"All right, gentlemen. You're tied, running neck and neck, and this is for all the marbles. Team 7 Denver and Team 8 D.C.--both with three points apiece--will compete in their final event. This will be a test of mind and body. Both teams have only one member left to compete and, in each case, it happens to be their sharpshooter. You rafter men might find this a bit…disconcerting." The commander refereeing the ATF Team Challenge seemed to find the last quite amusing.
It was then that four agents from the host team brought in the slim metal boxes known for concealing weapons beneath trucks and other high clearance vehicles. Made of thin steel, the containers measured six feet long, ten inches wide and ten inches deep.
"Now of course," the ref went on, "these particular boxes are too small for our purposes, so we've put together a couple of man size models inspired by the real thing."
Chris Larabee, leader of ATF Team 7, cursed silently while carefully maintaining a look of calm imperturbability. He watched as Vin Tanner, his sharpshooter, swallowed harshly as comprehension of the task overtook him. The thirty second debate Larabee had with himself ended in frustration as he was torn between protecting his friend from his inner demons and letting the man make his own decisions. The problem was he knew Vin wouldn't back down from the challenge, and he also knew it would cost him. Of all the trials to which his best friend could have been subjected, this was the closest to pure torture. Again he almost spoke up, offering to take his partner's place, but the game facilitator began speaking once more.
"And, because every good agent needs a good backup, you'll have one. And what better backup than your commanders?" The referee's voice was suddenly too loud and gruff, and way too self satisfied. Chris felt the fizz of anger in his gut and tamped it down as well as he could. "Here's the drill gentlemen; you and your Team Leader will remain in the box as long as you can. First to cave loses. "
Chris felt his own face paling, his heart slamming into the wall of his chest and some vital part of his belly doing a one-eighty. Locked in a box, body to body, flesh to flesh, with Vin Tanner, for an unspecified length of time? He was pretty sure this was going to end badly on a few fronts, and he took a deep, hidden breath.
Carefully guarded hazel eyes found struggling blue, Chris questioning, Vin answering. They would do this thing and they would win. The reward was great, both teams in need of the all-expense paid, working vacation in Phoenix. But it was Team 7 that needed it--deserved it--more. It had been Chris' men who had climbed into the rotting crawl space beneath their last suspect's house. His team that found the broken, tortured remains of the six children that had, only yesterday, all been identified as children of members of the psychopath's cult. It was like a bad movie and his men--his friends--were tired of the drama, tired of the senselessness of it all. They were all just plain tired.
"Ready, ladies?" The host asked with a wicked smile and Chris watched Vin nod and swallow again and knew his team member was trying desperately to slow his pulse and breathe normally. The rest of his team exchanged looks of concern and some anger. Chris agreed, and once more nearly called it off, but--as if reading his mind--Vin shot him a pleading look and stepped into the box. Chris wondered if he was doing it for the Team or trying to prove something to himself.
He watched the lean form lay down within the cold metal confines, knowing before it was over they would wish for that coolness again. It was Chris' turn to swallow now as he moved forward, his distress for an entirely different reason. He only hoped the circumstances dictating his proximity to Vin would overrule the all-too-predictable reaction of his body. Considering his cock was half-hard already, he doubted it.
Chris wasn't sure if he should be disturbed or grateful that the-powers-that-be had instructed the group to wear shorts to the last event. It would make the heat in the box a bit more bearable, but would provide little cover of his body's reaction to Vin's closeness. He watched the strong, lean body of the Texan as it settled at a slight angle in the bottom of the metal coffin, his shoulders not quite fitting flat on the bottom. He saw Vin swallow for what must have been the thirtieth time in the space of a few minutes and Chris' heart squeezed a little tighter in sympathy. Vin was most likely controlling his panic with his usual iron will and Chris wished he could take some of it on himself. Unfortunately, he was about to make it worse.
Larabee stepped carefully between the bare legs of his agent and friend and calculated the best way to position himself. Would foot to face be better for both of them? It might allow them some more breathing room, and would probably be cooler. But Chris wondered if a little whispered inspiration from time to time would comfort his friend. There was also the minor detail of ventilation holes, which all seemed to be near Vin's head. He finally left it up to the other man, turning subtly and raising an eyebrow. He was rewarded with the barest of nods and he settled himself as comfortably as possible to the side and on top of the Vin. Luckily, though both muscular, the men were also lean. Vin's runner's build and Chris' swimmer's form made things much easier for them then the sharpshooter and commander from Team 3 were finding the exercise.
Darkness descended with the placement of the metal top, and Chris adjusted his shoulders to allow it to settle securely in place. Small columns of light shown through the few, but adequate, holes present near the narrow head of the box, but they did little to penetrate the gloom. The heat was almost immediately stifling and a light sweat beaded on Chris' forehead and above his lip. For a moment he heard Vin pant until, no doubt, his "sharpshooter discipline" took over and he forced himself to breathe deeply again. Feeling the closeness, his own chest tightening, Chris whispered a small epitaph to let Vin know that he wasn't alone in his anxiety.
Vin's answer was a slight nod and another swallow, his prominent Adam's apple so close to Chris' chin that the leader heard the soft scrape of beard across it. Vin tried to take another deep breath, but once again began to pant softly.
Chris closed his eyes, resting his head against Vin's shoulder, wishing he could absorb the fear and panic. "Easy, pard," Chris drawled quietly, intentionally keeping his tone light and neutral, close to Vin's ear. "Did you see Bear and Mitch? They've got to be feeling like sardines already. We'll be outta here before you know it."
Vin didn't react for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. Chris could tell his eyes were closed and he felt him swallow yet again. His fear of his unruly desire for the scruffy sharpshooter left him as he realized he was too worried about Vin's peace of mind to feel much else.
Vin's shallow breaths became more so and his head moved restlessly. His fear of enclosed spaces was known by few, a secret that the other members of his team guarded with the fierce dedication born of shielding a chosen brother. Chris had seen the symptoms of full-out phobia in action a great many times in his life, but when it was this strong, silent man in the grips of irrational fear his protective instincts kicked into overdrive. Vin was a survivor, no matter what, but he'd seen his share of heartache, and Chris couldn't understand why the fates would pour another portion into his bowl for something that wouldn't even result in saving a life or righting a wrong. Still, he knew that Vin wouldn't give up, wouldn't let the team down, even though they would have gladly spared him the pain if they had known how to do it without hurting his stubborn pride.
Chris leaned still closer to Vin's ear, his voice traveling no further than the fraction of an inch between his lips and the smooth skin of Vin's lobe. "Shhh, partner. Deep breaths, Vin. Deep and easy, slow and strong." Again a swallow, and Vin tried to do as Chris counseled, a single breath coming in short, syncopated bursts but from the diaphragm. `hg
"Good…good," Chris praised softly, hoping that a few more would steady Vin but not betting it would be that easy. "Breathe easy, partner. Remember, you can always kick the top off this tin can and we'll get out of here."
Vin's head shook sharply, his chin catching Chris just above the eye. Chris winced with the pain, both a thud and sharp burst, but he swallowed the unbidden curse and verbal expression of hurt, clenching his teeth for a moment before going back to the quiet crooning that seemed to be having some minimal effect.
"Remember the last time we took the horses out?" Chris whispered, his voice taking on unintentional warmth with the memory. "It was a perfect day; the breeze, the sky, the grass that awesome shade of green. You looked so free, almost like you could step off the North cliff and just fly out over the valley. I almost felt like I was intruding on some spiritual rite, you standing there so peaceful and all."
Suddenly Chris' heart caught in his throat, his pulse doubling and heat from inside his belly competing with the stifling air of their self-imposed confinement. Vin's lips had brushed his. Surely it was their nearness and not intentional, Chris thought. But it came again--the tentative contact--and Chris felt his cock respond as surely as if it had been a tongue bathing.
"Vin?" Chris asked quietly.
The sharpshooter's answer was another soft brush of lips to lips, smooth skin wet from repeated nervous licking touching Chris' mouth in silent plea. Chris answered the request with a slight graze of his own, his lips as dry as his throat until they came in closer, firmer contact with Vin's.
"Chris?" Vin's turn to ask, and the unspoken appeal took on a new dimension, defined by the hesitant tone of his voice.
"Easy, Vin. It's okay. Hell, it's gonna be great."
His lips closed gently around the moist, bottom ridge of Vin's mouth and he felt a shudder begin in the man beneath him and transfer itself to his own readily responding body. He nipped lightly at the flesh between his teeth, soothing it with a lick before cocking his head to coax Vin's lips open with his own. Vin's gasp and easy surrender to his entry made Chris lightheaded for an instant and he forced a moan back down his throat, unwilling to raise the bar so quickly and recklessly. But another quiver shook Vin's frame and Chris closed his mouth over his friend's with sudden passion, lapping at the inside of the heated, responsive orifice with single-minded intent. Chris had been shoving this fantasy to the dark parts of his mind for months, but the reality was quickly drawing all his dreams to the fore.
Vin was the first to allow himself to moan, to share a verbal allusion to the reaction occurring within him. Chris ripped his mouth away with difficulty, realizing the danger in their actions and dropping his head to breathe softly in Vin's ear while he tried to catch his breath. "God, Vin…"
"Hot, Chris," Vin panted with a strangled sigh. "I… this… it's so fucking hot in here." For all his strength and self-control, there was almost a facet of a whimper in the last few words.
"It's okay, partner," Chris whispered softly. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing bad going to happen here. Controlled circumstan…"
"Chris, kiss me," Vin pleaded, swallowing a second whimper that threatened to sneak past his defenses.
Chris turned his head once more, raising it as much as possible in the tight, sweltering space and slammed his lips onto Vin's, reveling in the soft sound of grateful surprise that issued from his partner's throat. He kicked up the intensity without hesitation. Fingers entangled wherever they were close enough, and Chris pressed his instantly swollen cock into the cradle of Vin's hips, an answering rock and grind erasing all doubt of Vin's willing participation in the game of distraction. Chris felt his belly kick in excitement, sending another wave of liquid fire from his center, bathing his limbs with promise and his psyche with the pledge of a new journey. The smell of sweat and soap, aftershave and the beginnings of arousal filled his nostrils and an overload of sensation overtook him.
"Get off me you big son-of-a-bitch!" The harsh voice, filled with irritation and muffled by a layer of steel reached Chris' ears a second before it gelled into recognition in his mind. Bear was throwing the contest, apparently no longer able to tolerate the suffocating proximity of his team leader. They could get out. Had to get out. Chris pulled his mouth away and shifted his body as high off of Vin's as he could.
"Vin, I..." Chris began, only to be interrupted by his friend.
"Don't…"
Chris nodded and willed his own cock back to a respectable state, not believing for an instant it would obey him while the musk and spice of Vin's sweat and deodorant mixed into an intoxicating fragrance Chris would never forget. He tried to force a picture of Buck into his mind, imagining the teasing he and Vin would get if their state of arousal was noted, and it seemed to help a bit. Still, he would have to do some fancy footwork when he climbed from the box to protect not only himself, but also Vin, from speculation. Team Seven was already considered the district director's pet team and grousing and gossip swarmed around them regularly. Chris could only groan silently at thoughts of what would happen if twin erections were cataloged in the wake of the Challenge finals.
Suddenly a rush of cold, fresh air and a flood of light bathed them as the heavy lid of their steel cage was lifted. Vin closed his eyes once more in relief, his first deep breath since the contest rushing into his lungs with chest rising power. Shouts of congratulations and much back patting ensued, the two men separated by the pack of well-wishers and the anxious inquiries of their team members. It was hours before either of them had a chance to think about the consequences of nine minutes and seventeen seconds spent in a combination of heaven and hell.
+ + + + + + +
Chris reminded himself, again, to unclench his teeth. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose tiredly and yawning widely. The rest of his team wasn't faring much better after the late night of partying, but his headache didn't seem to lessen any because of it. The rest of the team minus one, he reminded himself. He didn't know how Vin was doing; hadn't seen him since shortly after the first bottle of champagne was popped.
Buck folded his phone with a snap and dropped it into his pocket. "Still not answering. I paged him."
Chris nodded and sighed, wondering if his sharpshooter had gone to ground because of the claustrophobia or the resulting activity inside the hot box. He sighed again, silently this time, and hoped that Vin would show before the flight attendant pulled the door closed. He watched her head toward the front, probably to do just that, and was relieved to see her step back as his wayward employee made it just in time. Vin's gaze flickered over each of his co-workers before settling on the empty seat in front of Chris. He was all quiet concentration, then, throwing his carry-on in an overhead bin and settling in to buckle his seat belt. Chris wondered if the spicy scent that drifted back from Vin was real or a product of memory and an overactive imagination. He felt a stir of arousal and the pounding behind his temples kicked up a notch. He decided to deal with the problem later. Closing his eyes he tried to doze, glad they had the weekend before they had to deal with the Phoenix law.
+ + + + + + +
Two, Chris thought. The sum total of words Vin had spoken to him since they'd left the federal building. And that just to ask which bed Chris wanted in the room they'd be sharing at the resort. Larabee sat down on the edge of the small loveseat near the window and glanced out at the desert beyond the lush, cultured lawns of the hotel grounds. Before long, though, his gaze strayed back to the quiet man putting his clothes away and avoiding Chris' eyes.
"Ah hell, Vin," he finally said with exasperation. "Are you gonna be like this the whole time?"
Vin stilled but didn't turn around. He dropped his head and shook it gently. "Don't know what to say," he offered quietly.
"Are you okay?" Chris asked, just as quietly.
"Yeah. Had to sleep on the roof last night, but I'm okay."
Chris nodded and stood up. "What happened, Vin, it was just…it was the panic and the moment and…" He stopped when Vin raised a hand and shook his head slightly.
"Don't, please. Ya don't get it…" Vin began.
"But Vin, it…"
Chris found himself suddenly face to face with a fired-up, pushed-to-it Texan, blue eyes blazing with an unidentifiable emotion. They were squarely in each other's space and Chris' senses were bathed in the smell of soap and spice and the musk that was distinctly Tanner. He watched the pupils widen as awareness overtook Vin, too, and he didn't stop to think. He reached for the lean waist and pulled his friend closer.
"What don't I get, cowboy." Chris was surprised when his voice came out husky and quiet. He dropped his hands but took another step closer, licking his lips.
"It wasn't just the moment, Chris," Vin answered, just as softly. "I wanted it, wanted you."
Vin's look was direct, holding Chris' eyes even while his cheeks flushed. Chris breathed deeply, slowly, and moved another step closer, their bodies touching, now, if even just barely. He was close enough to feel the tension emanating from his best friend. His lips brushed Vin's and he shuddered faintly, allowing himself to nip at the side of his friend's mouth before venturing inside to capture the sweet, peppermint taste of him. Vin sighed against the invading tongue and leaned into him, his own hands moving to Chris' shoulders.
The glowing kindling caught, and a rush of molten heat burst into a startling flame of passion that warmed Chris all over and caused the hair on the back of his neck and arms to rise. Chris wrapped his arms around Vin to pull him hard against his body. A hand slid to the back of Vin's neck while the other found the curve of his ass beneath twin globes of firm, resilient flesh. Vin cocked his head to the side and returned the kiss with passionate recklessness.
Just-this-side-of-violent pounding on the door interrupted their exchange. "Come on, you two, steaks'a waitin!" Buck's loud, strident voice caused the two men to jump apart guiltily and Vin took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom. The door was closed, the lock carefully and decisively thrown, and Chris found himself in the midst of a different kind of fantasy…that of the slow and painful death of one Buck Wilmington.
+ + + + + + +
"Vin! Come on! You're too damned slow!" JD's excited voice mixed with the music coming from Greasewood Flats, a bar-cum-restaurant that lent credence to the rule that the best food came from the unlikeliest of places. The steaks had been hot and perfectly cooked, the beer had been as cold as those Chris pulled from the creek during a winter campout, and the atmosphere was relaxed and a little wild, catering to bikers and cowboys, businessmen and construction workers, and seven men from Denver in the mood to do a little celebrating.
Vin raised a hand in acknowledgement and Chris felt his gut roll in irrational anger. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Vin, who was obviously trying not to look at him. Chris forced himself to unclench his teeth and willed the tic in the muscle of his jaw to go away. He'd been looking forward to finishing what they'd started, at least talking about it to see where it was going to take them. His anger was born of disappointment and frustration, and he reached out an arm to stop the other man, turning his own body to face him. "Going out, Vin?" The question was asked quietly, but there was nothing soft about it.
The strains of Southern rock filled the silence before Vin finally raised his head, his chin slightly tilted with a defiant air. His gaze on Chris was steady, emotion carefully put on hold, and Chris knew the flutter in his belly had moved from temper to something akin to panic. He had to back off before he scared Vin, and he tried to remember that when the man spoke again.
"Yeah," Vin answered succinctly. "Me and Ez and JD're gonna check out some of the clubs downtown." His tone dared Chris to say something about it, while the look in his eyes suggested he didn't.
Chris forced himself to step back, both literally and figuratively. He knew he was pushing. He knew, too, that if he didn't back off, Vin was the type to jump off the cliff rather than find himself cornered or trapped. He couldn't risk the loss. Not when something he never thought he'd have was suddenly, unexpectedly, so close. He nodded, once, resolutely. "You ladies behave." He forced a neutral expression and turned on a booted heel. Heading back to the rental car that Josiah was just starting, he joined Buck in the back seat to return to the hotel.
"Not going with the children, stud?" Buck asked exuberantly, his hand clapping against Chris' shoulder. Irritation crawled all over Chris as Buck chuckled quietly, and he cursed at the mocking quality of it. The next words certainly took Chris by surprise, in both content and method of delivery, as Buck's breath bathed the sensitive skin right behind Chris' ear. "He yankin' your chain, pard? Playin' hard to get?"
The oft-present tic in his jaw kicked again and Buck just sat back and laughed. The glare Chris levered at his long-time friend just made the man chortle harder. Chris relaxed only slightly, wondering how Buck knew. He supposed there was little his friend couldn't read in him. He just hoped that he hadn't been an open book to the rest. He focused his gaze on the passing desert, the moon causing strange shadows among the cactus and sagebrush, and he tried not to think about Vin.
His goodnights were distracted. Buck was behind him before he realized that his friend hadn't continued onto his own room. He felt a jumble of emotions and settled on exasperation. "Damn it, Buck," he groused hotly, "what the hell do you want?" He tossed the light jacket he'd been wearing on the loveseat and turned toward Buck while rolling up a sleeve. Buck was there--right there--in his face and reaching for him confidently.
"You need to take the edge off, partner, and it's been far too long since we did a little bed wrestling." Buck's voice was hoarse in his ear, his breath hot and moist on his neck, and despite the thoughts of Vin that swirled in his head, Chris found himself responding to them with a shudder.
"I don't…"
"Shhh, stud," Buck whispered with a lick at his lobe. "I'm gonna make it good, pard, and then we can talk about Junior."
Chris' pulse kicked and his head spun as Buck wedged a hand between his cheeks, strong fingers rubbing and probing through the snug denim in a sign of aggression Chris loved. The pressure on the tight pucker of his anus was distant but unrelenting, and he pushed back into the big hand with a groan of reluctant surrender. Buck wasn't who he wanted, wasn't who he needed, but he was there and Chris was hungry, and as usual he was pushing the right buttons.
Buck slammed his mouth down on Chris'; walking him backward until the mattress hit the back of his knees and forced him to fall back on the bed. Buck reached into the belt loops at the front of Chris' pants and tugged his ass roughly to the edge, his fingers making short work of the snap and zipper. Chris heard the pleased murmur leave his friend's lips as Buck pulled Chris' cock from within its blue jean restraints, taking it immediately into his mouth. Wet, hot suction mixed with vibration from deep in Buck's throat and Chris' hips jerked in pleasure. A wave of liquid warmth flowed through his limbs and gathered in his belly, only to flow outward again as his fists grasped the scratchy, pilled surface of the bedspread. Buck tugged and lapped at his dick like it was his favorite play toy and Chris rolled his hips in complimentary rhythm to his ministrations. He felt the chill immediately when Buck raised his head, and he groaned deep in his chest at the loss.
Buck wasted no time getting his own jeans off, quickly divesting Chris of his completely as well. He levered himself over Chris and smiled, his powerful arms suspending him just above. He looked into Chris' eyes. "Turn over for me, stud," Buck ordered low and deep, and Chris felt a thrill to the core of his being as he responded to the command in his friend's countenance.
It had always been like this, Buck taking the lead. It had been a long time since they'd indulged, though, their life with the team crowding out the need. But tonight Chris found himself hungry for intensity and the escape that Buck could provide. Vin's face flashed through his mind and in that instant Chris felt his interest flagging, but a moment later two of Buck's fingers breached his body, and all thought of Vin fled as he was flooded, suddenly, with sensation.
"That's it, stud," Buck said against his ear, his fingers working deep and around and tickling against Chris' prostate. "Open up for me, boy. Don't you fight me." And he added a third finger.
Chris answered with a groan, pushing up and back onto Buck's hand and struggling to get his knees underneath him. Buck helped him with an arm and hushed him with a word, swiftly replacing his fingers with his cock.
Chris hissed as the slight burn of the stretch gave way to the pleasure of the filling. He dropped his head to his arms and inhaled deeply, adjusting as Buck rode him gently until crisp curls bumped against the tender flesh of Chris' ass. His aggressor began to move in earnest. The sharp, chlorine scent of pre-cum mixed with the musk of male sweat and Chris found himself sinking deeper into the experience. The somewhat empty hotel room walls bounced the echo of their grunts and moans back at them, and the last stronghold broke in Chris as Buck ordered him gruffly to take him deeper. Rising back up on hands and knees, Chris slammed back to counter Buck's rhythm. He felt the rising tide of orgasm and he called out Buck's name as he gave it up, shooting with the encouragement of Buck's sharp instruction. Only after Buck shot into latex did either of them notice Vin in the doorway. The younger man mumbled an apology and slipped out as quietly as he had arrived.
Buck pulled out to the sound of Chris cursing and he backed off; dressing quickly and watching Chris closely. The perusal irritated Chris more than he was willing to admit on the heels of their encounter, and he forced himself to smile at his friend. Buck shot him a look of censure, his expression clearly scolding Chris for the attempted subterfuge. He paused close as he walked to the door, looking deeply into his friend's eyes. Finally he nodded with satisfaction.
"Go after him, Chris. Go after him and work it out. It's past time."
"Thanks, Buck…I"
Buck shushed him with two fingers, then leaned down and brushed lips to lips. "S'okay, pard. I know." He left smiling softly to himself.
Chris pulled the door open quickly and took off down the West hallway. It was a tested theory, one that he kept to himself, but Chris had noticed Vin always ran the same way. He doubted the agent was aware of it himself, and he wasn't about to share the secret. More than once it had helped him find his absconded friend, and he didn't want to lose the edge. Sure enough he saw Vin walking the desert trail, heading toward the rising moon on the horizon. He looked lonely, sad. Regret and a sense of urgency overtook Chris. Breaking into a jog he sought to catch up.
"Vin, please!" Chris called out when he got close enough. The other man's pace didn't slow.
"Vin…we need to talk!" His voice came out harsher than he intended and he silently cursed his own temperament.
Vin stopped and turned around, a flash of anger in his eyes. He jammed his fisted hands into his jacket pockets. "What, Chris? What do we need to talk about?"
"About what you just saw. About Buck. About us."
"There's no us, Lar'bee. Never was, ain't gonna be." Vin turned and started walking again, Chris hurrying to fall into step beside him.
"Why not?" Chris winced when it rang with accusation rather than the hope that he was trying to keep alive.
Vin kept walking, his expression unreadable, and Chris tried his question again. "Why not, Vin?" Quieter this time, but he lowered his tone even more before he continued. "There's something here. I know I've been feeling it. The Challenge just brought it to the light."
"Yeah, Chris. I can see how long you been feelin' it. So long that just as soon as you don't get it right when you want it you go get it somewhere else."
"Buck is…well there's history. We…it's nothing serious, Vin. It's just something that's been there." He forced the desperation from his voice, reluctant to let go of his control that much. His heart was pounding in his throat, and he felt a swell of nausea at the thought that he'd ruined this…this… Hell he didn't even know what it was. Or he wouldn't admit it. Love?
"Cowboy, it ain't gonna happen. Leave it." Vin's voice was soft now, too; almost sounded defeated. Chris sighed deep in his chest. They walked side by side for a while longer, what Chris first heard as silence giving way to the sounds of the desert at night. He took some small comfort in the fact that Vin didn't walk away, but they were a far cry from where Chris wanted to be and he wondered if they could bridge the gap.
"It can't happen." Vin continued after long minutes of quiet, and Chris was startled and encouraged that Vin had resumed the conversation, himself. He willed his pulse to calm and forced himself to focus.
"Why, Vin?" Chris tried once more, this time in a neutral tone, hoping the third time would be the charm.
"'Cause it ain't just about sex with me, Chris."
Hope swelled. It tumbled and turned Chris' thoughts to mush for a minute until he forced it back into its corner and answered Vin.
"It's not?" He rolled his eyes at himself and shot a glance sideways at his friend. He barely caught the shake of Vin's head and he waited a few moments before pushing the issue forward.
"It's not with me, either, cowboy." Chris stepped in front of Vin and turned to look into his eyes. Nothing but the moon lit their encounter and Chris tried to get past his own barriers and reveal himself. It was an uncomfortable moment, but he hoped it would be worth it down the road. "You've meant so much to me for so long. My best friend, my confidante, my rock, my ass-kicker." Chris smiled, humor in his eyes. "In a senseless way it makes sense that it would morph into something else."
Vin didn't smile, his jaw tightening as he swallowed deeply. "And if it doesn't work?" He glanced around at the cactus and tumbleweeds, then focused narrowed eyes back on Chris. "What about then, Chris? How do we keep working together? How much of our friendship do we lose? I'm gay. You're not. What happens when you find "her"?
Chris shook his head, knowing his frustration was showing and trying to tamp it down. He could feel the heat from Vin's body, and his own was reacting predictably. He felt the swell of his cock behind his zipper and a sumptuous well of liquid pooling in his abdomen. "I don't want a her! I want you. Have wanted you since that day at North ridge. I want a future with you. With us. Wanna wake up in the morning with the taste of you on my lips. Wanna work next to you in the barn raising our horses. Wanna curl up with you when the snow is over the eaves and sit in front of the fire doing stuff men aren't supposed to with other men. Ah hell, Vin, I'm just admitting most of this to myself as I stand here, but they're real wants. Real and powerful and…"
"Shut up, cowboy," Vin whispered, stepping close. "I just don't wanna lose ya, Chris. Not in any way. If that means we gotta stay just friends." He paused. "I just don't wanna lose ya."
Chris smiled, one hand going to the side of Vin's face as the other settled lightly on the back of his neck. "Won't happen, Vin. Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
"Was real mad at you tonight." Vin looked up through his lashes.
Chris' smile slipped and he rested his forehead against Vin's. He swallowed and nodded slightly. "I'm sorry about that, cowboy. I was mad, too. Hurt. It won't happen again."
"I'm kinda old fashioned that way. Like to be the only one. Less you're there, too, 'course."
Chris brushed his lips against Vin's softly, ghosting over the flesh with teasing pressure before pulling back so he could look into his eyes. "You will be."
+ + + + + + +
Chris perched on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees. Staring at a point just past nowhere, a small, private smile on his face, he waited for Vin to join him. A small click announced the opening of the door to the bathroom and flips of excitement escaped in a shaky exhale as Chris acknowledged what was about to happen. Vin walked out a little shyly, unsnapped jeans riding low, and Chris found himself staring at his tanned, sculpted chest. He'd stripped off his own shirt awhile ago, and his nipples peaked in clear-cut interest.
He started to rise but was stopped by a gesture. Vin came to him, instead. He held his breath as Vin knelt down before him, his heart skipping a beat before resuming its pounding in double-time.
"Hey," Chris said softly, with a smile.
"Hey," Vin answered, his own small smile accompanying the quiet greeting.
Chris slid his hand to the back of Vin's neck, curls brushing and tickling his fingers. His tongue lightly swept at one corner of Vin's mouth, his teeth worrying carefully at the moist flesh of his lips. Vin sighed and Chris smiled again, tightening his hold and dipping deeper. A shudder went through his partner, and Chris increased his passionate assault, wrapping an arm around Vin's waist to pull him up and against him.
God he smelled so good. Damp from the shower; shaving cream, aftershave, soap, and moist skin…it overcame the boundaries within Chris, and he stopped fighting the need that clawed at him like a thing alive. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, and he gave himself over to sensation and the strength of Vin's hands on his back.
Chris tugged Vin still higher, tumbling both onto their sides on the bed. He forced down the excitement that threatened his composure and slowed down with some effort. His cock throbbed with the need to spill or at least bury itself in something .He smiled ironically and Vin cocked his head, asking silently. He pulled Chris' hand up to his mouth, sucking on the tip of a finger gently.
"Part of me wants to let the lust take over, but the rest of me wants to make love to you."
Vin smiled back and shifted his head, stroking himself on Chris' arm. "I reckon we'll get to both, eventually."
Vin's hair both crackled and slid through his fingers as Chris tilted Vin's head to the side. His lips and tongue played over the skin at Vin's throat, finding purchase on corded muscle and testing the pulsing artery. Salt and the acrid taste of alcohol lay on the surface at the juncture of shoulder and neck, and Chris licked and lapped at the hollow until nothing met his tongue but the sweet taste of his lover. Vin sighed heavily, shifting his body restlessly until Chris levered himself to hover above. He sealed mouth to flesh and left his mark with vehement intent. His vision went black for a moment as Vin reacted. He wasn't prepared for his partner's fervent response and embers sparked immediately to flame. Vin whimpered and arched, clutching at him desperately. Chris answered with a growl of need.
"Fuck me, Chris. Now."
Clothes dissolved away.
Vin pushed back hotly as Chris' slick fingers found little resistance. Smooth, hot, now wet skin wrapped around Chris' digits, gripping tightly and drawing him in. Vin bucked hard when Chris hit his prostate, the moan that issued from his lips long and luxurious. Chris delved deeper still, stretching him wide, reveling as groans became whimpers and whimpers became senseless keening. He watched Vin's face with awe and wonder, a back corner of his mind thanking God for bringing them together.
Chris shifted Vin's leg over the top of his hip and leaned back to capture his gaze. Slowly he traded his cock for his fingers, his eyes locked with Vin's as he entered him. Vin's gaze focused on him a few seconds at a time, lost in a zone of intensity in between.
"God, cowboy, so fucking tight…don't know if…" Chris whispered, his teeth clenching with the effort to make it last.
Vin whimpered again, the muscles of his ass pulling Chris in further, his hips moving in countermand to the welcome incursion. Chris coaxed Vin's legs higher, settling them on his shoulders and pushing him to take the strain as he leaned down to capture his mouth. The kiss was possessive. His arms tightened securely and he pulled back to murmur words of reassurance. Vin's deep-throated keening gave way to abandoned cries. Vin grabbed at him, rocked with him, met thrust for thrust. Wave after wave of the sweet pain of denial ran through Chris, and he dropped his head near to Vin's ear. Sweat-soaked curls clung to his lips as he whispered words of promise and commitment.
Chris groaned long and deep as his own climax grew and suddenly overtook him with violence. Arching his back he went completely still as latex caught his spill and Vin caught his collapsing body. His thoughts were muddied, sluggish; but his senses were all tuned to Vin.
Still for a moment, Chris finally lifted his head, breathing deeply as he planted kisses to Vin's cheeks and face. Abruptly his softening cock was gripped in a viselike hold as Vin arched again, with a silent cry. Chris winced against the pressure. Caught in the throes of a sensual overload, Vin fought to relax, Chris gripping his hands and interlocking their fingers.
"Shhh, cowboy. Quit fighting." His voice was soothing. "It's alright, just relax and ride it out."
He struggled with the need to withdraw from Vin's body and focused his attention on his lover's breath. Even in the midst of Vin's distress, he felt his cock swelling in response to his out of control lover. "Breathe for me, Vin. One deep breath. That's an order, Tanner!" He finally barked, and was rewarded with a gasp and the collapse of Vin's body. He stroked his lover's sweat soaked forehead with tenderness. "You okay?"
Vin nodded and closed his eyes, struggling to regain control and stay awake. Chris rolled them over until he was on his back and cuddled Vin close to his side. He smiled at the blush on Vin's cheeks.
"Maybe we should be callin' you stud from now on," Chris teased.
Vin shook his head and snuggled closer. "Nope. You're the stud. You're the one that sent me into oblivion."
"Just make sure you always come back to me," Chris admonished somewhat seriously.
Vin nodded sleepily. "Can't help it. Always got you to buddy breathe with me." His voice drifted off as he fell asleep.
Chris smiled and brushed a hair from Vin's face. With the reassuring wash of Vin's breath over his nipple, he succumbed to sleep as well.
The End
