Disclaimer: The characters of Mag7 do not, nor likely will they ever, belong to me. I am merely borrowing them to shut up my muse. :) Sue me if you like, but all I have left is three pennies and a box of mac & cheese.
Notes: This story has a multiple pairing (m/m/m) description in it, so if that turns you off, please leave now. Any and all comments, good or bad, are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
ONE
The street was dark and quiet when Vin checked it. This time of night, only a fool would be up and lurking about. Tanner smiled. So, I'm a fool, he thought as he walked alongside the boardwalk, not wanting his boots to make too much noise on the hardwood planks. He paused for a brief moment outside the saloon, looking up at the starry sky. Maybe that was why he couldn't sleep. It had been quite a while since he'd gotten outta town for more than a quick ride. Lately, it had seemed that even being in a room with two more people was enough to make Vin feel crowded. Maybe he just needed to get away from the sights of civilization.The tracker snorted softly to himself. Yeah, or maybe you just need to get a little closer, he said to himself. Vin easily pictured the form of his closest friend in his head, roving over the familiarly tantalizing body with his mind's eye. That solid but lean form, always encased in tight, black cloth. A shudder passed through the tracker. It had been awhile since that first, hurried time out on the trail. Vin hadn't meant to interrupt anything when he came back from scouting the area around their camp that night, but he hadn't counted on finding Buck and Chris.... The two men had been too far gone to stop what they were doing when the tracker had ridden up. Instead, they finished and sat quietly, waiting for Vin to say something.
Tanner smiled. What could he have said? It wasn't like it was anything new to him. The Comanche were very open minded when it came to such things and there were several times that he himself had "ridden double" with another young buck on the war path. He just sat his horse quietly, not trusting himself to move because of the large bulge that was pressing against the front of his jeans. His horse had snorted a bit and relaxed into a more comfortable standing position. Vin, as used to being in the saddle as he was, merely rocked with the movement, letting out a hiss as it caused his contained arousal to be pressed tightly against the saddle horn for a moment.
The two men on the ground had shared a look, a small smile, and then a nod before Chris stood silently. He hitched his pants back up around his hips, but did not fasten them. His shirt, slightly rumpled and half un-done, fell to cover the tantalizing sight of his bare form from Vin's shadowed eyes as he moved closer. The gunman had merely come close enough to lay a quieting hand on the animal's neck, all the time staring straight into Vin's eyes. Then, he began to stroke the soft, black coat of the gelding, running his hands up and down the sleek neck.
Vin felt the same shiver as he had then, picturing those hands, so deadly with a gun, yet so gentle with those he cared for, stroking, gliding, moving over his own body. Chris had merely licked his lips and called his name before the tracker was sliding out of the saddle and into the gunslinger's arms.
After making sure that his horse was secured, Chris had led him back to where Buck was reclining on the ground. And then, trapped between the two friends, Vin had been left with no option for the rest of the night but to enjoy. And enjoy he had, his body so spent and tired the next morning he didn't awake at the first touch of the sun as he usually did.
Oh yeah, Vin thought, remembering. Getting closer to someone would be right nice about now. The tracker shook his head to clear it of the memories and images of that night so long ago. It was too late for his body, however. It was telling him it was about damned time for a repeat of that experience. Vin sighed heavily, turning his eyes about the town once again, doing his best not to look up at the window he knew to be Chris', refusing to let himself mope like a faithful puppy that had been left to its own.
He needed a drink. Hoping that this was one of the nights that Inez had left the saloon open for the night-owls like Ezra and Chris, Vin stepped up and tried the knob on the door behind the batwing slats. It was unlocked. With a quiet push, Vin slipped into the dark building, leaving the stars to the sky and dreams to those asleep.
+ + + + + + +
Vin tipped the whiskey bottle back, wrapping his lips around the cold neck. This was what he needed. Well, what he *needed* was asleep across the street, but this would have to suffice for now. He took another drink, appreciating the burn of the liquor down his throat. Vin's ears caught a sound as he settled back into his chair, causing his muscles to tighten. That was the sound made by someone walking towards the saloon. Who else would be out in the middle of the night?
Vin relaxed slightly as he recognized the panther-like form of Chris Larabee. The gunman stood in the doorway for a moment, letting his own eyes adjust to the darker interior as well as giving the tracker time enough to ascertain that he was of no threat to him. As Larabee walked closer, the tracker nodded his greeting before sliding the bottle over towards the now seated gunman.
+ + + + + + +
Chris gratefully accepted the drink from his friend. It was exactly what he had gone in search of. Well, not exactly, but it was a start. The gunman had been sitting by his window, as was his routine since that night not so long ago. Chris knew that Buck had moved on and, while not forgetting it for a moment, probably wasn't so intent on re-living it as he himself was. Larabee had almost forgotten that Buck's carnal knowledge swung both ways. The jovial cowboy had been quick to point out his lapse of memory. However, it wasn't Buck that held his mind. No, his thoughts kept turning back to how Vin had responded in his arms. How the tracker had moaned and hissed with back-arching pleasure.
He'd thought he was imaging things when he looked down to see Vin staring up at his window earlier. And then, that subtle shake of the head he recognized as the unconcious move of someone wanting to clear their mind. And so, taking a chance, Larabee had dressed in his normal attire and crossed the street to see what was keeping Tanner up so late. Now, with a drink in his hand, and Vin across the table from him, Chris felt his body rising at the double innuendo of that last thought. Taking a deep breath, Larabee decided it was now or never.
The gunman flashed a sly grin at Vin, holding the whiskey in his mouth for a moment to savor the flavor. "You're lookin' a little tired there, Vin. Civilized life keepin' ya up past your bed-time?" Vin returned his smile and chuckled softly. Chris always did know what was getting to him.
"Lookin' a little pekid yourself, Chris," he returned with the same sly tone. "Some female snare ya or did Buck talk ya into bed?" Chris passed the bottle back to Vin, laughing in his quiet way.
"Well now, either would be an excuse to be tuckered out, but I'm not guilty of either. Buck didn't stand a chance of going anywhere with that little fire-brand sittin' in his lap." Vin just nodded, placing the bottle back on the table. Licking his lips, he turned to face the gunman.
And caught Chris staring at his mouth. The gunman quickly shifted his eyes, and, for the briefest moment, Vin thought his own eyes had played a trick of wishful thinking on him. Just to be sure, the tracker licked his lips again, making sure his tongue went far down his bottom lip, almost as if begging it to come up between his teeth. Larabee shuddered slightly, but refused to let his gaze slide to the slightly glistening mouth.
Vin saw the movement and his face broke out into the smile he reserved for those he held in his heart. Not many had seen it since his mother, but each of the other six men he rode with knew that smile. Chris returned the show of emotion, seeing that special smile sending his body into higher motion. As quietly as he did everything else, Vin rose from his chair and walked around to kneel in front of the gunman, his smile now wicked and playful. Chris felt the hands on his body as Vin ran them down his chest to the tightening front of his jeans. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes to let the sensations the tracker was causing run through his body without restraint.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra tossed on his bed restlessly, unable to relax enough to go to sleep. Every time his emerald eyes closed, he saw black. But not the black of a void of light; black as in the dark fabric that hugged the lean muscles of the man who haunted his dreams. The gambler, finally giving up on sleep, rose from his bed and moved to the window. Ezra ran a hand through his touseled hair, feeling the silky softness of it under his fingers. It made him wonder what the blonde locks of a certain gunman would feel like. Or better yet, Vin, a small voice piped.
Standish shook his head violently. Vin?! Where the hell did that thought come from? Ezra wasn't sure, but now that it had arrived, it refused to leave. Closing his eyes, Ezra mentally viewed the two men, side by side. Their bodies were similar in the fact that they were tightly packed with muscle on lean forms, but there, the comparison ended. Vin's eyes were a deep, diving blue, picking at a man's soul. Larabee's were a sharp green, capable of holding a man to the spot with one look. Vin's hair was full and free, much like its owner, while Chris' was kept cropped close to his head, allowing a little freedom, but mostly set in its ways.
The gambler growled a bit and stalked to his dresser. Pulling out a deck of cards, he sat back down on the bed. Playing cards always helped to calm him some. And it would keep his mind from its new task of comparisons. There was something about the feel of a well-worn deck ruffling through his fingers. The way he could make the cards do his bidding. Ezra shuffled and dealt, beating himself time and again. Shuffling, cajoling, seducing the cards. It was almost like making love. Ezra growled anew at that unbidden thought. All the hard work he had done of forgetting his two obsessions was quickly gone. Yes, the feel of a deck of cards in his hands was wonderful, but now, it seemed nothing compared to the imagined feel of the taut skin of a lean tracker and a deadly gunman. Ezra could think of many new ways to use his dextrous fingers.... Such as teasing the body of a certain blonde gunman or a blue-eyed bounty hunter into a growling frenzy.
Ezra shook his head, laughing at his own obsessions. He hadn't ever been taken in this way by one of the men that he worked with. A small voice quietly called him a liar. He'd felt those stirrings the first day they met, but Ezra'd refused to let them go anywhere. He'd been on the recieving and giving end of relationships between men like these. Sometimes, it was just better to walk away.
With a sigh, Ezra stood and pulled on a pair of slacks before slipping his shirt over his shoulders. He doubted he needed to worry about decency seeing as to how late it was, and, as such, did not button it up. Leaving his boots half-way under the bed where he had kicked them, Ezra quietly opened his door and slid out into the hallways. He made his way to the stairs and maneuvered his way downward to the saloon.
Being a con-man had its advantages, and one of them was the ability to hear things you shouldn't. Ezra was fairly convinced that this was one of his "God-Given-Talents" his mother always spoke of. The ability to hear things...such as...*that*. He heard it again, a whisper of sound. A groan. An almost inaudible cry. Slowly, he made his way to the door of the saloon and peeked around the corner.
And almost fell flat on his face.
TWO
Ezra's emerald eyes grew dark, almost black with arousal. The same color of black as the pants that were pooled around the ankles of his obsession. He watched the gunman's face, twisted with the combination of pleasure and pain, his body bent over the table. Ezra looked up to the man behind him, the same expressions running over his rugged features, his long brown hair damp with sweat from his efforts. His body, lean and tall, the muscles rippling under his salty skin.Another whispery cry came from his man in black. His pale flesh was dripping with sweat and Ezra found himself trembling at the sound of it. Vin moved faster, Chris' name coming off his lips. Chris shuddered, pushing back. He raised up on his hands, holding his body up off the table. Ezra bit his lip to hold back a cry as he was revealed to him in his natural glory. Vin's hand came around to caress that hard flesh. Ezra licked his dry lips, wanting nothing more than to taste that sweetness, to feel him moving under his body. His eyes drifted back to the man behind him as Chris got more vocal.
"God, Vin....." Vin pumped faster, both against his lover and for him. Chris pushed back further, and Vin's other arm slid around his chest, pulling the sweaty body back against his him. Ezra stepped back a bit, his legs threatening to cramp up on him from being held tensely for so long. A board creaked under his weight, and Ezra froze as a pair of piercing blue eyes flew open to fasten on his form.
"Sweet Christ on a crutch," Vin whispered, the rush of adrenaline at finding someone else around coursing through his body and making him tighten with release. He squeezed down hard on Chris, the gunman's eyes fixing their steely gaze on the familiar face of the gambler. Chris felt Vin pulsing inside him, his hand hard on his harder flesh as the gunman found his own release. The two men shuddered, their eyes never leaving his face. Ezra stood still, his mind telling him to flee while he had the chance, but his body forcing him to stay.
Chris felt Vin rigid behind him, unsure of the reaction that they would receive. Forgetting what he might think of him now, the gunman instead focused on what was in Ezra's eyes. He saw surprise, naturally, but more importantly, he saw excitement, interest, and mostly, arousal. Reaching out a still trembling hand, Chris silently offered his invitation. Ezra stood for a moment before stepping through the door and walking towards the two men.
+ + + + + + +
I'm glad this bar is as sturdy as it looks, Ezra thought with the small part of his brain that was still functioning. Another gasp tore through his frame as Vin's roughened hands played over his nipples. His body was hard behind him as they both kneeled on the bar's surface. Chris was still standing on the floor, pressed between his spread knees up against the wooden frame. His tongue played over his lips and throat before sliding down to slowly roll around his sensitive nipples.
Suddenly, his blonde head dropped from view and before Ezra could form a thought as to why, he felt it. The velvet heat of his tongue as it slid down his length. The gambler jumped, causing Vin to tighten his hold on him. The sweat slickened flesh of Ezra's back was torturously teasing his renewed erection, and Vin wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out.
Chris lapped about the swollen crown of Ezra's arousal, feeling him slick on his tongue. He brought the gambler's taste back into his mouth, the soft tingle of it causing his member to throb. Ezra arched against him, moaning with pleasure. Vin gasped as the slickened head of his shaft slid along his skin. Ezra sat back, trapping him. The tracker could feel the warm heat as he slid temptingly close to that spot of warmth inside the gambler.
He was still well prepared from his first bout with Chris, and Vin knew what he wanted. He just had to make sure it was doubly good for Ezra. Making up his mind, Vin moved a hand up to Ezra's face, teasing his lips open with his fingers. The gambler willingly accepted the digits to his mouth, and Vin almost lost it as he began a strong suction on them, pulling them deep into his warm cavern.
Hearing the two men moan, Chris raised his head and merely watched for a few minutes. Ezra felt his eyes on him and opened his to meet the gaze, the two clashing shades of green mixing into a harmony of growing lust. Chris knew what Vin had in mind, and, being the helpful friend he was, decided to give all he could. Leaning up, the gunman began to slowly kiss his way back up the gambler's heaving, flushed chest, pausing to take pay homage to each nipple with a slow swipe of his tongue and a nip of his teeth.
Ezra still held the tracker's fingers in his mouth, and Vin wasn't sure how much longer he could take the mental image of what that talented tongue could do to other apendages on his body. Finally, Chris reached the gambler's face, and a wicked smile was all the warning Ezra received. Like a force of nature, Larabee claimed his mouth, slipping his tongue inside. Vin and Ezra groaned together as Chris took it upon himself to help keep Vin's fingers busy.
And then, he was gone. Ezra drew his head back from Vin's hand as he tried to figure out just what the gunman had planned. Vin, in the meantime, took advantage of Ezra's release of his fingers, and reached his hand down between them. A strangled groan was heard as the tracker teased Ezra's opening with the wet digit. Chris watched as the gambler's body swallowed the offering hungrily. Vin began a slow rhythm, opening Ezra up bit by bit. A sly grin crossed his features at the sight, and Ezra was reminded of a cat that was about to steal the cream. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them up again as he heard Vin's voice murmuring in his ear.
"Aww, damn, Chris!" The gambler fastened his gaze on the man before him, watching with lust-heavy eyes as he swirled his tongue around his own fingertips. Walking forward, Chris dropped his hand down to trail over Ezra's thigh. The gambler bucked up and Chris took the opportunity to slide his hand down further. Soon, he was tracing the back of Vin's fingers with his own. And then, finally, when Vin thrust up, his finger slid in. Ezra cried out at the sudden sensation of two fingers where there had been only one.
The two men moved with the same rhythm, pushing and pulling on the gambler's body until he was almost sobbing with the pleasure. Chris leaned over, allowing his throbbing organ to slide along Ezra's, while, at the same time, putting him within range of capturing Vin's mouth with his own. The added leverage sent his finger deep inside, brushing across that one spot of pleasure. Ezra thrust down hard on the penetrating fingers and began to moan incoherently.
Vin nodded to Chris and the two men pulled their hands away. Ezra's ragged breathing didn't slow, but grew more intense as he felt Chris lift his hips. With a tender, guiding touch, Vin moved forward slightly, helping Chris to lower the gambler down. Ezra hissed as he felt the first touch of the tracker's arousal at his entrance. And, then, Vin was inside of him, pulsing with heat and need.
Ezra bit his lip until it hurt to keep from screaming as Vin filled him from behind, Chris' tongue going back to its former task of teasing his weeping flesh. The tracker began a slow rhythm, pulling his length almost all the way out of Ezra before thrusting back up again. Each motion drove the gambler's steel deeper into Chris' hungry mouth. Ezra felt his need to thrust, his need of release growing in a grand spiral, sweeping the three of them up in its storm.
Vin began to push faster, harder, deeper, driving them towards the edge. Ezra gave up his fight and clenched his muscles with his impending explosion, tightening around the pulsing flesh inside him. Vin arched forard, moving as deeply as he could, as his own body erupted in a fiery fountain of pleasure.
Chris felt the shudder from the tracker and knew had a split-second to prepare himself as Ezra cried out, shooting several strong streams of liquid lust down his throat. Chris eagerly took all that was offered before removing his mouth and resting his forehead on the sweat-soaked thigh of his lover. The gunman released every hold he'd maintained on his emotions, finally feeling the tremendous ache in his own groin.
Now that he'd satisfied his lovers, Larabee was free to his own devices. Wrapping a hot hand around his swollen flesh, Chris began to pump, moving and tightening his grip as he neared the cliff of release. Once there, he merely sailed over, his hips wrenching sideways with the power of his orgasm, spilling his heated seed into the palm of his hand.
Vin rested far back on his ankles, not minding the subtle complaining of his legs as Ezra's limp, exhausted weight rested on him. He was still sheathed inside the gambler when he felt Chris shudder, realizing what the gunman had been driven to do for himself. If he could just get down from the bar, he'd make it up to him. However, as long as Ezra was a quivering mass atop him, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
Suddenly, the weight pressing him down was gently lifted and Vin watched as Chris pulled the gambler down into his arms. Blood coursed through to the starving tissues of his legs where they had begun to fall asleep. The tingling consumed his whole lower half, and Vin could feel it spreading through his reviving flesh.
The tracker dropped down beside his two lovers, leaning heavily against the bar. Ezra was recovering from his double attack, his lips itching to taste more of the sweaty flesh he'd already sampled this evening. But not here. With a weary, but sly smile, he turned towards the stairs. Picking up clothing as he went, Ezra tossed a comment back over his shoulder.
"I do believe I would like to try that again, gentleman. But, if I may suggest someplace a bit more comfortable?" Chris and Vin each returned the gambler's grin, grabbing their clothes as they moved after him up the stairs. Vin was the last to enter Ezra's room, and, as the door was shut and he found himself trapped between Ezra's roving mouth and Chris' roving hands, he thought that three in a room wasn't such a crowd after all.
THE END
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