Cementing the Agreement

by Stan Lee *

ATF Universe

Follows Reaching an Agreement

Chris turned the corner that signaled the last leg of his journey and breathed a sigh of relief. He would be home soon. With Buck.

He had missed his partner fiercely since Buck had left the office this morning after coming in to apologize to him and to the team. Chris smiled again at the memory. It was so like Buck to want to clear the air between them, to admit when he was wrong and do everything he could to make things right. Chris had really appreciated the gesture. But it had been hard to settle down once his lover had left. It wasn't the same in the office without him. Without his easy grin, without his loud and frequent laugh, without his boisterous presence. It unsettled Chris, to think how close he had come to Buck's absence being a permanent thing. An unease had crept up on him in the too-quiet office, his mind playing the 'what if' game.

What if Buck hadn't managed to stop the gang of dealers, what if the three shots hadn't been from his weapon, what if one of the men had gotten the drop on Buck, what if... the final conclusion was obvious, hideous, and unbearable. The final conclusion called to mind other loved ones dead in his arms, and ruined any chance he'd had at a productive day.

Chris had called Buck a dozen times during the day, just to hear his voice, just to make sure he was okay. He could hear the slight note of exasperation that colored his lover's voice on the last call.

"Chris, how am I ever gonna get anything done around here if you keep calling me?"

Chris didn't give a damn if nothing was accomplished, but he didn't say that. Instead he tried to make a joke of it. "I figger maybe if I distract you I'll get to put you over my knee for not getting your chores done," he said.

Buck laughed. "You know me, darlin'. I'll give anything a go. You want to take a walk down that path just say so. I'm with you."

Chris chuckled. "Is there anything you wouldn't do for a fuck?"

He could hear the leer in his partner's voice. "Why don't you come home and find out?"

After he had hung up the phone Chris had tried to get down to some paperwork. But the first order of business was to write up the report from yesterday's take-down and seeing the words so starkly on the page - four perpetrators, armed, single agent entry - had set him off again on that most disturbing train of thought. What if Buck had been shot?

Finally, at 3 o'clock, drained by the effort of fighting off images of Buck hurt, or worse, he had thrown down his pen and grabbed up his jacket.

His men had smirked and whistled when he told them he was finished for the day and was going home. They made sly comments about his real motive for leaving and about what he and Buck would soon be up to. He gave them the finger on his way out, smiling at how accurate some of their carnal predictions had been.

Now he was almost home, just two minutes away from the ranch and from holding Buck tightly and safely in his arms. He pulled into the driveway and climbed out of his car. Pushing open the door to the ranch he called Buck's name. There was no answer; the house was absolutely quiet. His heart lurched painfully and he felt a moment of pure panic, even though he knew it was absolutely irrational. Running out of the house, he jumped the steps from the porch to the ground and tore around the side of the building. He pulled up short and gasped in relief to see Buck in front of the barn, stripped to the waist, paintbrush in hand, slapping whitewash messily over the wooden boards.

Buck turned when he heard Chris approach and a huge grin spread across his face. He was about to speak when Chris barreled into him, pushing him up against the wall of the barn and locking his mouth to his lover's. Chris' couldn't touch enough of him, rubbing his chest, grabbing at his shoulders, clutching tightly around his waist. Chris kissed him over and over until he could scarcely breathe.

His heart was racing, fear-induced adrenaline coursed through him. Buck's body was hard and sun-warmed, he smelled faintly of horse and leather, he was slippery with sweat, his hair, sticking to the back of his neck, had bits of hay tangled in it. He was breathtaking, he was beautiful, he was alive. Chris nuzzled into Buck's neck and moaned, "I need you."

Buck looked a little startled at the urgency. "Let me just finish what I'm doing here..."

"Now!" Chris demanded, already unbuckling his belt and tugging at Buck's jeans.

Suddenly he slammed his fist into the wall of the barn. "Dammit, I don't have any lube!" he snarled.

Buck steadied him with a stroking hand. "Let me," he murmured and dropped to his knees in the grass. Chris moaned and arched as Buck freed his cock and sucked it in to his hot mouth, working him skillfully.

Chris couldn't wait much longer, he desperately needed to be inside Buck's body. He pulled the man to his feet and spun him around, easing him up against the wall of the barn and pulling his hips back. Prying him open with his thumbs, Chris positioned himself at the opening of his lover's body, then stopped, trying to gain a little control over his heaving emotions.

Buck looked over his shoulder. "Do it," he hissed.

"I'll hurt you," Chris groaned.

"Goddamn it, Larabee. Fuck me," Buck growled, and Chris shuddered and pushed in hard, sheathing himself deeply into Buck's body, stopping only when he was buried to the hilt.

Chris felt Buck's body tense and he heard a deep moan. He sucked in a breath, shaking with the effort to hold back so that Buck could adjust to him. When he felt Buck relax, Chris could no longer stop himself, he pushed again deeply into his lover's body and began to fuck him hard.

An image of Buck, bloodied and unmoving, flooded his mind. He screamed as he pulled Buck upright and thrust into him over and again and came hard.

The next thing he knew he was being enveloped in Buck's strong arms and his face was buried in the man's chest. Buck was whispering, "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry," and he was sobbing, deep hitching sobs that shook his whole frame and hurt his throat. He couldn't believe he was bawling like a kid, but he couldn't stop it, either. Sarah, Adam, Buck... if Buck went the way of his wife and son, there'd be no one left to pull him back, no one determined enough, dedicated enough. He would have nothing.

They stood wound tightly together for long minutes until finally Chris calmed and his breathing evened out. He felt Buck thread his fingers through his hair and didn't resist when his head was tipped up until he was looking deeply into Buck's eyes.

"Okay, love? Feel better?" Buck murmured.

Chris sniffed and nodded.

"Buck tugged him until they were both leaning against the barn, but he felt his lover wince when his backside hit the wall.

"Sore?" Chris asked.

"Mmmm. A little" Buck replied.

"Sorry. Come and have a shower with me. I'll make it up to you," Chris murmured.

"You wanna talk first?" Buck asked gently.

"Nothing to talk about," Chris said, straightening up and pulling up his jeans. He turned away and Buck started to follow him. But suddenly Chris turned back and slammed Buck up against the wall again, grabbing a handful of his hair and holding his head tightly.

"Yeah, I wanna talk. You ever pull a stunt like that again and so help me I will make you fucking sorry for the rest of your life," he growled. He pulled back a little.

"I'll behave, Chris, I swear it," Buck said fervently.

Chris nodded and let him up again.

"And I'm already fucking sorry," Buck added.

"Yeah you better be," Chris said. "Fuck it. I'm adding to your punishment around here. I didn't realize how pissed I am at you."

"Aw, man," Buck groused. "You've already got me doing enough work to last until fucking doomsday. What else is there to do?"

"I'll think of something, don't you worry," Chris muttered darkly.

Buck opened his mouth to complain.

"You prefer a longer suspension, Wilmington? Your choice."

Buck threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, alright. Your wish is my command. I'm all yours."

They began to walk towards the house. Buck slung an arm over his lover's shoulder.

"You know you ruined my paintbrush back there. I dropped it in the mud when you jumped me. Guess I won't be able to finish the barn."

Chris laughed and slid an arm around Buck's waist, inhaling deeply to suck up the intensely erotic mixture of smells on his lover's body. "Guess again. I'll buy you a new one. You'll finish the barn. Or else."

Buck grinned. "So tell me, boss. When did you develop this little 'fuck the handyman' fantasy you got going here?"

Chris just shook his head. "Get yer ass into that shower, Wilmington. If you're a good boy your boss might give you a blow-job."

"And if I'm a bad boy?" Buck breathed into his ear.

Chris shuddered, feeling his cock begin to fill again. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. Slowly reaching down, he very deliberately unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of its loops. Buck's eyes widened and he licked his lips.

"Why don't we see what happens to bad boys," Chris purred.

"Yes, boss," Buck croaked and grabbing Chris by the hand he all but dragged his lover into the house.

The End