It was nearly eleven o'clock. Chris had said he'd be along to The Saloon for their usual Friday night beer and pool session, but he'd never shown. Vin didn't make anything of it to the other fellers. He'd shrugged when they started asking around eight."Lots of paperwork, I reckon," he'd said, the same excused he'd made to them last week, and the week before.
Vin knew he wasn't lying, but ... something was gnawing at his gut, a familiar and unsettling sensation that was growing more pronounced as the days — and now weeks — passed. He'd been here before.
It was the same old story. Several months into a relationship ... the sparks stopped flying ... his boyfriend began to grow tired of his company ... started finding other things to do ... started making excuses, coming up with reasons to break dates, not show up for dinner, not want to be together, not want to have sex....
Oh, yes. Vin had been down this highway before, too many times not to recognize the landmarks. Though, it always seemed like his partner saw the exit sign before he did.
Vin had just hoped things would be different this time, with Chris, because Chris was different from anyone Vin had ever dated.
The only thing this relationship had in common with all the other relationships Vin had been in was himself. He was the reason. It was always him. Only, he had never figured out what he'd done wrong, what he could have done differently, to prevent this from happening, or to fix it once he noticed the downward slid.
Finally, he just nodded his head — in acceptance and resignation. It was too late. "Fellers, I'm gonna call it a night."
"Aw, come on, Vin," JD said. "You gotta give me another chance to beat you at pool." The kid had lost to Vin three times already that night; he was a glutton for punishment, but Vin simply wasn't in the mood to dish out anymore.
"Another beer for the road?" Buck asked, raising the empty pitcher high enough for Inez to see from where she was standing behind the bar.
"No, not tonight. Really, I'm beat."
"Well, all right, then," Josiah said. "You have a good one."
"Drive careful," Nathan added. Ezra simply raised his glass in a silent parting toast.
Vin headed for his Jeep. He'd nursed two beers that evening and wasn't even feeling the effects, so he didn't hesitate to slide behind the wheel. He wondered if Chris had headed straight back to the ranch after work. Then he wondered why Chris hadn't bothered to call and let him know he didn't plan to turn up at The Saloon.
The Federal Building was on the way to the interstate, so Vin turned into the parking garage instead of driving on past. It was possible Chris was still dug in behind that mount of paper he'd been working on when the rest of them had left at six. Vin hoped he wasn't, but ... he felt compelled to check. The entire lower level was empty, so Vin pulled his Jeep into the spot closest to the Federal Building door.
As he entered the lobby, he nodded at Earl, the night security guard, and then headed up in the elevator. The hall was dimly lit; only two of the ceiling light-panels remained illuminated. When Vin entered his team's office, he knew immediately. The bullpen was dark, deserted, but a thin strip of light shown under the door of Chris's office.
Vin strode over and opened the door without knocking. Chris looked up.
"What are doing here, Vin? I thought you went for drinks with the boys."
"I did. Over four hours ago."
Chris shot a glance at his wristwatch. "Shit. Look, I'm gonna be here for a while longer. You oughta just head home."
Vin didn't say anything as Chris bent his head back to his work. He quietly circled around the desk, glancing at Chris's hands as they moved over the computer keyboard. He had nice hands. Vin had always liked his hands. They were rugged hands, calloused hands, that knew more than typing and pencil pushing; they were hands that could throw a stunning punch or stroke a man to slow, sweet release.
Now standing behind Chris, Vin placed a hand gently on the back of the chair, and then slid his fingers forward until they ghosted across one tense shoulder. Chris twitched, as if bothered by a gnat, but he did not pause in his work. Vin moved his hand forward, over to Chris's collarbone and then down to caress his chest. Chris jerked his shoulder, shaking Vin's hand away. Vin's other hand snaked up to rake through Chris's dark, almost-strawberry, blond hair.
"Cut it out, God dammit!" Chris shouted as he suddenly stood. His chair shot back and the hard wooden frame nailed Vin solidly, just under his kneecap.
Vin hopped back, wincing; his lower leg tingled from the impact. Vin stared at Chris as he fought the urge to reach down and rub his sore leg. Chris stared back.
"Look, Vin, I don't have time for this. Just go home. I'll be there as soon as I'm finished, okay?"
Vin nodded, then walked from the room, trying his damnedest not to limp as he went.
In the elevator, he swallowed hard, biting back the tears that threatened like gathering storm clouds in the corners of his eyes. His foot was still tingling; he was sure his aching knee was swelling; and that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was spreading like a wild fire.
On the way out, he didn't even bother to acknowledge Earl, still at his station behind the front desk.
Out in the deserted parking structure, Vin just sat in his Jeep. After a while, he wondered where Chris had parked his truck. They hadn't driving in together that morning — Chris had had a early meeting downtown — so he had no clue where Chris might have found a parking space when he'd finally arrived at the Federal Building late in the morning. The Ram might be tucked away in the far corner, up on the top level, for all Vin knew.
Then, suddenly, he didn't care where the damn truck was; at the moment, he didn't fucking well care if he ever saw the damn thing again. That's when Vin cranked over the engine and drove out of the garage. He ought to head to the ranch — his home these days. There was plenty of alcohol there; he could get plastered and pass out. It sounded like a good plan. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with Chris until the morning; maybe then he'd be able to think of something constructive to say.
Right now, though, Vin knew he wouldn't be able to. He'd keep quiet and Chris would keep quiet and things would stew until they festered. They'd end up yelling at each other, hating each other. Vin would walk out — if Chris didn't throw him out first — and then he'd be back in his old rat-hole apartment in Purgatorio, watching the paint peel as he drank himself into a stupor night after lonely, empty night.
Vin headed downtown instead. He didn't really think about where he was going. He'd spent enough of his free nights downtown that his subconscious just seemed to take him there. Broadway, in the shadow of the capital building, was Denver's gay boulevard. Club after club after coffee house after pastry shop after adult bookstore. Vin knew this street well, knew it by heart and by rote, knew it in his sleep, without even having to open his eyes to see where he was going.
He ended up at Cascade Blue, a jazz bar with cold martinis and hot guys. In the back, they had a large lounge with too many overstuffed vinyl chairs and couches, and bowls of free condoms beside small packets of lube. He didn't come here often. In fact, he hadn't been anywhere near this part of town since he'd moved in with Chris. He hadn't had the urge; he hadn't felt the need; he didn't want to fuck things up with Chris. He actually believed in fidelity, monogamy — at least when his partner did, and he was certain that Chris did.
"Chocolate martini," he ordered from the black bartender, who wore not much more than a skimpy white apron. Vin checked out the man's tight, round ass as he walked away to make the drink. Vin grew hard just watching him.
Vin turned around then, and leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar. The place was full tonight with lots of good-looking guys who liked to listen to the music rather than dance to it. Vin didn't think he could dance, even if he wanted to; his knee still hurt from where Chris's chair had hit it.
There was a blond in the far corner. The brooding type. His back was to the wall, his head was bent low, his foot was barely tapping the floor to the jazz beat that resonated through the dimly lit bar. A little less light and he could have mistaken the man for Chris.
Vin looked away.
Closer to him, sitting among a group of four other guys, was a particularly gorgeous-looking man — twenty-five, maybe twenty-seven, if Vin had to guess. He was wearing a jacket that looked dark blue in the light, with a white shirt, open at the collar. He had dark eyes and thick, dark hair that curled at the ends, which fell just to the nape of his neck. Vin watched him: the man smiled wide and his eyes crinkled when he laughed at something one of his companions said. Vin couldn't find a single imperfection from this distance.
God, he had to be an incredible fuck, Vin thought. But Vin didn't move from his place at the bar. He was still waiting for his drink. Before things had happened with Chris, he would have forgotten his drink, walked across the room, and taken this man, right there in front of his friends. He almost wished he could do that now.
But when he thought about that, he thought about Chris. He thought about that solitary blond across the room actually being Chris. He thought about the blond getting up, walking over, and beating the living shit out of the dark-haired guy, until there was nothing left but imperfections. And then he thought about the look Chris would give him before Chris walked away, disgusted.
Vin turned around and leaned his belly against the bar as he waited for his drink. When it arrived, he sipped at the sweet liquid. He knew he wouldn't be able to drink too many of these cocktails; he probably should have ordered something else, something straight — scotch or whiskey — something he could swallow in a single gulp and feel the burn down his throat and into his stomach. He took another sip as he stared at the vast array of bottles stacked up along the wall behind the bar.
"Hi," he heard a voice, but Vin didn't turn around. "Um, my name's Will. Will Turner."
Ready, willing, and able, Vin thought as he took another sip from his martini glass.
"I saw you staring at me. I thought ... I mean, I'd really like to hook up."
"Really?" Vin asked, still not looking at him, not daring.
"Yeah. We could go in the back. Or," he added the last word quickly. "Or we could go somewhere else. Somewhere private."
"Is that what you want?"
"Well, yeah. Don't you?"
"A fuck? A nice, quiet, slow fuck in the back of a car, in a dark alley?"
"Or we could go to my place. I've got a roommate, but he'll still be out. So, do you want to?"
"I always want to," Vin found himself saying. And it was true. He was a guy, after all, a guy who loved fucking, who loved to be fucked, but right at the moment he was feeling completely fucked over by Chris. "But, I've already had something rammed up my ass tonight. Maybe another time."
"Uh, yeah ... okay." Will turned to go, but Vin stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Unless you'd like to blow me."
"Sure," Will said. He let Vin keep hold of his arm as he reached out and cupped Vin's crotch with his hand. "I'd love to. Where?"
Vin jerked his head to the side, gesturing toward the back of the club. Will smiled and began to knead Vin's dick through his jeans. Vin took another sip of his martini. When he was finished with his drink, he led Will away from the bar and through the curtained doorway.
The back room of the club was lit with recessed blue lights and the music from the main room filtered in without distortion. Vin avoided the couches and the chairs, instead choosing a spot near the back with a narrow shelf that jutted from the wall at a height that made it the ideal double for a seat. Vin let Will unzip him, and then he leaned back, resting his ass against the shelf as Will kneeled in front of him.
Vin looked away as Will mouthed his dick, but he couldn't keep his hands out of the man's thick hair. He let himself go; he was good at this, just being in the moment, not thinking about what had brought him here or what might happen after. Vin knew this moment; he had an entire lifetime of them; they were the one constant in his life — anonymous sex in the back of some bar. No matter where he went or who he dated or what he did, he always ended up right back here, giving head or receiving it, taking it up the ass or pounding into someone else. This was his life and, apparently, there was no changing it.
Will's tongue tickled him under the glans and Vin smiled with the sensation. He ran his fingers through Will's dark hair, not forcing a pace, not even guiding him, just letting the man do what he seemed to be very good at doing. His hair felt soft beneath Vin's fingertips, soft and thick and curly.
Will slipped a hand between Vin's thighs, to cup his balls. His hands were warm and as talented as his mouth. Soon, but not too soon, Vin felt a finger work its way further back, until the digit was rubbing over his hole. He shifted on the shelf-like seat as his injured leg began to tingle again. He thought of Chris for a moment. How much it had hurt when the chair had hit him, when Chris's words had hit him.
Vin thrust his hips into Will's mouth, shoving his cock deeply down the guy's throat; Will took it all, without complaint. Vin then felt the tip of Will's finger push into his hole, just a fraction of an inch; Will moved it, back and forth, in and out, flickering over the ring of muscle, just right there and no further. Vin had never felt anything like it; it wasn't like being rimmed; it wasn't like being finger fucked; it wasn't even like being rubbed. The sensations were so concentrated, so intense; he never wanted it to end.
He thrust up into Will's mouth again and felt Will's throat muscles constrict against the head of his cock as Will's tongue laved his length. This was something that Chris had never done. It was new for him, this whole gay thing, aside from being jerked off by some guy when he'd been in high school. Chris hadn't warmed up to the idea of sucking cock, though he didn't mind when Vin did it to him. And Vin did it to him a lot. Chris seemed to like Vin on his knees, suckling at his lap. But sometimes, he was in the mood to fuck. He'd push Vin over the back of the couch or the arm of the Lay-Z-Boy and take him up the ass. Yeah, Chris liked fucking Vin.
Or, rather, he had, until recently. Now, he didn't want to be sucked and he didn't want to fuck. He didn't want Vin to cuddle as they slept and he didn't want Vin to touch him when they were awake. It was always something, some excuse to keep them apart. The horses or Buck or paperwork or some new assignment. Vin tried to be patient, tried to give him space, tried to be playful, tried to seduce him, tried to be understanding, tried to be whatever it was that Chris wanted him to be. But nothing changed. What had happened tonight — aside from the outburst and the bruise on his leg — was becoming the norm for them.
And Vin suddenly realized, he wanted out. The ranch was killing him, slowly, but surely. Their life out there was so isolated. When Chris didn't want him, there was no one else. Vin rode when he could and hiked, just to get away, but he didn't want to be in a relationship so that he could be alone.
A squeeze to his balls brought Vin back to the moment, back to Will with his thick, soft hair and warm, wet mouth. Vin closed his eyes and lolled his head back. It felt good, too good maybe, or maybe it was just that he hadn't had this in so long. For a moment, he felt like stopping Will, though. He had the sudden urge to turn around and let Will fuck him, right there, up against the wall. He had a feeling Will would make it good for him, just like he was making this blow job unforgettable.
But then the tingling began, the tensing, the unstoppable building of pressure in his groin. Will seemed to want it, too. He kept sucking, kept kneading, and pulling, and teasing his hole, until Vin was pumping hot cum into his sweet mouth.
When Vin was finished, he pulled Will to his feet and then pulled him in for a kiss. Vin didn't often kiss guys in these situations, but he wanted to kiss Will, he wanted to taste himself on Will's lips and tongue. Will kissed him back, as he did up Vin's pants. Then Vin felt the guy's fingers slide into his front pocket. He knew what Will was doing, he knew what he'd find when he left the club: a slip of paper with Will's phone number. Call me, he wouldn't say, as they parted; as handsome as Will was, he didn't think the man was that stupid.
Vin stood up, ready to leave, but Will put a hand on his arm. "What about me?"
No, he wasn't stupid. Vin grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, pressing him up against the wall. He made quick work of Will's zipper and then slipped his hand inside, finding no underwear. He pressed his lips to Will's as he wrapped his fingers around the man's thick cock and began to stroke.
He liked this, this feeling of control, of being in charge. He didn't feel this with Chris; he'd never felt it with any guy he'd actually dated. He'd always been attracted to the guys who liked taking point; those were always the guys he wanted to be with again and again; those were always the guys who ended up tiring of him before he tired of them.
He pushed his tongue into Will's mouth when he felt Will's hand on his own. His fingers were slick; the guy had thought to grab a packet of lube. Will spread the gel over his length, then relinquished control back to Vin, who was now able to quicken his pace. He'd make this cum hard and fast for Will; he'd make it good.
Vin sucked on Will's tongue, as Will has sucked on his dick. He ran his tongue over his teeth, pressed it up against his pallate, and stroked the inside of his cheeks. Will was thrusting up into his hand quickly enough. Vin slid his other hand into Will's pants and cupped his balls; they were large and heavy and Vin liked how they felt in his palm. Yeah, he wanted to make this good for Will, just as Will had made it good for him.
He pumped Will faster, until the man was bucking against him, pushing his cock deeper into Vin's massaging grip. He felt Will moan into his mouth, felt the man's body shudder against him.
Oh, yeah, Vin thought. He liked this guy. He'd call this guy ... if Chris wasn't waiting for him when he got home.
When Vin reached the ranch, he pulled to the side of the driveway and killed the engine. The Ram wasn't in sight, but Vin didn't bother to check the garage. He headed straight for the front door, unlocked it, and then went inside. The hall light was off and he left it that way; he knew the layout of the house well enough to navigate it in the dark. He made his way to the bedroom, peeling off his clothes as he went.The curtains had not been pulled across the windows and pale moonlight spilled in, onto the empty bed. Chris still wasn't home.
Vin headed for the shower. He stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water wash away the smell of the bar, the smell of Will. He opened his mouth and let it fill with water. He gargled with it, and then spit it out against the tiled wall. He could still taste Will; he could still taste his own cum mixed with Will's saliva. He opened his mouth again.
Eventually, Vin turned around and allowed the now-tepid water to cascade down his back. He had drained the water heater, which meant he'd been in the shower for well-over twenty minutes, but he didn't care.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a shadow fill the doorway; then, he heard the faint creak of a floorboard beneath the linoleum. Vin did nothing except close his eyes. He knew who it was: Chris, finally home.
The glass door slid open, but Vin didn't look up.
"Want me to wash your back?" Chris asked. Vin answered him by turning around and shutting off the water. When he reached to pull the towel off the bar, he noticed that Chris was dressed only in his briefs; Vin didn't stare.
He stood inside the shower stall drying himself since Chris still blocked the open doorway. When Vin began to scrub the water from his hair, the spray of droplets seemed to drive Chris back enough that Vin could finally step from the shower.
"I ... thought you'd be asleep by now," Chris said.
Obviously, he wasn't. Vin just shook his head in answer as he tossed the towel over the top of the shower door and headed out of the bathroom.
Chris followed him a few moments later, and Vin guessed at the slight delay; Chris was undoubtedly spreading out the wet towel so that it would dry by morning. It was one of those little things that Vin never did and Chris rarely didn't do.
Still naked, but only slightly damp, Vin crawled into bed. There was no light on in the bedroom and the glow from the bathroom was extinguished when Chris left. The only light now was the moonlight still streaming in through the window that looked out over the backyard, toward the barn.
Chris sat down on the edge of the mattress on his side of the bed. Vin was facing away from him and remained so. He felt a hand on his back, gently caressing; Vin didn't move away, but neither did he lean into the touch.
"Vin..."
He had the feeling Chris was about to apologize, only he didn't know if it would make any difference.
"I should have called to let you know I wasn't going to make it to The Saloon. There was no reason for you to come back to the office."
Vin stretched out his leg beneath the covers and felt the ache in the muscle where the impression of Chris's chair had left a dark bruise.
"It's just ... ever since the restructuring ... ever since Travis got saddle with all those new responsibilities ... you know how much more paperwork and red tape I have do deal with, how many more meetings I have to go to...."
Vin nodded his head. He did know. But he also knew that, to some extent, Chris had a choice in how hard he worked, how much unpaid overtime he put in, how many hours of vacation he never got around to using.
"It's all just worn my patience thin."
And Vin was the lucky recipient of those frustrations. Well, this was some apology, Vin thought. Best one he'd ever heard in all his years of being the convenient, easy fuck in the lives of all his boyfriends. At least Chris wasn't blaming Vin; at least he wasn't accusing Vin of not being able to understand, of not caring. That at least was different.
"I shouldn't have taken it out on you, Vin. This new workload is killing me and it's keeping me from spending time with you. I don't want that. That might have been fine when I was alone, when I wanted to bury myself away, but I don't want that anymore. I'm not in this relationship so I can spend time away from you."
Vin rolled over and stared up at Chris. The man looked sincere, even though the mixture of moonlight and shadow in the room made his eyes dark and difficult to read. Chris ran his hand over Vin's bare chest, tracing the muscles and scars until he reached a nipple, with which he began to idly toy.
"First thing Monday, I'm gonna see what I can do to change what's going on at work," Chris said.
"You mean that?"
"Do I ever say stuff I don't mean?"
Vin had to shake his head, no.
"Then I guess I mean it." Chris smiled.
Vin reached out and rubbed his hand over Chris's arm.
"So ... does that mean you're not mad at me anymore?" Chris asked.
"Ain't mad." It went deeper than that. Vin had really fucked things up again, going to that bar, not giving Chris the benefit of the doubt for a while longer.
"Good," Chris said as he lay down next to Vin, molding himself along Vin's side. "Because I was thinking ... you know...."
Vin turned his head away as an image of a dark-haired man popped into his mind. What was that guy's name? Will? Yeah, that was it — willing and able.
Chris ran a hand down Vin's chest to his stomach where he paused to trace small, easy circles with his fingertips. "Come on, Sparky. I've missed that sweet Tex-ass of yours."
"Thought you were tired. You look tired." Vin thought that Chris looked more than tired. He had been up early and to bed late every night for weeks now.
"Never too tired for you — not anymore, and that's a promise."
Vin let out a small breath as he turned onto his stomach. Chris slid his hand over Vin's hip to his butt, and began caressing the tight mounds and the valley that divided them.
Vin closed his eyes and tried not to think of what he'd done with Will. Tried not to think of all the places that Will had touched him, as Chris touched him in all the places that Will hadn't and never would.
~ fade ~
March 2003Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.Portrait of Will Turner is a photo-manipulation of a picture from The OB Files