It was Friday night again. They'd all made it safely through another week in one of the most dangerous jobs a person could have."Here's to another bad guy behind bars," Buck proposed, raising his beer mug high. Mostly empty glasses clinked together over the center of the table around which all seven men had gathered.
"Be easier to make a toast, Buck, if we actually had some beer," JD hinted with a smile.
Buck started to rise, but Vin waved him back into his seat. "I got it." Vin took the two empty pitchers to the bar and waited patiently for Inez to serve him. She managed Watson's Saloon, but tonight she was playing bartender.
"If you want something done..." she muttered as she came over. But, when Vin caught her eye, she stopped and smiled.
"Rough night, Inez?"
"About the same as usual, I suppose. I just wasn't expecting to tend. Joe called in sick."
Vin just nodded. He knew Joe. And he suspected something about the man that he didn't think anyone else in the bar suspected. There was a big bash going on downtown tonight, down on Broadway, the self-proclaimed gay Mecca of Colorado. He suspected Joe was there, doing everything except moonlighting. Vin had considered going himself, but ... he wasn't really in the mood. It might have been different if he had someone to go with, but he didn't. He had only his friends and that wasn't their scene. So he'd joined them here after work, a typical Friday-evening gathering of beer, pretzels, and pool at the Saloon.
"Sorry you got stuck, Inez."
"Ah," she shrugged. "We do what we must do. So, what can I get for you?" she asked, giving him another smile; this one more honest than the first; this one showing that she was tired. It was past eleven, after all, and, being manager, she'd probably been at work, in one capacity or another, since mid-morning.
"Two more pitchers, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, Vin." She glanced toward the far end of the bar, and Vin followed her gaze. A man there was waving an empty glass at her, acting particularly impatient. She sighed.
"Go ahead, Inez. I don't mind waiting."
"Thank you," she said, flinging the towel she was carrying over her shoulder.
Vin watched her head off toward the man who was now all but banging his glass on the counter. Vin turned away, settling himself into a lean against the bar, and began to survey the room as he waited. It was busy tonight, though the crowd seemed pretty typical for a Friday. His six friends were laughing at something, probably some story of Buck's, something about a woman he'd once dated. The man had undoubtedly taken the opportunity to tell it while Vin was gone; he never told those sorts of stories anymore, not when Vin was actively part of the group.
It was unnecessary, but Vin still appreciated the man's efforts. He'd thought Buck would be the easiest one of his friends to win over. The man was so open about sex that Vin just figured he'd be open about sexual orientation as well. And he was, until he'd unexpectedly come face to face with the reality of it. It obviously hadn't been what he'd expected; he hadn't been prepared and he didn't know how to react. That had been weeks ago, and it still had him off balance. Vin noted that Buck was now erring on the side of caution, apparently not trusting himself to simply act "normal." Buck stayed away from relating the lurid tales of the women he dated, he stayed away from telling off-color jokes, and he still blanched at statements said innocently enough but to which his newly sensitized mind readily applied a gay spin.
It wasn't that Buck was a prude (his mother had been a prostitute, after all); he wasn't even prejudiced or intolerant. It was simply more that he'd spent all of his adult life in typically "macho" fields — the navy, the police force, and now the ATF — and what gay individuals there were in those organizations tended to keep their sexual preferences to themselves. Buck simply wasn't aware of knowing anyone who was gay ... except Vin.
They'd had a few shaky moments after Buck had found out, but since then Buck was cool with Vin. They didn't have a problem — not professionally and not personally — for which Vin was thankful. And he appreciated that Buck was trying; he was trying, too. He knew there was a difference between not wanting a guy to hit on you and not wanting gay men to exist. But the fact that Buck was seeing new perspectives, new angles, and he wasn't blaming anyone for them was a relief.
"Vin?"
Vin shook off his reverie at the sound of his name. He turned and found a man beside him, one arm resting casually on the bar. The man smiled wide and Vin felt the blood drain from his face. His head felt light and his knees felt weak. He didn't think he was breathing, but his heart was thundering in his ears.
"Cort?" He stuttered the name, fumbling with disbelief.
"Hi."
"Uh ... hi." Vin stood up straight, stunned by the man's presence. It had been years. Years. A bounty gone ... well, not anywhere near as planned. "What are you doin' here?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Cort said, but there was no maliciousness to his tone, only light-hearted teasing. "How are you?"
"I'm...." Vin wasn't sure how to answer. Truthfully? Lonely. Semi-truthfully? Busy. Dishonestly? Great. Or politely? Fine. He chose the latter: "Fine." Vin knew instantly that Cort didn't believe him; he could see it in the man's gray eyes.
"Are you still bounty hunting?" Cort asked.
The last time they'd seen each other Vin had been. And even though he hadn't pulled in a bounty in a long time, he still had his license and he was now a federal agent; Vin would be obliged to take Cort in if there was still a price on his head. He didn't know if he could do that — go through that — not again.
"Are you still a wanted man?" Vin asked in response.
Cort smiled, holding Vin's eyes with his own. Vin could feel the blood returning to his face, burning behind his cheeks. He wanted to look away, just to catch his breath, but he couldn't.
"You tell me," Cort replied.
Vin smiled at this answer. The man was asking if Vin was still interested. Vin almost laughed, realizing that Cort hadn't looked low enough to notice the bulge in his pants.
Vin nodded. "So, are you going to come quietly?" He'd take the man in. Handcuff him, if necessary. And he knew that Cort knew that he'd do just this.
"Nope," Cort said. There was no trace of a smile now.
Vin almost flinched under the man's intense gaze. His cock ached inside his suddenly too-tight jeans.
"I plan to wake the neighbors," Cort added.
Vin almost laughed, managing to keep a straight face only because Inez chose that very moment to interrupt them.
"Your two pitchers. Sorry that took so long, Vin. You want them on your tab?"
Vin looked quickly away from Cort, but he did not meet Inez's eyes. "Yeah, on my tab. That would be great. Thanks, Inez." He took hold of the two pitchers and walked away from the bar without looking again at Cort. He somehow knew that Cort wouldn't follow him.
Vin made his way across the room to where his friends were still seated and set the two pitchers on the table. Buck took one and Josiah took the other, each filling the mugs nearest them.
"Who was that guy?" JD asked, staring at Vin with wide curiosity.
"What guy?"
"The one you were talking to." Vin continued to stare at JD as if he didn't understand. "That blond guy, right over there at the—" JD pointed, and everyone turned, but there was no one standing where he was indicating.
Vin's breath hitched. He quickly scanned the room. Cort was nowhere in sight. Had he just imagined the whole thing? Had Cort been a fantasy of his tired, lonely, and half-a-beer addled mind? It had been months since he'd gotten laid — months of dreaming and daydreaming and masturbating to the image of a man he could never have. So why wouldn't his mind conjure up the one man who had never disappointed him; the one man who had given him hope and love and understanding; the one man who would have gone to jail if Vin had not set him free?
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's not polite to point, JD?" Ezra said before taking a slow sip from his now-full beer mug.
Vin closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the hallucination and the memories.
"Vin, you okay?" Chris asked. Vin heard real concern in his team leader's voice and appreciated it. Though, truth be told, Vin was pretty sure Chris could do something to guarantee his well being, if he was only so inclined. But he wasn't. Of this Vin was certain.
"Fine." It was their standard reply. They all knew what it meant. It meant, 'Not really, but I will be, so I'm not gonna whine about it.' "Actually, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna call it a night."
"But you haven't touched your beer," Buck said, pushing Vin's newly filled mug towards him.
"More for you then, pard," Vin replied.
"More for me," Buck said with a comically greedy smile. Everyone at the table laughed or smiled or at least nodded at the man's enthusiasm.
"You okay to drive, Vin?" Nathan asked.
Vin nodded. "I only had the one," he said, though it honestly felt like more. He was glad now that he'd nursed that first mug; as tired as he was, they'd have been pouring him into a taxi if he'd tried to keep up with Buck, or even JD. "I'm good."
"Drive safely, then, Vin," Josiah said, raising his mug in a silent toast.
The others said their good-byes and Vin headed out. The parking lot was dimly lit, but Vin remembered where he had parked. As he dragged his tired feet over the gravel, he began to wonder if he really was fit to drive. He knew that he would pass a Breathalyzer should he be pulled over, but he wasn't sure that he could still drive safely.
Vin came up short when he reached his Jeep. He pulled his eyes up from the gravel — up the long legs of a man — long, lean legs that belonged to Cort.
Cort.
He was really here.
"Tell me this isn't the same old hunk-a-junk?" the man asked, indicating the vehicle he was leaning against with a sideways tilt of his head.
Vin smiled. "Same old Jeep. Don't it look like it?"
"Well, yeah, but I just never imagined it would still be running after all this time."
"Amazing what a new engine block and a new transmission will do," Vin said.
"So, does your apartment look as rundown as your car?" Cort asked.
"'Fraid so, but it's fairly clean and the bed's softer than these seats."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Cort smiled.
"No idea," Vin said, taking a slightly unsteady step forward.
"Whoa. You better let me drive."
"I'm not drunk," Vin insisted.
"Never said you were. I just wanna make sure we get to your place in one piece, so I can drill you in two."
Vin nodded; there was no point in arguing when he knew the man was right. He tossed Cort the keys then made his way around to the far side. He was so used to driving, so used to hitching up his right hip as he hopped in behind the wheel that he had to pause for a moment before climbing in on the passenger side. He was too tired to be able to reverse the motion of his body without thinking about it first. It really was a good thing that Cort was driving.
"Hang a left," Vin instructed as Cort pulled the Jeep out of the parking lot. "On-ramp's just down a couple of blocks, on the right." Cort nodded. Vin settled into his seat, pulling a bit on his seatbelt to snug it up along his body. When the weather had warmed, Vin had folded down the soft-top and removed the doors; now, he watched as the solid white line separating the car lane from the bike lane blurred past. He'd never noticed before how exposed he was in the Jeep when the doors were removed. Never noticed how vulnerable, with only the roll bars protecting him should something go wrong.
He was suddenly unsure if he could handle being on the freeway just then.
"Uh, Cort, keep going straight," Vin said as they neared the on-ramp he'd mentioned before. "Take a right at the light up here." It would take them a bit longer to reach the section of town known by the beat cops as Purgatorio, but Vin didn't care, and he didn't think Cort would know the difference.
Cort reached over and placed his right hand on Vin's thigh. He rubbed for a few moments. "I've thought about you," he said over the noise of the air whooshing around the chassis.
Vin didn't know what to say in return. 'I tried not to think about you. It hurt too much,' would have been the honest truth. But Vin was rarely honest with himself, let alone the men in his life. "Yeah?" he finally said.
"Yeah," Cort said, squeezing his thigh gently. "A lot. What you did...."
"What?" Vin asked with a raised voice; he could use the road noise as an excuse. He didn't really want to talk about this right now. It was too important. And too painful.
Cort shook his head as he moved his hand back to the stick shift.
A few minutes later, it was Vin who reached over to stroke Cort's thigh. He couldn't look at the road rushing past any longer, not without becoming dizzy enough to want to throw up, but neither could he bring himself to look at Cort.
Even though the man was focused on driving, he might still look over, he might still catch Vin's eye and see something Vin wasn't ready for him to see, something he'd been suppressing for a long time. Instead, he concentrated on Cort's body, on his sinewy legs, on the bulge in his trousers, almost imperceptible in the dim light cast by the orange streetlamps through which they were speeding, but undeniable beneath his probing fingertips.
Vin fought the urge to lean over, to bury his face in Cort's lap, to take the long, thick flesh deep down his throat while breathing in Cort's musky scent. But the Jeep was too open. Anyone would be able to see in, to see what he was doing, and the last thing Vin needed right now was a ticket — or, worse, jail time — for indecent exposure and public acts of lewd behavior. He contented himself with stroking Cort through his jeans.
And he quickly became so focused on giving Cort as much discreet pleasure as his fingers and palm could that he nearly forgot to pay attention to where they were going. "Uh, take a left. Here!" He almost hadn't found his voice in time, but Cort smoothly decelerated and safely made the turn. "It's, uh, just up a couple more blocks."
Vin had pulled his hand away, settling himself in his own seat. Cort was driving him home; Cort would come upstairs; Cort would spend the night ... maybe even the weekend or the week ... or the rest of his life. Knowing this, Vin forced himself to be patient. He could wait the few more minutes it would take to park the car and walk up the stairs.
"That's it on the right. Just park ... anywhere."
Cort pulled the Jeep into a space at the curb, not far from the building's entrance. "Man, this piece of junk parks like a dream!" Cort commented as they slipped out of their seatbelts, and then out of the vehicle. "Just slid right in, nice and easy."
Vin wondered if Cort was making a sexual innuendo. It was the sort of thing Ezra might have said. Buck, on the other hand, would have gone for the crude joke: "Just slid right in, like a lubed dick up an eager hole." Vin wondered what Chris might have said, then realized that his boss wouldn't have said anything — partly because he wasn't one for idle chatter, but mostly because if he ever did drive Vin home it wouldn't be with the intent of spending the night or fucking him senseless.
As they started to walk away from the Jeep, Cort slipped his hand into Vin's. Normally, Vin would have protested, but it was so late and the streets were deserted. No one would see them.
"Not that anyone would want to steal it, but don't you have an alarm or something for that thing?" Cort tilted his head toward the Jeep.
"Naw. Around here, if an alarm goes off for no reason, people just start chucking bottles and cans at the car that's making the noise. If someone is trying to steal it, no one cares as long as the thief turns the damn alarm off."
"So, you just leave it out there, trusting no one will bother it?"
Vin shook his head. "I'm not that stupid. There's a kill switch — no electrical without the key in the ignition. Plus, it's Low-Jacked. They offer that to us at a discount — one of the perks."
"Who's they?" Cort asked as they entered lobby. Vin would have pulled his hand away, given the increase in lighting, inconsistent throughout the room as it was, but Cort held firm and Vin didn't fight him.
"They are the ATF. It's where I work now."
"So, you're no longer surviving off bounties?"
Vin shook his head. 'Surviving' was an interesting way of putting it.
Cort let out a sharp chuckle. "You mean, I don't have to fuck you to keep you from hauling me in?"
Vin froze when he heard this question. His feet stilled on the linoleum. His heart felt as if it had stopped beating. His breath seemed to congeal in his lungs until they ached. The only parts of him still active were his stomach — churning in a sickening motion — and his mind, racing like a freight train barreling along tracks someone had forgotten to finish laying.
"Vin? Are you okay? Vin!"
Cort was standing in front of Vin now; his hands were on Vin's shoulders, though Vin couldn't feel them. Hell, he could barely hear his name being called. Everything seemed to be receding.
"Vin, talk to me. I was just joking. I didn't mean it."
Suddenly, Vin was pulled into Cort's arms and Vin could feel the warmth from the man's body radiating into his own. It was like fire melting ice. He'd been so cold, so cold, for so long.
"I'm sorry, Vin. That wasn't funny. I shouldn't have said that. What you did for me ... you didn't have to ... but you did and it meant ... everything. It's why I'm here with you now."
Cort continued to hold Vin and slowly Vin realized that he was breathing again, that he wasn't going to throw up or faint or drop dead. He brought his own arms up and returned the embrace. He had believed in Cort's innocence, but it wouldn't have been the first time that a lover had lied to him or that he'd been blind enough to believe it.
But Cort was different. Cort hadn't lied. And Cort had only left because he had to, because he had to clear his name and the only way Vin could help him do that was to let him go. And now Cort had returned; he'd be able to stay this time and they'd be able to do all the things they'd once talked about doing, together.
"Cort," Vin breathed against his neck. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I'm here, Vin. I'm here," Cort said, as he stepped away from the embrace. He took Vin's hand and pulled him toward the elevator. "Now, come on. Let's get upstairs."
"No, not that way," Vin replied. The one elevator in the building was slower than molasses in January, when it was even working, which wasn't often. "The stairs are faster."
Cort shook his head and sighed.
"The place isn't that bad," Vin said.
"Yeah, Vin, it is."
Vin shrugged. Few people really understood why he lived here, why this had become his home after he'd left Texas the last time. It wasn't much to look at, and things didn't always work, but his neighbors trusted him, respected him, and counted on him. He wasn't sure he could just up and leave them, not for something as trivial as a fresh coat of paint and a working elevator.
"Reckon I haven't found a good enough reason to leave."
Cort pointed to a cockroach that scurried off the step Vin had just reached. "I'd say that is reason enough."
Vin just shrugged it off. There wasn't a building in Denver that didn't have cockroaches or mice or some other problems, not even the nice ones. Vin had lived in worse places than this; hell, after living on the streets, Vin knew how to appreciate simply having a roof over his head.
"Don't worry about it. My place is clean. I promise."
When they reached Vin's floor, Cort paused for a moment, out of breath. Vin, however, wasn't the least bit winded, having made that climb at least once a day for the past few years. It was better than the Stairmaster Ezra was so fond of at the gym.
Vin took Cort's hand and led him down the hallway. At the end was his apartment, a nice corner unit with a northeast exposure. The morning sun had never bothered him — he'd always been an early riser — and he hoped Cort was the same.
Inside the apartment, Cort was obviously pleased. Vin's furnishings weren't new, but they were in good condition. The counters and floors were clean and he'd learned a long time ago not to leave food out or dirty dishes in the sink.
"Nice," Cort said, and Vin knew that what he meant was that it was better than he'd expected and that that wasn't saying much. But Cort made no move to leave, so Vin took the statement as a compliment.
"Want a beer?" Vin offered, heading toward the kitchen.
Cort stopped him by grabbing his arm and pulling him into a hug. "Rather just have you."
Vin felt the heat rise on his cheeks. He wasn't usually nervous around other men. In fact, it was rare that he felt anything except a growing need in his pants. But Cort was different. Cort had always been different. He had an effect on Vin that no other man had ever had ... well, no other gay man had ever had. He wanted Cort, in so many ways, in so many ways beyond a quick suck and fuck.
"Cort...."
"Shhh," the man said as he pressed his lips to Vin's. Their tongues met tentatively inside Vin's mouth, negotiating some treaty, some give and take that would set the scene for the days to come. Cort pushed deeper and Vin retreated, giving ground, giving whatever the man asked of him. He even pushed back when that's what Cort seemed to want. Whatever made him happy, that was what Vin would do, that was what Vin would give, would be.
Jackets and shirts were quickly removed and tossed haphazardly to the living room floor. Shoes were toed off, and then as Cort leaned back against the front door, Vin dropped to his knees. He unfastened the button of Cort's waistband, then, using his teeth, he slowly dragged the zipper's tab down, exposing the man's black briefs.
Vin tugged the now-loose pants down, out of the way, before moving on to the underwear. He slipped fingers beneath the elastic bands, as he mouthed Cort's swollen erection through the cotton fabric. He felt Cort's hands on his head, fingers carding through his hair — hair not as long as the last time they'd been together, but still long enough to brush his shoulders and elicit glares from senior officials down at the Federal Building.
Vin's fingers migrated to the elastic waistband, but Cort stopped his fingers before Vin could begin to work the briefs from his hips. Vin felt himself being tugged up, back to his feet. Cort wrapped arms around his waist and pulled him close, kissing him long and slow, as he'd done so many years ago in that cheap motel room where Vin had handcuffed his bounty to the headboard. It felt good to have Cort's hands on him again, both hands, moving over his back, caressing the tense muscles, dipping low to the small of his back—
Vin quickly stepped away. He put his hands up, pressing Cort against the door, silently urging him to stay where he was. Vin reached around behind him and unclipped his service pistol from his belt. He moved toward the kitchen, reached over the bar and placed the gun on the counter, out of harm's way. The last thing he needed was for the thing to go off accidentally, grazing his ass, or worse.
But before he could turn around, he felt Cort behind him. Hands reached around his waist, pulling him close. Vin could feel the man's erection pressed against his jeans, pressing the thick cotton into the cleft of his ass, and then all he could think about was what it would be like to have that dick inside him. When they'd been together, Cort had never fucked him. Vin hadn't given him the opportunity; he'd never allowed himself to trust Cort enough to unlock the handcuffs, to put himself completely at Cort's mercy, not until the last moments, when he finally allowed himself to believe in Cort's innocence.
"Fuck me," Vin said. It was a small, hoarse whisper, and the sound wrenched his soul. He'd wanted to say that for so long. He'd wanted Cort that way since the moment he'd first met him. And now he could allow himself the luxury. If Cort didn't deny him.
"I thought you'd never ask," Cort replied in a hot whisper against Vin's ear.
Vin felt Cort fumbling at his waistband, then in a hurried moment, the buttons of his fly were loosed and his pants, along with his boxers, were pushed from his hips and down his legs. He felt Cort's hot breath again, this time against the cheeks of his ass. He felt the man's hands on his hips, steadying them both.
"Cort...."
He felt Cort press against him, felt the man's nose in his cleft, felt his wet, hot tongue in the groove, moving slowly over the rim of his hole. Vin bent himself over the counter as he spread his legs. The only thought in his mind was Cort, being with Cort, feeling Cort against him, inside him; he couldn't remember wanting anything more. Hell, he could barely remember his own name at the moment.
"Vin..." Cort said, reminding him. "I'll take you here — now — if you don't stop me."
Vin had no intention of stopping him. He pushed his ass back as evidence of it.
"The bed is softer," Cort said.
"But I'm hard right here, right now ... and so are you." Vin heard Cort chuckling; he felt warm puffs of air against his cheeks. Then he felt Cort's hands move from his hips to between his legs. Cort wrapped fingers around his dick and his balls as he pressed his face against Vin's ass again, his tongue probing Vin's entrance.
Vin reached down and covered Cort's fingers with his own, needing the contact, needing the reality of feeling a hand between his own and his cock. It had been too long since anyone had touched him like this, anyone whose name he knew, anyone he'd known for more than a few hours and a few drinks.
Vin gasped when he felt Cort's tongue press into him. The intrusion was forceful, yet soft; it was hot and moist and, God, he wanted more!
"More," he moaned. He felt the tongue wiggling about, felt the soft flesh laving his pucker, pushing just past the muscle: tickling, teasing, promising. "Deeper," he pleaded, knowing it was impossible, but then he felt something firmer push inside. A finger, a long, insistent finger that pushed deep and rubbed until Vin's knees buckled as a flash of pleasure shot through his body. He pushed back, forcing the finger deeper, causing another surge that ignited his nerves. He shivered and grabbed at the bar for support.
Cort's hand at his ass pushed in and up, steadying him. But his hand on Vin's dick continued to stoke. Vin's knees were still shaking and he just wanted to come. And he was going to, if he didn't stop Cort pretty damn soon. He just wasn't sure he wanted Cort to stop.
But Cort made the decision for him. Cort moved his hand from Vin's dick to his stomach, and then slowly moved it upward as he stood. His finger was still in Vin's ass, slowly working him, pushing in and out while circling around and around. Vin leaned back against Cort, now able to rest his head on the man's shoulder.
Cort leaned forward and Vin felt their lips connect. Vin was hungry for him and pressed his tongue forward, diving inside. He felt Cort's hand on his chest, fingers toying with his nipple. Vin's dick twitched, and his loins ached.
"Make me come," he mumbled against Cort's lips. He wanted it so badly, since the moment Cort had walked out of his life, and he'd never stopped wanting it, wanting someone he could love and trust, who wouldn't lie to him, use him, or treat him like shit.
Cort pulled back slightly, trailing kisses over Vin's jaw to his ear. He traced the shell gently with the tip of his tongue. "I will make you come," he finally whispered, "but not yet."
"Please," Vin begged, as Cort continued to drive him closer and closer to the edge.
"It'll be better if we wait," he said softly.
"It'll be better the second time," Vin countered. And the third time and the fourth....
"I don't have a condom," Cort finally said and Vin groaned. He knew there would be no compromising on this one.
"Bedroom," Vin said, relenting. He didn't have one in his wallet; there was no reason to carry one to work, not where he worked and most of the clubs downtown now provided them, a service included in the cover charge. For Vin, it made things less disappointing. It was harder to lie to himself when he came home with an unused condom still stuck in his back pocket.
Cort was pulling him now, down the hall, toward the back of the apartment, toward the bedroom.
"Bathroom," Vin pointed out as they passed the closed door, just in case Cort needed it later. Cort nodded, but didn't stop moving until they entered the bedroom.
Vin looked around for a moment, wondering what Cort was thinking of the place. But Cort didn't give him much time. He grabbed him around the waist and flung them both onto the bed.
"Soft," he finally said, but Vin wasn't sure if he was talking about the mattress or his hair, which Cort was now fingering. "God, I missed you."
"Really?" Vin managed to say, though he could hardly breathe.
"Really. You don't know how many times I wished that I could have stayed, or that you could have come with me."
Vin smiled at this, wide and sudden, and the moment Cort's eyes narrowed, he knew the man had misunderstood his reaction.
"Come with me now," Cort said with a leer. "Where are those condoms?"
Vin scooted up the bed and reached into the drawer of the unfinished wood nightstand.
"That'd look real nice stained mahogany," Cort said as he waited.
Vin rolled onto his back and looked over at Cort. The man was gorgeous, and he wanted Vin. He still wanted Vin, after all these years. "And that," Vin said, indicating Cort's hard length, "would look real nice buried in my ass."
"Sure you don't want to handcuff me to the bed first?" Cort asked with a raised eyebrow.
Vin shook his head. He supposed it could have been something sexy — a turn-on — but it still bothered him that he'd fucked Cort under those circumstances. It was bad enough that he'd done it with a bounty, but to have done it while the man was handcuffed ... it was wrong and Vin still hated himself for having done it. He should have trusted Cort and he should have uncuffed him.
Vin toyed with the condom package, flipping it, end over end in his hands until Cort finally reached over and took it from him. "Works better if you unwrap it," he said, demonstrating. Cort slipped the latex disk from the foil, and then flicked the empty package at the wicker basket in the corner. "Nothing but net," he mumbled, smiling.
"That's my dirty clothes hamper," Vin said.
Cort just laughed. "Well, it's empty. I hope that doesn't mean you've got a pile of dirty socks lurking under the bed."
Vin shook his head. He'd had a lot of time on his hands lately, and there was only so much jacking off in front of the television that a guy could do.
Cort handed him the condom, wanting Vin to do the honors. It was a gesture of trust, that Vin would do it, that he would do it right. Vin leaned forward and, instead, wrapped his arms around Cort and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. He loved this man, he realized. He'd loved him all this time, but his mind had kept those thoughts from him, kept them away from all the shit and all the dashed hopes. It was a dusty thing, this odd feeling, so strange to Vin that he hadn't recognized it back in the bar, when he'd first laid eyes on Cort again. So strange that he might never have realized it for what it was had Cort not been waiting for him at his Jeep. So strange that it felt unreal to him and too unlikely to actually be true.
He felt Cort's hands on his arms, pulling them away, pulling them down. And Vin remembered the condom he still held. He focused on Cort's still-hard dick as he carefully sheathed it in latex all the way down to the base. Then he squeezed the length until Cort moaned.
"Do that again, and you're going to miss out on the fucking of your life," Cort said with a grin. Vin kissed him instead, and then turned back to the nightstand for the tube of lubricant.
He handed it back to Cort who said, "Cherry flavor. Interesting." Then he felt Cort's hands on him pushing him down onto the bed and rolling him onto his stomach. Vin didn't resist; he didn't want to.
Vin felt a slick finger moving over his crack, sliding down the crevice and between his legs. He spread himself wide and hitched up his hips, giving Cort easier access, but it apparently wasn't enough. Cort hopped off the bed and pulled Vin over to the edge. He felt Cort's hands on his back and his tongue at his hole again.
"Mmm, cherry," Cort mumbled, and Vin felt the words as much as he heard them.
Vin let out a gasp when Cort's tongue circled the puckered muscle and then pressed inside: French kissing his ass. Vin buried his face in the mattress, knowing that Cort would make him scream if he kept this up.
But then the tongue was gone. He felt Cort scoot up close between his legs, and then he felt something round and firm being rubbed over his hole. Vin knew it was the head of Cort's dick. Vin had a clear picture of it in his mind; swollen and nearly purple, the slit just now beginning to ooze a droplet of translucent white that would taste sweet, with just a hint of the saltiness that would mark the flavor of his jizz.
Vin felt Cort's hand go flat against his back, and he fought the instinct to tense, to resist the impending intrusion. Instead, he held his breath and bore down, a trick he'd learned long ago. He didn't breathe again until Cort had breached the ring of muscle. After that, Cort pushed forward, gentle yet insistent, and then pulled back, again and again until Vin soon felt the hairs of the man's crotch tickling his ass cheeks.
Cort continued to thrust into him, long and slow, drawing this out, stoking the fire now burning deep inside Vin. He wanted this; he wanted this from Cort. He wanted it now and he wanted it tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.
Cort's hands were now on Vin's hips, and he pulled Vin back as he pushed deeply into him. Vin's body rubbed against the blanket, his peaked nipples catching on the small loops of knitting, his hard dick rubbing over the worn softness of the cotton fibers. He stretched out his hands, pressing his palms against the mattress as Cort's thrusts stimulated him inside and out. Vin's knees began to shake with need. He balled his hands in the thick blanket as his entire body screamed for release. His mouth hung slack, his lower lip trembled with each shuddering breath he pulled into his body. He swallowed hard, and then gasped for air.
He groaned, desperate to come for Cort, desperate to come with Cort inside of him, yet desperate for this to never end.
"Oh, God," he managed through clenched teeth. His eyes, squinted tightly shut, were watering at the corners. He tightened his grip on the blanket as his entire body began to shudder with need. And all the while he could feel Cort's hands on his hips, his fingers pressing against his flesh, as he drove deep, again and again, pushing into Vin, making him forget how bad being fucked could feel, how bad being fucked over could be, because he would never feel that with Cort, and because he'd never have to feel that ever again, because of Cort.
He shuddered again, a hot chill racing along his spine and out his limbs. And then he was coming, spurting his seed against the mattress, and it was a relief more than anything else. He began to breathe again when he felt Cort tense behind him. The hands on his hips gripped fast and Cort's thrusts became short, almost frantic. Then he heard a few low grunts and knew Cort was coming, and he wished he could feel the warm, creamy jizz coating his insides.
Cort stood behind him for longer than Vin expected. He felt hands rubbing over his back, up and down his spine, gently working along the muscles. And then Cort pulled out. Vin looked up in time to see the used condom being tossed into his wicker hamper before Cort flopped down onto the bed beside him.
Vin looked at him, stared into his cloudy gray eyes as if searching for something.
"Now that was worth the wait."
"Was it?" Vin asked, rolling onto his side so that he could rub a bit of jizz over his now-softening dick.
"Yeah, but I don't want to have to wait that long before we do it again."
"So ... you're staying?" Vin asked.
Cort nodded.
"For how long?"
Cort didn't answer and Vin wondered for the first time what had brought Cort to Denver to begin with.
"We've got the weekend. After that.... I'm not sure."
"Work?"
Cort nodded. "I'm ... sort of a consultant. After what happened before ... after I was accused of embezzling from a company I'd worked at for half-a-dozen years, I decided I'd never do the nine-to-five thing again."
Vin nodded. It made sense. He remembered the freedom he had while bounty hunting. No time clock to punch, no team leader or Assistant Director to be accountable to. Then again, there'd been no steady paycheck either.
"And you earn enough to live that way?"
"You'd be surprised. A lot of what I do is high-tech and those guys are more than willing to pay what I ask. I've just finished a job here in Denver, at one of the biotech companies north of town."
"So, what comes next?"
"You. And me. Then you again," Cort grinned. "I don't know, Vin. I want to stay. God, I'd love to stay ... here ... with you...." Cort pulled Vin close, hugged him and kissed his hair. "I'd never be here now if it wasn't for you. If you hadn't believed me all those years ago, if you hadn't trusted me and let me go. I'm here because of you, Vin."
Vin slipped his arms around Cort and just held him, held him with no thought of ever letting him go. He'd do anything to keep Cort here with him, or he'd leave and go wherever Cort went. Whatever it took so that he wouldn't have to lose him again, so that he wouldn't have to be alone again.
The chirp of the cell phone went straight to Vin's nerves.It might just be Chris, his friend, calling to remind him about the barbeque, but it could just as easily be Chris, his ATF team leader, telling him some urgent assignment had just come up. Either way, Vin didn't want to leave his bed, mostly because he didn't want to leave Cort's side, not when the man had only just come back into his life, not when it was still unclear how much time they had together, how much time they had left before one of them had to make a decision about staying or going.
"I have to get this," Vin said reluctantly as he reached for the cell phone.
"They call those 'handies' in Germany," Cort said. Then he reached under the covers and wrapped his fingers around Vin's cock, which immediately responded to the contact. "But I think this is much handier." The man smiled wantonly at him and Vin knew how this morning would proceed, if his damn cell phone weren't still ringing.
"Yeah. Tanner. What?" he said into the phone, trying to check his annoyance at the interruption.
"Vin, it's Chris."
Cort licked Vin's neck and Vin had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing into the phone. "What's up?"
"That guy you were talking to in the bar last night, do you know where he is?"
Vin stiffened as he sat up. "What guy?"
"The one at the Saloon. The one JD saw you talking to. The blond. Do you know him? Do you know where he is?"
Vin stared into Cort's bright eyes and was tempted to lie to Chris, for so many reasons. He turned away, staring at the wall, as he asked, "Why?"
"There was a fire — an explosion — at Iogenics, one of those biotech companies north of town. Vin, it wasn't an accident. This guy's wanted for questioning."
Vin's mind raced. A biotech company. It couldn't be Cort. North of town. Cort had been with him all night.
"Anyone hurt?" Vin asked. He had to know; he had to know if homicide would be attached to the arson charge.
"There's a security guard in the I.C.U. They're not sure yet if he's going to make it."
Vin's heart began to thud inside his chest; to his ears it sounded like dirt being shoveled on top of a casket. Still, the man they were looking for couldn't be Cort.
"Vin? Look, we think it's the same guy. JD got a pretty good look at him last night and he says it's the same guy as in the police photo."
Vin didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. JD could be wrong. He had to be. How dark had the Saloon been? How far away had JD been from the bar? How many beers had JD had? How good of a look could he have gotten?
"Vin, I don't want to get into this with you. I know we're skirting the edge of your private life, but I have to know. This guy is wanted in four states — embezzlement, extortion, arson.... I have to know, Vin. I have to know if you went home with this guy last night." Vin heard Chris sigh. He knew the man was hating this conversation as much as he was. "Is he with you now?"
"No," Vin said. "He's not here."
It was a lie, in a way, but he told himself it was a half-truth. During his conversation with Chris, Cort had gotten out of bed. Vin wasn't sure where he was now, but he thought he heard a door close and figured Cort was in the bathroom.
"I have to go," he told Chris, and then ended the call without waiting for a response.
He climbed off the bed and headed down the hall. As he passed the bathroom, he checked the door. It was unlocked and when he opened it, he found the small room silent and empty.
In the living room, he noticed the television set was on, but there was no sound. The images on the screen caught his eye. A large, single-story building was on fire, with thick plumes of dark smoke pouring from one side, where a bank of windows would logically be. The picture shrunk suddenly into the upper left corner of the screen. A woman in a pastel-colored suit sat behind a desk; she was talking, but the television was still muted and Vin didn't have the remote. Then the picture in the corner changed to a headshot of a man. There was no doubt in Vin's mind: it was Cort.
Vin suddenly remembered hearing a door close and he realized that it had to have been the front door. Vin checked the floor: he found his pants, his shoes, his shirt, and his jacket, but nothing that belonged to Cort. He grabbed up his pants and stepped into them, then made his way to the kitchen where he'd left his gun last night. It was gone. The only thing on the counter now was a spilled bag of ground coffee. Vin grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it as he made his way out the door.
As he ran barefoot down the stairs, he checked his pockets. He found his badge and his wallet, but not his car keys; he couldn't remember if Cort had given them back to him last night or not. He knew Cort was running, but now he was wondering if Cort was taking the Jeep.
When Vin realized that he still had his cell phone, he dialed 9-1-1. "This is Agent Vin Tanner of the ATF. Badge number 67-524. I need a black and white to 1954 Ronin Way, asap." When he'd given all the details and had confirmation from the dispatcher, he hit the speed dial for Chris.
"He's here, but he won't be for long. Get out here. Now," was all Vin said before hanging up the phone as he reached the last step and sprinted across the empty lobby.
Outside, Vin saw Cort behind the wheel of his Jeep, trying to start the cold motor, which always took a few tries first thing in the morning. "Cort!" he shouted, and the man looked up at him. He fumbled with something in his lap and then Vin was staring down the barrel of his own handgun.
"Come with me downtown. They just want you for questioning," Vin told him, trying to sound calmer than he felt.
"I can't. I won't. Not after what happened last time."
"We don't know that you're a suspect. Talk to them. Tell them you're innocent. You have an alibi," he told Cort, but that last word made his blood run cold. He stared at Cort and Cort stared back for a long minute; the gun pointed at Vin did not waver. "I'm your alibi," Vin said, trying not to sound disappointed or nauseated.
"This isn't about you, Vin," Cort said.
"You're sitting in my Jeep, pointing my gun at me! Sure looks like it's about me!" But he had a sinking feeling that Cort was telling the truth — it wasn't about Vin and it never had been. "Put the gun down and let me take you in."
"No!" Cort waved the gun at Vin as he pumped the gas pedal and tried again to turn over the engine. The starter made a grinding attempt and the motor gave a feeble attempt at cranking over, but then died. "Damn it!" he cursed as he struck the wheel with the palm of his free hand.
Vin took advantage of the distraction and moved a couple of steps closer, but Cort's eyes shot back to his and Vin froze, hands in the air.
"Just cooperate, Cort. If you're innocent, they'll let you go."
Cort shook his head. "Last time I cooperated, they tried to put me on trial. I'm not going through that again. You have to help me, Vin. Please."
Vin slowly nodded his head. "Just put the gun down. I can't help you unless you do." Vin took a slow step forward. He saw Cort falter and he took another step. Just a few more inches and he'd be able to lean over the passenger seat and take the gun from Cort. Just another step....
Vin's hand came around the barrel of the gun and Cort let go. His shoulders sank in resignation, just as Vin's sank in relief. Then suddenly, they both heard the sirens. Cort's shoulders snapped back as his hand flew to the ignition key. He pumped the gas pedal furiously, cranking over the motor again and again and again.
Vin stepped back from the Jeep, knowing the vehicle wouldn't start, knowing that Cort had drained the battery and flooded the engine. He didn't even bother holding Cort at gunpoint. If the man wanted to run, try his luck on foot, Vin wouldn't stop him, but Cort just kept cranking the engine, even though nothing except click, click, click could be heard over the fast approaching sirens.
The patrol car came to a screeching halt just behind the Jeep. It was standard procedure, Vin knew, but if Cort had somehow managed to start the Jeep, the police officers would be shit out of luck trying to stop him from getting away.
"Hands in the air," one shouted. "Drop your weapon."
Vin slowly crouched down and placed his gun on the concrete, then raised his hands high as he stood. Cort kept trying to start the Jeep. Vin stared at him. It was almost surreal, like an old black and white gangster film; the cops would arrive to save the day, but too late to prevent the real crime.
The second officer holstered his weapon as he approached the driver's side of the Jeep. "Hands on the wheel! Now!" Cort turned and looked at the man, as if he were surprised to see him standing there. He placed his hands on the steering wheel.
Then he turned and looked at Vin. There was something in his eyes, something Vin had never seen before today. There was fear and defeat. But, more, there was no longer that light, like the sun breaking through gray clouds. Vin couldn't save Cort this time, Cort knew that he hadn't even tried, and that changed everything.
A moment later, a truck pulled up in front of the Jeep, finally cutting off the last escape route. A tall, lean man exited; there was a badge in his hand that he held up for the police officers' benefit.
"Chris Larabee. ATF. These are Agents Wilmington and Dunne," he said in a loud, clear voice. Buck and JD climbed from the passenger side of the truck, but did not approach the scene.
The officers nodded at Chris and he headed for the one who was still holding a gun on Vin. "This is one of my agents, Vin Tanner," Chris explained. "Vin, do you have your badge?"
Vin nodded.
"Show me," the officer said.
Vin reached slowly into his back pocket and removed the badge, then held it up for the officer. The man came over for a closer look.
"You called this in, right?" Vin nodded. "That your gun?" he asked and again Vin nodded. "You can have it back."
Vin kneeled down to retrieve it without saying a word. When he stood again, he saw that the second officer had joined the first. The two backed up as they ordered Cort to exit the Jeep. His hands were now on his head and he wasn't resisting. One officer holstered his weapon and stepped up to Cort; he told him to put his hands on the hood of the car and Cort did. The officer placed a hand on the back of Cort's head and pressed his face against the metal before grabbing one of his hands and twisting it behind his back. Vin heard the quick razz of the handcuff as it closed around Cort's wrist. His other hand was yanked back and cuffed, and then he was pulled upright.
Vin found Cort staring at him; their eyes locked. Vin's heart was thundering in his chest. He wanted this to be a dream and he wanted to wake up.
"Vin!" he suddenly heard Cort yell, only then realizing that he'd been yelling his name this entire time. It sounded strange to his ears, foreign and distant. "Vin!"
Vin watched as one of the officers placed a hand on top of Cort's head and then he watched as that head disappeared into the back of the patrol car.
Suddenly, Vin felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and found Chris looking at him. He wanted to crawl into a hole rather than be seen by Chris right now. He couldn't stand to be judged by this man, by his boss, by his friend.
The officer who'd spoken to him before came over again. He had his black notebook out and was just fishing a pen from his pocket.
Chris handed the officer his business card. "You need anything, you call me," Chris said, and Vin knew what Chris was trying to do. It hurt. It hurt that Chris thought he needed to protect Vin. It hurt that he was right.
The officer took the card, but then looked at Vin. "You know that guy?" he asked, motioning over his shoulder with a jerk of his head.
"No." Vin turned away. He turned his back on the officer, on Chris, and on Cort. He turned and just walked away.
~ fade ~
November 2003Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.Thanks to Antoinette, Rhonda, Charlotte, and 'a friend' for taking the time to beta read this story.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 Cort is a photo-manipulation of a picture from davidanders.com