This is a sequel to Living With It
Vin Tanner halted his restless pacing when he heard the footsteps in the hall. A combination of hope and fear caused his heartbeat to accelerate rapidly. The disappointment he felt when the footsteps continued on past his door felt like a knife twisting in his guts.With a heavy sigh, the tracker sank down on the edge of the bed beside him. All the pacing in the world wouldn't bring Chris Larabee to his door any faster. If he came at all. Vin didn't even want to think about that possibility. But, as the hours dragged on and the night drew to a close, his fragile hopes seemed as distant as the moon shining above.
He'd felt a brief sense of euphoria after leaving Chris' house. He'd half expected the dark souled gunslinger to shoot him. Or, at the very least, demand that he leave town. Vin was well aware how difficult it was to acknowledge certain kinds of feelings. Feelings men weren't supposed to have. At least not for each other. Hell, Vin's lips twisted in a wry grimace, It hadn't been all that easy for him to do. But he'd had no choice, really. From that very first glance across a dusty street, he'd been lost.
Lost. That was as good a word as any to describe the way he was feelin'. Getting to his feet, he walked over to the window on the far side of the room. Gazing out, he could see the lights shining brightly from the saloon. He knew Chris was in there. Thinking.
Abrubtly, Vin shivered and stepped back from the window. He knew the kind of thinkin' Chris Larabee was prone to do. Most of it revolved around guilt and regret and the notion that he was beyond redemption. Or love. Vin wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around that lean, blackclad figure and never let go. He'd drive away the shadows of pain in those eyes and bring nothing but smiles to those chiselled lips.
He closed his eyes, savoring these thoughts. He could feel his body's immediate response and regretfully opened his eyes. He knew, from past experience, that the only thing gained from wayward thoughts like these was hours of painful arousal. Arousal that only one person could soothe. But that person wasn't here. And Vin wasn't sure he ever would be. Maybe he'd made a mistake in telling Chris how he felt. Maybe the flashes of longing he'd thought he'd seen in that cool gaze weren't directed at him. God knows, he wanted it to be true so badly, that he could've just imagined it.
Vin staggered over to the bed. He felt sick with regret. He never should've said anything. It was just that the gunslinger's smallest touch ignited such a fire in him that he didn't know how Chris could be unaware of it. Or fail to feel it as well. He wondered if any of the others knew. He suspected Ezra might've guessed. The gambler was a lot more perceptive, and sensitive, than he let on. Vin lay on the bed and wondered bitterly whether it would make any difference how Chris really felt about him. His friend was more than capable of hiding or denying his feelings. And he had a convenient excuse in the form of Mary Travis. He knew Chris truly cared for Mary, seeing in her and Billy an echo of his former life. But that's all it was. An echo. Mary would never make Chris happy. And he would? Vin would've laughed if he wasn't so full of pain.
He had nothing to offer Chris except himself. He wondered whether Chris would think that was enough. After tonight, he might not even want Vin's friendship. He was probably in the saloon trying to think of a way to let Vin down easy. Because they'd been friends. And Chris wasn't one to be cruel to his friends unnecessarily.
Vin sat up, ignoring the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and the lump in his throat. He might as well get his stuff together. He couldn't stay here in town and see Chris every day. Watch him turn to Mary for all the things Vin longed to give him. That was assuming Chris even wanted him to stay. No. He was better off leaving. He wasn't sure where he would go. He supposed it didn't matter. Back to Tascosa, maybe. Hanging might come as a relief.
He was so intent on his thoughts that he failed to hear the footsteps pause outside his door. He jumped when he heard the soft knock. Moving slowly over to the door, he cautiously eased it open, trying to stifle the spark of hope that had sprung to life at the sound.
Chris Larabee stood outside in the doorway, looking like he might bolt at any minute. Vin opened the door a bit more widely and mutely gestured for Chris to come in. He wasn't sure if he could speak, his throat felt so tight.
Chris walked past Vin into the center of the room. Stopping, he turned to face the tracker.
"Vin, I...the soft voice had a slightly husky quality. Chris swallowed hard and began again. "I want... God help me, I want to touch you. To love you." Chris looked down at the floor and then back up at Vin, uncertainty written across every feature.
Vin stood frozen in shock. He could hardly believe his ears. He'd dreamed of this moment for so long, that now that it was actually happening he felt a sense of unreality.
"Vin?" Chris' tentative voice broke his paralysis. He moved slowly towards the tall figure, afraid he might vanish if Vin moved too quickly. He could see the tension in Chris' body as Vin stopped just a handspan away.
"Hey cowboy", Vin said softly. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the gunslinger. Then, reaching up, he brushed his mouth softly against Chris' slightly parted lips. It was even better than he'd imagined. Chris let out a low moan and Vin leaned back.
"Are you sure...he started to ask, when Chris cut him off.
"I can live with it." And Chris smiled.
THE END