter any comments, and one hand rested on the small of Matt's back, a comforting gesture that let him know his lover was near. As a young couple crossed the street to avoid them, Matt spoke into his lover's mind. ::They must think we're a couple of freaks.::

  Vic's gaze flickered to the couple, a neatly dressed man and his wife, who pushed a baby carriage. ::She thinks so, but he's got a hard-on:: he told Matt, reading their minds. Then he gave a surprised grunt. ::For me.::

  Matt elbowed his lover playfully. ::Told you you looked hot.::

  Outside the club, a string of motorcycles lined the curb, each chopper more polished than the last. Men gathered together in small groups of three or four, dressed in leather biker jackets and chaps. Some wore jeans beneath the leather; others wore nothing more than a thong, their pale buttocks gleaming in the streetlight. Chains dangled from pockets, from belt loops, from earrings and bracelets and hats. As Matt and Vic approached, many of the fellows cast an appreciative eye over Matt's muscular legs, then noticed Vic and nodded his way. ::I feel like a piece of meat,:: Matt complained.

  ::You're the sexiest guy out here,:: Vic answered. Scowl in place, he kept his hand fisted in Matt's vest. Matt suspected the other men noticed that touch and stayed away. ::This was your idea.::

  Inside the club, the place was packed. The moment he entered, Matt was hit with the overpowering smell of men--sweat and musk and grime mingled with fragrant aftershave, cigar smoke, and spilled alcohol to assault his nostrils. The walls pounded beneath a steady hard rock beat, and Matt found his body begin to sway on its own accord, moving in time with the music. The Manhole definitely lived up to its name...men of all ages, all sizes, rubbed against each other in the semi-darkness of the club, humping, touching, kissing, with no regard for who might be watching.