With a shake of his head, he tried to jolt himselfawake. He was definitely not a morning person.
Maybe he should go back to bed, sleep another hour ortwo, wake up a bit more before he had to shower and leave for work.Much as he loved Matt, he didn’t enjoy dragging his ass out of bedat the crack of dawn to spend just a half hour or so with hislover, his mind too sleep-drenched to function properly. Sure, Mattenjoyed teasing him about it, but Vic would’ve preferred to stay inbed until he had to get a move on. At least Matt was right—therewere only two more days, then Vic wouldn’t be trundling homeso late at night. He’d get to spend most of the evening with hislover, and perhaps Matt would let him sleep in.
Thinking of the bed and its disheveled sheets madeVic’s bones weary. But when he scooted back his chair to stand, aburst of energy swirled through him, exciting his arms and legs.The chair flew back, pushed by more force than Vic had intended;skidding to the kitchen, it caught in the doorway with a loudcrack. The back of the chair twisted one way, the seat andlegs another. Vic heard the splinter of wood behind him andgroaned. Shit.
The chair lay in the doorway, the top half in thekitchen, the bottom in the dining room. The seat was splintered,the legs snapped, the back broken. Which meant their once fivepiece dining set was now down to two chairs. When he leaned backagainst the table, he heard the wood creak beneath his weight andmoved quickly.
It was going to be one of those days, Vic justknew it.
* * * *
The energy continued to course through him, roilinghis blood, tingling his fingers and toes. He felt anxious, unableto focus on any one thing. He lay in bed, his mind a whirl, butafter ten minutes of tossing and turning, he abandoned the thoughtof going back to sleep. When he sat up, the sheets that had twinedaround his legs ripped in two. Vic balled them up inembarrassment—he felt as if everything had shrunk around himovernight, and everywhere he turned, he broke something else. As heshoved the bed sheets into the bathroom waste basket, he grumbledbeneath his breath, “Thanks, Matt.”
No, that was unfair. It wasn’t solely Matt’sfault—Vic had been just as eager last night, if not more so. Howhard would it have been for him to flip over, let Matt enter himfrom behind? Missionary style always brought with it surplusstrength, Vic knew that. If he’d been thinking with theright head, he might have any number of other possible super powerswarring in him at the moment. Two seconds to reposition himselflast night and he wouldn’t have this problem.
True…he’d have another. At least he knew thisone; the strength would dilute throughout the day, faster if Vicutilized it. What he needed was to release this excess energysomehow, corral the strength that threatened to rend him in halfand destroy his apartment in the process. Maybe bench-press a fewcars, move a couple buildings…
Work out at the gym.
Of course. He hadn’t been there in a while, what withworking double shifts, but the gym was always the perfect place tolet off a little steam. It was still early; he could get in a goodthree hours’ workout before he had to clock in for his first shift.Dressing quickly, careful not to tear apart his shorts and T-shirtin the process, Vic stuffed his work clothes into his bag andtrailed behind Matt out the door.
* * * *
The moment Vic entered the gym, his lover sensed hispresence. Like an overeager puppy, Matt’s thoughts bounded intoVic’s mind, excited. ::What are you doing here?::
::Working out,:: Vic replied as he headed forhis locker to deposit his gym bag and street clothes. ::I’ve gota bit too much strength this morning, for some strangereason.::
He sensed Matt’s slow grin in his mind. ::Imaginethat. Stop by my office, we’ll try for something different. Noone’s here yet.::
::I don’t need gills,:: Vic reminded him.::I’ll swing by before I leave, promise.::
::You better.::
In the weight room, Vic stopped at the rack ofdisc-shaped iron plates that hung on the wall. The heaviest platewas a mere hundred pounds, but since Vic had started dating Matt,he’d coerced the gym into stocking more of the weights. Vic had theroom to himself, his only company a bored attendant flipping thepages of her magazine behind the desk. All ten of the hundred-poundplates were on the wall, ready for his use.
Taking one of the plates down, Vic balanced it outfrom his waist, one arm curved around its cool metal edge. Then hestacked the next weight on top of it, and the next, and the next.He looked like a waiter holding a stack of trays at his side. Itwasn’t until he had five of the hundred-pound plates in hand thatthe attendant noticed him. “Sir, wait!” she cried out, a sliver offear in her voice. “You can’t be in here without a spotter. Itisn’t safe.”
Over his shoulder, Vic gave her a withering look. Herface cleared. “Oh! Mr. Braunson, I apologize. I didn’t know it wasyou.” As Vic turned from the wall to pick out a bench press, theattendant added, “I’d offer to help but…”
She laughed, a bright, annoying sound in the emptyweight room. Despite her admitted lack of strength, she steppedaround the counter anyway, as if coming to Vic’s assistance. Whatshe wanted was a free show—they always did.
