Change of Heart
Part 1 of the Hearts trilogy.
The past few days in Purgatorio had been good ones, relaxing ones, for Vin and Chris, but now it was time to head for home. They had traveled down there together but had hardly seen each other the whole time, each being occupied in his own 'pursuits.'
But fun was fun and business was business, and now it was time to get back to business. It was a long, dusty ride past the occasional little backwater towns, through miles of nothing. Finally, they stopped just over a ridge for a bit to rest the horses and to have a quick meal and a little idle conversation. They finished eating and got up, preparing to move on.
"Didja see Maria?" asked Vin, as he emptied the coffee pot over the small fire.
Chris nodded, as he lifted the saddle back onto his horse. "She's a fun girl..."
"Bet she is," Vin agreed. "Next time, we oughta bring JD. There was a new girl there, real pretty, 'bout his age. I think he'd like 'er."
"I bet Casey'd have a word or two to say 'bout that."
"Reckon she would," he grinned. "Well, maybe not, then."
Chris laughed. "Good idea."
The two men were still engrossed in their conversation and preparing to leave, when a voice from above startled them.
"Good day, boys!"
Chris and Vin reached for their guns when a shot fired near Chris's feet. Vin cursed silently to himself. He should have heard them coming.
"Ah-ah-ah. I wouldn't," said the voice. The man stood on the rocks a few feet above, while another emerged from behind them, both men wielding guns. They were both big and dirty.
"We're just passin', through, boys. So don't get any notions. Now, drop the guns. Slow-like, y'hear me?"
Chris and Vin looked at each other, then slowly removed their gunbelts as the man dropped easily to the ground. Vin had seen men like this before, during his bounty-hunting days. By the look of 'em, Vin figured they'd both escaped from a jail, prison, or stockade somewhere. It was clear by their pallor, they hadn't seen much daylight in awhile, unusual for this part of the country. And they didn't look like they'd been fed much, either.
"We ain't lawmen," he said. "Don't care where ya came from, just so long as ya keep goin'."
"Well, ain't that nice of you," sneered the talkative one. He turned to his companion. "Ain't he nice, McCreary?"
"For a fact," McCreary replied.
"Well, since you're so all-fired nice, maybe you wouldn't mind helpin' us on our way." He turned to McCreary. "Tie 'em up. We'll take the water, food, and horses."
Vin's hands were quickly tied behind his back. McCreary dragged him back a few feet and sat him abruptly on the ground. Chris, never one to go down without a fight, attacked McCreary in a desperate effort to get his gun. The other man stepped forward and hit Chris sharply across his jaw with the butt of the gun. Chris dropped to the ground.
"Son of a bitch," sneered Chris, his infamous temper getting the better of him.
"Hey, Donovan. This one's got spirit. Real feisty. Sorta reminds me of that whore o' yours back in Dodge."
Donovan grinned. "Yeah, now I think of it...I miss my Mary Sue." He looked at Chris with mock sadness. "Had to kill 'er, though. That's why I went to jail." He sighed heavily. "Guess I gotta find me a new whore. And there ain't none around...'Cept you. And you look t'got a nice, tight little ass, there, boy." His eyes glittered hungrily at Chris. "Bet that'd feel right nice to a man what ain't seen a woman in a while, wouldn't it?"
Vin blanched. Donovan wasn't just dangerous, he was downright loco. He was baiting Chris, and doing a damned fine job of it. Chris lunged for him again, but was struck on the head by a grinning McCreary. This time he didn't get up.
Donovan licked his lips. "McCreary, tie his hands. And get his spurs and boots..."
McCreary hesitated. "Donovan, we got time for this...?"
"We got time enough...'Sides, I ain't had no fun in too long..."
Donovan tore off the Chris's shirt, then opened his pants and started to peel them down over Chris's hips. He looked around him. Nearby was a smooth, flat-topped rock about waist high.
Chris was like a rag doll, as he was lifted and positioned, bent over the rock, facing Vin. Vin swallowed hard as the bile rose in his throat. This was not a scene he wanted to witness. He worked the ropes around his wrists, feeling them give ever so slightly.
"Donovan, don't do this," Vin said. He looked at McCreary who now stood nearby, covering him with his gun. "There's no need to do that to a man."
McCreary chuckled evilly. "Now, Donovan just gonna have some fun with your friend. Never know, he might even like it."
Chris was starting to come around. As realization dawned on what was about to happen to him, he began to struggle, cursing. But with his wrists tied, and his pants around his thighs, his movements were severely hobbled.
McCreary cocked his gun near Vin's head. Chris heard it, Vin knew, because he saw Chris look at him a moment, then stop fighting. Vin's shoulders sagged. It made his stomach churn to think what Chris was about to endure for his sake.
Chris was trying avoid looking at Vin, now. He closed his eyes and lowered his head against the rock. Vin continued to work at his ropes. He seemed to be making a tiny bit of progress. He tried once more with McCreary.
"If somebody was lookin' fer me, I'd keep movin'. Could be that somebody's just beyond that ridge."
"Shut up." McCreary kicked Vin sharply in the side, then looked at Donovan impatiently. "You wanna hurry it up there? Ain't like you had it recently. Now do it, and let's go."
Donovan smiled lewdly. "I'm gonna make this one last...mmm...oh, yeah..."
Vin turned away to spare Chris the humiliation of having his friend watch his rape. But he didn't turn away for long. His head snapped back when he heard Chris's scream of pain, outrage, and fury.
What he saw held him in thrall. He should have turned away in disgust, he knew, but instead he watched, transfixed, as Donovan began to slowly, rhythmically thrust into Chris.
A familiar stirring between his legs made Vin shift uncomfortably in his buckskins. To his horror, he realized he was getting hard, even as he watched Chris being sodomized by the bigger man. He found himself wondering what the heat of Chris's body must be like, and the tightness of him.
Vin looked at the ground in guilt and embarrassment. Why was this happening to him? What kind of friend was he? Chris, his friend, was clearly suffering--in pain, helpless, degraded and humiliated--and here he was, having these...thoughts. He shifted, trying to hide the growing bulge in his buckskins.
When he looked up again, though, he saw Chris staring at him. No, not at him. At his crotch. Chris's eyes narrowed, and his look became accusing before it again registered the anguish of the ordeal. So he'd seen. He *knew*. Vin looked away quickly. His face felt like it was on fire.
Chris's rapist was nearing a conclusion at last. Donovan dug his fingers into Chris's bare shoulders and rode him till he came, with a loud, animal-like howl.
"Ah, that was good," sighed Donovan, arranging himself back into his jeans. "Nice and tight. You got a sweet ass, there, boy. Maybe you oughta charge for it. In fact, here..."
He shoved a coin into the pocket of Chris's pants. He then threw Chris roughly to the ground. Without being able to use his hands to break his fall, Chris landed hard, head and knees first. He lay curled on the ground, obviously stunned and in pain, his pants still around his thighs and a smear of blood along the cleft of his buttocks.
That's when Vin made his move. Ignoring the pain in his side, he grit his teeth and pulled as hard as he could against the now-worn and loosened ropes, snapping them. Like lightning, he snatched McCreary's gun and killed him with two close-range shots.
Donovan fired back as he ran for his horse. He mounted and kicked it into a gallop.
Vin tried to fire again. He uttered a string of oaths as McCreary's gun jammed. Before he could get to his own gun, though, Donovan had disappeared over the ridge.
Vin hurried over to Chris, still on the ground, and cut the ropes around his wrists. He put a hand on Chris's shoulder.
"Chris--"
"Don't touch me!" Chris recoiled.
Chris pushed himself along the ground, out of Vin's reach, then slowly began trying to pull up his pants. Vin sat back on his heels for a moment, then got up and stepped back.
"You ain't thinkin' of going after him, are ya? Your head's bleedin'. With the head start he's got, you're gonna pass out before you get to 'im."
"This ain't your business," Chris hissed.
Vin persisted. He knew things looked bad, but he was still concerned.
"Look, just go back to town. Let Nathan patch that up. Donovan'll keep. You can go looking for him later."
Chris stood up on shaky legs. Vin could tell the landscape was whirling before Chris's eyes. He caught him before he could hit the ground again.
"Get away from me!" Chris snarled, twisting out his grasp.
Vin raised his hands, looking at him, and finally walked away. But he noted that Chris, after collecting his clothes and getting dressed, pointed his horse back toward town. Vin rode close by, in case Chris took another fall.
The two continued back to town, riding in an uneasy silence. Vin couldn't think of a thing to say as his thoughts swirled around in his head. He knew Chris was angry. At Donovan. And at him. He had to be feeling a sense of betrayal for Vin's 'reaction' to the circumstances.
And Chris was also in a lot of pain now, which didn't help matters. Not only his head, but just being in the saddle had to hurt like hell. Vin was concerned about him, but decided that, in Chris's present frame of mind, it was best to say nothing at all.
When they finally neared town, Chris broke the silence.
"You say anything about this to anyone--especially the others--" He left the threat unfinished.
Vin nodded.
Chris seemed all right until he tried to get off his horse. He didn't so much get off as sort of 'slide' off. Vin was standing nearby and he started put out a hand to catch him if necessary, but checked himself.
Chris straightened and allowed Vin to take him to Nathan's which, to Vin's mind, was testimony to how much Chris had to really be hurting. He noticed, too, the stiff, awkward gait that was so unlike Larabee's usual easy strut.
"What happened?" demanded Nathan.
"Nothing. Chris fell."
"I fell," Chris echoed woodenly.
By now, Vin's ribs had stopped hurting, except for an ugly bruise. He left Chris in Nathan's care and turned toward the saloon. He knew that, with Chris still a bit dizzy, Nathan would keep him there at least for the night.
He bought a bottle of whisky and headed his wagon. Vin pulled off his shirt and lay there, naked to the waist, drinking the whisky straight from the bottle and thinking about the past twenty-four hours.
What had happened to him back there? And during something as brutal as that. He'd never had thoughts like those before. Never! And now he couldn't chase them away. Had he ever thought about men that way? He was sure he hadn't.
He was starting to feel the blissful edges of what promised to be a good drunk. He took a few more swigs of whisky, nearly choking, as the amber liquid warmed his throat and belly.
No, he reasoned. It was Chris. Definitely Chris. Something about him. There were very few men that Vin could honestly say he respected. And even fewer Vin could say he gave a real damn about. Chris wasn't like any man Vin had ever met.
And seeing him like that...half-naked in the sun...vulnerable...being thrust into in a satisfying rhythm... Vin's hand slipped into his leather pants to grasping his now-throbbing erection... He could just imagine the heat in that lean, solidly-built, compact body...the tightness, the pressure that surrounded the invading shaft...His hand found its own rhythm and he began to stroke. He took several more swigs of whisky, at the same time slowly increasing the pace of his pumping as his hand slid up and down the thick-veined length. Wet droplets appeared in the slit at the shiny purple tip.
His mind was now firmly on the events he'd witnessed. God, to feel that. To be the one doing that to him...! But not forced. Never forced...No, he would want Chris willing...wanting...His orgasm exploded suddenly into his hand, splattering his chest with thick, white cream.
He set down the whisky bottle, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
When he awoke the next morning, his head felt fuzzy. There was evidence on his chest of a stickiness that had dried there, his fly was undone and his soft penis lay along his thigh. Vin groaned.
How could he ever explain his feelings to Chris? And how could he expect Chris to understand when he didn't fully understand himself? But Chris needed to know. Now that they'd surfaced, the emotions were still there, refusing to be denied. It was as if he was looking at Chris with different eyes, with a sense of longing he hadn't been aware of before.
He thought about leaving town altogether, but quickly dismissed that. He wanted to stay, to make Chris understand, to be around him, even if he couldn't accept Vin's depth of feeling. Vin liked it here. He had a job to do, alongside other men he liked and trusted. To leave would be throwing all that away. And it wouldn't quell his feelings one bit, he knew.
Vin cleaned himself up and dressed. He'd grab some breakfast, then head for Nathan's. He had to clear things up between them. He didn't expect Chris to return his feelings, but he couldn't stand the idea that Chris might hate him for wanting him. He had to at least try to explain himself. If he could.
When Nathan opened the door, he looked at Vin and put a finger to his lips for quiet. Chris was still asleep. He was shirtless, the blankets just below his waist. His forehead had a bandage on it, and there were scratches and bruises all over his chest. From being bounced against the rock, no doubt, thought Vin.
"How's he doin'?" he whispered.
"I 'spect his head still hurts, but he'll be okay. Got bruises and scratches all over his chest. And some marks on his shoulders. I don't know, but it seems like he's in some other pain, too." He eyed Vin carefully. "Musta took quite a fall."
"Yeah, it was quite a fall," Vin agreed tonelessly. Dammit Nathan, he thought, let go of it, can't you?
At that moment, Chris awoke. He looked over and saw Nathan. And Vin.
"Well, I'll leave you two alone. Looks like you wanna talk."
"No," said Chris sharply. "Nathan...stay."
Nathan glanced at him and then at Vin, a question in his liquid brown eyes.
"It'll be all right," Vin assured him. Nathan closed the door softly behind him.
"What're you doing here?" Chris snapped.
Vin pretended not to notice as Chris pulled the blankets higher onto his chest.
The silence hung heavy in the air for a long moment, as Vin tried to gauge Chris's thoughts. He was a difficult man to read. "Listen, Chris, about what happened--I don't know how to explain it. I--"
"You were *enjoying* what they did to me," Chris said flatly. Vin had been waiting for him to say it and now there it was.
"Chris...it wasn't like that."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "No? Then tell me how it was."
Vin moved closer, groping for the right words. "It was about you...and--and me...and how I wanted to...to...I just had these feelings, and I..." His voice trailed off as he looked at Chris helplessly.
"Vin, it was like you were *one* of 'em! I *saw* your--"
"--I know what you saw! Geezus, Chris, do you think I don't wonder about that, too? I didn't mean for that to happen, but it did, and now...now I just want..."
Silence.
"I'm not like that," Chris said at last. "Hell, Vin, I've been married."
"I know! Neither am I!" he said hotly. "I never--But I couldn't stop thinking..." His mouth snapped shut. This wasn't going well at all. Worse, in fact.
Chris sighed wearily. "So what do you want from me?"
"I just want you to...understand." He looked for a reaction from Chris, but got none. "You're goin' after Donovan, ain't ya? Soon's yer outta that bed...I wanna come along."
"To watch? Last time not enough for you?"
Vin held his ground. "I wanna piece of him, too. Dammit, Chris, I watched someone I care about get..." He hesitated. "...raped." There. The word was out. A muscle in Chris's jaw twitched slightly. "I can't just let that go. 'Sides, might need someone to watch yer back."
"You done a fine job, so far," said Chris tightly. "No."
"Chris--"
"I said no. I don't want you with me. I don't want you near me. I'm goin' after him, but you try to come along, and I swear I'll shoot you."
At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door and Nathan entered. "Seein's how you're awake, I brung ya some breakfast, Chris." He stopped and looked at them, puzzled. The tension--or was it hostility--between the two men was palpable.
Vin glared at Chris. "Good luck, then." With a nod in Nathan's direction, Vin left without a backward glance.
Vin had plans of his own.
Throughout the morning, Vin sat outside the saloon. To a casual observer, he was just lounging there, passing the time of day. But he was watching, waiting for the moment when Chris left town to head back to Whiskey Creek, the nearest town to the spot where Chris had been assaulted. It was mid-morning when he saw him ride out. He waited a while, then mounted up to follow.
Despite his injuries, Chris was keeping a good pace on horseback. Vin was almost grateful Chris had the pain to distract him, though, so he didn't notice the tracker trailing a safe distance behind. Chris would kill him if he knew, but Vin didn't care. His concern was for Chris. Given the physical and emotional toll on him, Chris couldn't possibly be the top of his game right now, and Vin didn't want him to get himself killed.
He wondered what Chris has told the others about leaving. Probably nothing. Maybe he was hoping this "errand" would be quick. Vin was hoping that, too.
It was early evening when they reached Whiskey Creek. Vin watched as Chris went the saloon to rent a room for the night, then put up his horse at the livery. Vin waited before putting up his own horse in a stall as far from Chris's horse as he could get. He found himself a room in the tiny hotel across the street within sight of Chris's, then picked up some food and a bottle of tequila on the way to his room. It was going to be a long night.
He dumped his saddlebags on the floor and lit a lamp on the dresser. He ate his food standing by the window watching the street. Once he was sure Chris wasn't going anywhere for that night, he stripped off his clothes. Vin took a swig of tequila, then stretched out on his back on the soft, clean sheets, staring at the ceiling.
It was all such a mess. He wanted Chris as much as ever, and now Chris didn't want to be anywhere near him. It was stupid to come here, he thought bitterly, as he took another swallow of tequila. What was he doing, trying to protect a man who'd shoot him for it? He closed his eyes. He was here because he didn't want Chris getting hurt again. He was here because, damn it, he cared to be. He was just as angry as Chris was. Just as outraged over what had happened, and just as determined to see some frontier justice done. His feelings were wrapped up in this, too, and Chris was not going to shut him out.
Vin set the bottle aside. He had lost interest in getting drunk. He had to be sharp in the morning. Chris had very attuned senses, and Vin didn't want to risk being detected. He blew out the lamp and fell into a troubled sleep.
The next morning he awoke early. The street was quiet. Chris was probably still asleep. Vin hastily washed and then reached into his saddlebags to pull out a coat of Ezra's. It wasn't to Vin's taste, but it fit and was less "colorful" than the gambler's usual wardrobe. Ezra didn't wear it often, so Vin figured he wouldn't notice it had been borrowed. He tucked his long hair up under his hat, and pulled the brim lower. Chris might recognize him, but he didn't have to make it easy for him.
He crossed the street into the saloon and approached the bartender there.
"You got a back room?"
The barkeep nodded. "Rosita's $2 for an hour."
"How much for the day?"
The barkeep looked surprised but named a price. Vin paid him, then headed for the back, followed by a Mexican working girl.
He looked around the small room. There was a cot and a rickety chair, and nothing else but dirt and dust, but it afforded a good view of the saloon.
"You have the room for the whole day, no?" Rosita offered a gap-toothed smile. "What would you like, senor?"
Vin put some coins in her hand. "How about if you get lost for the day?"
"You want thees room just to be alone by yourself?" Her look of puzzlement eased into a knowing smile. "I see. I have some lotion you can use, if you--"
"No, thanks," he said, pushing her out of the room and closing the door behind her. He sat on the filthy cot, took out his knife, and carefully began to carve a tiny peephole in the wall opposite the saloon's main room. Now all he'd have to do is watch. And wait.
He didn't have to wait long. He heard the familiar jingle of spurs as Chris descended the stairs from his room. The saloon had a few patrons in it already, even at this hour. Chris looked around him a moment, sizing them up, then he took a seat at an empty table and ordered some breakfast.
Vin watched him, as Chris stretched out his long legs under the table. He felt his heartbeat quicken just a little as he watched Chris eat, unaware he was being observed. Vin reached a hand down and slowly rubbed the swollen ache in his groin. He wanted to do just what Rosita thought he was doing, but he resisted the temptation. If anything happened, he had to be prepared to move quickly.
He watched Chris finish his meal, then lean back and calmly survey the room. The town was starting to awaken and the saloon was getting a little livelier. Finally, Chris seemed to single someone out at the far end of the bar. Vin could barely see him as he walked up to the bar and stood next to a grizzled-looking fella and ordered a drink for both of them.
Vin watched him. Chris was talking in a low voice, but he was too far away to hear. The man next to him was listening intently, occasionally shaking his head. Finally he pointed to the opposite end of the bar to a small, weasel-faced man. Chris said something and slowly made his way closer to Vin's hiding place.
Vin strained to hear. It looked like Chris was getting closer to some information about Donovan. Unfortunately, the three men closest to Vin chose that moment to have a loud, drunken argument.
Chris took the man aside, farther away from the drunken trio, and almost out of Vin's line of sight. Vin cursed under his breath. He watched as Chris said a few words, then left.
The days dragged on. Vin had managed to keep an eye on Chris and, as far as he could tell, Chris hadn't detected him yet. He knew Chris had information, and was biding his time, waiting, but it was making Vin antsy. And annoyed with himself, because he usually wasn't.
Maybe Donovan was somewhere else and he was expected to return? Or maybe Chris didn't know where he was yet, after all, and he was waiting for something--or someone--else. He hated not knowing, but there was nothing else he could do. At least it allowed some time for Chris's injuries to heal.
Chris moved leisurely around Whiskey Creek, occasionally talking to someone. Sometimes he sat idly outside the hotel or saloon, but Vin knew that was deceptive. Those green eyes missed nothing. With Chris occupied this way, Vin was able to catch a meal here and there himself. He tried to relax as he, too, waited. He just wished he knew for what.
It was just after nightfall, when Vin saw Chris heading down the street. His skin prickled as he watched Chris stride into the livery. Whatever it was, it was happening now. Several minutes later, Chris re-appeared, leading his saddled horse outside. He turned down an alley and disappeared into the darkness.
Vin quickened his pace as he crossed the street and slipped into the livery to get his horse. Once inside, Vin lit a lantern and hung it on a peg, then looked down the row of stalls.
"I told you to stay out of it," said a familiar voice coldly. Vin's hat was snatched off, his hair tumbling to his shoulders. Vin took a step back and whirled around.
Chris stepped out of the shadows. So he hadn't left after all.
"Yeah, ya did," said Vin, a note of defiance in his voice.
"So what're you doin' here?"
"I might ask you the same thing," growled another voice. Donovan. He pressed the barrel of his gun against Chris's temple. "Guns, boys. You know the drill." They carefully complied. Donovan kicked Chris behind his knees. His hat fell off as he fell to his knees.
Donovan leaned in close to Chris. "Followed me, did you? Well, I missed you, too. 'Specially that nice little ass of yours. Just couldn't get enough, eh?"
Chris didn't reply. Donovan looked at each of them.
"Y'know, with all this interest in me, it's time fer me to be movin' on." He smiled wickedly at Chris. "But I got just long enough to give you what you want." Donovan paused. "Say, is yer mouth as good as yer ass? Nah, you'd pro'bly bite it off. Sorry, darlin', guess we're gonna hafta do it the usual way." He started to unbuckle his belt.
Vin's mind raced. He couldn't bear the thought of going through this whole thing again, and he doubted very much that Chris could endure it, physically or mentally.
"Ain't you had enough, you son of a bitch?" he sneered.
Donovan looked at him in surprise. "I'd hush if'n I was you, or I might do you instead." He studied Vin. "Maybe I should. Might be fun. See if your ass is as nice as yer friend's here..." He traced the gun barrel down Chris's neck.
Vin couldn't hide a shudder of revulsion at the thought of this man's hands on his body. What Chris must have felt, he thought guiltily, when he himself was...
"Donovan--!"
"I told you, if you don't shut up, I'll--"
"Then do it." The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about it.
Donovan paused to consider this. A grin crept slowly across his face.
"No!" Chris said sharply. He looked at Vin in anguish. "Why'd you have to come here!?"
Without warning, Donovan sent a vicious kick to Chris's face. The gunslinger's head rebounded against the wall behind him and he fell over, motionless. Donovan turned back to Vin. "Go ahead, pretty boy. Strip."
Vin slowly began to remove his clothes. He was doing this for Chris's sake, he told himself, as each piece of clothing came off. But afterwards...what? What if Donovan raped Chris anyway? What if he killed them both? All he knew was that at least this wasn't happening to Chris...for now.
"Say, pretty boy, when someone strips for me, I like a little show. Come on...move."
Vin clenched his jaw and avoided looking at him. He knew he had to be blushing furiously as he stood there at last, waiting, naked in the livery stable. He was grateful Chris was unconscious.
"That's fine. Turn around...oh, that's right nice, that's gonna feel real good...Now...down on all fours..."
Vin got down slowly. He tried to focus his mind somewhere else--anywhere else--but it was impossible. Donovan knelt behind him. He heard him spit. Lubrication, he supposed. Hands spread his buttocks. Then he felt the tip press clumsily against him. He closed his eyes and held his breath.
A hail of gunshots shattered the stale air. Vin yelped in pain as a bullet grazed his arm. Donovan collapsed beside him, dead. Vin backed up along the ground, pressing himself against the wall as he looked around in surprise and confusion. Chris was on his knees, his gun now empty. Blood poured from his nose where Donovan had kicked him. The only sound in the livery was that of the two men breathing heavily.
Vin looked at Donovan. It looked like every bullet had found its mark. He then turned to Chris who was staring owlishly at him. Suddenly Vin never felt so naked in his life.
"I couldn't let him do that to a man," Chris said hoarsely. "I couldn't let him do that to *you*." He looked up at Vin, then looked over at Donovan, his eyes glazed. "He was going to--
Vin began to get dressed. "Yeah. Let's get outta here."
Back in Vin's room, Chris was treating and bandaging the wound in Vin's arm.
"You risked me killin' you and then you nearly..."
Vin could almost feel Chris shudder at the thought. It was all too real for him, Vin knew.
"Why?" said Chris.
"I told you. Back in town."
Chris nodded, remembering. Vin could see the confusion in Chris's eyes as he tried to sort out his feelings. "When I saw you there...What you were going to let him do...You tried to protect me. You really...want me, don't you? I mean...you really do."
Vin swallowed hard. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."
Chris seemed to be thinking it over for a long moment. Finally, without a word, he began to remove his clothes. He went over to the bed and lay on his stomach, waiting.
Secretly Vin exulted. With trembling hands, Vin quickly undressed. He lowered the lamp to dim the room, and turned to look at Chris. Whether Chris returned the feelings or was just curious or just wanted Vin to get this out of his system--Vin didn't know and didn't care. The fact remained that here was Chris, just as Vin had fantasized--ready, and though reluctant, willing.
Reluctant.
Vin sat up abruptly and looked at the man on the bed. If he took Chris now, it would be as if *he* were raping him, too.
"No," he said suddenly. "Not like this."
Chris sat up. "Ain't this what you want?"
Vin sat close behind him and pulled Chris back to lean against his chest. He put his arms around him and felt Chris's whole body stiffen at the intimacy, but neither of them moved.
"I want to make it good for you," Vin said softly. And he meant it. But he also wanted to enter Chris. It had never been far from his mind in the past few days that that was what he wanted.
He ran his hands up Chris's arms to the smooth, hard shoulders, kneading the taut muscles there. Chris started slightly when Vin gently kissed his neck. Slowly, he turned Chris to face him. His fingertips moved lightly over Chris's chest. He had never seen a man's body the way he was seeing it now--the way he was seeing Chris's body-- and it fascinated him: the smooth, hard muscles of Chris's chest and stomach, the wispy curls that surrounded his sex, the long lean legs.
Chris hesitated for a long time. Vin took his hand and placed it on his thigh, silently inviting Chris to explore his body, too, even as he was exploring Chris's.
Chris ran his hand over Vin's thigh a moment, then he began to touch Vin's chest, lightly pinching one nipple. They continued to touch, stroke and explore each other's bodies, but each man still avoided touching the other's crotch.
What to do next?
Vin slowly pushed Chris onto his back. He looked into his face for a moment, trying to gauge what Chris was feeling, then gently began to tongue each nipple. He then slowly traced his tongue down the rippled stomach, stopping just short of the dark curls above his groin. He hesitated.
"Vin?" Chris whispered, lifting his head.
Doubts nagged Vin's brain. Chris was still soft. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe Chris didn't really want to after all. He looked into Chris's puzzled eyes. No, Chris seemed to want this, even he didn't seem sure about it. Maybe he just needed...something more...
Vin thought a moment about what he liked having done to him when he was with a woman. He regarded Chris's limp penis, then tentatively, he did something he never imagined he'd do. He ran the tip of his tongue over the head. It was velvety and warm. Chris tasted slightly salty.
Chris looked slightly surprised but his body reacted nonetheless, just as Vin had hoped. He licked it again. Chris was watching him now, curious, as his sex began to harden.
Vin grew bolder. He touched his tongue to the lightly-furred balls. He licked at the wrinkled skin, and watched in fascination as it drew tighter against Chris's body.
He turned his attention back to Chris's shaft as he put his lips around the knob. Vin was enjoying being able to make Chris's body respond to him. The smooth head slipped past his teeth into his throat.
Chris closed his eyes and moaned softly. Vin engulfed as much of him in his mouth as he could, almost gagging. As he dragged his lips along the shaft, he felt Chris's hand on his head.
"S-stop," Chris gasped.
"What's wrong? Don't you like that?"
"I-- What does it mean if I-- If we--"
He knew what Chris was asking. He had thought about it, too. But now none of that seemed to matter now. They were alone, together, and doing something they both wanted. What could be wrong with that? Why did it have to mean anything ?
"It's just you...and me..." Vin whispered.
Chris closed his eyes as Vin took him in his mouth again. He was pleased as Chris's body responded to him. But his need was growing. He wanted to feel Chris's body as Donovan had. He absently stroked a finger along Chris's cleft.
Chris's eyes flew open in panic. "I don't...think I can!"
Vin froze, suddenly afraid. Had he done something wrong? Had he just ruined this entirely? He wanted him, but he didn't want Chris associating any of it with his rape. He spoke softly and gently, continuing to slowly stroke and massage Chris's body.
"Chris, I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never try to force you to do anything you didn't want. I promise. You have to believe me."
Chris nodded at last, allowing his body to relax under Vin's gentle touch.
"Let me try to make you feel good," whispered Vin. "Are you ready?"
"Do it," Chris said tersely.
Vin paused, suddenly apprehensive. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he said in a barely-audible voice.
Vin paused. He was afraid to thrust into him too suddenly and hurt him. Chris's injuries were just healing, after all. Vin carefully pushed in one finger instead, then waited, as Chris adjusted to this tiny invasion. God, Chris felt so hot and slick inside. Vin pushed his finger a little deeper. Vin looked at him with concern as Chris suddenly gasped and arched his back.
"Did I hurt you? Should I stop?"
"No," said Chris breathlessly. "Feels good."
Vin was concentrating on adding a second finger when he felt Chris tense.
"I just want to make it good for you," he whispered. "You're so tight, Chris, and I don't want to hurt you. Do you still want me to do this?"
"I want you to."
It was what Vin needed to hear. It was an effort of will, but Vin continued slowly. Using his fingers, he gently stretched the tight ring of muscle. But he still needed something slippery. With his other hand, he reached for his jacket, discarded nearby, and fumbled in a pocket for a small container of ointment. It was the only thing he could think of, so it'd have to do.
His erection was already threatening to burst as he stroked the ointment on his length.
He massaged Chris's pleasure spot once more, and grinned when Chris writhed beneath him. "Feeling better, Cowboy?"
"Are you going to shut up and do this? Or are you just going to make me come all over myself?"
"Both."
Chris started to turn over, but Vin stopped him. He wanted this to be as different from the circumstances of Chris's rape as possible. And he wanted to see the pleasure in Chris's face when he climaxed. Chris stayed on his back, and waited for Vin to take the lead.
He pushed Chris's legs back, then finally lifted them till Chris's knees were over his shoulders, then leaned over him, bending his thighs against his chest.
As the tip of his shaft eased into Chris, he could hear him suppress a groan. He paused again, until he felt Chris impatiently lift his hips toward him. Vin held his breath as he slowly, steadily, entered him. It was everything Vin hoped for. Slick. Hot. And , oh, so snug! Chris let out a small sigh. Vin let his breath out in a rush.
He slowly began to thrust in short, shallow strokes, as they both became used to the sensations. For Vin, it was like nothing he had ever known and the sheer pleasure of it made his head spin. But he hadn't forgotten he wanted to make it good for Chris, too.
Chris was already stroking his own erection when Vin pushed his hand away. He grasped Chris firmly and began to pump as if he were stroking himself. His hips moved faster as he thrust slowly, rhythmically, deeply into Chris.
"Please, Vin...!" he gasped. "I can't hold back--I--!"
He howled in all-consuming pleasure as he came in a shattering orgasm. Vin climaxed at the same time, his semen erupting into Chris. The two men lay there, gasping from their exertions, a fine sheet of sweat glistening in the lamplight.
It wasn't until he was completely soft that Vin reluctantly left Chris's body. Chris straightened his legs as Vin rolled over beside him. He curled up against Chris and, in a few minutes, both men were asleep.
When Vin awakened in the morning, Chris was already up. Neither of them said a word as Vin watched him finished dressing. He wondered what Chris was thinking about last night. He *had* to be thinking about it. Vin was aching to ask, but he was afraid to. Maybe Chris wanted to forget it happened. Maybe he was ashamed or afraid or...Vin studied him carefully, but he couldn't tell what Chris was feeling. Finally Chris broke the silence.
"You ridin' back with me?"
Vin nodded and scrambled out of bed. He splashed some water on his face and dressed quickly. Chris started toward the door, Vin following closely behind. Vin almost bumped into Chris as he suddenly stopped and turned, his hand on the doorknob.
"Vin, what you did back there. In the livery...I...Thanks."
He leaned closer, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Vin waited in anticipation. Suddenly, Chris kissed him, awkwardly, quickly, then he glanced down at the floor.
"And...thanks for everything later."
"What about the others?"
Chris shrugged. "Like you said, this is just about you and me."
Vin nodded.
Chris started to open the door. "Reckon we can explore it some more on the way back?"
Vin smiled warmly. "Reckon we can. And you're welcome."
He certainly was.
The End
Continues in Hearts Divided