Sequel to Fool for Love
WARNING: Graphic description of male-male sex.
Chris stretched under the covers and yawned. Twisting his hips left, then right, to torque his back, he was rewarded by loud popping sound along his vertebrae as the bones settled back into their proper places. He sighed deeply with relief.
It was all Tanner's fault.
Everything was Tanner's fault.
Everything was always Tanner's fault.
His mantra complete, he sluggishly folded the covers back with a groan and sat up. He dragged his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor with a soft thud as he scrubbed his face grumpily, trying to remove the sleep from his eyes.
The sight that greeted him when he was finished was that of his nemesis, one Vin Tanner, lounging bare-ass naked on the bed across from his in the small Motel 6 room. And the blue-eyed tease was wearing a smug, self-satisfied grin on his handsome, angular face.
The brief thought of homicide winged swiftly through the blond's mind. But it wasn't quite all Tanner's fault this time. He'd given in, damn fool that he was. And now he was paying for it.
Normally, Larabee would have been wide awake by now, and more than a match for the harebrained Texan who was watching him like he was nothing more than a toy to be grabbed up and played with. But after dealing with a gang of bootleggers, driving for almost fourteen hours straight, and then enduring a small, uncomfortable hotel room with an amorous Vin Tanner, well, all Chris wanted to do was go back to sleep for another week, at least.
Larabee shook his head. Okay, so it wasn't really Tanner's fault this time. It was his own damn fault. He should've said no when Vin had started nuzzling his neck or, better yet, fallen asleep on Tanner while he'd been licking his way across his chest.
The memories gave him a shiver and he quickly forced them away.
He glanced at the clock. It was seven o'clock. If he had been home at the ranch he would have been up for over an hour already, his run completed, showered, coffee made and breakfast ready to be eaten. He would be almost ready to head out for the office, in fact.
His sluggish thoughts stopped and backtracked. Shower. Now that's what he needed. The peace, the quiet, the warm water working its magic on his aching muscles… Oh, yeah, a shower was exactly what he needed.
He forced his eyes open a little farther. Given the expression on Tanner's face, Larabee decided it was a damned good thing he had pulled his underwear back on when they had finished last night. Little Red Riding Hood had his heartfelt sympathies this morning.
But the hunger in Tanner's blue eyes penetrated the fog in Larabee's head and he turned a burning, gritty gaze to the Texan's groin. He swallowed hard, wishing Vin had dressed as well. God, but he looked good, even now. Goddamn, it just wasn't fucking fair.
No. Absolutely not. I will not give in, he told himself sternly. I'm not that easy. The man's green eyes fell shut again. How the hell did Tanner do it? Three hours of sleep and the former bounty hunter looked like he'd gotten a solid eight. Definitely not fair. And not normal either.
Normal?
Larabee snorted derisively. Nothing about Tanner was normal. Normal people needed eight solid hours of blissful, peaceful, undisturbed sleep in order to look like that. Not to mention to get it up like that, especially after what they had done last night…
Stop thinking about that and get moving! he commanded himself.
"How long've you been layin' there staring at me?" he grouched at Tanner.
Vin smiled broadly and chuckled softly. "Oh, 'bout an hour."
A morning person, a goddamn morning person… He hated morning people sometimes.
"Long enough t' think 'a lots 'a ways I'd like t' ravage yer body."
"Christ, no wonder I was having nightmares," Chris muttered as he stood and shuffled over to the chair where he had deposited his travel duffel. His hips, knees, ankles, and toes all popped with each step.
"Damn, y' sound like a bowl a' Rice Krispies, old man," Vin teased. "What nightmares?"
"Something about Hansel and Gretel… only it was me… and you were the wicked witch."
That lopsided grin flashed his ways again. "Oh?"
"You were wrappin' me up in gingerbread dough… said you were going to cook me and eat me."
Tanner's eyes widened slightly as he considered the idea. "Hmm, reckon that don't sound too bad… 'm hungry enough… I'll get ya, m' pretty," he cackled evilly.
Larabee's eyes narrowed. "Wrong movie, brain-e-ack." He glanced around the tiny room. "And this is the last time I let you pick the accommodations, Tanner. The beds are lumpy, the place is swarming with mosquitoes, and the walls are too damn thin. I could hear Buck snoring all night."
"Don't think that was Buck," Vin replied, pointing at the floor. "Guy below us on the first floor was sawin' them logs."
Chris sighed and shook his head. "Another two hours and we would've been at a government safehouse, you know. A nice, comfortable safehouse, with decent beds, no bugs, no traffic noise, and no snoring."
Vin bounced out of his bed and Chris quickly ducked his head so he wouldn't watch. Damn the man anyway, he knew what movements like that did to him. Tanner was nothing but a cheap tease sometimes.
"Didn't have two more hours in ya… None of us did." Tanner snatched his toothbrush off the nightstand. "Now, come on. I already called Buck an' got 'im up – he'll call J'siah an' Nathan. Soon as we're ready, we c'n all go grab some breakfast, refuel an' hit the road. How long b'fore we're home?"
"Five, maybe six more hours, depending on the traffic," Larabee said around a yawn. He dug through his small duffle bag, extricating what he needed.
"That long?"
Vin sounded disappointed. Evidently he was serious about what had been occupying his thoughts. That was okay. Tanner could just wait; served him right. Besides, no way in hell he was letting the Texan roll him up in any damn gingerbread dough, or any kind of dough, for that matter.
Larabee stalked off to the bathroom, only to find Vin following behind him. "I'll be right out," he muttered, scowling.
"Thought we could share," Tanner countered, too innocently.
The green eyes narrowed to slits. "I haven't had my first cup of coffee, Tanner. Don't press your luck."
"I thought ya liked takin' showers with me." The blue eyes were wide and boyish, the voice hurt. "Said it woke ya up, r'member?"
Larabee sighed. It was the freaking puppy-dog eyes. He hated those eyes. He couldn't say no when Tanner did that to him and, goddamn it, Tanner knew it, too. "That's different."
"Why, just 'cause we ain't at the ranch? Come on, Chris, where's your sense of adventure?" He waggled his eyebrows and his–
No, don't look! Don't even think about it! "My sense of adventure's hibernating until it gets another twelve hours sleep," he growled.
"Come on," he cajoled. "Please? I'll wash yer back…"
The green eyes dropped closed and Larabee's chin dropped. There was no use arguing with Vin when he was in one of his Indiana Jones moods. Better to just give in and get it over with as quickly as possible, and then get some coffee before he did something that might land him in prison for the rest of his life.
"All right, you win," he sighed tiredly. "We'll share."
Tanner beamed as he moved past Larabee into the bathroom and reached in, turning on the water in the shower stall.
Larabee eyed the small enclosure skeptically. It looked awfully small for two grown men. And who the hell had come up with that shape anyway? It looked like an aborted pentagon or… something. Probably some poor sap who'd had to sleep on the damn lumpy beds, fighting the mosquitoes, and the traffic, and some idiot downstairs who snored like a freakin' chainsaw…
"Come on, Cowboy," Vin said, stepping inside. "Thought y' were in a hurry? Hmm, a hot shower's just what y' need t' get y' movin'. Ahhh… feels good."
Tossing his underwear onto the countertop, Chris grabbed the bottle of shampoo and stepped into the stall, pulling the door shut behind him.
It immediately popped back open.
He tugged it, harder this time, the magnetic lock catching, and then letting go again with an audible click.
"Damn it," he growled, jerking the door shut with a wall-rattling bang.
There, no stupid shower door was going to stop him from getting out of this damned pit as quickly as possible. He turned halfway to the beckoning warmth of the water, and found himself nose to nose with Tanner's shoulder. He studied the droplet-covered tan skin, resisting the urge to lean in a lick those drops off. "Do you mind?" he growled instead.
Carefully the pair eased around each other like a pair of hippos trying to dance on mud, finally exchanging places.
"Shit!" Larabee snapped as he slid under the shower head. "Goddamn it, Tanner! That's hot!"
"Hm-mmm," Vin replied, tugging the shampoo bottle out of the blond's hand and squeezing a dollop out into his palm. "I love a good, hot shower, don't you?"
After reaching up and balancing the bottle on the rim of the stall, Tanner worked up a lather in his long curls, flecks of foam drifting down and landing on Chris like snowflakes.
Larabee tried to ignore the fragrant precipitation, scooping up the so-called "bar" of soap resting on a small protuberance on the shower wall. He rubbed it over his reddening skin and then glanced up and scowled. It wasn't even really a stream of water really, just an exaggerated mist.
After three swirls over his chest the tiny bar of soap squirted out from under his hand. He leaned forward to catch it, his face slapping up against Vin's wet midsection.
"Ahhhhh," Tanner moaned, wiggling his hips seductively. "Thought y' said y' was in a hurry, Chris."
"I just dropped the blasted soap," the blond growled, straightening. He could see the flake of white resting between the sniper's feet. He pointed. "Do you think you could…?"
Vin glanced down. "Nope. Sorry. Not enough room," he announced. "But I'm soapy enough fer two, y' c'n just rub up against me, and–"
"Oh, never mind," Larabee interrupted before the image solidified in his imagination. Backing up farther under the nozzle, he rinsed the meager suds off his arms and chest; the hell with his legs and the rest of him.
"I need t' borrow that when yer done," Vin said, nodding at the misting nozzle.
They slid around each other a second time, ending up back to back in the cramped stall.
"Where'd you put the shampoo?" Chris asked as Vin leaned his head under the pitiful flow of water.
"Top," was the gurgled reply as Tanner maneuvered to direct the mist onto the tight curls clinging to his forehead. He stepped back slightly as he did, his bare butt smacking against Larabee's with a loud clap.
Chris jerked forward, banging into the fog-clouded glass, jarring the stall and tipping the shampoo off the rim.
The plastic bottle fell into the stall, bounced off the blond's head, dumping a handful of the blue liquid before joining the soap on the tiles.
Vin blew bubbles in the water, then reached up and wiped his eyes. "Think yer usin' enough shampoo there?"
Larabee squeezed around, his hip parrying with the sharpshooter's for room, and glared daggers at the sniper.
Vin grinned and turned back to the water before the blond could strangle him.
Reaching up, Chris worked the goo into an abundant lather while he muttered to himself. His elbows occasionally banged off the glass walls of the stall as he worked, and he managed to catch both of his funny bones. He glared harder at Tanner while the younger man cavorted under the steaming mist, clearly enjoying himself.
Tanner pressed his face up close to the nozzle and launched into a chorus of "Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys."
"Damned-crazy-pain-in-the-ass-skinny-Texan."
"Whatd'ya say?" Vin asked, wiggling his butt, brushing it back and forth over Chris's thigh.
Larabee swallowed the rest of his tirade, squeezing around so he wouldn't have to look at the inviting full moon. The shampoo was running down his neck and back, sliding down the crack of his butt and… itching!
"Tanner, goddamn it, I need to rinse!"
"Y' had the water already, Larabee! I've gotta finish here!" Tanner turned slightly and chortled as he scrubbed his armpits while he studied Chris, whose head was covered in foam.
"Now, Tanner! Right-damn-now!"
The sharpshooter ignored him, launching into another chorus of the song as he reached down and soaped those frontal parts Larabee was trying so hard to ignore.
"Mamas, don't let yer babies grow up t' be cowboys," he sang, turning his back to the older man again and grinding his butt against Chris's, the shampoo making his bare skin slide easily over the blond's.
Larabee sucked forward, trying to escape the tantalizing buttocks, his face and belly pressing up against the glass, which was considerably colder than the near-boiling spray. Too cold. He pushed back, mashing the teasing glutes with a demanding pressure.
"Mamas don't let yer babies grow up t' be cowbo– Oy! Arughhhhh!" he howled loudly. "Oh! Oh, yeah! Go, Cowboy, go!" Tanner crescendoed. "Yeah, ride 'im, Cowboy! Ride!"
"If you don't get the fuck out of the way I'll ride you all right, mister!"
The curly head swiveled and, with an innocent, owlish blink of his eyes, Vin smiled over his shoulder and asked, "Y' want t' rinse? Y' look like Frosty the Snowman 'round noon-time, Larabee."
Chris ground his teeth together, sucked in a deep breath through flared nostrils and silently counted to a hundred by fives. He maneuvered around Tanner, kicking the half-emptied bottle of shampoo out of his way and being careful not to touch the raving lunatic.
Reaching the nozzle, Chris closed his eyes, letting the mist slowly dissolve the shampoo out of his hair and off his body, washing it away. That done, he turned, wiping along his chest to remove the last traces of foam. His eyes closed, some of the tension beginning to leave his body, but they popped open again when Vin took a step back, pressing up against him again, his semi-erect cock poking Chris's butt, and saying, "Hurry up, Cowboy, water's gettin' cold."
"Well, get out then," he snapped. "I like it cold."
"Damn, Larabee, yer as grumpy as an ol' bear chased out 'a his cave in the dead 'a winter." Vin reached out and pushed against the door.
It didn't budge.
He tried again. "Hey, Chris, I can't get it open. What did y' do to it?"
"What? I didn't do anything to it!"
"Yes, y' did. Y' slammed it too hard and now we're locked in here." He leered at the older man. "Guess we better make the best of it."
The water abruptly turned icy as Tanner closed in. "Ahh! Damn it! Tanner! Get that damned cock out of my ass!" Chris groped for the facet knob, the water shifting back to hot-steam.
"Christ! What the hell're ya doing, Larabee? Y' tryin' t' kill me?"
"Me? I was just tryin' to make it a little warmer!"
"That ain't hot, it's blisterin'! Turn it off!"
Alternating hot and cold cheeks slid over each other as the two men fought with the door and the faucet respectively.
"Hurry!" Chris yelled.
"I'm stuck!" Vin replied.
"Hot! It's too hot!"
"I can't help it! It's too damned tight in here!"
"Vin!" Larabee slammed off the now freezing spray, the walls of the shower rattling from the force.
Tanner pounded on the door, to no avail.
Squeezing up next to the sniper, Chris delivered a quick underhand blow with the ball of his hand, popping the door open. Both men took a step forward, wedging each other tightly in the doorway.
"Tanner!"
"I can't!"
"Move, mister!"
"I'm movin', I'm movin'! Damn, yer grumpy this mornin'!" Then he leered at the older man. "I c'n fix that fer ya."
"Get that scrawny, naked ass dressed! Now!"* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Several minutes later, both agents were dressed, packed, and ready to go. Larabee led the way next door and knocked sharply on the door to the room Buck and JD were sharing – Nathan and Josiah had been in the room on the other side of Chris and Vin. Ezra was still in Iowa, being debriefed after their successful operation. He, at least, would be able to fly back to Denver, the lucky SOB.
Vin sauntered along behind Chris, humming under his breath, a cheery smile plastered on his face.
When no one answered the door, Chris gripped the knob and turned. The door opened and the two men entered another motel room identical to their own. Buck lay on the bed, wiping tears from his eyes.
JD sat next to him in, several wadded up pieces of Kleenex in his lap.
Josiah and Nathan were seated on the second bed, both grinning like madmen.
"Hot! It's too hot!" Buck cried in a falsetto voice.
"It's too tight!" JD supplied.
Buck smiled broadly, wiping more moisture from his eyes. "Enjoy the dance there, stud?"
"Dance?" Larabee asked, wishing he could just shoot them all and be done with it.
"Yeah," Buck said, still chortling with laughter, "sounded like you and Vin were, ah… cheek to cheek?"
JD sucked in a breath and snorted, his sides shaking.
"Definitely wasn't a polka," Nathan said.
"Amen, brother," Josiah added.
Larabee felt his ears singe as they burned with embarrassment. He turned the should-be-patented Larabee glare on Tanner, drilling the team sniper, who just grinned and waggled his eyebrows back at him.
"Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys!" JD sang, one hand on his heart, the other flung wide.
Chris started for the pair on the bed, the glare intensifying.
"Cowbo– Oy! Oh, oh, oh, oohhhh!" Buck managed before the four men broke into wails of unrestrained laughter.
Larabee spun back, glaring murder at Vin.
The sniper shrugged and grinned lecherously. "Thin walls, r'member? Y' said so yerself. Ain't my fault."
"Think I can have the next dance?" Buck asked, fluttering his eyelashes at Chris. "Sounds like I might've learned something if I'd been in there."
"Bet y' could've," Vin agreed.
"Can we please just go get something to eat?" Chris growled, turning and stomping back out the door.
Buck and JD rolled off the bed, singing, "Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowbo– Oh… Arughhhhhh!"
Josiah and Nathan joined in on the howl, as did Vin. The walls shook.
Chris flinched and hunched his shoulders. Never again… They would never spend another night in a Motel 6 ever again!
Then he grinned, remembering Tanner's acrobatics from last night. Well, not with the rest of the team in the rooms on either side of them anyway!
Author's Note: This story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #4, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Pat is the primary author of this story, she had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Sierra Chaves, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 7-29-2005. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)