One writer's solution to Lie To Me
"All right, Larabee. Listen and listen good. This is how it's gonna be from now on." Vin Tanner kicked the door shut behind him and strode over to Chris's desk. Planting his fists on the paper strewn surface, he leaned over til his eyes were on a level with the other man's.
"Ok. You've got my attention." Chris was rather proud of how calm he sounded when what he really wanted to do was leap across the desk, grab the tracker by his longer than regulation hair and kiss him til he forgot all about the past few months. Then he would bend him over the desk and fuck him til he begged to come back to Chris. That he didn't care how many other guys Chris fucked as long as...
"Larabee? Larabee?" Vin lifted one hand off the desk long enough to snap his fingers under Chris's nose a few times. "Stay with me, cowboy. I didn't come in here just to have you stare at me with a glazed look in your eye and a shit eating grin on your face."
Chris fought back the rising blush he could feel creeping up his face and neck. Vin was here to give his resignation. The least Chris could do would be to accept it gracefully.
Like Hell.
"I said you've got my attention. But I don't have all day." Chris glared at his former lover, still not certain what he would do when Vin placed his formal resignation on the desk between them.
"Oh this will just take a minute. It's very simple, really. Simple enough that even a rat bastard like yourself ought to get it on the first try." A slow, nasty smile crept across the sharpshooter's face as he straightened up and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his front pocket.
Chris eyed the crumpled piece of paper warily. "Is that...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"My resignation? Yep." Vin smoothed the paper a bit and then, instead of placing it on Chris's desk, he tore it in two and tossed it carelessly on the floor. "Except, I decided I ain't gonna make it that easy for you."
"Vin, I..."
"You still want me, Larabee? Still think about fucking me? Still remember what it was like between us?" Vin was leaning over the desk again, his voice a husky whisper in Chris's ear.
"Yes." That one word was all Chris could manage.
"How far are you willing to go to get that all back?" Vin brushed his lips across Chris's ear and then drew back, leaving the ball clearly in Chris's court.
"All the way." Dinner. Flowers. Monster truck rallys. Whatever it took, Chris was 100% there.
"All the way as in you'll be my bona fide bitch for as long as it takes?" Vin said the words so casually it took a few moments for their meaning to actually sink in.
"Your what?" Chris still wasn't quite sure he had heard correctly. But then his thoughts were rather tangled up with thoughts of Vin and the desk. And Vin bent over the desk...
"My bitch. As in mine to do with as I will. To fuck when I want. How I want. Where I want. And with whoever the hell I want."
"You want me to be your... goddamned sex slave?" Chris shut his mouth with an abrupt snap when he realized he was gaping at Vin like the village idiot.
"See. I knew you were a bright boy, Larabee. I've seen how far you'll go to fuck things up. Now let's see how far you'll go to fix 'em." Vin entire demeanor screamed "Challenge".
"Tanner, this is crazy. I can't. We can't." Chris wasn't often at a loss for words. Mostly he just didn't say much. Which was a different thing altogether. But this time he honest to God didn't know what to say. Was this some sort of sick joke Vin was playing on him before leaving for good? Or had what he done actually driven the sharpshooter around the bend? Fuck.
"Ain't no joke, Chris. And don't flatter yourself, I ain't crazy." Vin always did have an uncanny way of reading Chris's mind at the most inopportune times.
"Then what the hell should I call you?" Chris snapped.
"How about... Master?" Without waiting for an answer, Vin turned and began walking towards the door. He paused, and glanced over his shoulder as he reached it. "I'll give you some time to think about it. But don't take too long, Chris. Or I might decide to take my offer elsewhere." With that, Vin pulled open the door and walked out.
"Master?" Chris repeated softly, testing the sound of the word, before snorting in disgust and pushing away from his desk. No fucking way. He didn't care what the sharpshooter said. He was out and out crazy. Insane. Dicked in the nob. Fucked in the head. Etc.
Except, there was a part of Chris that had really liked the sound of the word. And the accompanying image of Vin in black leather was even better.
So what did that make him?
Fucked. No matter which way it went. That's what it made him.
Black leather. And Vin. The way was suddenly becoming clearer and clearer. And since when had Chris Larabee backed down from a challenge?
Come on baby, make it hurt so good. Whistling, Chris went back to work.
The End
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