Tanner stood in the doorway to the study, videotape in hand. He looked mildly pitiful.
Chris looked up at Vin and smiled softly. "I know, hon, but I did warn you that I had to get these monthlies done before we go under on this case."
The top of his blond head again became visible as he returned to his work.
"Yeah, but I didn't know it was gonna take you all night, old man."
Chris glanced up through his lashes quickly, his eyes taking on a gray cast and flashing a warning. Returning to his work, he ignored the frustrated huff of his lover.
Minutes later he felt another knot of tension creep between his shoulders as familiar footsteps entered his study yet again. Determined to concentrate so he could finish his report, he (again) paid no heed to the nearly pouting sharpshooter. (His mouth did crook briefly into a smile as he pictured a little boy with a very big gun and his lip stuck out to there.) Two heavy sighs later and he wasn't smiling anymore.
"Vincent, go back to the den and wait for me."
"But, Cowboy ... I"
"Go. Now."
"But Chris..."
Chris surged from his chair and stalked toward his lover, grabbing the tall-backed, black lacquer ladder-chair from the wall and dropping it into the center of the room. His fingers made quick work of his belt buckle and he drew the leather from around his waist in one smooth movement. Stopping abruptly before the suddenly wide-eyed Texan, he gave him a chilling smile.
"So..." his voice purred deceptively. "You want some attention, baby boy?"
Vin swallowed.
"Hands!" The blond barked ominously.
The sharpshooter flinched slightly and complied automatically. His wrists were quickly bound together by the thin, well-worn belt, still warm from the older man's body.
Chris led him to the chair by the remaining tail of leather and pulled the tousle-haired tempter over his lap, shifting him with confidence until his position was secure.
Vin found himself balanced on toes and fingertips, thankful the belt was around his wrists and not in his lover's hand. He heard the soft "whir" of leather against denim, and felt the belt leave his waist just as the thought flew through his mind.
Vin shifted slightly. A sharp smack with an open palm against his ass stilled him.
Chris bit his bottom lip in concentration as he reached under his lover, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down quickly but carefully. A small smiled flashed over Chris' features as he felt the hard reaction to his power. He remained cognizant of it as he jerked the soft, worn denim down past the sharpshooter's hips, taking care to trap Vin's cock between his thighs to keep it from harm.
Vin sucked in a deep breath and attempted to remain still. Chris helped with a hand to the small of his back.
The other hand swept over the evenly tanned skin, rubbing gently. Occasionally a couple of fingers dipped into the crevice between the fleshly cheeks.
"God, I love your ass, Tanner. I love the color, and I love the way it turns red so evenly."
"Well yours ain't bad either, Cowboy. 'S'matter of fact, I'm kinda partial to it."
Another sharp smack landed squarely on Vin's bottom.
"Ow! Hey!"
"Hush, Vincent, or I will gag that sweet mouth," Chris said lightly, then muttered under his breath, "Cheeky little brat,"
Vin grinned.
A series of soft swats began raining down onto the upraised cheeks. Barely tapping the flesh, the bare skin of the older man's hand warmed the sumptuous bottom gently. The occasional tightening of muscles gave testimony to the pleasure the younger man was experiencing.
A slow cherry glow began to build and Chris warmed to his task, paperwork forgotten, ATF be damned. This was his "boy" and he would see to it that Vin remembered his position ... and got the attention he so obviously craved.
The blows increased in intensity, yet remained unhurried and even. Pink was edging toward red, but had a long way to go. Chris began alternating leisurely rubs with harder blows, satisfied as the cock between his thighs grew bigger still and the body on his lap began twitching a bit. Vin's breath came harder and faster, audible now in the otherwise quiet room.
Switching to the belt, he landed a gentle slap with the supple leather, allowing his charge to feel the change before beginning to, yet again, increase the power of his assault.
Vin spread his palms more firmly against the floor, gaining more purchase on his lover's lap. His hips began to move toward each blow, both relishing and dreading them.
At his own pace, Chris coaxed the hot, tight body toward a chemical release, waiting for it with a single-mindedness that had made him the best at what he did all those years ago, and still served him today. Trusting their unspoken communication, yet realizing they were testing new limits, he continued steady strokes while rubbing lightly against Vin's lower back.
"Tell me, Vin..." he coaxed quietly, his breath also slightly strained. "One to ten ... ten being more than you can stand."
A soft moan escaped. Vin swallowed and gathered his thoughts.
"...two"
"Good boy," Chris praised his obedience quickly.
Vin surprised him by mewling with renewed excitement. Chris cataloged the reaction, reminding himself that -- though strong, silent and very self-sufficient – there was a younger Vin Tanner who craved approval. A small boy lived inside the tough man and maintained the bruises to his self-worth that the foster system offered to most who were lost in its bureaucratic web.
Chris watched and listened ... his hand beginning to impose faster and harder blows. His estimation had been right on, the number in his head matching the number given by his love. He raised the intensity more quickly, now, watching Vin's breath come faster and feeling the Texan's body tighten and relax in time with his contact.
Every blow Vin rose to meet indicated he was getting closer to the mind and body-numbing download of chemicals Chris hungered for Vin to experience. "Sub-space", it was called, and Chris wanted Vin to surrender to that almost as much as he longed to bury himself deep into the bottom he was whipping. To reach that moment when endorphins over-rode the conscious mind and the body's pain response, allowing the subject to drift away to a place of peaceful ecstasy; sometimes even further than a Master's voice could reach. He yearned for Vin to let himself go that far, to leave his world behind him, trusting Chris wholly and completely.
He saw the physical change. Saw Vin strive harder to meet the smacks of the belt, to increase the sensation. Saw the tolerance increase. But, as Tanner turned his head to glance back at his lover, Chris saw his eyes and felt frustration rise ... those blue windows-to-the-sharpshooter's-soul were still focused, still impassive save his usual sexual interest and concentration against the pain.
Larabee's jaw clenched. His fist tightened on the belt. Suddenly he wanted to hurt his boy. Wanted a reaction from him that went beyond the physical. Wanted to see something from Vin that resembled a deeper emotion than "easy acceptance". His teeth ground together as he fought to keep the strikes even and consistent. He felt an errant strike begin, never allowing it to connect.
He threw down the belt.
Using his rush of adrenaline, he tossed Vin quickly onto his back in his arms, pulling him into the cradle and smashing his mouth against the lips swollen from the worrying Tanner gave them while sensation built. Vin's arms reached around his neck.
The kiss hurt. It certainly took the sharpshooter by surprise. Teeth punished lips, a whimper of protest leaving both throats.
Chris forced his muscles to work against his primal urges one more time and picked Vin up, dropping him unceremoniously onto the study sofa. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned on his heel and left the room.
A stunned and distraught Texan watched him walk away without a word.
Stalking back almost as quickly as he'd left, Larabee paused in the doorway. He growled out words he knew he had to supply, knowing they wouldn't be believed.
"It's. Not. You."
He fled with heavy footsteps and a slamming door.
Vin sat up, blinking in confusion. Staring at the empty doorway, he attempted to make sense of the last three minutes, failing miserably. He stood, readjusting his jeans before running an agitated hand through his hair.
"Its. Not. You." The words echoed through him, seeking a place to settle that would bring him some comfort, but such place didn't exist. He had done something terribly wrong, and Chris was gone.
As he walked through the vacant rooms of the sprawling ranch house, he tried to slow his racing thoughts and figure out what went wrong. He remembered playfulness, sensual pain, a bruising kiss (he fingered his lip, still tender from the abrasion of teeth against it)... and then abrupt and utter cold.
He went to the kitchen, pulled his favorite wooden spoon out of its drawer and grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer. Settling onto the cold granite of the countertop, he propped a still-booted foot onto the edge opposite and spooned the first of many, mindless mouthfuls to his smarting lips. His eyes focused far away and he shuddered, once, against the distance that called to him.
The hotel bed was hard. It didn't really matter. He wouldn't have slept, anyway. What the fuck was he doing here when Vin was confused and waiting? Maybe. If he was still there.
He should call. But he couldn't. Couldn't take the chance that he'd say something he shouldn't say, do something he would regret. Vin trusted him. Now he wasn't so sure he could be trusted.
He paced. His hair was tortured time and again by a worrying hand. He had to call, had to let him know it really, truly wasn't his fault. It was his so-called Dom's fault.
The phone rang at the ranch, over and over, his voice mail not picking up until the fifteenth ring. He called the bedroom number, the number only the Seven had. No answer. He called Vin's number. Last, fearing the endless ringing now, he called the ever-present cell phone, knowing Tanner would have to answer as a member of the Team. Only he didn't.
Suddenly, he called another number. One he knew never changed. One he dialed before he could lose his nerve.
Two rings; no more, no less.
"May I be of service?" Male, unfamiliar, somehow sexual and professional at once.
"Larabee for Sebastian."
"One moment, Sir."
Chris' heart skipped another beat.
"Canatta." The tone was familiar; deep, efficient...and slightly amused. The usually cool agent swallowed quickly and forcibly steadied his voice.
"May I visit?" Chris asked.
"You may. Do you need the jet?"
"No..." he hesitated. "Sir..."
The amusement was back. "We'll have to work on your reluctance."
"Yes, Sir."
"Much better." The voice dropped. A rumbling purr replaced the somewhat distant quality. "Come to me, Tuffy."
Chris closed his eyes and swallowed yet again. He willed his heart to slow and his nerves to steady. It was impossible. The nickname took him too far back, much too quickly.
"Yes, Sir. Thank You."
Chris wasn't surprised to find the limo waiting for him. Sebastian was known almost as well for his intelligence contacts as his consensual slave empire. Finding out on which flight Larabee would arrive was no doubt a simple matter. Chris had often wished for the same quality of information in his work.
The young-looking blond chauffeur (whom Chris knew would be no less than twenty-one) wasted no time with signs or searching glances. He, no doubt, had studied a picture of his guest in preparation. He moved directly to him with a genuine smile and a quiet, well-spoken welcome.
"Hello, Mr. Larabee, Sir. My name is Brian. Won't you please come with me?"
Chris smiled and followed, falling into old habits that were as much a part of him as his badge and gun. His thoughts went to an old question and tossed it around for a moment: would he have continued in this lifestyle if he hadn't met Sarah? He figured his desire for Vin's submission was as much of an answer as he would get.
He dozed in the comfortable embrace of the limousine's back seat, waking as it came to a stop. The pretty young man opened the door for him solicitously.
Chris offered a vague smile in thanks, distracted by the massive, elegant private club that, at one time, had fully dominated his life. His thoughts flashed to Vin and what he would think of the beautiful old house. Pain shot through him, born of the thorough mess he had made of his still-fragile relationship with his best friend, team member and soul mate.
The angel in white leather pants and sleeveless vest paused at the bottom of the steps, slightly behind and to the side of Chris, content to serve at his guest's pace. He waited in a classic, respectful pose; head up, eyes forward, hands behind him. Golden hair shown in the evening sunlight and his tanned, copper-colored throat commanded attention as it was set off beautifully by the pure white of his collar. A baroque lion, crafted in silver and holding a decorative -- and very functional -- ring in its mouth, sat firmly in the center of the specially designed restraint, announcing to all insiders that the "boy" was in training exclusively under Sebastian. A very high honor, indeed.
Chris thought of Vin again and cringed inwardly. Self-loathing threatened to overwhelm him. He suddenly took the steps two at a time. His guide stepped gracefully to the door, corded arm muscles flexing as he pulled the heavy oak open to allow Larabee to pass.
Even the elevator was a study in elegance, complete with a loveseat and table lamp suitable for comfort during even the briefest of encounters. Chris shook his head slightly. A different world. He had forgotten just how removed from the real thing it was.
The usual Larabee cool was in place fully; right up until he was led to the closed door. The suite of offices and private quarters housed the only man who could reduce him to tatters with a single glance. Brian knocked softly.
"Yes." It was an answer rather than a question.
A rolling of his belly and a slight tremor in his limbs alerted Chris to the power this man still retained over him. He took a deep, silent breath and stepped through the door that Brian held open.
The sheer authority of the man was a part of his very being. He sat behind his desk, where he had been watching the preparation for the night's dinner hour from his wall of one-way window. Chris recalled being one of the scurrying many on the restaurant floor, knowing Sebastian observed from above.
Sebastian's blue eyes followed him intently, cataloging the changes of so many years. Like a bitch checking over a pup returned to her box, he searched for differences, injury or weakness. And, like said bitch, he would cull from the litter anyone who no longer carried his scent. He needn't have worried. Even after Sarah, and now Vin, Larabee wore Sebastian's mark deep within him. Invisible, perhaps, but indelible.
The very air crackled with his power. Nothing new, but Chris had minimized it in his mind over the years. Now it hit him full out. He stood, head up, shoulders back, arms behind him, his left wrist firmly grasped in his still-trembling right hand. It wasn't fear. It was pure, elementary excitement and anticipation.
Electric blue. That's the way Chris always described those eyes. In contrast to the rest of the earthy, rugged angles of the tanned face, the windows to this man's soul were ethereal ... and very nearly always shuttered. Bluest-black hair and jet black mustache further added to the dichotomy that was Sebastian Canatta's beauty. Huge (six-four and a built two-twenty) yet elegant, powerful yet graceful, stunning but never ostentatious. He was, simply, magnificent.
His own eyes found purchase on the silent man's face and studied it as carefully as Sebastian considered him. He never seemed to age. Chris had been shocked when he learned that the one who could lead him to mindless devotion was years younger than he. Surprised again, now, to realize he looked exactly the same as he had the last time they'd met. He fought a small, somewhat hysterical smile as he imagined himself in a fantasy, some author's play of intimacy in ink, where men never aged, love never died and sadness rarely lasted. But believing in fairy tales had died with Adam.
"Shhh, Tuffy," the voice was cultured yet strong, deeply masculine, somehow comforting. "You'll find your way again soon enough."
Larabee lowered his eyes and willed the shaking to cease. He focused on the toe of the boot Sebastian wore and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
"That's it." The fluttering in the blond's stomach returned with the dark man's soft rumble of praise, but he had regained strength of body and some clarity of mind. "You may speak."
Chris cleared his throat as silently as possible. "Thank You, Sir. It's good to see you." Yes, keep it light, Larabee ... see if he'll go along.
"And you, Chris." The amusement was back.
Bastard.
"I ..." Chris cleared his throat audibly this time and tried again, throwing some Larabee steel into it, hoping to at least get out a full sentence. "I need your help, Sebastian."
There, it was out on the table, and the use of his mentor – and one-time Master's – first name gave hint that, at some point, they would be speaking master to master. Sebastian was well aware that Larabee was a dominant. After all, he had trained him. But even an Alpha wolf sometimes finds himself face to face with a male stronger than himself, and this man would always be that to Chris.
Sebastian shook his head slightly, a minute smile on his lips. He knew what it had taken the blond to come back to him; knew how hard it was now for him to stand before him, stripped of all defenses and unsure of what was to come. Whatever his current torments, he knew it would end in a life-changing turn.
He could go two ways to make it easier on Chris. As usual, he chose the way that would please himself the most. He edged his voice with a fine layer of steel and, without a change of expression or posture, lit the ember he had buried long ago in the flint-eyed magnificence before him.
"Strip for inspection, Christopher."
Chris did not hesitate. His eyes raised to his old friend, mentor and – if truth be told – Master, and his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. His gaze remained steady as he had been taught, and his movements became surer with each bit of skin revealed. He began to lose himself to the process.
The air chilled patches of skin as they were revealed. His nipples, already erect due simply to Sebastian's presence, tightened and puckered still more as they responded to the cool waft from the air conditioning. His skin prickled slightly as he pulled the shirt from his slacks and folded it neatly, placing it on a nearby chair. He continued his matter-of-fact strip tease, neither rushing nor wasting time. Sebastian's command had been clear. He was undressing for inspection, not for entertainment. He shuddered softly as he slipped deeper into the proper state of mind.
He assumed the "inspect" position, one into which he had barked countless numbers of suspects and arrestees throughout his years in law enforcement. Legs spread somewhat more than shoulder-width, he raised his hands to the back of his head and interlaced his fingers. Arching his back almost imperceptibly, he straightened his posture while simultaneously and subtly accenting his chest and genitals. It all came back to him in a rush and he breathed deeply.
Sebastian was still for long moments, watching and waiting. His keen mind sorted through snapshots of the past while fully cognizant of the treasure he had before him in the present. Christopher Larabee had not left his thoughts since the first time he had laid eyes on him. Having him back in his lair was not a gift he would take lightly. He knew, however, that it would be a short-lived pleasure. His boy had something on his mind, and the dark man intuitively knew it involved love. He smiled with his usual aplomb and mentally shrugged. He would take what he could get, while he could get it. He always did, after all.
Vin started as a dollop of cream fell off the spoon onto the counter between his legs. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head to clear it.
" ... the fuck!!?" His thoughts took a decided turn and he jumped off the countertop, throwing ice cream carton and spoon into the sink. "Get yer shit together, Tanner. You ain't 'poor little helpless Vin' anymore."
Grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch he stormed out the door with as much temper as his boss had earlier. His only concession to the "relationship" he and Chris had supposedly begun was the flicking on of the green-bulbed light that hung outside the barn, signaling the teenager down the road that Chris was away and the animals would need tending.
His jeep protested as he spewed gravel, turning and heading back out the driveway toward town.
Sebastian rose after allowing plenty of time for his recent 're'-acquisition to process the situation in which he found himself. The sculpted body before him was beautifully honed, as always, though slightly more scarred than most. Chris remained perfectly still. The dark observer watched as his pet's cock betrayed the excitement he was feeling. He'd always loved the blond curls at the base of the heavy member, and he couldn't wait to reacquaint himself with every inch of that striking body.
He stopped as he rounded the desk and reached a well-manicured hand to the intercom. His eyes never left Larabee's.
"No calls until further notice, Brian."
"Yes, Sir."
He walked forward slowly, a hand slipping into the pocket of his tailored, thousand-dollar slacks. He, as usual, indulged himself , raising the other to his blond's face, tenderly smoothing a knuckle down Chris' cheek. Stepping within hair's breadth of the carefully breathing man, Sebastian murmured an unexpected caress.
"I've missed you, Tuff."
Chris closed his eyes for a split second, opening them again to find the sapphire eyes assessing him with intensity. He swallowed, mentally forcing down the defenses that longed to draw him back to reality; back to Chris Larabee, ATF agent, and vanilla male. He remained silent, answering the affection with his eyes.
Sebastian stepped back and began to walk around him, studying his body with careful regard. A gentle, yet merciless, palm reached out to stroke against a muscle in his back, slick down a tight thigh, knead a flexed bicep; to press gently at an odd bruise on his pale hip. Mouth was at ear, warmth from behind accenting the chill from the front.
"Hurt?" The question soft, the probing of the minor contusion gentle.
"No, Sir."
"Work?"
"No, Sir. Barn."
Sebastian smiled to himself and suddenly pictured his boy in a harness. To impale him on a nice, palomino tail ...
He drew himself back to the issues at hand and palmed a fleshy cheek firmly. "Be more careful with my body while you're here. I want to be the only cause of bruises." He allowed his lips to brush the shell of the blond's ear, bumping it gently again with his nose as he felt the slight quiver of his boy's muscles in reaction.
"Yes, Sir."
"Present."
The command was given as matter-of-factly as he knew Sebastian to be. Larabee hated it, this position. Always had. The dark man, of course, knew this. Chris flushed deeply as he bent at the waist and slid his hands down over his buttocks, spreading his cheeks for whatever use his Master might have of him. Right now it was simply to look at him...and to break remaining resistance.
Larabee was slightly surprised. Neither Sebastian nor he used the position, much. His mentor was fond of saying that he found it more suitable for an Army physical than sexual attraction. Every once in awhile, however, he'd break it out to teach a young upstart his place. Chris had been amazingly respectful, considering the circumstances, so he knew this was simply a show of control. He complied ... and tried to stop thinking.
He gasped in shock as a slick, gloved finger entered him smoothly. Only years of training and self-discipline kept him from stumbling.
"Good." Sebastian's voice was surprisingly hoarse. He stepped forward, pressing his cloth-covered dick against the blond's hip, moving his hand to press against Larabee's sweet spot. His free hand went slid beneath Chris' chest, urging him back to a standing position.
Chris felt himself go hot. A rush of sensation bloomed in his belly and spread to his limbs. Heaviness filled him and the tug at his senses increased.
Sebastian's hand went to the proud beauty's chin, raising it, one long finger stroking the juncture of chin and throat. He continued the press – the thorough violation – of Chris' ass as he watched the emotions play across the handsome features.
"Who is he?"
Chris blinked, knowing he had to answer, but astonished at the question. Had he been that transparent or was Sebastian keeping watch on his life? Thoughts spiraled out of control in seconds, heart split between giving it all up to this man who was stronger, and taking it all back for benefit of the man who, he hoped, waited for him in Denver. So tempting to give up...but his job, the case, the...
"Answer me, Tuffy." How could such a softly spoken request be such a threat? He suddenly empathized with the men in his command.
Another finger joined the first. Chris gasped, the answer coming with the sharp exhalation.
"Vin! Vin Tanner," he panted.
A third, pushing deep.
Chris cried out. Sebastian's teeth found the lobe of his ear and tugged.
"Do you love, him, Christopher?"
Deeper.
"Ah! Yes, Sir!" He forced it out on yet another gasp. Chris was confused, lost in sensation; in the thought of Vin and the reality of Sebastian.
The trim, lightly tanned body shuddered, yet remained in near perfect pose. Sebastian stroked the smooth column of flesh at Larabee's throat and whispered an unintelligible something into the nearby ear.
"Have you trained him to behave as well as you do, Tuff?"
He twisted his hand.
"Sir!" Still another gasp. "Not y..y.yet."
Chris clenched his jaw tightly. He closed his eyes, mentally shaking his head harshly.
"Let me in, Tuffy. You're fighting me." The words were more of a stroke than the hand at his neck.
A fourth finger invaded the taut body, stretching him wide, slowly working deeper. A whimper left the throat of the usually reserved blond. His legs threatened to tremble him to his knees. He swallowed painfully.
"Down." The steel in the tone warned Chris that Sebastian was getting impatient with his lingering vestiges of defiance.
The shaking blond dropped gracefully to his knees, tightening his ass impossibly and choking on a breath as the fingers remained steady inside of him. Sebastian followed him down, allowing him room to assume the position required by the command. Head resting on forearms which crossed on the floor; bottom in the air; knees spread wide, Chris balanced himself more securely and forced himself to relax.
Sebastian solidified his own arrangement, and slowly began to rock his hand, preparing his pet for the entrance yet to come. Cognizant of the deep, even breaths exhibited by the only favorite he'd ever allowed himself to have, he drew Chris deeper into a place only he could take him.
"That's it, baby. I'm right here, right beside you again. You're safe, Tuffy."
Deep, husky tones whispered words he'd forgotten he longed to hear. Promises; some he'd never had fulfilled except with this man. Excitement; offered and delivered. And the headiest of all, safety. A security like none he'd felt since he walked away so long ago.
Responsibility fell away like a cloak he was tired of wearing. His heart lifted, his mind dulled. Feelings overrode all ..
A blast of fire hit Sebastian.
"Good boy." The praise reached to the deepest part of Chris.
Chris moaned with restless abandon, pushing back minutely on the hand that was stretching him fully. Another deep whimper escaped as he felt the tight ring of muscle at his anus close slowly around the wrist now buried inside it.
His mouth opened. He panted and shook, his heart pounding into his ears and further fuzzing his thoughts.
"Ah Tuffy ... so beautiful."
A sob born of overwhelming sensation filled the room, Chris never noticing it came from his lips. Sebastian closed his eyes for a brief moment, his face hardening a fraction later. Pushing deeper, getting rougher, he brought the golden man before him closer to the edge.
A few experimental strokes and he was fucking him, moving back and forth by inches, his fist clenched tightly. His pet moaned deeply with each thrust forward, gasping at the pull against his prostate each time the arm threatened to withdraw.
"Yes, pet ... yes. Soon."
Chris cried out loudly, only the small part of his mind that sought his Master's voice still functioning. He was flying, gloriously lost.
"Come for me, Tuffy." The strain in the whisper was devoured by the heat of the moment, and Chris obeyed, oblivious to the subtle pain in the deep voice.
Chris' cry filled the soundproof room for the sole edification of his Master. Panting harshly, his shout softened to a whimper as his shaking body fought to take still more of the invasive flesh. His world narrowed to the man beside him, as familiar now as he had been so many years ago.
His mouth opened to form Sebastian's name, his training overriding the need. His moan came from somewhere inside of him that he believed long dead, and – suddenly – he was reduced to sobs of release. Soft words accompanied careful withdrawal; murmured sounds of comfort that filled the spaces just emptied by his spilling seed and retreating tormentor. As he returned to the room, his body renewed itself, adjusting to the loss with resilient ease.
Boots appeared before him. Somewhere he found the strength to lay his lips reverently against the slick surface of each before regaining the position into which he was last commanded.
Sebastian returned to his desk. His deep rumble soothed over Larabee's tangled nerves, and he offered a respite for his pet's tired limbs. "Face down."
Chris sighed softly and stretched his body carefully, lying prone on the floor. Rotating his arms, palms faced upward, he turned his head to the side and stretched his legs wide. He sighed again, gratefully. Forcibly turning away any thought that did not relate to the Master sitting a few feet away, he meditated on what he had just experienced, and basked in the physical afterglow, his ass still pulsing subtly, deeply inside.
He was dozing lightly when the command which he hoped for came. His stomach flipped, his semi-hard cock filling quickly.
"Christopher. Collar present."
Cognizant of the dark man's preferences, he rose eagerly to his feet, easing panther-like around the desk.
He dropped to his knees again immediately upon reaching Sebastian. Back straight, head up, eyes down, Chris found himself so eager for the feel of leather around his neck that he began to fear it.
Vin's smile flashed fleetingly through his mind. He shuddered.
Sebastian reached into his desk, retrieving from it a simple, yet stunning, ebony box. A gold plate, engraved with Chris' name, shone as the solitary embellishment of the elegant container. With a discipline developed since he was a small child, Canatta stilled the trembling of his hand before reaching in to remove the symbol of Larabee's submission.
Chris broke training. In a moment reminiscent of so many times before, he raised his eyes to the bright blue gaze of the man before him. It was a defiance Sebastian accepted only from him. One in which the Master secretly delighted.
Sebastian gently settled the smooth leather around the proud, smooth column of Chris' throat. Slipping the button-hole cut over the lock ring in back, he snapped shut a tiny padlock. His palm remained cupped warmly over the flushed blond's neck.
Larabee's breath left him in a shaking rush. Eyes shone with a suspicious sheen until he closed them reflexively.
Biting his lip, he remained still with effort.
"You may speak." The steady voice was little more than a whisper.
"Thank you, Sir, for allowing me to come back."
Sebastian stroked the blond hair softly, carding his fingers through the silky layers.
"Tuffy ..." He paused. "There will always be a place by my side for you. I've made that clear to you in the past. Before you leave here, expect punishment for causing me to repeat myself yet again."
Chris swallowed. "Yes, Sir."
"Let's make it Sebastian for awhile."
Chris smiled. It was an honor reserved for very few.
"Yes, Sebastian."
"Service me."
Chris licked his lips and reached purposefully yet eagerly for Sebastian's zipper. Clever hands made short work of the fastenings, pulling the crisp bit of cotton dress shirt from his waistband. Pressing his mouth to the revealed flesh of the rock-hard abdomen, Larabee suckled gently. His lips curled slightly at the soft intake of breath from the dark man.
Fingers slipped the large, familiar cock from its confinement, then circled and kneaded the muscles in the small of the strong back. Teasing the tip with the flat of his tongue, Larabee began a thorough bathing of the warm, salty dick.
Sebastian widened his legs and sunk further in his chair. He gave himself over to the amazing talent of his precious boy. Eyes closed, head dropping back, he silently acknowledged the expected pain of Chris Larabee's visit before pushing it aside to revel in the blond's expert attentions.
Beck sat back and watched, still but for the toe of his boot that occasionally tugged on the nipple clamps his blond bitch wore. He always watched first and in this one he saw It; the quality he valued above most others. Stoic acceptance. But watching was alright for now. This was, after all, a very serious business.
He snapped his fingers and held up his glass. The girl scrambled to fill it. He sipped the cola and squelched the urge to roll his eyes. Coke. Ridiculous. He'd never understand why these people believed a single glass of wine was so dangerous to "dungeon safety". How very indicative of the way the clientele were treated as children or something. Slipping the flask surreptitiously from his pocket, he added a healthy splash of rum to the bland, discount drink while the rooms' attention was focused on the cross.
Bound and blindfolded, this new young leather boy really was beautiful. Chestnut hair shone in the crude track lights, long enough to beg for a hand to pull and torment it. Padded leather covered eyes that had earlier gazed blue and steady into the crowd, and emphasized the pout of those incredible lips, constantly wet from his restless tongue. His body was lean and hard, and his reactions, perfect. The Observer liked a quiet masochist, and the man on display flat out made him hard.
In fact, the forty-something yuppie decided, this one is going home with me. His ego supported his decision, never once allowing margin for the wishes of the beautifully suffering sub. No one ever denied Beck. No one.
Vin licked his lips again and flexed his muscles, steadying himself the best that he could for the blow to come. He could feel the acid gathering in his muscles, knew his body was busy producing chemicals to deal with the assault. He was busy processing every blow, every step Alex took behind and to the side of him. He listened for the sounds around him and winced when the strike connected. He heard Alex say something, but at the same moment, the obnoxious redhead in the corner guffawed and he couldn't make out the words.
Suddenly his body went taut and he cried out, more from the unexpected shock than the pain itself. His mind registered immediately that this particular hurt wasn't in the program.
His fists clenched. Shutting down his immediate reaction with the same speed that made him a successful sharpshooter, he hissed between clenched teeth, making certain Alex could hear him.
"Cramp. Right calf"
His release was accomplished with blinding speed, and he began to walk off the constricted muscle. He sent a rueful smile to his concerned friend and limped off to find a bottle of water.
Done with a quick pit stop, he paused outside the bathroom door to do a little prep work. Leaning against the wall, palms flat, arms straight, he began to stretch carefully. He wasn't ready for the night to end, and he intended to make sure there were no further interruptions.
The sudden sting was one unexpected assault too many in a confusing and tiring night. He turned toward the man behind him, ready to find the fight he'd been looking for all night. The syringe came into view just as his vision began to blur. His eyes looked toward the main room and he silently moaned. From this angle, no one at all could see them. It was his last conscious thought before the blur became a black hole.
Sebastian watched Chris closely, recognizing the signs of deep dissociation. The blond looked like he had just been hosed down; hair drenched with sweat and plastered to his scalp. His hazel eyes were closed in sensation overload, and his keening whimpers escaped without his knowledge. Tears of which Chris was equally unaware flowed down the blond's relaxed, supple cheeks as he hung in his cuffs, past standing fully on his own.
Canatta was equally as sweat drenched, his chosen cotton lounge pants clinging to his muscular thighs and buttocks. His heart beat steadily and he reveled in the pulse between his legs. His tempo increased, and he began to apply the harsh leather flogger with more deliberate intent.
Larabee's body tightened subtly and began to rock more fully into each stroke. Adrenaline mixed with endorphins, and the blond began to once again participate fully in the dance. Sebastian was aware of the hazel eyes, now almost emerald, watching him in the mirror before them. He stole a quick glance, praising with his gaze, while maintaining total concentration toward the task at hand. Skillfully, he brought the man at his mercy to a pinnacle.
Chris' body arched forward as sensation overwhelmed him. Limbs tight, eyes squeezed shut, he shuddered with a mixture of emotional and physical release. It went beyond orgasm. Truthfully, it could not be called sexual at all. Yet it left Larabee gasping and limp, held upright only by the carefully structured wrist, ankle and chest restraints that cradled him in their leather grasp.
Sebastian's sapphire eyes flashed nearly black as a rush of power ran through him. He breathed deeply, fully aware of every nuance of his pet's reactions.
The satisfied Dom began the lengthy process of bringing Chris back to earth, whip slowing in measured increments until replaced by Sebastian's stroking hands. Supporting the gradually stirring blond with a steady grip, Canatta made short work of cuffs and straps, easing his pet into his arms.
Chris would have curled against the Dom's broad chest had his muscles not refused to do as he asked. He was only just now becoming fully aware of his surroundings. He couldn't seem to keep tears from his eyes, and his fondest wish of the moment involved his exhausted body fully engulfed by more than capable arms.
Flash to Vin and his bewildered eyes. God, what a mess.
An uncontrollable sob left his throat and he found the strength to throw his arms around Sebastian's neck. Suddenly years of frustration, hurt and anger overflowed in a torrent of hot tears. His body heaved with racking cries as the dark Dom lowered them both into a warm bath.
Rocking his pet gently, he whispered words of praise and comfort, ignoring his own sadness caused by Larabee's outpouring of pain. He tucked the blond head under his chin and sighed silently, his breath catching slightly.
Sebastian settled in for a long wait, whispering an inaudible promise. If he found that this 'Vin Tanner' had purposely caused his pet's misery, the man would have hell's own fury to face.
Vin lay still even as he woke, instantly recalling his last few moments of consciousness. Choking back an ironic, laughing sob, he suddenly was so weary he couldn't even care. What a night...and maybe his last.
He was aware of echoing quiet, realizing he was naked, cold and restrained. The sounds of blowing air from a vent or two created a background hum, and he registered that the room must be fairly large. He had no sense of anyone nearby, so he cautiously opened his eyes just enough to look around quickly.
The room he was in appeared to be a crude dungeon. Cartoonish stones painted on rough concrete walls attempted to create a look of old world castle. They failed spectacularly.
A wrought iron chandelier glowed above him with flame shaped yellow bulbs. He turned his head, wincing at the drag of pulsing blood against his temples, and scanned the contents of the room. Most were standard nouveau-Dom and only a few caused him immediate concern.
His wrists tugged carefully at the cuffs that surrounded them, finding them sturdy and comfortable enough. His ankles chafed where tough leather stretched against thin skin, and he tried again to ignore how wide-spread his legs were, and how vulnerable it made him.
Currents of air shifted as a door opened above and behind him, confirming he was in a basement of some sort. The air stirred a breeze across his naked body, cooling the steel of the table on which he lay and causing an uncontrollable shiver.
The pinched features of a white male, mid-forties, balding and pudgy came into view. Crawling behind him, complete with a leash and a leather contraption of which even Batman would be proud, a fleshy bleached blonde meowed like a cat and stropped against the villain's legs.
Vin again fought to control a burst of hysterical laughter. He felt like he was in a bad porno movie with a cast of characters directly from the pages of a comic book. Tanner's eyes met those of his captor's, their blue depths' turning black and icy.
"Let me go. Now."
"Now now, hush slave or I will gag you."
"Hush, Vincent, or I will gag that sweet mouth." Had it really been that long since he'd been bent warm and safe over Chris' lap?"
"You were so quiet on the St. Andrews Cross. Don't disappoint me now with foolish and undisciplined prattle," the stranger was continuing.
"Mister, I am not your, or anyone else's ,slave. Now let. Me. Up."
"Ahh, I see. The reluctant servant game," the older man chuckled.
The slap that resounded against Vin's cheek, leaving an instant hand print, had nothing of the man's amusement in it. The insipid eyes of the smirking stranger had become comically hard, his expression obviously drawn from some fantasy Dom in his own mind.
"It is Master, and you've earned that gag. I play the games I want to play when I want to play them!" The weak-chinned man spat the words out and Vin fought back a wave of nausea as spittle connected with his cheek.
It took only minutes to arrange Tanner in a pose that suited the twisted psyche of Vin's captor. Mouth gagged with a foul tasting ball, legs spread wide and secured back to his chest with rudimentary rope, Vin gave into his helplessness with an apathy bred by one kick too many.
This time I'm just gonna stay down.
Vin's eyes focused on the ceiling above as he felt the "Master" climb onto the table between his legs. Harsh hands began pinching and twisting his skin, clamping painful bits between the jagged teeth of plastic clothespins. Purely physiological tears spilled intermittently down the Texan's cheeks.
Vin's thoughts drifted to Chris, trying to picture the hazel eyes and focus on their strength. He had almost succeeded when a sharp pain pulled him back to the cold of the damp basement. He gasped reflexively, instantly angered at himself for giving his tormentor the satisfaction.
Ruthless steel clamps snapped shut on his nipples and Vin felt the skin rip slightly. He choked on a cry as the chain connecting the clips was jerked high and fastened to the dog collar the madman somehow thought was Tanner's thrill to be wearing.
Vin took what small comfort he could by clenching his teeth against the plastic in his mouth. Closing his eyes tightly, he waited for the pain that was to come.
Beck smiled with satisfaction, working his own semi-hard dick with a calloused hand. "Come on, come on," he ground out with clenched teeth.
The middle-aged man reached beyond his paunch and yanked at the chain connected to his "pet's" chest. The stifled cry his captive offered finished the job on his temperamental prick and he quickly took advantage of it before it could deflate.
Vin's muffled scream filled the huge room, echoing off the cold, rough walls and coming back to mock him. His dry, tight asshole flared with unimaginable pain as the huge penis of his kidnapper plunged deeply into his anus so quickly he was unable even to clamp his muscles against it. Hot, sticky fluid dripped between his cheeks, it's metallic odor alerting Vin to the tear that his misery had already announced.
Tanner's mind swam in darkness, flashes of lights filling his vision, and for a moment he believed he'd be spared by blessed darkness. But brutal in and out sawing began, and the renewed, razor-sharp agony kept him fully conscious, with a starring role in whatever pending anguish the middle-aged bastard had in mind.
For a brief moment Larabee's features filled the Texan's mind; a memory of a gentle moment. But Vin's battered soul turned on him even then, and a second man filled the frame. He lay helplessly, unable to stop the cries of torment that left him, as – in his mind's eye – Chris Larabee and Alex Steven's deliberately drew together, their mouths devouring each other, as they watched the Vin split apart by the huge dick of a madman.
Chris sat relaxed at Sebastian's feet, blond head resting against the solid presence of the dark man's leg. His fingers played idly with the Dom's calf and ankle, and his eyes were closed in delicious lassitude.
Canatta's strong fingers carded lightly through his "boy's" golden hair, and he, too, relished the soothing quiet of his private quarters. He reminded himself the arrangement was temporary, and – reluctantly – addressed the issue they'd both avoided discussing.
"Talk to me, Tuffy." 'Bastian's deep voice stroked as readily as his fingers.
Chris stretched a leg out and sighed, rubbing his head against Sebastian's fingers and gathering his thoughts.
"His name is Vin Tanner, and he gave himself to me." Larabee's voice was quiet and hoarse. "He's been my best friend since the day we met, and he's also one of my agents."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow and his hand stilled for a moment, finally returning to the gentle stroke and tug he enjoyed as much as his pets. He waited for a moment, then pulled slightly harder when Chris seemed to have lost himself in memories.
Chris blushed. "Sorry, Sir. Just thinking."
"Less thought, more words, Christopher."
"Yes, Sir."
Chris paused, gathered his thoughts quickly, and continued.
"Vin's eyes are something else. The first time we met we were after the same target in a warehouse in Denver. He was a bounty hunter then. His gaze met mine and I felt like I had just come face to face with the other half of me."
"I fought it for a long time. So did Vin. A few weeks ago I took another of my team into a session to work out some demons. It ... relit a spark, I suppose you could say. Shortly thereafter, in what was either a practical joke on God's part or just one hell of a coincidence, my superiors came to me with a sticky case involving a small, local BDSM club. I jumped at the chance to go undercover, Vin posing as my leather boy."
Chris rubbed his cheek against the strong fingers that gently caressed his face. He sighed, trying to remain neutral and unemotional as he relayed the details. Sebastian murmured a quiet encouragement.
"When I dismissed the meeting Vin bolted on me. Didn't come back that day and I was sure he was off somewhere planning my demise...or thinking about running permanently."
"Anyway, when I got home that night I'll be damned if he wasn't there waiting. He's been in my bed almost every night since, and there's no mistaking the roles we've chosen."
"The other night, though, I.... I created some drama." Chris took a deep breath and suddenly felt very unsure of himself, his anxiety owing as much to the fear of Sebastian's disappointment as to his disgust at his own actions.
"I don't know what happened, 'Bastian!" Chris flowed to his feet and went to the window. Sebastian allowed it, recognizing the need for Chris to put himself back onto level ground. The blond head rested against the cool glass and his pet was lost in memory.
"I had him over my lap, warming his ass with his own belt to get out some of his restlessness and suddenly I wanted to hurt him. I mean, really hurt him, Sebastian. He was laying there dancing under my hands and reacting so beautifully, physically; but his eyes... those beautiful, amazing eyes. They just looked around the room like he was memorizing the furniture! He wants the control ...he wants to surrender, but ... I don't think he can. And suddenly it all felt totally overwhelming and I just wanted simple and I ... damn I just ran, Sebastian. I kissed him like I wanted to rip his lips off and I dumped him on the sofa and ... I ran. I mean I fucked up two ways from Sunday as a Dom, a friend, a lover... every way there is."
Sebastian cataloged the rise of ire he instantly felt at Chris' confession, vowing to himself to handle the source promptly when this discussion had ended. He focused on the hurting man across from him, his mind already beginning to work out the problem the blond had presented him.
"He didn't answer his phone after that," Larabee continued. "Not even his dedicated work line. So he's out there, somewhere, confused and wondering what he did, even though I told him it wasn't him. And I came here, not even sure why, except that I screwed up so badly and I need...." His voice faltered and he sighed, heavily. "Hell, I don't know what I need."
"Sure you do, Chris. You know exactly what you need. You're just not willing to admit it. Nothing new, there. You hate dramatic revelations, always have."
Chris turned and looked at him, watching the dark man with hungry eyes; hungry for his steadying presence, his wisdom...his strength. Sebastian watched back, just waiting.
Long minutes passed. The soft "tick" of the grandfather clock's second hand kept time with the shifting puzzle pieces in Chris' head. Their gaze never wavered from the other's as the blond sorted and discarded, rearranged and tried new fits. All was still, not a muscle moved, not a sigh was expelled. When Chris finally spoke, his whisper was tormented.
"I'm scared."
Sebastian's tiny, gentle smile was a balm. "Of?" The dark man coaxed quietly.
"Loss."
Vin lay listlessly in his bonds, watching the flickering bulbs of the chandelier create irregular patterns on the ceiling. He hurt. He hurt so badly. He blinked and took a moment to be grateful that his legs had gone to sleep. Better that than a return of the cramp that had assailed him earlier. He knew there would be no release if it happened again.
His neutral expression slipped from his control for a moment as the annoying rasp of the blond "kittens" tongue licked his asshole again. Disgust, pain, irony...he figured his eyes showed it all. He certainly felt it all, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the shutters in place.
He just wished the guy would do something really stupid and accidentally finish him off. Vin didn't think he'd be let go, and he didn't know how much more he could take without permanently giving in to the darkness that was calling to him still, had been since the moment Chris had dropped him on his ass and walked away.
The bitch between his legs kept licking, no doubt trying to drink his blood the hard way. He really wished she'd quit. It hurt.
The soft "pop shoosh" of a match being lit reached his ears first, the sharp smell of sulfur shortly afterward. Forcing his head to turn slightly, Vin saw the man he was going to kill if the fat, bald animal didn't kill him first, lighting a small brazier. He watched dispassionately as the bastard put a plain old straightened wire clothes hanger into the flame as he wheeled the portable cart that the brazier rested on over to the table on which Vin lay. That explained the precise line of slightly blackened scars that ringed the blonde's thigh, looking so much like just the outer edge of one of those safety-pin bracelets kids wore. A collar of brandings, he guessed.
Vin closed his eyes and clamped his lips and teeth down harder on the gag, fighting the onslaught of tears. Wow, that surprised him. He thought he was beyond giving a shit what happened next.
The blonde's coked-up eyes watched eagerly and she climbed down from between Vin's legs. "The Dead Man" as Vin had decided to call him, looked feverish in his delightful anticipation.
"Now, my slave, I shall mark the auspicious occasion of our first time with a little permanent reminder. I do so love to keep good records. Each time your tight little ass takes my big, hard cock – does that excite you, pet? mmmmmm – I'll make a mark. It won't be long until you have a full set all the way around your thighs. Titillating, isn't it my pet?"
Vin's eyes just stared at The Dead Man, hatred that should have caused the man to piss himself shining from their now-black depths. Instead, the idiot that was his captor laughed and patted his arm in some ridiculous gesture of comfort.
"Now, now ... you're going to love this."
The Dead Man shocked Vin by coming around to his head and unbuckling the gag. It pulled with a wet, hollow sound from Tanner's mouth, and Vin moaned almost inaudibly as his worn-out jaws closed together for the first time in hours.
"I like the sounds my pets make during this little ritual."
Suddenly Vin truly registered what was about to happen and panic rose up within him. It wasn't the burning, (though that terrified him, too) but the thought of wearing this animal's mark that fueled his rebellion. The skin at his wrists tore as he tried to rip them from the cuffs there, and the rope burned splinters into thighs and calves where the crude fibers kept him wide open.
The Dead Man shrieked like a woman, unprepared for the instantaneous violence exhibited in the body on the table. He picked a riding crop up off the floor and began beating Vin's cock and balls, yelling chaotically at Vin to stop. Tanner fought and cursed with feral ferocity while an ever rational part of his brain recorded the irony that dictated that the one thing this moron was good at was tying knots.
As quickly as the struggle had begun, the exhausted, overwhelmed lassitude that paralyzed Vin before, returned. He slumped against the table, bleeding from wrist, thigh and calf, cock and balls already swelling from the beating they had just received, and closed his eyes in defeat. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and turned his head to the side, utterly conquered.
Sharp blows to his captured limbs rained down on Vin as The Dead Man worked out his fury. Yelling incoherently about "mine!" and "bad slave", the stranger worked himself into a frenzy, stopping the beating only when he could no longer catch his breath.
Stalking to the brazier, The Dead Man picked up the red hot hanger with a pot holder and abruptly placed it on Vin's thigh. He held it there, eyes still flashing with rage.
Vin arched his back, his body in spasm, and screamed. Finally – mercifully – blackness engulfed him.
The crack of a handgun. The smell of cordite. Hands on him. Trying to struggle. A familiar scent. Pain. Searing, soul-reaming agony. Blackness.
Pain. God he hurt. He wasn't sure he could move. Hadn't tried yet. Hadn't opened his eyes. But...he smelled Chris.
He tried to shut his hopes down. Knew it was probably his imagination. But it was a mattress beneath him, not cold steel, and he was covered. He wasn't restrained. He swallowed experimentally.
Suddenly a gentle hand stroked hair from his face and the scent of Chris got stronger. Chris was here. Vin was safe. Blue eyes fluttered open. Green eyes - hurt, anxious, guilty - were waiting. Tanner held Larabee's gaze steadily for a moment, expression shuttered, then closed his eyes. As he was slipping back into sleep, he thought, again, "I'm safe", then wondered if he would ever feel safe again.
"Hey cowboy." Chris' voice was soft and warm at his side the next time Vin woke up. "Welcome back to the world."
"Hey." Vin's voice was hoarse with unuse. "How long?"
Chris' hand stroked the damp hair at the sharpshooter's temple. His other hand reached out to take Vin's, fingers interlacing.
"Two days or so."
"The guy?"
"Dead."
Vin's eyes closed against something that felt suspiciously like vengeance. Memories flowed through him and he grasped desperately at anything that would ground him, give him a sense of security.
He saw Chris stalking toward him that night that seemed so long ago, playful danger in his eyes. Felt the blond's hands and leather on his ass. Remembered the cold as the black boots turned and walked away...
He shuddered.
"Cold, baby?" Chris asked gently.
Vin turned soul-weary eyes to his boss and shook his head no. He turned his gaze away from the pain he saw in Larabee's, glancing around the room to get his bearings. Chris' bedroom.
He shifted. "Gotta piss."
Chris' lip kicked up in an effort to smile. "It'll pass. You're cathed Doc should be here in an hour or so to check on ya and take it out, if you're up."
"Thanks. For bringing me here."
Chris swallowed, tears in his eyes. Vin's voice was distant, his eyes blank. And Chris knew he was to blame.
"Vin, I..."
"Gonna sleep, Chris." Tanner interrupted.
"Yeah, okay, pard. You sleep."
Chris got up for the first time in hours, stretching tight limbs and making his way to the kitchen for more coffee. Halfway there he paused in the hallway to redecorate, the diameter of his fist and the new hole in the wall oddly matching.
The doctor came and went, releasing Vin from the bonds of the catheter and declaring him on the mend. He reminded Chris, again, of their agreement, handing him a schedule of appointments for Vin to keep over the next three weeks. Only as Chris was walking him to the door did the savvy physician also produce the prescription for a mild painkiller to the ATF leader..
"For your fist." And he left.
Chris balled up the hastily scrawled 'scrip and tossed it in the trash as he set about making some soup and crackers for Vin. His movements were stiff and automatic, his thoughts fully occupied with how to make things right between his lover and him.
The unease each time Vin woke was palpable. Chris was sure it was more him than Vin. His lover didn't seem to be feeling much at all. Larabee grimaced and felt the flood of tension and regret and anger at himself gathering, again, between his shoulders.
He walked into the bedroom, nearly dropping the tray when he saw Vin on his hands and knees near the bathroom. Placing lunch on the dresser, he moved swiftly to the worn-out Texan and crouched next to him.
"Vin, honey, you tryin' to scare the hell outta me some more?" Chris teased gently.
"Godamnit! Ain't about you, Larabee." Vin snarled.
Chris jerked like he had been stuck. He silently helped Vin to his feet and into the bathroom, releasing the shaky form when Tanner pulled his arm away weakly.
Vin finished his business and just barely glanced at Chris, allowing the devastated blond to help him back to the bed out of sheer helplessness. In moments Vin was asleep again.
Chris carried the lunch tray back to the kitchen, throwing it into the sink. Slamming a palm down on the edge of counter, he braced himself on rigid arms and hung his head, breaking down into gulping sobs over what he had thrown away.
A soft whimper split the pre-dawn silence and Chris was instantly awake, leaning forward from his chair beside the bed and watching his friend closely. Vin sighed restlessly, still asleep but no doubt caught again in a nightmare. Tousled brown hair spread out on the pillow as Tanner tossed his head once. It had been the same each night for the last ten days, and Chris also followed a trusted ritual.
The tired blond reached out carefully, rubbing Vin's arm with gentle, measured strokes.
"Come on, cowboy. Come back to me. You're safe and warm and getting well. Nobody here to hurt you, pard." Chris purred as best he could despite his scratchy throat. "Wake up, Vin."
Vin sighed again and his body arched slightly. His eyes fluttered open and he locked gazes with his boss, leader ... and lover. Sudden tears filled Vin's haunted pools of blue and, for the first time since Larabee had carried him from Beck's, the hurting Texan reached out for Chris.
On a shock, relieved sound of his own, Chris gathered Vin into his arms, slipping onto the bed and drawing the bundle of weeping release against him. He rocked Tanner slowly, murmuring nonsense words of comfort and promising with everything that was inside of him that he would fix it all; the nightmares, the pain and – most importantly – them.
Vin wept, shaking and shuddering and clinging to Chris like a lifeline. Finally exhausted, the Texan curved his body still closer and surrendered to sleep, Larabee following right after with an ease he had not felt in days.
Chris closed the book on his finger, and sighed peacefully, leaning his head back to watch the horses alternately cropping at the sweet summer grass of the paddock and kicking up their heels in playful battle. The late afternoon sun was warm on his face and he closed his eyes, allowing lassitude to steal over him and slipping into a light doze.
Vin found him that way, one booted leg hooked over the arm of the comfortable patio chair, the other stretched out in front of him; head back, face unlined and relaxed and his golden hair shining in the ray that slipped beneath the patio canopy just as the Texan rounded the corner from the drive.
Vin smiled to himself, leaning against the corner of the house and soaking in the peace of the moment. He wished that his lover could see into his heart so Chris could witness first hand the healing he'd brought to Tanner with his velvet gloved iron fist and infinite patience.
The error of the fateful night Chris had run from his responsibility had been repaired and atoned for hundreds of times over, and each day – with tools both sensual and mundane - his commanding lover had carried Vin closer and closer to an emotional surrender that would equal the physical he was finally feeling again.
Doubts had fled forever, but Vin was certain Chris didn't know just how utterly and completely he had banished them. He hoped that the gift in his hand would allow the soul-beautiful blond to finally understand.
Chris held the open box on his lap and looked at Vin in utter disbelief. His glance flicked to the exquisitely crafted tool before raising again to the sparkling eyed sharpshooter. No smile, but eyes that Chris wanted nothing more than to lose himself in.
A thrill ran through the blond, then redoubled on itself and threatened to make him cream his jeans like a fifteen year old copping his first feel. He didn't even consider saying no. Vin had worked too long and hard for Chris. There was no way the Dom would deny him this opportunity to show his devotion.
And, finally, it slammed home that Vin trusted him with a thoroughness Chris had never imagined recapturing after the night he'd found Vin near death at the hands of Oliver Beck. Vin had never asked what happened while he was unconscious. Chris was thankful for that. He'd been cleared of any wrong doing and, though Larabee had vowed to himself to put the events behind him., not since The Teams had Chris felt the cold savagery that had enveloped him in that basement. He was determined to remember that instinct was still inside him. Those who forgot the past were doomed to repeat it.
Chris raised his hand to Vin's face. First knuckle-backs, then fingertips caressed the beloved cheek. His voice was hoarse with passion and a love so deep it threatened to drown him.
"Sight more permanent than a wedding ring."
Vin's small smile was soft, lingering. "Yeah Reckon it's forever.
"I'd be honored, Vincent Michael Tanner, for you to wear my mark. Forever."
Vin swallowed but smiled, his eyes both shining with anticipation and shadowed with a tiny bit of anxiety. The submissive wanted this badly, but deep desire didn't erase the fact that he was asking to be burned.; marked permanently; the custom "CL" brand he'd had made designed to cover and vanquish, once and for all, the remaining physical reminder of the nightmare that was Oliver Beck.
Dropping his eyes and bowing his head ever so slightly, he offered a quiet, "Thank you, Sir," to the man who had become his world. Feeling a wave of surrender flow over him, he slipped from the couch cushion to his knees in front of the black-clad blond and assumed his standard position.
Chris sucked in a breath at the beauty before him and traced Vin's sweet lips with his thumb. His voice took "husky" to new heights, and he shifted slightly to make room for his burgeoning cock. More than just a cliché', the Dom's next words resonated from deep within.
"My pleasure, Baby Boy."
Chris sent a silent prayer to the heaven's for the beauty of the night sky over Denver's outskirts this night. A mild breeze blew, chasing wispy clouds and baring a blanket of stars like he'd rarely seen. He couldn't think of a better setting for the ritual that was about to take place.
He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, taking inventory and making sure everything he needed was in place. Nothing would go wrong tonight. He would make sure of that, or die trying.
He and Vin had spent the two previous weekends making some outdoor additions; laying a new patio to the side of the house and replacing the French windows in the bedroom with French doors leading to it. A railroad tie fence surrounded the large space to about six feet high, giving it a feeling of privacy without closing it in. Sturdy rafters criss-crossed the top in a very loose pattern, ready to hold a willing, bound body in suspension yet doing nothing to obstruct the expanse of the sky.
A Jacuzzi, sunken only fifty-percent, lay on the opposite side of the terrace from a large brick platform designed to hold an eight foot by eight foot, twelve inch thick, gymnastic pad. Another, inch thick mat sat dead center, flush with the rest of the patio floor, a comfortable place to kneel. Completing the space were two, carefully designed chairs, standard to the naked eye but a bondage delight to those who knew their secrets. Chris had spared no expense with plants and flowers, turning the private haven into a lush garden playground.
Tonight another element had been added in the highly ornate brazier on one of many brick pillars of varying heights installed around the perimeter. Wrist and ankle cuffs of the highest quality lay next to the tiny iron firepot, available though not currently in the plan.
Chris moved to the comprehensive first-aid kit mounted to the wall and disguised as a primitive wooden cabinet. Checking the contents carefully, he once again mentally rehearsed the nights events.
He heard the water in the shower turn off and went back into the bedroom, suddenly in need of a heart-stopping kiss from his beautiful Texan. He leaned in the door to the bathroom and watched Vin dry off, his skin slightly red and glowing from the rubdown he'd subjected it to.
Tanner bent to dry his leg, turning his eyes up and catching a look from his blond lover that almost dropped him to his knees. Chris pushed off of the doorframe and stepped firmly into Vin's space. Taking the beautiful face, still flushed from the shower, into his hands, Chris leaned forward swiftly, pulling back at the last moment and kissing Vin with a chaste sweetness that left the Texan shivering.
"I love you, Vincent Michael."
"I love you." Vin whispered back breathlessly.
"Please finish up and come to me outside."
Vin's pulse kicked and he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. His voice quiet, but firm, he answered as he was expected. "Yes, Sir."
Vin knelt on the mat in the center of the terrace, his posture perfect and respectful, head bowed and eyes lowered as Chris had instructed. A warm, gentle breeze blew over his naked body and a soft shiver born of excitement, not cold, shook the Texan slightly.
Chris watched his tousle-haired boy for awhile. Just watched him and reveled in him and loved him with all his soul. The night in store would change each man irrevocably, and they hungered for both the experience and the aftermath.
Chris glanced at his watch and stood. "I'll be back, Baby Boy. Get your muscles stretched and resume your position when you're done."
Vin murmured his "Yes, Sir" and began preparing his body as he would for a marathon. He wanted nothing tonight to distract his Master or himself.
Larabee changed quickly into his clothes for the evening, black cotton gauze pants and shirt; black boots because he knew how much they tripped Vin's response. Applying his boy's favorite cologne subtly, he began his own stretching and preparation, listening for the door that would signal the arrival of their seconds (and thirds) for the night.
Vin and JD had become uncommonly close, connecting in the way only submissives can. Buck and Chris had drawn closer, too, if that was possible, sharing their thoughts and feelings about their boys with a relief that came from mutual understanding. They would be joining Chris and Vin tonight for the last part of the evening, but the real support would come from Sebastian and Alex.
Chris smiled to himself a little. Sebastian and Alex, now there was an interesting confrontation waiting to happen.
The knock came, and he opened the door to the fiery Italian Vin had called friend for a lot more years than Chris had known him. They'd had quite a meeting of the minds themselves shortly after Vin's abduction, but they had made peace and Chris also now considered him a friend.
Sebastian arrived shortly after, with Buck and JD close at his heels. Chris settled the four guests in the family room, with refreshments and entertainment, where they would wait for the pinnacle of the evening to arrive. More than witnesses, they were there to be practical help, as well; holding Vin steady to ensure he was not injured by an errant physical response. There, too, to care for Chris after his marking, a surprise planned for the sexy Texan that held Larabee's heart.
Satisfied that all was well with his friends, Chris made his way back out to the porch. He found Vin kneeling in the same position and Chris was struck, again, at how incredibly beautiful he was.
Stepping into full Dom mode, Chris began a thorough examination of his pet. He spent long minutes circling him, watching; stroking a firm hand across Vin's smooth, resilient skin.
Crouching behind Vin solidly, he whispered a caress into the shell of his ear, bathing the sensitive spot behind the Texan's ear with warm breath. "So beautiful, so strong. And all mine."
Vin took a deep breath, his eyes closing reflexively. He smiled softly, his head barely moving as he almost broke form to stroke his temple over the blond's.
"Good boy. I love it when you work so hard to be good for me. On your feet, Vincent."
Chris stood and stepped back, giving Vin room to rise. The Texan did it beautifully, gracefully, and Larabee took a deep, steadying breath to keep himself from throwing him back down to take him hard, deep and fast.
Instead the blond moved around in front of Vin, brushing fingertips lightly over his belly and watching Tanner's muscles dance. Stepping away, Chris hit a button, lowering chains previously hidden among the shadows of the rafters.
They'd play with bondage over and over since the "nightmare weekend" (as they'd begun to call it); testing, measuring, learning all over to trust. And Vin had gone from a pleasant tolerance of being bound before the incident, to yearning for it over the last few weeks. He loved the freedom it gave him to struggle and twist, the chance it gave him to try to pull the chains from the ceiling.
The Texan licked his lips as the soft whir of the motor above him signaled a beginning of the real games. He couldn't help the grin that grew on his face.
Chris chuckled softly at Vin's look of rapture, then set about making his pet secure in his bonds. Cushy wrist cuffs stretched the lean, muscular arms over the tousled blond head, clipping to links high above. A wide leather strap lined with sheepskin went into place, a crucial component for supporting Vin before the session was through.
Finally secure, Chris took what he really wanted. He went around to the front of his long-haired lover and buried his fingers in the tousled chestnut locks. Taking Vin's mouth with a passion that few rarely find in their lives, he slid an arm down to pull the firm, lean body fully against him. The kiss was deep, hungry; stirring both men into a panting, growling frenzy.
Suddenly the game changed, and Larabee hit the quick release clips, dropping to the mat and pulling his sharpshooter with him. He pinned Tanner's hands over his head, hissing a short "leave'em" before devouring the skin from Vin's throat to his thighs. Small bites, rasping licks and harsh suckles filled Vin with a tossing restlessness he was whimpering to have assuaged. Noting Chris had given no direction for his legs, the sharpshooter used them to clasp lightly around his Dom, careful to give him plenty of slack to move.
Chris grabbed the tube beside the mat, lubing himself and Vin with speed and efficiency. Dropping over Vin, he braced himself on an arm, reaching down and pulling the Texan's leg up over his own lean hip. In seconds he was breaching the tight ring of muscle that gave way with one long groan deep from the throat of the impatient sub.
The rhythm was fast and hard, bringing them both to the edge quickly.
"Touch me!" Chris growled before lowering his head to lay his mark on Vin's shoulder.
Vin's arm wrapped around his lover as his hips bucked to take Chris deeper.
"Come with me, Baby," Chris ground out; and they were flying, both emptying themselves to the night, and to each other.
Rather than draining them, the release seemed to empower their resolve, and Chris withdrew and had Vin flipped to his belly in seconds. Hauling him to his feet, Chris had Vin back in restraints in record time and was striding to the toy chest for his whips.
The flogging started on a harsher note than usual, Chris recognizing the endorphin rush already flowing through his pet. He kept the hot, wired tension high, spitting his commands, praise and words of love with teeth-clenching intensity. Employing the sophisticated restraints, he moved the chains, leaning Vin forward, placing most of his weight on his chest.
He watched Vin slip deeper and deeper under his control with each panting cry, the flogger slowing down only when a lighter hand was needed to maintain the level of dissociation Tanner had reached. Finally, the pinnacle of the night had arrived.
Chris called out to Buck and was soon surrounded with people he felt privileged to call friends. Vin was released and laid down on the mat; Alex at his head, Buck and Sebastian at each leg, and JD looking on with horrified fascination.
Chris straddled Vin's chest on a crouch, taking the Texan's beloved face firmly in his hands, noting the very slight tremor in his own fingers. He spoke quietly, soothingly, looking for something indefinable that would allow him to proceed.
"Look at me, Cowboy."
He was rewarded with bright blue eyes, clouded with absolute passion, turned to his own with trust.
"We're gonna do this now... I want you to be very, very still for me. Do you understand?"
There was a long, silent moment as Vin processed the thought. "Yes, Sir." The answer was clear, but seemed to come from far away.
"Mine, Vincent Michael," Chris stroked in Vin's ear. "Mine. Forever. Completely. Can you take this for me, Vincent? Scream out my name as my mark burns everything painful away?"
"Yes, Sir." Vin whined restlessly.
Chris increased the strength, the demand, in his tone. "Take it for me, Vincent, to show me? To erase all the doubts, all the fears this world would put into us?"
"Yes!! Yes, Sir! Please!"
Chris slid back as Buck and Sebastian tightened their grip, his hand going to the iron that Vin had designed.
The branding surface was tiny, leaving room for the scar to spread, but it was big enough for the majority of the "L" to overcome the small mark left by Beck and shaped to fit easily between parted thighs. Vin's begging whimpers giving him strength, Chris steadied his balance and struck the iron quickly and efficiently, his heart pounding and his eyes filling with tears as the night sky caught and echoed the scream of his name that issued from his beloved's throat.
Buck caught Vin's cum in a nearby towel as the boy's scream and his cock erupted simultaneously. Looking at the sharpshooter with loving attention, he glanced at JD and recorded his the hunger his own boy displayed.
In seconds, Chris had Vin in his arms, rocking and talking, bringing his boy back to focus and into a nest of love that would never, again, desert him.
The End
