Autumn Rain

by Sue Kelley

The cabin was small and dark and smelled of damp wood from the burned-out fire and the heavy tang of hard sex. Outside the violent storm had waned into the gentle weeping of autumn rain.

Inside the cabin, in the too-short bed with the sagging rope springs, Buck shifted around, trying to ease his throbbing shoulder and ass and only succeeding in setting up complaints from other parts of his body. A hard five days on the trail of Dal and Mark Robbins--two desperados well-known to Buck and Chris from their days as Texas Rangers--followed by a vicious and dirty battle that left the Robbins boys dead and gone for good this time. The "peacemakers" from Four Corners--sometimes Buck wondered how the hell they ever deserved that title--hadn't emerged unscathed--Ezra had been knocked senseless by a ricochet and Dal Robbins had jumped Buck from behind, burying that wicked knife of his deep into the meat of Buck's shoulder, barely missing his neck, before Chris had blasted him into perdition with Vin's sawed off shotgun.

Buck shivered, remembering the wild, almost feral, look in Chris' gimlet green eyes when he'd realized Vin Tanner was missing. Leaving Nathan to tend to Ezra, the rest of them had scattered out, searching desperately through the scrub bush and scattered deep wounds in the desert floor for their seventh.

Vin had fallen from the boulders into one of those brush-covered gullies and was madder than a wet hen when they found him, unable to climb out due to a badly sprained ankle and pissed off because he'd been yelling and none of them had heard over their own panicked shouts.

Buck had watched during the search as Chris' eyes narrowed and those powerful jaws bulged tighter and tighter. Buck was feeling a little light-headed by then, and by the time Josiah and Chris had hauled Vin out--only to be thanked by the bounty hunter pulling loose and hobbling off toward his horse--the hazy sun seemed to be hiding deeper and deeper in the clouds. Chris was ordering Vin to let Nathan tend to him, Vin was snapping back his opinion of Chris ordering him to do anything, everyone else had been grinning and trying to hide it as the two bullheaded best friends went at it. Trying to force a swallow through his suddenly dust-dry throat, Buck remembered a time when he and Chris were like that. Butting heads all the time, but fiercely covering each other's backs. So close that sometimes they couldn't tell where one stopped and the other began. Days of rambling all over the country, shooting and fighting and getting' lickered up, being lauded as heroes by the writers of those penny dreadfuls and shunned by the very people they were trying to protect. If indeed they were trying to be heroes. Buck figured he'd done it just because it was fun. And because he was with Chris.

And the nights they'd been alone, out on the trail or in some hotel, the nights they'd come together in flaming passion and unbelievable tenderness.

Memories of those days--nights--gone now, killed by love and hate and revenge and fire--hit Buck hard as he watched the man he'd built his life for the better part of fifteen years with the other one. The new one, the man that had done what Buck and his love couldn't: bring Chris Larabee back to life. Not the same Chris Larabee, but closer to the real thing than Buck had ever hoped to see.

Overcome and so, so tired, he'd sat heavily on one of those misplaced white boulders, leaned over and wondered fuzzily why he felt so funny, so hot and cold and sweating at the same time. Someone--JD--had called his name from a million miles away. He'd raised his heavy head, checking the kid was okay, but it was just too much effort to say anything. And then suddenly they were all there, and Chris was in front of him, his face still white and tight from Vin's close call, barking out Nathan's name and urging Buck down with surprisingly gentle hands. Josiah and JD both talking at the same time and Vin whistling, "Damn, Bucklin!" all of it drowned out by Chris' furious, "What the hell were you thinking!"

+ + + + + + +

Buck tensed up, fighting a bad cramp, then forced himself to relax as the man asleep in his arms sensed the movement and grumbled unhappily in his sleep. Buck held his breath, only gradually breathing again when Chris sighed, sinking deeper into sated slumber. This time would be over soon enough. Buck tightened his good arm around the lean body of his--friend? Enemy? Lover?--Hell, Buck wasn't even sure anymore. Whatever. No matter what happened between them, he loved Chris…deeply, stronger than any lady he'd ever had. He wasn't going to give up a moment of this time he treasured. His damn body would just have to hurt. The bandage on his shoulder felt dry…he hadn't started the bleeding up in his desperate response to Chris' rutting. Nathan would kill him if he knew what Buck was doing…but then Nathan would never know. No one would. Chris would make sure of that. Tomorrow…next day at the latest…Chris would convince himself it hadn't happened. And they'd go back to their usual tempestuous pull-push friendship…or whatever it was.

Until the next something happened--something that sent them back to each other.

If it ever happened again…

Things were different now. Changing. Ending. He could feel it, he just couldn't explain, even to himself, what "it" was. He just knew that their time in Four Corners was coming to an end. He could see it in the way Vin looked toward Tascosa; the way he flinched when anyone mentioned bounty, or bounty hunters, no matter how innocent the comment was.

Vin was ready to fight for his life and his freedom. His name.

They'd all go with him. Buck had no doubt about that. They'd all follow him to Texas and one way or another they'd stand by him. And they'd probably win. There wasn't a whole lot the seven of them couldn't do if they put their minds to it.

And then what?

Somehow he just didn't see them all coming back to Four Corners. Nathan would and maybe Josiah. JD? For so long he'd talked about joining the Rangers, wanting Buck to go along too. Wilmington had been a Ranger once, didn't much fancy being one again...but if the kid needed him...

But JD didn't need him anymore, really. JD was growing up, becoming the man in truth he always had the ability to be. And more and more, JD was spending his free time with Casey. Just a few weeks ago Buck had figured if she ever got herself into a dress they might be sparkin' seriously. But now he realized she probably never would look soft and frilly and feminine, and that JD wouldn't know what to do with her if she did. They'd probably still be competing to see who could throw their knife the furthest, or catch the biggest fish, right up until the day they married. And who knew but their marriage would be better and stronger because of it.

Who knew about Ezra. Buck had long ago quit trying to figure what kept Ezra with them anyway.

But Vin, free at last, and Chris…they'd leave. Together. They way they'd been meant to be since that first day out there on a dusty desert street. Vin was good for Chris. Vin had brought him back.

Vin had succeeded where Buck had failed, and that was okay.

He shifted, sinking greedily into Chris' warmth, fighting off the sleep that was dragging at him. This might be the last time. He couldn't miss any of it. Even if it wasn't the last, it was close to the last. He knew it.

Soon, probably very soon, Chris wouldn't need these illicit trysts anymore. He wouldn't need the desperate violent sex to forcefully remind himself he was still alive, still in control, that what was left of his world still revolved steadily around the sun.

Someday he'd not need that and could make love again. The way he had with Sarah. The way he had with Buck, a long time ago.

For a while Buck had thought it might be Mary, and Billy, that calmed the fire of rage that roared through Chris. Not much hope of that, though. Chris wasn't likely to ever let himself trust that much, and Mary was just different enough from Sarah to remind Chris of what he had lost.

No, it would probably be Vin. Hell, might be Vin now. They sure spent a lot of time together.

Buck gasped as the thought hit him, like ice water off the mountain. Did Chris think of Vin when he held Buck in his arms, when he drove his tongue forcefully down Buck's throat, when he bit and suckled Buck's nipples and stroked his cock to full hardness and then plunged his own manhood into Buck's desperately craving body--was Chris thinking of Vin? Wanting Vin? But fearing Vin could never, would never, put up with the bruises and the cursing and the names…the tearing and the pounding…all of the things that Buck welcomed because they meant, if only for a moment, that he had Chris back again.

He felt Chris' hand on his back, sliding up to rest on his neck. For a moment he was sure the man was awake. Not yet! His mind cried silently. Not yet. Just a few more minutes…a little time for him to cuddle close to Chris and greedily fill his lungs with the smell of the man, the smell of them both after their joining. Time for him to gently kiss Chris' lips and remember, once again, the way they used to be.

One last time, God. Just one last time.

+ + + + + + +

The coldness of coming dawn pressed around him as he tightened his grip on Chris--the man who unknowingly--uncaringly--held Buck's fragile heart and soul in his roughened hands. He held on for the few minutes he had left.

And the cold tears spilled down his cheeks in time with the gentle autumn rain.

End

Continues in Autumn Dawn

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