Thanks as always to Diana.
He sat in the dark, back resting against the rough wood wall and the pungent odor of horses and hay thick around him, the scent of which was ordinarily a sort of soothing comfort, but this night only seemed to act as an extra stimulant.
He breathed deeply.
A near half empty bottle of liquor in hand and he gripped it tightly, holding it up against what dim moonlight there was for illumination and tilting it to watch the rich amber liquid dance a slow rotation inside the glass.
Another drink. Maybe. Wasn't one to imbibe too heavily, but the warmth a quarter of the bottle had already spread to his innards had him settling into a slow burn--both a charge and a calm to his senses.
He tipped back a deep swallow, then another, the burn of the whiskey hardly noticeable now as it traveled down to his gut. Better than the rotgut served in most places but not nearly as good as some Ezra had given him once. Hardly in possession of a discerning palate Ezra had once accused him and his taste in whiskey, but hell, he thought, and took another long swig from the bottle, he knew enough to know what he liked once he'd had it.
And that pretty much the whole reason for his being camped out in the dark of the livery this way.
Small noises outside and he pulled to his feet, bracing heavily against the wall of the empty stall, his eyes staring into the murky dark as he listened for man and horse to enter.
It was late, the liveryman long gone with his young assistant having left at least an hour before as well, which meant no one was around to help tend the horse of a late-in rider.
And he'd been waiting for just this particular arrival.
He knew immediately the stride that accompanied the animal entering the livery stable. Would know it through a hailstorm and in that knowing let the edge of his mouth quirk up as he stood perfectly still. Silent. Listening. Waiting.
It wasn't hard. It was what he did, who he was--a shadow among shadows when he was on the hunt.
And he was hunting. The hunt. This hunt--one he'd been mulling over for quite some time. Biding away the last two days until just the right hour, just the exact right moment to go in for the kill and he'd timed it perfectly.
Deep shadows hid the lines of his body and he knew it, allowed the edge of darkness to envelop him to be sure not to announce his presence too soon to the man putting away his horse.
It was second nature, this skill of disappearing--an in-born trait. He was adept at blending, becoming one with his surroundings and couldn't count on two hands and two feet the amount of times he'd stood just this way--silent and unmoving, awaiting his prey.
He listened quietly, eyes closed, breath slowing while his senses took inventory of the other man's movements as he worked around his horse's stall. The corner of his mouth quirked up higher as he catalogued progress made.
Tack was removed. Something dropped then was retrieved. A brush smoothed over the stiff hair of the animal. Faint scraping of boot heels against a hay-strewn floor let him keep exact placement of just where the man was as he shifted position.
The man settling his horse said nothing, yet there was no mistaking just who was seeing to his animal.
Larabee. Definitely Larabee.
A cock-grabbing tremor shot through his groin and his pants tightened nicely, almost enough to make him rush into the open and let himself be seen.
Almost--but not quite.
He grinned.
The shuffling slowed then stopped. Larabee maybe sensing . . . something . . .
He stilled. Barely breathing.
Listening.
Waiting.
Exactly what he did best.
Men would do strange things when hunted. He had seen that. Knew it--knew first hand the gut feeling that settled deep in the marrow as the basest of senses took a wary stance, warning of the possibility of danger lurking nearby.
Only this time he was the danger. And so he would wait.
Wait--then move. Claim the prey.
His prey.
An outright smile stole over his mouth, his eyes sparkling with anticipation of the inevitable.
Hell. Larabee stood no chance.
And then he was moving again--Chris. Finishing with his horse, ready to leave.
Escape.
He risked his own small movement then, knowing he was not the only one of the two who could recognize being stalked. Not entirely certain Larabee hadn't already sensed his hidden presence.
So he remained in shadow as he listened for the right moment to move, all the while feeling the heat building within begin its race throughout his body, thinking and remembering and halfway actually feeling every fist full of flesh they'd shared prior to their parting those few days ago.
Now, that two day lack of connection with the other man pushed what had begun as a mild simmering want the minute he'd seen Larabee's horse fade into the distance as he'd ridden away to build to a smoldering fire--rekindling and sparking itself now into a raging flame of heated lust that filled him the minute he'd sensed Larabee's presence.
He was burning inside.
He shifted just that much, barely able to see the dim outline of Larabee's back and then froze when the man's shoulders stiffened and Chris turned just a sliver toward where he was hidden in shadow.
"Vin?" Chris's voice rose into the dark, his tone just edging wary.
He should've known Chris would sense him. Like he had in return.
That brought another smile. Not an expression of satisfaction and not one conjured from having his appearance registered, but a smile brought from the end to anticipation.
An expression solely brought on by a surge of lust.
He shifted then into what faint light was thrown from the low flame of the lamp Chris had lit and the dim moonlight that slipped into the opened doors, his outward stance deceptive in its ease as he let himself be seen.
He still had the advantage of the dark and Chris would have to be wondering what the hell he was doing there.
"Hey, Vin. What are you--"
He rushed him, Chris's words lost in the rising cloud of dust and hay as he was brought down hard to the side of an empty stall, and he half grinned knowing how right he'd been in his assessment of Chris questioning his presence. The man's tone held a measure of question but his body had been relaxed. He went down easy as pie.
Tackling him, he hurriedly yet carefully pulled Chris's gun free and tossed it aside, wanting the actual threat of them injuring one another to not be a worry. As relaxed as Chris had to be now knowing who it was with him, he was still hell on fire with drawing that gun and the last place he wanted to be was on the receiving end of a pissed off Larabee in possession of a very steady weapon.
Chris let out a grunt when they both hit the ground in a heap of sprawled limbs, Vin half-grinning still as he knew he held so much upper hand. He stretched full out over him, shins locking over Chris's knees and his hands grasping just above Chris's elbows so he'd not be able to gain leverage.
They were evenly matched in size, Chris having a few inches of height on him but his own body carrying just that much more muscle behind it--besides, the element of surprise was always the greatest advantage.
Surprise and desire; no way in hell would Chris have seen this coming, so he definitely held a hell of a lot of the former and sure as shit he was bursting with the latter.
"What in hell--"
He shut him up with a sharp, quick nip to his lip, Chris loosing a startled exhale, sounding more like a gasp than a need to breathe.
And then Chris stilled, body going not so much limp as deadly quiet, strength from tightened muscles firm beneath his hands.
Chris was peering up at him, his eyes glittery from the lamp's reflection and the oddest expression on his face. "You just bite me?"
He bit him again as a reply, sensing Chris about to make a move, that motionless demeanor thrown at him to spur a let down of senses.
Hell, he knew better. Hadn't been a successful bounty hunter all these years to end up too stupid to sense when an offensive move was about to be struck.
His heart was a pounding drum inside his chest and the scent of this man was filling his head and Lord, all he really wanted for Chris to do was move. Something about the take down and the ensuing struggle to stay him down was exciting--not a desire he'd ever felt when taking down a bounty. But right here, right now, with this man--
Chris shifted under him and he let him half raise one arm before slamming it back to the ground.
He couldn't stop grinning.
Chris was staring up at him, his head half-cocked at an angle that bespoke of amusement mixed with just that much bewilderment. Again, Chris began to pick up one arm and again, he let him get just so far before locking it back down in place.
And then Chris frowned. "What are you playin' at?"
A pent-up breath escaped him, the rush of excitement at feeling Chris half-tensed under his hands almost too much to bear; his emotions were on edge, he felt on fire.
He eased back some, pressure letting up on Chris's legs and Chris rose with him as he shifted. His hands firmly gripped each of Chris's wrists as though intending to pull him forward and up, his own weight slipping back to rest on his haunches in a tense, though seemingly relaxed coil.
"Just what are you after, Tanner?"
Chris was asking and starting to grin, his eyes shining through the murk of the dark and he let him get just so far raised before moving again, a quick thrust forward to all but flatten Chris back to the hay and straw floor.
"The hell--"
His tongue thrust into Chris's mouth so quickly he cut off whatever else Chris had to complain about--and Chris was moving them both over the ground. Shifting and writhing, almost, his boots scraping for purchase, Vin could hear them as they raked across the dirt. Chris was straining to rise, gain leverage and he could feel him, feel the man's arms become rigid and tense, but he wouldn't ease up. Didn't want to let him up. Wanted to feel every ounce of taut muscle under his body wired to fight.
He was so aware of Chris beneath him, hard muscles tensing from reflex, the man's breathing mixing with the sound of his own almost panting breaths rushing like a whirlwind though his head. Excitement filled him more than he'd anticipated and the small grunts from Chris weaving with his own soft moans managed to excite him even more; Lord, he was so fucking hard.
His dick ached and he was sure by the feel of Chris under him the man was at least as hard. With a slick pull of his teeth around Chris's tongue, he let up from his mouth and sunk fast into his neck, teeth raking over salty flesh.
"Jesus, Vin," Chris moaned, arching under his hands and he pulled back to take a look.
Chris's mouth was open, he was panting out soft breaths and his eyes were half-closed, Vin sure he was hovering somewhere between agony and ecstasy. It made him want to bite him all over again.
Lord, if this minute he died and went straight to hell, he'd spend a flaming eternity a happy man having this memory ingrained inside his head.
He thrust his hips to Chris's and ground in hard, Chris wrapping legs around him and reeling him in closer and as much as he liked being caught within the man's muscular thighs, it wasn't exactly what his head had in mind.
Two days he'd been suffering the anticipation of having his hands and mouth on Chris again and, as much as his body craved it, his mind wasn't going to give in to desire without feeling Chris struggle a bit under his hand. He wanted Chris to want it.
It wasn't so much the fight he was after as the push to get there. Something about having this man underneath him, straining against him while breathing heavily, muscles tensed and rigid, trying to gain purchase but failing--all of that just sent a flood of almost uncontrollable yearning through his body.
Lord, but he wanted to fuck him in the worst way.
He was squatting over him now, almost sitting with his knees straddling Chris's abdomen and there was no way Chris could rise up unless he let him.
Chris was staring at him now, features drawn into a grin and for a long beat they remained still, gazes locked.
"You lookin' for a fight?" Chris asked him, and he'd seen that grin before.
"Not 'specially," he answered because really, that was true. It wasn't so much a confrontation between them he was looking for as just the fight in Chris.
"You know I can take you."
Which was pretty funny, really, when he considered what positions he and Chris held at the moment and he smirked, retorting, "Think so?" with the rush of raw thrill soaring through to his gut.
"You want me to try." It wasn't a question Chris was asking but a statement of fact and yes, as odd as it sounded now it had been said out loud, he wanted him to try.
Chris was staring at him and under that scrutiny, he could feel himself become a bit flushed.
"You got some weird ideas, Vin," Chris said, grin still there and clearly willing to play this game.
Chris gave it his all. He could feel the strength there, Chris's body hard and demanding and it seemed the more Chris tried to free himself and couldn't, the harder he also seemed to become. Clearly, Chris was enjoying this as much as he was.
Which just made his own body react in kind. His dick ached from want and the more Chris struggled beneath him, the more he just wanted to flip him over, hold him tight and have at him.
"What are you after, Vin?"
His answer was a deep-throated kiss, his tongue all but filling Chris's mouth and when he pulled back, the look there in Chris's eyes mirrored the same fiery lust he was sure showed in his. Not the only one wanting then--
They couldn't undo one another's clothing fast enough. Buttons were popped free from shirts and he all but ripped off the ones on his pants and then eased up just enough for Chris to flip to his stomach, pants shoved halfway down and the naked skin of his ass gleaming there in the faint light of the moon.
He couldn't help himself and bit down, teeth sinking into the soft mound of flesh.
Chris jerked beneath him, voice catching in a sharp groan. "Christ, Vin!"
There was a tin of salve he'd brought, the stuff Nathan gave him to help ease the ache in his back and his hand scrambled to find it, grabbing it when he did then flipping off the lid and scooping out three fingers' worth. His other hand held Chris firmly in the center of his back, half pushing him down so only his ass angled upward--
Which made pushing himself into the warmth between it so much the easier--so tight, so wonderfully, fucking tight. His hips plastered against Chris's ass and, God, for a long moment he couldn't even breathe--
Until Chris moved underneath him and then he couldn't stop moving himself. They were both moaning and panting and uttering sounds he hoped anyone passing by would think were the horses and he knew neither of them would or could last much longer.
He came then, gut-wrenchingly hard like all he was inside had just poured itself into Chris, and then Chris was coming, seed spilling out between the fingers wrapping his cock and then onto the hay-strewn floor.
He dropped down on top of him, sweaty and spent. Sated.
Neither of them moved, bodies sprawled like a limp pile of tangled rags and then Chris was nudging him. He rolled off.
Chris was looking at him. "Missed you, too, Vin."
"Just my way a' sayin' welcome home," he answered, his own voice tired and raspy as it rose into the dark.
A breathy chuckle slipped from Chris. "Some kind'a unique greeting you got there."
"Good."
"No, Vin. Great."
He smiled then, knowing Chris would 'get' it. The weight of Chris's hand dropped across his chest and so he curled to him, wrapping his own sweaty body around Chris's back.
Shame they couldn't stay this way until morning.
"Suppose we ought to be getting a move on," Chris stated.
"Suppose," he agreed, taking one last moment to savor the scent and feel of Chris plastered against him, swiping a lick lightly across the nape of his neck before shifting away.
Chris was drawing up his pants and he buttoned his own shirt, fingering the gap left by the two that had popped off.
He grabbed his hat and shoved it back on his head and watched Chris do the same.
They both stared at one another for a long second, not talking, not moving, just standing, and there flashed a quick tightening in his gut as for a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of what it must be like to be the man who might draw down on Chris Larabee.
Because he was going to move, Chris was. He knew it the same instant Chris did move, rushing at him, crashing him backward into the side of the stall and then shoving forward and filling his space and he grabbed at him in response, one leg wrapping to pin Chris to him in one last lustful surge between them before they had to leave.
Hands groping, tongues deep and searching and making the most of these last few private seconds together, they filled each other's mouths until he had to pull away--had to breathe.
Panting, both of them gulping down air and he looked up to find Chris watching him, head cocked and smiling softly and reaching out to brush a hand against his cheek, fingers then moving to wrap the back of his neck and pull.
Gently this time, he moved to him, Chris's mouth slipping softly over his, more a brush of air than actual contact and he found himself reeling from the contrast.
They moved together to share one last, warm, lingering kiss under the soft spray of moonlight filtering into the dark. It was easy, this, soft and tender and different from the surge of lust he'd been filled with these past two days, but no less exciting.
They parted, bodies still close. "Where you wanna go now?"
Chris grinned and he joined him in answer, just knowing. "Saloon."
They ambled out together, neither in a hurry, and it wouldn't strike anyone who might be watching as odd seeing the two of them leaving the livery together.
"You know," Chris began, "last week I promised Nathan I'd ride with him out to the Seminole village day after tomorrow. He's stayin' on with Rain, but I'll probably stay just the day."
"Just the day, huh?"
Chris nodded. "Be back late that night."
He gave it a thought and then smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Chris was smiling back as he plucked a piece of straw from his jacket. "You do that, Vin. You do that."End