Pairing: Chris/Vin, slash, established relationship
Warnings: kink, a little violence, a slight touch of non-con, some leather, and dash of emotional upheaval.
It was after midnight when Vin finally heard the truck pulling up the drive. He didn't get up - he knew the sound of the engine as well as he knew his own Jeep, as well as he knew Chris' tread on the porch, the precise slide of the key in the lock, the fast, flat touches to the keypad to disable the alarm.
He waited in the dark, analyzing the sounds to determine his lover's mood. Chris went first to the kitchen, his steps as sure now as they had been on the porch, which meant he wasn't drunk. But he wasn't minding the sound either, which meant he was angry.
The refrigerator slammed shut - definitely angry. But the step was the same as he walked into the living room, toeing off his boots with a clatter, then the softer tread of his socked feet as he marched back to the front door and reset the alarm - which meant he wasn't suicidal.
The walk down the hall was slower, and Vin knew that his lover was thinking, trying to decide what he wanted. He felt the other man's presence just a second before his shape was just visible in the darkened doorway. Chris stopped there, and Vin could feel the other man's gaze on him.
He didn't move, keeping his breathing even as he lay in the bed. Chris would know he wasn't asleep; Chris would also know that the silence was consent.
Chris didn't think long about it, moving into the room, to the bedside. Something clinked against the table, a beer bottle, Vin recognized, just before Chris weight shifted the bed. Vin barely had time to tense as Chris' hands closed on his shoulders, unerring even in the dark.
He didn't resist as he was pulled up, Chris' face coming to his too fast so that their foreheads bounced against each other and their noses crunched together. Then Chris' teeth were sharp against Vin's lips, his tongue pushing in fast and thick, claiming. Vin gasped, trying to draw in air around the invader, as one of Chris' hands moved up to catch him at the back of the head, forcing him to stillness.
He didn't fight, trying to relax into the activities that normally brought him so much pleasure.
Tonight, though, Chris wasn't thinking about him, or even about them. "Goddammit," Chris rasped, jerking away with a force that was brutal, "ain't right, shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this."
As quickly as he had started it, Chris was gone, off the bed and toward the door, his breaths coming in loud gasps that masked his pain.
Vin fumbled for the bedside light, managing to get it on only as Chris reached the door. "Chris," he called, his own voice tight. "Wait."
He pushed himself up, knowing better now than to continue speaking. Chris might turn around or he might not, but he would run if Vin said more. The irony of it wasn't lost on the younger man, but the words Chris had said already were hurtful enough. He'd learned not to push on this point - there was only so much pain that even he could take upon himself.
Chris stood frozen in the doorway, his head in his hands, his back to Vin. His shoulders trembled with the weight of his grief and helplessness, and not for the first time, Vin wondered at the impulse that had convinced him to come here tonight. It wasn't the first time they'd danced this dance, but as with every time before, he thought it might be the last.
Willing himself to act, he threw back the bedclothes and pushed himself out. Getting to his feet, he hesitated for a few seconds, debating, then quickly pulled his t-shirt off, tossing it away. The sweats took a few seconds more, mostly because he wasn't certain how Chris would react, but it seemed a pointless exercise in discretion - his chest was enough of a reminder that he was male.
Hell, it wasn't that, and Vin knew it. He could have been female and it would have been the same, maybe even worse. Fact was, he wasn't Sarah. Nobody was.
He moved to the foot of the bed, watching and waiting. After a short eternity, Chris' body settled a bit, and his breathing evened out. It was then that Vin squared his own shoulders and committed.
He said nothing, just reached to the chair near the door and picked up the gift he had bought for his lover several days ago. He hadn't intended to give it to him tonight - in truth, he wasn't certain that he'd ever give it to him. But as today drew closer and he had felt the familiar tension in Chris and in the air between them, he had known that if he was ever going to have the courage or the need, it was now.
He moved slowly up to Chris, still saying nothing. When he was close enough, he caught one wrist, drawing it away from Chris' face and down, so that he could lay the supple leather over it, balancing the strands as evenly as possible so they didn't fall to the floor.
He stepped back and away, waiting with a mixture of dread.
"What the hell?" Chris spat, finally realizing what he had been given. His other hand fell to lift the implement, gripping it so hard that his knuckles were white. He whirled, almost stumbling with the force of his movement, and his anger was white hot. "How dare you throw this up tonight of all night - what the hell are you thinking? What the hell are you even doing here, in her house - in her bed!"
Vin stepped back, amazed that he had misread Chris this much. A flicker of fear burned in his stomach - he knew too well what damage Chris could do in a blind fury, which was where he seemed to be headed now. But usually, that loss of control required alcohol, and if nothing else, the kiss had not tasted of anything but Chris - cigars, and pain, and what little beer he had had on his way to the bedroom.
"This your idea of a joke?" Chris hissed out, stepping closer. The hand holding the leather straps dropped, so that he was striking them against his thigh, the sound wet and full. "This some kinda sick joke to you, bringing this kinky bullshit into her bedroom on her birthday?"
Vin felt the press of the nightstand against the back of his legs, his eyes watching the movement of the straps in Chris' hand.
He didn't see Chris other hand as it snapped out, knocking him down onto the bed with a 'crack' that was deafening, at least to him.
Instinct took over, his body remembering the tricks of his past even if his mind didn't. He curled, his arms rising to cover his head, his legs drawing up to protect his vulnerable center. He breathed shallowly, knowing that a blow to his ribs would hurt less if they weren't full of air, and that he could recover faster if he weren't trying to draw deep. His back itched with anticipation of the bite of the leather - more body memories from a past he had tried to bury.
But the blow didn't fall. After a while, as the stillness grew heavy, he forced himself to look, peering out between the bars of his arms.
Chris was staring at the leather straps, holding them in both hands. His face was blank, as if he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing.
Vin's movement seemed to draw him from his stupor, for he blinked, then his gaze slowly tracked to find Vin's.
Vin felt the stir of fear again, and he flinched, still waiting for the blow.
Instead, Chris' shoulders sagged a little. "Christ," he whispered, looking from Vin to the things he held, then back. "Oh, Vin."
He rubbed at the soft black hide, his fingers shaking. After a time, he lifted the straps to his nose, breathing in the scent of new leather, then pressing it to his forehead as the tears finally seeped from his closed eyes and down his cheeks.
Vin sat up, unable to do nothing. When Chris remained as he was, Vin stretched out one arm, tentatively catching one of Chris' belt loops and pulling him toward the bed.
Chris didn't resist, but as he stumbled to sit, he used one hand to wipe at his face. "I don't deserve you," he mumbled, taking another deep sniff at the leather. "Christ, Vin, I - I - "
He shook his head, not able to say anything, but Vin didn't need for him to. Slowly, Vin drew the leather straps from Chris' grasp, separating them as he lay them out on his thighs.
They were connected, a short, wide piece with a clasp on one end and a short length of chain on the other, and the second strap also attached to a chain at one end, which was connected by a clasp to the chain on the other end of the shorter piece.
A dog collar and leash, silver chain and soft black leather.
Vin had sworn he'd never wear one again, never again submit himself to anyone that way. But he'd seen the look in Chris' eyes on the rare occasions the subject came up, understood that to Chris, it wasn't about degradation, it was about control. Chris valued his animals, cared for them, with a respect and responsibility that was based in affection and concern.
While there was a sexual component to it, of course, Vin understood that to Chris, it was about control.
About protecting what was his.
He hadn't intended any suggestion of disrespect to the memory of Chris' wife. He'd intended only to let Chris have back some of the sense of self that Sarah's death had taken from him.
Without a sound, he picked up the collar, fitting it to his neck and hooking the clasp to a link in the chain that held it secure against his throat but not choking. The leash was long, so much so that it draped over his shoulder and down over his chest, rubbing over one bare nipple.
"You don't have to . . . " Chris' words drifted away as he looked at Vin, his eyes drifting slowly over the leash. Without thinking, he trailed the tips of his fingers over it, smiling slightly as, with the touch, it connected more solidly and the nipple hardened.
There was no thought involved, Chris leaning down to catch the nub between his teeth before it had a chance to diminish.
Vin arched at the pinch, partly in pain but partly in a jolt of arousal that exploded from deep inside, shooting out toward his groin and up toward his head. Chris caught him, even as he gnawed at the sensitive flesh, driving the speed of Vin's need.
The teasing mouth rose to catch Vin's own, this kiss with all the passion missing from the first but still bearing the violence of Chris' grief. This time, Vin gave back, taking Chris' invasion but battling it with his own fear and desperation. His tongue wove messages of love and security around Chris' as his hands fought the clothing Chris still wore, desperate to get to the flesh he knew.
The shirt was off, the pants open, when he felt the expected constriction at his throat - Chris had remembered the collar. He groaned a protest, but he didn't resist as his upper body was pulled away, down into the pillows.
Chris stared down at him, eyes wide and bright with a heat Vin knew. Fear tingled again, but it was a vein running thin and shimmering through a passion layered in physical pleasure and emotional currents. The leather leash was coiled over the knuckles of one hand, plaint and strong. Unyielding. Vin didn't try to test that strength, either of the material or the man.
Instead, he lifted his arms, running his hands over Chris' upper arms, appreciating the defined muscles that were more than equal to his own. Chris leaned down, catching his mouth again, even as he used his knees to spread Vin's thighs, positioning himself proprietarily.
Not that Vin objected. Not only would he surrender to Chris, he needed to surrender, needed now, after the earlier words, to be owned, to have Chris prove that the words were only air, a temporary attack driven more by Chris' guilt than anything Vin himself had done.
Another wrenching end as Chris pulled away abruptly, fumbling with one hand for the drawer on the beside table.
Vin caught the questing arm, holding it still with some effort even as he caught Chris' attention. He shook his head, waiting as Chris frown of confusion changed to one of understanding. A slow smile as he released the arm he held and he reached between them, distractedly stroking Vin's erection several times before reaching past it to graze over his balls and back to the small opening where their bodies would soon meet.
Vin spread his legs more, offering what he knew Chris could take anyway, closing his eyes in pleasure as Chris' fingers traced through the lubricant already there. The grunt of appreciation was lost as one finger pushed in, breaching the muscle with some care but not too much.
Hard and fast, then, Chris was already on overload. Vin wasn't surprised, but he willed himself to relax as one finger became two, stretching a little faster than he was used to, then two became three before he was ready. He jerked despite himself, and the fingers slowed their speed, but not the pressure of their demand. The stinging was familiar though, and he could bear it, would bear it.
He shifted, thinking to curl into a more receptive position, but Chris' other hand still lay heavy at the pillow, and he knew a different kind of burn as the leather chafed at the skin of his throat. The stress drew Chris' attention from the junction of their bodies and he looked up, his gaze heavy with demand.
"Open for me," he commanded, his voice coarse. "You want this, don't play hard to get."
Vin forced his eyes wide, meeting the cloudy gaze; Chris leaned down, his mouth as rough as his voice, but the fingers eased a little, stretching more with less pain.
"God," Chris murmured around the pillage of Vin's lips, "such a slut - surprised you don't have a dildo down there, keeping you wide and ready. Or would that be too much a temptation, to fuck yourself before I got here?" He moved his attentions lower, scraping teeth down Vin's jaw and over his chin, his tongue following along to lick at the raw flesh. "Woulda made this easier, though," and he drove his fingers deeper into Vin, twisting them to open the ring, "coulda just jammed by dick right on in without having to pry you open like some virgin."
He eased down Vin's throat, and as Vin had expected, lost himself when he reached the collar. The teeth and tongue and lips moved as much over the black strap as they did over Vin's neck, tasting and testing and teasing, mixing the smells and flavors of the man with those of the adornment.
He groaned, and Vin lifted one leg, hooking it over Chris' hip. The fingers in him were deep now, almost past the knuckles, the attached thumb brushing along the underside of his balls.
The collar pulled harder against his throat, Chris twisting the leash around his hand, fondling it. "But you're my slut now, nobody else's. Ain't nobody ever gonna see you like this but me. I'll kill anyone who touches you. You're mine, all for me. Every inch of you, inside and out." His hand moved farther in, stopping only when his thumb was pressed flush against Vin's pubic bone.
The penetration was almost too deep and too wide, and Vin shifted trying to accommodate. His erection was still flush, though, the head bobbing wetly against Chris' belly from time to time, smearing the clear proof of his desire in long iridescent threads.
"You want it, don't you," Chris murmured against his throat, "you like me inside you, don't you, better than a dildo, better than any of the others you've had. You know you're mine, know that no one can ride you the way I can."
The collar bit again, burning as Chris yanked at the leash. "Show me, slut, show me how much you want me."
Vin gasped as the leather dragged once more over his skin, but he reached between them, quickly finding the bulge he wanted. The pants were open, but they fit close, so that getting them down and the cotton jockeys as well proved to be an exercise in Vin's own dexterity, as he couldn't bend his upper body. Eventually Chris' erection pulled free, bouncing off his flat belly and jostling against Vin's own.
Vin used both legs then, locking his ankles together at the small of Chris' back and raising his hips.
"That's my boy," Chris chuckled, pulling his hand free of Vin's body to take his own erection in hand. "Never met anyone who needs fucking as much as you do. You know your place, don't ya, pretty ass in the air, open and ready to take me."
They were practiced at this, but even so, the hard, fast entry made Vin tense with surprise and a little pain.
Chris' lips crushed his, a slight distraction, even as the drive continued, slowing only a little at Vin's resistance. He moaned, opening to take Chris offered tongue, sucking on it as though it would ease the disquiet of his lower body.
Chris laughed, the sound vibrating through Vin in a low thrum. When he drew back, his eyes were fever bright, the green sparkling in the dim light from the bed side lamp. "You are mine, aren't you. My little slut, always willing, always knowing what I need. What I want." He thrust, and Vin arched, his legs drawing tighter as he worked to accept the invasion. "My boy, aching for me, wanting me to fill you up."
He drew back then pushed forward again, this time making it almost all the way.
Vin wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders, wanting to pull Chris to him, to lose himself in the other man's body. But Chris drew up and pulled down on the leash at the same time, breaking free of the hold as he slammed his hips against Vin's. The impact was jarring, pushing Vin up and against the collar. The leather razed his skin, and he cried out despite himself.
Then Chris was there, both arms slipping under Vin's arms and along his back, his words soft now, without the rough edge of domination. "Sorry, so sorry, it's all right, I didn't mean to hurt you," the words interspersed with soft kisses to his cheek, neck, forehead, wherever he could reach. "Love you, want you - "
Vin tightened his legs once more, rising to take Chris back into him. "Fuck me," he whispered, "I'm yours, Chris, now and always - do whatcha want."
Chris made a noise like a whimper, one hand tangling in Vin's hair even as he pumped his hips, not stopping until he was buried in the other man. The rhythm was fast and steady, and Vin knew his own body was building toward the peak. But he also knew he was behind Chris, his need for completion held back by the periodic pain of friction and dark specter of his past that was shackled now around his throat, just waiting to stir the fear. He took himself in hand, matching his touches to himself with the strong pistons Chris beat into him, but even that wasn't enough to push him closer to the edge, where Chris was waiting.
One of Chris' hands slid lower, curving along the tilt of Vin's ass and pushing it up just a fraction - just enough for the flare of Chris' erection to bump over the Vin's prostrate. Vin cried out then, losing place and time, losing pain and fear and even the sensation of the thing around his neck.
Another few grazes against it, coupled with the perfect tugging of his own fingers, and he was coming, his body clenching and jerking with release. Its rippling contractions trapped Chris as well, drawing him over. He locked his arms, holding Vin up and open and still as he emptied himself deep into the other man, lost in pure sensation.
Vin grew faintly aware of the cramping in his back first, then the unusual weight on his upper back. After a few seconds, as the pain grew to distraction, grounding him back in himself, he tugged against the hold. The action drew Chris back as well, the other's body slowly surrendering its rigidity and relaxing, freeing Vin and slumping forward against him.
With a slight shift, Chris lay to one side, his legs tangled with Vin's and one arm draped over Vin's waist.
"I'm sorry," Chris said eventually, as his breathing slowed. He edged up the bed, leaning over to pull Vin against him, nuzzling into the hair near Vin's neck. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. Your place is here, Vin, always will be."
Vin nodded, turning his head into the touch. "I know," he whispered. "Didn't mean no disrespect."
He felt the heat of Chris' blush but also the slight twist of his lips as he smiled. "Yeah, that was pretty asinine on my part, too. Love you, Vin, as much as I loved her. It's just . . . different, I guess, and sometimes, like today, when I can't get her out of my head. . . . "
"Her birthday," Vin said succinctly. "Hard day not to think of her." He licked at his lips, then opened his eyes, looking to the nightstand. The bottle of beer was still there, condensation creating a ring on the wooden surface of the table.
"No excuse for me to forget you, though," Chris said.
Vin didn't say anything, moving to pick up the beer.
Chris let him sit up, shifting upward himself to wrap an arm around Vin's shoulders. Vin sipped from the bottle, almost dribbling as Chris lips brushed against the corner of his eye.
"You shame me, Vin," he said quietly. "Not only do you help me cope with my anger, you do something that you swore you'd never do again - and you do it for me."
Vin swallowed, letting the bottle come to rest on his belly. The coolness of it made him wince, but after a second, it was a nice change from the sweat that was cooling far too slowly.
"Good with the bad," he said quietly. "I trust ya, Chris. Always have. Ain't your fault I'm fucked up."
Chris took the bottle from his hand. "Ain't fucked up," he countered, taking a sip. "You got good reason to be afraid of men holding you down. Good reason to be afraid of being hurt." He slowly ran the tip of the bottle along Vin's lips, offering.
Vin flexed his chin, accepting the offer, and Chris held the bottle to his lips. He let the beer drain languidly into Vin's mouth, talking quietly. "I know I scared you. I scared myself. But seeing you there, covering yourself, thinking I was going whip you - shook me hard, Vin, harder than losing Sarah, I think. Made me realize how close to the edge I was." He eased the bottle away, letting Vin swallow.
Vin felt the other man watching, but he didn't mind. It wasn't sexual now - or if it was, there wasn't much either of them could do about it for a while.
"I miss her, so much that sometimes I think I lose my mind," Chris said. "Times like today. But you're always there to pull me back. I'm sorry I put you through that. Wish I could promise never to do it again, but . . ."
Vin turned, lifting one hand to touch Chris cheek. "It's all right," he breathed, letting his lips touch the corner of Chris'. "I'm glad you can't forget her. Sorry it still hurts you so bad, but there's nothing I can do about that, I reckon."
Chris smiled. He tugged at Vin's hair, drawing his head back so that he could rub over the collar with the bottle. "You do okay," he smiled. "More than okay."
Vin laughed. "Don't get used to it. Don't think I've got too many bright ideas like this left. Gonna take me awhile to get over this one."
Chris laughed as well, reaching over Vin to set the beer bottle back on the night stand. As he started back, he caught the end of the leash and pulled it gently from under Vin, then traced it to the back of this throat. "Looks right sweet on you," he said, "but don't want you wearing it too often. I like to play, but only that, Vin. Play. I like it when you fight me, like it better when you don't - but that's all for the bedroom. For you and me. And any time you don't want it, you just say the word."
Vin tried to ignore the relief he felt as the clasp was opened and the leather strap pulled from his neck. He heard Chris hiss, then felt a slight sting as Chris touched at the welts with one finger.
"Jeez," he said hoarsely, "Christ, Vin, I didn't realize - "
"They'll be gone by morning," Vin said softly, catching Chris' hand and pulling it away. "Why don't you get me a wash cloth or something - might be a good idea to clean up some before I go to sleep on ya."
It had the intended effect; Chris stopped worrying about his throat and only marginally bruised him in the process of climbing out of the bed.
By the time he returned from the bathroom, Vin was drowsing. He startled a little as the wet cloth touched him, wiping at his belly, then grumbled when Chris made him roll to clean up the other part - most of which had already oozed out onto the bed.
"You get the wet spot," he muttered, stretching out on his stomach as Chris returned to the bathroom.
He was almost asleep again as Chris settled in next to him, pulling up the blankets. Chris pulled him in close, then whispered quietly in his ear, "You're as good to me as she was, better in some ways. No matter what I say or do, I'll always know that I don't deserve you anymore than I deserved her."