Forced Play

by Jax

Characters: Chris / Vin - first time

Author's Note:I fully realize the term "Foreplay" probably wasn't around at the time. Just let it go, ok? : ).

Four Corners in the fall shouldered an uneasy feel in the air, the vague energy showing itself in the young Sheriff as he burst through the saloon doors. The suddenness of the event caused a weighty pause in the room as the scattered few within took that fleeting second to recognize friend versus foe. During the abrupt stillness, JD Dunne stood wide-legged, calculating the next direction his spark of energy should take. By the time he set off, collective shoulders relaxed as the occupants returned focus to the job at hand – drinking.

When Dunne reached the congress of peacekeepers at the farthest table in the darkest corner that late afternoon, he garnered a raised brow from Josiah, a sad shake of head from Nathan, and a quick glance from Ezra as he shuffled cards. Buck took a casual sip from his beer glass as he gave the latest arrival a cursory look-over. Chris remained slouched over a half-full beer glass, as still as an unlit stick of dynamite.

Buck lowered his glass and took a swipe at his substantial mustache with a thumb as he eyed the Sheriff. "What's got a burr under your saddle?" he inquired.

"Where's Vin?"

Buck leaned back, ran his gaze around the table, and shrugged. "Ain't my turn to watch ‘im. Gents?"

Impatience oozing from the set of JD's frame, he snapped his eyes to Larabee. "Chris? You know where Vin's at?"

"Nope." His chair creaked softly as Chris shifted slightly in the chair before lifting the glass to his lips.

"Well, we better find ‘im cause I just heard that there's some soldiers headin' toward town."

"Knowing Vin," Josiah said, "he's probably already seen ‘em."

"They shouldn't be here," JD continued. "They're supposed to be south of here."

"The Judge didn't say that," Nathan commented. "He just said they were after that roving band of Apache attacking wagon trains."

"Who are way south. You all know that Vin ain't too happy about them being anywhere around here."

"I have noted an unusual tenseness in Mr. Tanner of late," Ezra offered as cards flew from his fingertips in a game of solitaire. "Although he has not spoken of it, I believe our esteemed tracker was not happy with that particular bit of news."

Nathan perked up with the insight. "Really? He ain't never seemed bothered by ‘em before."

"The times they been through here, they weren't Indian huntin'." Buck cocked his head thoughtfully. "I reckon that wouldn't sit to well with him." The words barely left Buck's lips when a shift of light at the door caught his attention and his expression brightened. "Well, speak of the devil!"

The others turned to see the dusty, buckskin cloaked peacekeeper heading to bar with a stiff stride. He gave them a cursory glance, his tight jaw a clear sign of his mood.

"Well, that doesn't bode well," Josiah noted quietly. He absently fingered the wooden cross hanging from his neck.

The group watched in questioning silence as Vin obtained his glass of beer and took a long drink. He stood hunched shouldered at the bar for a moment before turning toward them. After a long, debating set of seconds, he made his way toward the group with obvious reluctance. He walked around the end of the table and stood at Chris' right shoulder.

Buck kicked out a chair from under the table. "Have a seat, Vin."

The tracker shook his head and took another long drink.

"Hey Vin." JD waited for Vin's eyes to snap his direction. "You seen any, uh, soldiers comin' in?"

Vin wiped his upper lip with a stained coat sleeve. "Yup."

"How many?"

"Five. Mebbe six."

A stretch of uncomfortable silence followed before Josiah spoke. "There a problem with that, son?"

Vin shifted, releasing the tense set of his shoulders. He glanced once toward Chris, Ezra's card play a chatter of clicks in the background. The quiet caused the dark cloud of Larabee to raise his chin and fix a hard stare at Tanner's profile, waiting an electric moment before issuing, "Well?"

Tanner scowled in Larabee's direction. "Well what?" he snapped.

Their gazes locked. Chris rose slowly, shifting the drape of his duster behind his pearl handled gun butt in an action that was either unconscious or full of purpose. His words were clear and measured. "Are we gonna have a problem, Vin?"

A battle of wills crackled the air between them and the rest of the peacekeepers wisely kept quiet. Even Ezra's quick hands slowed and then stopped in the tense air. All eyes followed the silent yet heated discussion. When the stiff set of Tanner's shoulders returned it was instantly mirrored by Larabee, who then straightened suddenly and started to reach for a buckskin sleeve.

The sound of pounding hooves stalled the action and all seven men glanced out of the dirty front windows to see the blurry passing of six blue-clad soldiers. When they heard the "Halt!" order and realized the contingency intended to enter the saloon, the rest of the seven rose to their feet and faced the doors. After some low talk and boot stomping to clear their dust, the first of the men pushed their way inside and headed to the bar.

"Ah, Hell," Buck muttered the moment he saw what dangled from the belt of the third soldier in. He sidestepped to the left and tried to block Vin's view of the newcomers.

A strangled noise came from Vin's throat when he spotted the black-hair scalp swaying with the soldier's movement.

"Damn," JD whispered.

The growl and scuffle were simultaneous as Buck and Chris snared Vin's arms. Josiah used his large frame as a wall between the struggling tracker and the gang of army men, and he herded the three men toward the back door. Nathan joined them, grabbing Vin around the waist and, between the four of them, dragged their snarling, spitting, and kicking friend outside to the back alley.

"OUCH, God dammit, Vin!" Buck yelped, shaking a hand as he struggled to control the writhing tracker. "I was coverin' your mouth for your own good!"

"Lemme go! LET LOOSE A ME!"

Josiah retreated and backed against the alley door, blocking it. Nathan joined him a moment later, limping and puffing, both of them disquieted by the violence of their friend's actions.

"Vin! Calm down!" Chris' managed to keep from yelling, but his voice demanded obedience, which seemed to infuriate Tanner even more. After a moment of struggle, Larabee ground out, "Take ‘im down, Buck."

Wilmington managed to set his feet before he swiped one leg into Vin's and put him on the ground, pulling Chris down with him. They then turned the fighting tracker onto his stomach where Chris planted a knee firmly between Tanner's shoulder blades as he twisted Vin's left arm back until he yelped.

"God damn it, Larabee! I'll kill ya! Let me go! Get offa me!"

Chris settled down hard and nodded for Buck to release Vin's other arm.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I got him. Vin, settle, damn you."

A string of words turned the air a definite blue color when Buck let go, and he stepped back, huffing and shaking his head. "Damn, Junior, Erza'd be impressed with that vocabulary."

The result was another flood of words that were anything but English, their meaning still crystal clear, but the physical struggle ceased when Chris added a little more muscle to the twist of Vin's arm. With a bear like growl, the dust by Vin's mouth puffed skyward as he dropped his cheek to the ground, panting hard.

Chris looked to his men. "I have him. Go in and keep an eye on those soldiers. One drink, and then insist they leave. They're not supposed to be in town."

"Gotcha. Good luck." Buck turned to the other two men. Nathan grabbed Buck's bitten hand and frowned at his hiss of pain.

"Let's clean this up," Nate said. "That dirty mouth ‘o Vin's shore won't help this none."

Josiah chuckled softly and opened the saloon door to allow their reentry. He poked his head out one last time and Chris tipped his head to indicate all was well. After a brief nod, Josiah disappeared with a quiet snick of the closing door.

Chris regarded the huffing body below him and relaxed the arm hold slightly. Vin tried to pull away. "Stop it, Vin."

"Get. Off. Me." Vin demanded between breaths. When Chris didn't respond, he worked to buck him off.

Chris reset his hold and demanded, "Promise me you won't run."

"Go ta Hell."

"Vin. Promise."

"What the Hell do you want, Larabee?"

"Your promise that you won't run. Stay here. With me. There's nothing you can do about those men."

"Fuckin' watch me!"

"No. What's done is done."

They breathed hard in tandem as the shadows lengthened silently. Chris took the time to look around and was satisfied that they were alone and well hidden by the surrounding alley walls. He could hear wagon and foot traffic of the main street, but it was muted by distance and buildings.

"Vin? We're alone here. No one's around."

Still, Vin didn't grace him with any words.

"I'm going to let you up now. No running, you hear me? Vin?" he gave his friend's shoulder a rough shake. "Vin."

"God dammit, get your fucking hands off me, Larabee."

Noting that Vin's words were low and even, Chris decided that the burst of anger had quelled, so he rose quickly to his feet. He shifted his hand to get a firm grip on Tanner's elbow as he clamored upright with a snarl.

Before the tracker could get complete balance, Chris propelled him backward to the saloon wall, pinning him with a forearm just above Vin's collar bones. Chris shoved his leg between Tanner's thighs, keeping the tracker from finding firm balance. He pressed his chest to Vin's, using his weight to keep his quarry in place.

"Stop fighting me."

"Stop crowd'n' me!"

"Can't let you go until I know you'll stop. Just stop."

Vin fought against him and Chris pressed closer, his forearm squeezing low on Vin's throat. Wheezing, Vin eventually quieted. He glared with open fury into Chris' eyes mere inches from his, and Chris returned the stare. Their breath mixed hot, a beer and cheroot blend against their faces. After a minute of stillness, Chris eased the pressure. Vin tried to turn, so Chris pressed his full body weight against him.

At that moment, things shifted.

Chris became suddenly aware of the column of hard flesh that was his cock surged against his tight jeans where his hips firmly pressed against Vin's; there was no denying its presence to either of them.

They both froze, and the deep, angry glares broke when Vin blinked in surprise. Chris dared not relax his hold even though this turn of events had clearly derailed any and all anger.

Vin let out a hard chuff and narrowed his eyes. "Like fightin', do ya?" he said hoarsely. His eyes took on an amused, yet hazardous, spark.

The sudden words made Chris cringe slightly and he opened his mouth to snap a reply, but he was distracted when his hot and super–sensitive prick felt a reciprocal stirring in Vin's groin. Chris' snapped his mouth closed and ground his hips harder against Vin's, then leered when the swell of Vin's gland grew and the tracker gasped, instantly losing his dangerous edge.

"Least I can use that excuse," Chris breathed out in reply. He kept the pressure on.

Just then, the saloon door cracked open and JD stuck his head out. "They're leaving now," he reported. "Everything okay out here?"

"Fine," Chris barked, his eyes never leaving Vin's. "I'm gettin' Vin out of here."

"You . . ." that was all Vin managed before Chris' forearm took his voice.

"Yeah, okay, Chris, I'll tell the others," JD said, obviously relieved. "Good luck!" The door closed again.

Chris grinned tightly and released the pressure against Vin's throat, moving his hand down to hold the tracker's bony hip in place. He ground his hard cock against Vin's again, getting another gasp in reply. His grin broadened.

Confused emotions rolled across Tanner's face as he fought for control of his predicament. "Think you're in charge, do ya?" Vin managed between clenched teeth.

"Yep." Chris ducked his head and ran his nose along Vin's tight jawline and then up to Vin's earlobe, and then whispered directly in the tracker's ear. "Got ya right where I want ya."

Vin wiggled in a weak escape attempt and Chris chuckled. Vin froze, his cock hardening against that of his adversary's, and he let out a low, frustrated groan. Screwing his eyes closed, his head fell back against the wall with a thud and his chin tipped up, further exposing his throat.

Chris interpreted the surrender and his mouth found the soft skin of Vin's neck. Teeth nipped carefully, followed by a wash of warm tongue – a tight sigh escaped the tracker's throat. Chris' dry lips nibbled the sore spot, loosening his victim's features.

"Let's finish this . . . discussion . . . elsewhere," Larabee whispered lowly, rotating his hips against Vin's to press the point. He felt Vin's entire body shift from angry mode into something far more interesting, causing him to catch his breath. Chris' cock surged at Vin's feral grin, and the tracker matched the desire between one heated breath and the next. Chris hissed, his eyes closing with pleasured promise.

Vin's lips ticked the rim of Larabee's ear. "Who's in charge now, Cowboy?" he whispered, following up with a quick, wet dart of hot tongue and a sharp nip of lobe.

Chris groaned and twisted his fist in Vin's shirt, low on the tracker's back and under the ever present buckskin coat. He pulled Vin away from the wall and turned him, pushing deeper into the alley, now heavily shaded with creeping dusk.

Vin stumbled and barked a laugh. "Damn, Chris," he huffed as he leaned back into his escort. "Don't figure I'm goin' anywhere but with you, okay?"

Chris pressed onward. "Just makin' sure," he snapped.

Vin's voice shifted to a sultry tone, barely above a whisper. "I ain't runnin'." He punctuated the statement by relaxing his frame, moving onward with little force from the closely following Larabee. Vin's hand dropped down and swiped across the front of his captor's groin with focused pressure on the hard column. "Now I's curious."

Chris' breath stuttered. "Curious, huh?" he growled, turning Vin toward the boarding house. He released Vin's shirt and snagged his elbow when they turned from the alley to the boardwalk. When they stepped up onto the raised porch, they were side by side. "Not angry?"

"Depends," Vin replied quickly. He tipped his head aside just enough to connect with Larabee's smoldering glare. "Which'll keep it up?" He flashed an unabashed grin and attempted another blatant swipe across Chris' tight pants. Larabee held off the assault tightening his firm grip on Vin's elbow. "Ouch!" Vin yipped.

"Serves you right," Chris snapped, directing Vin onto the boardwalk at the boarding house doorway. He was well aware of their fellow peacekeepers watching from the saloon's batwing doors. "Your history of dirty fighting's keepin' this between us."

"Chickens." Vin aimed a slant eyed glare their way. As a result, the remaining peacekeepers fled back into the saloon. Chris' dry chuckle caused Vin to snort. "Don't need no damned audience."

Chris tightened his grip and steered his quarry through the hotel entry and immediately up the stairs. "Gettin' one observer, at least," he said in a gravelly whisper close to Vin's ear. "Unless you're talkin' blindfolds . . ."

Vin hissed, then chuckled. "Hell, Chris," he croaked from a dry throat. Your ten words a day are sometimes worth listenin' to after all!"

The pair stumbled to the top of the stairs and Chris propelled Vin down the short hall, pushing him face first into the farthest door with a solid thud. Hanging on the Vin's elbow, Chris unlocked the door with his free hand. "Oh, you're gonna hear me loud and clear, Tanner."

Vin half fell into the room when Chris released the door with a turn of the knob. Inside, Vin turned, wearing a dangerous smile. "An' here I thought this day was gonna end bad," he rasped. His hand settled on the front of his pants. After a moment he traced the line of his erection upward and released the top button with a flick of his fingers, which then moved with aggravating slowness to the second button.

Unable to tear is eyes from the surprisingly seductive action, Chris closed and locked the door and attempted to pocket the key, only to find that his jeans were entirely too tight. "You're a damn tease," he said with a slightly surprised tone.

"I reckon you started it, Cowboy."

Chris jerked off his gun belt and released the top of his black jeans. "You need a lesson in controlling your anger."

Vin smirked. "What's with all the talkin'?" Unbuttoned, his released trousers hung on his hips, held up by braces alone, revealing a hardened penis at impressive attention. He shed his coat, which fell heavily to the floor with a satisfying whoomp and idly fingered his erection, tilting his head aside slightly as he shrugged off one brace. Stormy blue eyes sparked. "Thought you were a man a action."

"It's called foreplay." Chris, finally free of his denim shackles, stepped from the black pool at his feet.

"Forced play?" Vin eyed him brazenly, crotch to face, without a trace of shyness. "I don't like it."

Chris paused at the misheard word, but then realized that Vin's version rather fit the current events. He issued a feral smile of his own as he surged forward and reached out, taking a handful of tawny hair at Vin's nape, forcing his chin upward enough to meet Larabee's dark and flashing eyes. "Too bad."

Fore play ended as hot mouths greedily connected, and there were no more words until the first rooster crowed.

THE END