Spoilers: "Inmate 78"
Summary: Chris and Vin and a jail
Rating: Ohh - I hate this. So let's say, to be on the safe side, Adult NC-17, FRAO (Adults only, right?).
Warnings: Slash, with a little humor.
Beta-ed by the ever wonderful and awesome Marnie, with whom you would all suffer far more than you could possibly ever know.
For Carla
Vin had the perfect ass.Round and firm, muscled from years of hard work, hard riding, and hard living. It looked perfect in his worn and dirty rough-spun britches, even better in those soft buckskins.
Right now, Chris wanted to have it under his hands, bare and flexed, hot and flush from his touch.
So he could beat some reason into it.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Chris yelled, slamming the door to the jail with enough force to rattle the windows. "You coulda been killed!" He dropped his hand to the doorknob, twisting the key that lived in the lock under it. It was stuck, which kept it from falling out when Chris slammed the door, but also made it difficult to manipulate. Fortunately, his anger was no match for the latch, which turned with hardly a creak.
Vin, having entered before Chris, was leaning against the desk, frowning. His hat was, as usual, low over his eyes, and before he could stop himself, Chris reached out and knocked it off.
At that, Vin straightened, his square jaw jutting out. "I ain't no kid, Chris," he said sharply. "I knew what I was doing - "
"That bull almost got you!" Chris yelled again, his arms tight at his sides. "Do you have any idea what the horns of an angry bull can do to a man?"
Vin glared at him, his eyes flinty. "Yeah, I got some idea," he answered dryly. "Maybe you done fergot, but I spent a few years hunting buffalo. That thing out there ain't got nothing on a pissed-off, shot up, buffalo bull coming atcha. I coulda killed the damned thing with one shot - which ain't the case with a buffalo bull."
He crossed his arms over his chest, brushing Chris' chest as he did so, and forcing the older man to realize how close he was to Vin.
Before he could step back, Vin shifted himself, leaning again on the desk. "Ain't no need in you getting all riled up. Weren't nothing gonna happen to me. Ya shoulda been more worried about Buck and JD - hell, if they'd kept their damned noses out of it, everything woulda been fine."
Chris felt some of his anger ebb; Vin was right. The situation had been fine until Buck and JD, drunk from an afternoon with the trail-hands and their celebrating, had decided to prove to the newly-arrived school teacher, Miss Amy, that they were man enough to subdue the bull by climbing into its pen and riding it.
Unfortunately, they weren't.
They were already inside the fence when things started to go badly. JD tripped over one of Buck's big feet, knocking the other man into a sprawl against the fence. The bull was already charging, and there was no guarantee that a bullet would stop it before it stampeded over JD and ripped into Buck.
Chris had been too far away to do what Vin did - jump straight into the pen and draw the bull off.
"Dammit," he snapped, but he stepped back, turning to pace.
"Why ya pissed at me, Chris?" Vin asked after a while. His arms were still across his chest, but he had stretched out his legs, crossing one ankle over the other. "You want Buck in Nathan's clinic - "
"Hell no," Chris snarled, his spurs jingling on the wooden floor. "Don't want nobody to get hurt, and you damn well know it."
"And nobody did," Vin agreed.
Chris heard the other man shift, felt more than heard the soft groan and remembered Vin's back.
The anger, which had spiked at the fear Vin's question had prompted, diminished again, replaced by worry. Vin had run hard for several minutes, leading the damned bull until Buck and JD were climbing over the fence. Then he had run for the fence as well, vaulting over it with the agility born of speed and fear. He'd landed hard, jarring his legs before the momentum overcame him and he slammed onto his back in the hard dirt.
The bull had hit the fence as well, and they had all held their breath for a few seconds while the fence quavered in the aftermath. Chris had been at Vin's side quickly, jerking him to his feet with a strength that had almost caused Vin to land on his face.
Now, he was going to pay the price for his heroism.
Chris turned back to the other man, not surprised to find him standing, his back arched as he tried to stretch out the pain.
"Bad?" he asked, moving close.
Vin opened his eyes, rolling forward to stretch the other way. "Been better, been worse," he said softly in answer.
Chris watched him as he moved around a bit more, until he bent forward low enough to touch the floor with his fingers.
He was really hurting if he was trying that hard.
"Let me," he said, moving in close. Vin straightened, meeting his gaze. He only tensed a little when Chris' hands slid inside his coat, pushing it off his shoulders. Vin turned as it came off his arms, intending to catch it, but Chris already had it. He draped it over the back of the desk chair, then stepped to stand behind Vin.
"Why don't you lean on the desk?" he suggested, take the opportunity to loosen the suspenders from the back of Vin's pants.
Vin glanced over his shoulder, frowning. "Chris, this ain't the place -"
"I'm going to rub your back," Chris said shortly. "You got a problem with that?'
Vin's eyes narrowed again, but he didn't say anything. After a few seconds, he shook his head once, but unbuckled his gun belt and untied the leather strap at his thigh with efficient ease. He arched one eyebrow in an implicit threat before turning back and bending at the waist, letting his hands rest on the top of the desk.
The position stretched his back, giving Chris a long, slender plain. He started at the shoulders, finding them tense and hard. "How many shirts you got on?" he asked, trying to make sure his voice was light and amused.
Vin snorted, but his head had dropped down between his arms. "No more 'n usual," he answered.
Chris kneaded deep into the muscles, loving the resistance they gave. Loving the feel of the man he cared for more than any other.
He slowly worked down the spine, giving particular attention to the area starting around Vin's waist. The curl that caused problems was lower than that, but if the muscles above it weren't relaxed, then it just hurt worse afterwards.
They'd learned that the hard way. After a real good lower back massage, Vin had tried to get out of bed and ended up in the floor when the middle of his back locked. It'd taken them almost a full day for him to be able to bend, a day in which he'd been terrified that the situation was permanent.
It had taken Chris almost two weeks - two extremely long weeks - to get Vin to let him touch him again.
As Chris worked on him, he gauged his success by how low Vin bent to the desk top. By the time he'd moved past Vin's waist to the top of the slender hips, Vin was almost lying on the desk, his arms stretched across it completely.
More significantly to Chris, that perfect ass was resting quite familiarly against his groin, which was growing at the pleasant rubbing across it.
With calculated effort, he dug his thumbs into the almost inflexible ridge of muscle just to either side of the beginning of the curve. As anticipated, Vin jerked, bringing the warm cleft along Chris' erection, where it nestled happily.
"Chris," Vin growled, trying to pull away.
But he was still bent over, Chris's hands were still on his vulnerable lower back, and Chris also had his thighs pinned against the desk.
"I locked the door on the way in," Chris said in a low tone, working his thumbs along the raised furrows. He didn't press as hard as he had before, but he pressed hard enough to try to get the muscle relax. It was just an added benefit that the pressure was a sort of threat.
"Don't matter," Vin shot back, but other than getting his arms back under him, he wasn't trying to raise himself any higher. Or move his butt.
"Nobody's gonna come in here looking for us, not right now. It's getting dark but the drunks ain't started yet - or ain't recovered from the afternoon. Our people are holed up until it gets darker - or in Buck and JD's case, hiding out 'til you calm me down and keep me from killing 'em." He leaned down as well, using his teeth to bite into the layers of cloth between Vin's shoulder blades. "You know there ain't but one way to calm me down when I get that angry. And I'm that angry."
"Goddammit," Vin hissed, but he still didn't fight Chris' touch. "Ain't right, doing it in a jail."
Chris chuckled, rubbing harder against Vin's lower back; he was pleased when he felt it respond, slowly giving way. "Always figured you had a hankering to do it in a jail cell. You bring up wanting to go to Tascosa enough."
Vin turned to glare at Chris over his shoulder, and Chris noticed that his face was flushed - always a good sign. "That's a good way to kill a mood," he said sharply. But he had pressed back farther into Chris' crotch, and it wasn't in a bid to get away.
"Maybe I should just chain you up to them bars, so you can't get away, then strip ya down and have my way with ya," Chris said, picking up the tempo of his hands as Vin's back relaxed. "Heard of places, prisons, where the guards would take care of a pretty boy like you. You wanna play prisoner and warden?"
"Chris!" Vin snapped, and he did pull away this time. "They didn't do that to you, did they, in that prison - "
"Shhhh," Chris hurried, exasperated yet touched by Vin's selfless concern. He let his hands drift to catch Vin's waist, holding him tight and pulling him back into place. "Nothing happened to me, I swear." He leaned forward, pressing Vin back down to the desk. "And I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about what kinda game you wanna play - "
"Don't wanna play no game," Vin interrupted, but he took a deep breath as Chris returned to working his lower back. "Wanna go back to the cabin and - "
"You want me to have to shoot Buck and JD?" Chris countered, letting his voice ring with a little shock.
"Wha - ? No, dammit, Chris, stop - "
"Then we gotta do something to cool my anger," Chris said, smiling to himself. Slowly, as his hands pressed and stroked, he pulled on the shirts Vin was wearing, dragging them from the waistband of his pants. "It was bad enough when I was just angry, but now you got me going and angry at the same time - "
"Got you going?" Vin tried to push himself up, but Chris' weight stopped him. Didn't stop his irritation though. "I ain't done nothing but lay here and let you rub up against me - "
"Weren't you the one who jumped in front of that bull?" Chris said, and to emphasize his words, he thrust forward, letting his cock push as far as Vin's pants would allow into that cleft again. "Weren't you the one who nearly got hisself killed today?"
"Chris," Vin growled again, and Chris felt the body under his gather itself in a bid for freedom.
With practiced timing, he dropped his hands to the bare flesh just visible above the waist of Vin's pants.
It had the same effect it had had for the past year - the same effect Chris prayed it always would.
Vin gasped, his body freezing at the touch of Chris' skin to his.
Chris didn't give him time to adjust; instead, he smoothed over the warm flesh, letting his fingers go back to work along Vin's spine. He didn't apply as much tension this time, though, trying to keep the touch more erotic than therapeutic.
"You know," he said lazily, his tone low, "ain't but one way to prove to me you're all right. I'm gonna worry 'til I know for certain that only one bull's been tossing you around, and it ain't the bull in that fence."
Vin started to laugh, but the sound was cut off into a moan as the tips of Chris' thumbs teased down into the top edge of his pants. "Chris," he said, but it was more a whine now.
Begging, Chris smiled. He loved it when Vin begged.
"Want ya," he said, dropping his voice lower and deeper, and his fingers as well.
He loved the feel of Vin's body - the heat and strength of it, the way it responded to him. They didn't talk about Vin's past, Vin didn't like to think on it, but Chris had known the first time he'd touched the younger man that Vin wasn't used to physical contact being pleasant.
The first time he'd brushed a hand along Vin's arm, Vin had jerked away from him, as if burned. He'd been wide-eyed, barely hiding the glint of fear, and Chris had known to take things slow.
The second time he'd brushed along Vin's arm, his eyes holding Vin's and his motion deliberate, Vin had flinched a little, but slowly accepted the touch. By the end of it, he'd been working for it, angling himself so that more of him was available for Chris' hands.
Now, he smiled, watching raptly as Vin twisted, offering more of himself for Chris to take. He didn't reject the offer.
His hands wormed their way farther into his pants, groping and pinching but not enough to truly hurt. Vin pushed back against him, encouraging the slightly rough handling - and encouraging other kinds of contact as well. He was firmly pressed against Chris' cock, and his hips were canting up and down just enough to create a friction that made Chris groan.
"Ya sure ya locked the door?" Vin asked, his words raspier than usual.
Chris answered him with a squeeze to the flesh under his fingers, and Vin stifled a yelp.
But the pain was good enough to push Vin's desire, and he pushed himself up slightly, his hands reaching for the buttons at his waist.
Chris chuckled as Vin's fumbling fingers finally got the cloth open and the pants slid down, giving him greater access. He flexed his hands, and the buckskin fell even lower, down Vin's thighs.
Chris looked down, the sight of his hands on Vin almost too much. He hissed at the effort to keep his control, and found himself gripping so tightly that he could see the outlines of his fingers in the pale flesh.
"Chris," Vin moaned, bending down again. This time, he folded his arms so that he could cushion his forehead on them, his body asking for what Chris wanted it to have.
From habit, one of Chris' hands shifted, easing into that fine space that hid the entrance to Vin's wondrous heat. He stroked downward, smiling as he heard the little noises Vin made when he was trying not to make noise, but couldn't stop himself.
It was them more than anything that drew him close to the brink. There was something incredibly powerful in knowing that he could make Vin lose himself so completely.
He tore at the buttons of his pants, further frustrated by the gun belt that he hadn't taken off and didn't want to be distracted by now. He pulled it up higher, above his waist and out of the way, then tugged hard at the pants, pulling them open.
The relief was immediate and after a second of worrying that it was too much, his body relaxed and the need ebbed a little.
He pushed his pants down low enough to pull himself free, trying not to make noises of his own. Vin had silenced, other than breathing a little harder that usual, but he hadn't moved.
Chris fisted himself, partly in pleasure and partly to pull back his foreskin. Clear drops oozed from the tip, spreading as he drew on himself, but he knew he would need something else as well.
"Drawer," Vin said, "on your right."
"Do I wanna know how you know that?" Chris asked as he found the bottle of gun oil Vin had known was there.
"Buck keeps it there," Vin answered. "You ain't the only one who's had this bright idea."
Chris winced at the implicit comparison, and for half a breath, he thought about stopping and dragging Vin back to the cabin.
But as he looked down at the bottle in his hands, just past it was that perfect ass, quivering just a little, bearing faint hints of red in the pattern of his fingers.
Sensing his hesitation, Vin asked, his voice muffled, "You worried that using Buck's oil might make me think of him?"
"Bastard," Chris muttered, but he was already pouring some of the oil into his cupped palm. "You better not ever think of Buck - or anyone else, for that matter - when you're with me."
Before Vin could answer, he twitched a fingertip over the small opening to his body, the only warning he gave before pushing it slowly inside.
Vin sighed, and his back arched a little at the intrusion. For his part, Chris drew a deep breath, splitting his attention between the throbbing of his cock and the soft fold of heat engulfing his finger. His cock wanted to be where that finger was, and it wanted it now.
"Can't wait," he moaned, twisting his finger to feel more, go deeper.
"Then don't," Vin moaned in response, lifting his head. "Go on, take me."
"You ain't ready - "
"Wasn't ready for that bull today either," he rushed, his tone breathless. "Come on, do it."
He'd never hurt Vin - he'd already seen the damage done by others.
But the temptation . . .
"You ain't the only one who's jacked up," Vin said, still breathless. He was pushing back against Chris now, wanting more. "I swear, I won't let you hurt me - hell, you ain't got that much. I've had bigger."
It was a goad - but a damned good one. Chris didn't have insecurity issues about his size, but he did have a few issues about the other men Vin had been with. He didn't share well - the statement about Buck had been a little closer than he liked - and he certainly didn't need to be reminded about -
"Maybe I should go find me one of 'em cowhands - bet he wouldn't be so slow - "
The oil on his hands smeared unevenly as he applied in one quick swipe, positioning at the same time. He just barely held himself in check enough to push forward evenly, breaching the tight ring with as much care as he could manage.
One hand was on Vin's shoulder, bracing him, the other now curving over one hip as he achieved penetration. Beneath them, Vin was still, his body rigid with the tension of pain.
With effort, Chris held himself still as well, only the wide head of his cock inside. It was enough to hold him in until Vin was ready for more.
"Fast enough for ya now?" he asked, but he was teasing, mostly.
Vin drew a breath, the lines under Chris' fingers softening. "Getting' better," he answered, his voice just a little strained.
Chris willed himself to wait, holding still. But the decision was taken from him as, with no warning, Vin pushed back, taking more of Chris.
Fear for Vin glimmered as his main concern - it was too much, too fast, especially unprepared.
But his body's selfish instinct for pleasure was almost overpowering; he barely managed not to thrust, to keep himself unmoving. Stopping Vin was impossible.
He was over half-way consumed before Vin's body halted itself, unforgiving of the intrusion. He was tense again, hurting, short shallow gasps audible in the crispness of the room. His body was again taut, and Chris realized that he was gripping the hip he held hard enough to bruise - this time, the outlines of his fingers were already turning purple.
"Vin," he called, or tried to; it came out more as a moan as a contraction around his cock set off sparks behind his eyes.
"Am I gonna be doing all the work too?" Vin rasped out, his voice strained. But his arms were out before him, his palms on the desktop as he shoved himself back once more.
"Christ!" Chris managed to actually say this time. "Stop - you're gonna - "
But his words died off as Vin drew tight against him, the hair of his thighs catching the leather of Chris' holsters.
Chris couldn't breathe all of his concentration centered on the throbbing of his groin, the rhythm echoing in his head and chest. Part of him wanted to pull back so he could thrust, to increase the friction. The other part of him wanted to stay right here forever, balanced just at the threshold of orgasm, at that place where want and need were evenly weighted against heat and excitement.
Once more, Vin took the initiative; it was little more than loosening his tenseness, just enough for his weight to guide him forward. This time, Chris whimpered as the clutch around him eased, and the balance shifted toward want.
Vin was still rigid under his hands, pain a part of this, but Chris realized that it was something Vin wanted. Not a lot - never a lot, never blood, never violence. Vin's fears were too close to the surface, and Chris himself had no interest in that sort of thing.
But sometimes, every now and then, Vin liked it rough and fast and mixed up with a little hurt, and today was apparently one of those times. 'Makes it real,' Vin had mumbled once, when after they'd almost broken the bed at the cabin and Chris himself had born scratches and bruises almost as much as Vin, he'd asked rhetorically why Vin had wanted it that way.
Chris didn't want to dwell on what that said about Vin's view of reality. Right now, he just wanted to move.
He pushed drove forward, distantly concerned when he noticed that Vin was coming to meet him. The impact as they met, when he was as deep as he could go at this angle, was jarring. But exquisite.
Vin made a soft sound, and Chris forced his eyes open even as he was pulling back for another thrust. The other man's head was turned to one side, his eyes closed, lashes laying long on the ridge of his cheek. What caught Chris' spare attention, though, was the inflexible line of the tendon of his jaw bone; he was biting his own arm to stifle his cries.
The site of it was one of the most erotic things Chris had ever witnessed - the idea that he was causing Vin to hurt himself.
But he didn't want Vin to hurt. He wanted Vin to want him, to enjoy this as much as he did.
There was no thought involved as he wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him back against him. He was almost distracted by the glide of velvet once more along his cock, but as Vin's hips once more settled against him, his gun belt pulling tight along his waist as his guns were pushed by Vin's pelvis, one hand dropped to Vin's groin.
He wasn't as hard as Chris, a sign that the pain was more distracting than Chris wanted. But as he closed along the slender shaft, it jumped, extending slowly to fullness.
Vin's head lifted, arching back. He moaned, low and slow and desperate.
Finding the rhythm was natural - they knew each other well, knew what they liked, what they each wanted. The thrusting coupled with the stroking, Chris' own desire twining with Vin's as they grew closer to release.
But at the point where Vin should have jerked back, pulling himself up to lean on Chris, he did rise, but only enough to lean on his arms. He spread his legs as far as his pants would allow, his moans contorting into little cries that could have been pain or pleasure or both.
Chris was close, so close it was beginning to hurt, but he felt stalled - just at the brink, and unable to cross.
"Come for me," he ordered, wanting that last stimulation. His command was accompanied by an increase in the strength of the grip he had on Vin's shaft. "Do it, Vin, come for me."
Vin's back arched more, his body wound like a spring. He, too, was at the brink, but held back.
He'd not done it before, never even thought of it - had he ever ventured the suggestion, it would have taken more than two weeks to get back into Vin's good graces, much less his bed.
His right hand was on Vin's erection, but his left hand . . .
The first blow was caught on the butt of his own gun - and for one of the few times in his life, he resented the presence of the weapons on his hips. He pushed at it, trying to twist it out of the way, but there was nowhere for it to go.
Working around it proved difficult, and he ended up with bruised fingers and a sore palm the next day, but he managed to keep enough speed to slap one side of Vin's fine ass.
The first hard smack left red marks on the fine, pale skin, and Vin jumped, his cry stuttering.
Before he had time to react, Chris smacked him again, but he also pushed as deep as he could go. The glove around his own cock narrowed as Vin's body reacted to the spanking, clenching, and sparking the fire of his own release. It surged through his belly, roiling and gathering even as he slapped once more.
"Come for me, dammit," he snarled, and he jerked harder on Vin's cock.
It wasn't necessary though; as Chris' hand fell one more time, the spring finally gave and Vin's arms pushed him back as his climax wracked his body with shudders of bliss.
The shudders rippled along Chris' own erection, random caresses that were on the border of pain as well - and he too was lost in the haze of ecstasy.
His first true awareness was of Vin struggling under him; they had collapsed onto the desk, Vin bearing their weight. Chris tried to get his trembling arms under him, to bear his own weight, but it took several seconds of uncoordinated effort before he managed. He was still inside Vin, and the shifting of his body almost pulled him free.
"Wait," Vin rasped, clenching, and Chris had little choice.
Vin took several deep breaths, then asked, "Did you - did you - what the hell were you doin'?"
It took Chris several seconds to understand the question. When he did, he chuckled. "Told ya I was gonna kick your ass for that," he said. He looked down, both pleased and a little horrified at the deep red lines he had left on the smooth flesh.
"Weren't no kick," Vin wheezed, but he relaxed a little more, and Chris' diminishing erection slipped free of his body.
There was always a second of sadness at separation. Chris had noticed it the first time they had parted, and while the feeling had become more familiar, it had never diminished. He stood, still leaning over Vin, watching his own come trickling slowly along Vin's inner thigh.
"But it was your ass," he said, bending his elbows so that his lips could brush against Vin's ear. "And a fine ass it is. Almost perfect."
Vin snorted, but as Chris leaned a little closer to kiss his cheek this time, he turned his head, his lips finding Chris'.
The kiss was warm and affectionate, some tongue, but the passion was emotional now, both of them too spent to start anything again.
Vin had mentioned once that his mother had died when he was young - five or so, Chris thought. Given the way Vin responded to him, the amazement he seemed to have at the pleasure Chris gave him simply through touch, Chris suspected that no one had cared for him after that death. Or Vin hadn't let anyone. Now, he never refused Chris' kisses or his touches, even though Chris knew that in some ways, what they shared afterwards, was more threatening to Vin than letting Chris into his body.
When Chris' arms finally complained too loudly, he pulled away with reluctance, smiling slightly, and forced himself to stand.
Vin was equally as slow getting up, and a little unsteady on his feet when he finally got there. Chris caught him by the elbow, steadying him and stealing another quick kiss, before reaching to pull up his pants.
His hand was sticky, as was the desk top, and he frowned. With a chuckle, Vin reached up and untied his bandana, handing it to Chris to wipe off his hand. When Chris was done, he took it back, wiping off the desk before cleaning himself up and pulling up his own pants.
As he did, he took a look over his shoulder, then stopped, staring.
"Think it worked?" he asked after a few seconds.
Chris was watching him even as he readjusted his gun belt. "What?" he asked, twisting to look at Vin's ass.
There were some purple marks now, bruises in the shape of his fingers. They matched the ones that curved over his hip.
Vin turned back, tugging his pants up and tucking his shirt in. "Think that's gonna stop me from tryin' ta save Buck and JD the next time they do something stupid?"
He was looking down, buttoning his pants, so Chris had to use two fingers, tucking them under Vin's chin to draw his head up so their eyes could meet.
"No," he said quietly, letting his thumb run over Vin's lips. "I don't think it is. And I probably don't really want it to. But maybe it will keep you from doing something too stupid, if you remember that I want ya to come back home to me."
He let his mouth replace his thumb for a moment. By the time they broke apart this time, Vin's arm was around his shoulders.
"Know that," he said. "I wanna come back to you."
He pulled away, reaching for his gun belt and leaving Chris smiling as he looked around the office to see if any more cleaning up was necessary.
As he put the gun oil back in the drawer and closed it, Vin said lazily, "Maybe you're right." He tied off the leather strap around his thigh and straightened, reaching for his coat and hat. "Maybe I do need to spend more time in a jail cell."
He cocked one eyebrow at Chris, then pulled his hat down low.
"I can arrange that," Chris countered. "Maybe later tonight. 'Spect we're gonna have a town full of drunk cowhands."
Vin pulled on his coat, laughing. "Not tonight. I think Buck and JD need to take the shift tonight. Takin' care of them done wore me out." He smiled at Chris as he turned toward the door. "'Sides, I gotta see a man about a bull."