Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner lifted a heavy wooden post and carried it slowly to the corral. Chris had dug the holes earlier, before Vin had arrived with the wagon of supplies, and they had been working under the sun all day, expanding Chris's small corral to fit a few more horses. Chris had his eye on a black mare for sale by a new widow over in Eagle Bend who was moving back East. The price was too steep now, but he had told her what he could afford and was waiting to see if she would drop her price. Vin had gone with him to the widow's ranch, and had been mildly surprised at Chris's choice. Even though the stoic gunslinger would never admit it, getting a mare was the next step towards ranching, and the next step in settling down, which Chris denied he was doing. Vin smiled as they eased the last post into the hole. Who do you think you're kidding, Larabee? he wondered. You got a house, a job, a bigger corral, and next a new mare. If that ain't settling down, then I'll cook supper for a month."What the hell are you grinning at?" Vin's thoughts were interrupted by Larabee's question as he struggled with righting the post.
"Supper," Vin replied, helping the gunslinger by holding the post while Chris went for nails. "I'm getting mighty hungry," he added as he watched Chris bend over for the coffee can of nails and the hammer. Both men had worked up a sweat throughout the afternoon, and had gradually shed their clothes as they worked, until each was clad in only pants and boots, and gloves. Vin wiped his forehead with a bandanna resting on the fence while Chris walked back over.
"There's cold stew inside," Chris said as he hunted in the can for the right sized nails. "Help yourself."
"Not exactly the meat I had in mind, cowboy." Chris looked up suddenly, and shook his head at Vin's grin.
"Help me finish this corral, and you can have whatever meat you want," he said, picking up a board and steadying it against the post. Vin took the hammer and nails and pounded the plank fast. They added another four planks to the posts, completing the corral, and then both leaned back against their handiwork, tired and sweaty but pleased with the effort. Vin leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and let the sun glide over his face, and Chris couldn't help but look. Vin felt Chris's eyes on him and lifted his head, opening his eyes and moving a bit closer to the gunslinger. "Supper time yet?" he asked with another grin, a grin almost salacious enough to rival Buck Wilmington's.
Chris had learned a lot about the sharpshooter in the two or so months since he'd showed Vin the wisdom of Ezra's teachings. He'd learned that Vin Tanner slept like the dead. Not heavy like the dead, but unmoving, on his back, with no sound, barely even breath. Once or twice Chris had leaned over him to make sure he was even alive, and then learned something else about the tracker: he came awake at the slightest movement. Chris had been lucky Vin didn't sleep with his gun, or he'd have a mare's leg-sized hole in his forehead.
He had also learned that Vin liked being cooked for. He'd never ask for anything, but when Chris made chicken and dumplings, on Sunday of course, Vin had literally licked the pot clean. When Chris had tried his hand at flapjacks, Vin had eaten all of them too, drowned in maple syrup to cover the fact that Chris had forgotten the eggs. He'd eaten a stack of four or five before Chris had sat down at the table and discovered the tasteless gritty mess-up. After spitting them out, he'd asked Vin why he'd eaten them. Vin had replied, "Because you made 'em."
Chris learned that Vin's back bothered him more than he let on, and that he had a funny crooked scar down his backside, which Vin had explained by saying only "Cactus. Don't ask." He learned why Vin kept his hair long; not because of his belief in Indian ways, as Chris had suspected, but because he had funny ears, a bit pointy. Chris had laughed at Vin's glare as he pulled the hair away from his ears, and then reached over to touch the vaguely pointy tip. Vin had pulled away like he'd been burned, and the jolt at touching Vin so intimately had scared Chris too. After that they'd kept their touching as it had been, one or the other on top, thrusting away until they both came, intensely pleasurable but not too personal. Vin seemed most comfortable with that, and Chris figured he was too. After all, when Vin and he were first together, it was about as impersonal as two people fucking could be, and they'd come a long way since then, but Chris couldn't help feel as though something was missing.
Most of all, Chris Larabee had learned that the shy quiet tracker was damn near insatiable, and had an "anytime, anywhere" grin that made Chris's cock twitch - the same grin he was wearing now as he edged closer to the gunslinger. Vin took a long sip of water from the canteen, and then offered it to Chris. As Chris lifted his head back to finish the water, he felt Vin's nimble fingers slide into the waistband of his pants. Chris swallowed the water and tossed the empty canteen. Both men looked around as Vin started unbuttoning Chris's pants, but the only prying eyes were from the horses standing near the two, expecting sugar or apples and nickering when they were kept waiting.
Chris closed his eyes and sucked in his breath as Vin reached further into his pants.
"Pants are too damn tight, Larabee," Vin said. "Best take 'em off." Chris nodded and slid the pants to his ankles as Vin undid his own pants and slowly walked behind the gunslinger, tracing Chris's crack lightly with his finger. Chris leaned forward, bracing himself on the fence.
Vin glanced around for something to lubricate with, and saw nothing, so he used the tried and true method of spit. He eased one finger inside Chris's tight hole, seeing a slight shudder pass through the gunslinger's lean body at the breach, and he waited until the shudder passed before continuing, widening the tight passage. God, he couldn't get enough of this man. He found himself thinking about Chris at odd times, upon waking and before falling asleep, when he was eating, cleaning his gun, hell, even in the outhouse. He wanted Chris all the time, but most times he held off, telling himself it was because he didn't want to spook Chris; but sometimes as he caught a look in Chris's eyes, when he felt Chris touch him gently or when he listened to Chris breathing beside him as he slept, there was a gnawing in his own belly that felt too much like fear. He shook his head, and concentrated at the task at hand, pleasing this man and pleasing himself. After that, he'd figure out the rest.
When he felt Chris was as ready as he could be, Vin tried to spread Chris's legs further, but they were trapped by his pants around his ankles. He pulled out his fingers and lifted one of Chris's boots to him, yanking it off his foot and then pulling Chris's leg out of the pants. He was suddenly in a rough hurry, tossing Chris's black pants towards the foot that was still encased in a boot and black denim before removing his own pants and boots. Chris was quiet before him, quieter than usual that is. The man spoke less than a tree on a talkative day, but now he stood braced against the fence, looking straight ahead at the trees lining his property. Vin hesitated.
"Chris?" he asked softly.
"Yeah?" he heard the equally soft reply.
"You up to this?"
The gunslinger grinned, then turned his body slightly, revealing his engorged shaft straining to his belly. "What do you think?" he asked.
Vin smiled in reply. "I think you got a problem needs taken care of." He turned Chris back to the fence, and placed his cock at Chris's entrance, then slid in with a low groan. "So good," was the only coherent speech he could mutter. "So good."
Chris closed his eyes as Vin filled him, gripping the fence as he waited for the pleasure to overwhelm the pain. He felt Vin grip his hips and start to move, slowly at first. Chris figured he must have permanent grooves on his hips from where Vin clutched him as he fucked him, because that was another thing Chris had learned about Vin: he liked being on top, and he liked going hard. It was always good, as it was this time, Vin hitting the special spot inside him over and over, fast and hard, and if that was all it ever was, Chris wasn't ever going to complain. Lately, however, he found himself wanting things he had no business wanting, no matter how many times he told himself not to. His thoughts were interrupted as Vin ground his hips into his ass, and the wave of pleasure that filled him overwhelmed him. He pushed back against the fence, driving Vin further inside him, his own cock weeping and needy, but he couldn't let go of the fence, his weight braced against it as Vin tried to drive him through it.
"Vin," he said through gritted teeth, and Vin reached around and grasped his rock hard cock, pumping him in rhythm. Both were panting, sweat rolling off them as they moved, and Vin pumped him harder, losing the rhythm as he tried to get Chris off first. Chris came into Vin's hand, his seed spilling through Vin's fingers on to the ground, and right after Vin followed, crying out sharply as his seed filled his friend. At the noise and the rocking fence, the horses who had come over for treats backed away sharply, ears back in suspicion of the two sweaty, moaning men.
When both were spent, they sagged against the corral, catching their breaths, Vin still inside Chris. Their sweat and seed started to dry, yet Vin didn't seem in any hurry to pull out.
"Vin?" Chris asked.
"Yeah?"
"You gonna stay there all day?"
He paused, and Chris could picture that anytime, anywhere grin. "Kinda like it here," he said finally.
Chris looked up and was met by suspicious glares across the corral. "I think we spooked the horses," he said.
Vin eased out and backed away. "Naw, they're just taking lessons," he replied, then bent to pick up his clothes, and Chris did the same.
They dressed in silence. Chris watched Vin as he dressed, his movements at once lazy and purposeful. The tracker seemed lost in thought as he buttoned up his pants and shrugged into his shirt and coat, his eyes on the horses as they settled down to nibble at the dry grass. Chris struggled to find something to say; he was never good with words and didn't care to be. He let his actions speak for him, and right now he knew what his action should be: walk away and let things lie. But then he thought, what the hell; the worst he can do is shoot me dead. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the front of Vin's coat and pulled him towards him, covering Vin's mouth with his own before Vin could react. Vin stiffened but didn't pull away, and Chris waited, eyes closed, for the man to either shoot him or kiss him back. He finally felt Vin relax, his lips soften and his mouth open, and Vin's hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Their tongues intertwined, and they tasted each other for the first time, taking each other in as much as possible before they pulled apart to breathe.
Vin looked at Chris with a question in his eyes. Chris grinned at his bewilderment. "If you're going to fuck me, at least kiss me after," he said, then grabbed his gun belt and headed for his house, leaving a shaken Vin Tanner to watch him go.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
Chris watched Vin saddling his horse from inside his shack. He knew kissing him was a mistake, but he couldn't make himself regret it. Still, he figured he ought to apologize, or try to.
He stepped from the porch to where Vin was tightening the cinches of his saddle. "Leaving?" he asked.
"Yep," Vin answered.
Chris took a deep breath. "Sorry, Vin. Didn't mean to run you off."
Vin paused. "You didn't." His lascivious grin returned. "Yer a real nice kisser. Just surprised me, that's all."
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Been out here three days. Folks'll talk."
"Reckon you're right. I'll come back to town tomorrow."
Vin nodded, then started for his horse, and paused. He walked to where Chris stood holding a mug of coffee and held out his hand, and they grasped forearms. "Watch yer back," he said, then turned back and climbed on his horse, and spurred it towards town.
Vin rode slowly as he headed towards town, not in a hurry to get back to crowds that were trickling in more and more everyday, either on their way through as they headed further west, or looking to set down roots. Ironically, as their ragtag group of seven peacekeepers had made the town safe, more people gravitated towards it, and therefore made it more unsafe. Vin had learned early on in his life that lots of people meant lots of trouble. In fact, before he'd met Chris Larabee, he'd been content to stay as far away from people as possible; less likely to get into trouble that way.
But now, he thought, here he was, headed back to a crowded dirty noisy town, looking for trouble, all because some skinny mean green-eyed gunslinger had roped him in. And Vin had no illusions; he was caught. It wasn't the same as when he'd fallen for Charlotte. With her, he'd been anxious, desperate all the time. He wanted it to work. Maybe he did love her, who the hell knew what he was thinking. He chalked it up to bad bacon. Food poisoning was a hell of a better excuse for acting like a damn fool than losing his head over a married woman.
What he had with Chris was different, although he knew it sure as hell wasn't love. It was just...easy. It felt right, whatever that meant. They talked when they felt like it, and most of the time, they didn't need to; unlike Charlotte, who never seemed to be able to stop talking. He didn't mind it at the time, but he could see a few years down the road with her having to plug his ears with cotton to get some peace.
Peace. Maybe that's what he had with Chris, he thought, and maybe that's what Chris had with him. It wasn't just the fucking, although that was more than enough. He was himself with Chris, and Chris was starting to let down a few walls with Vin.
Maybe that's what the kiss was for. The kiss that had shocked him straight to his toes. It had been nice; he wasn't lying about that, but he didn't know what it had meant. Chris had been married, and was well on his way to putting together a right nice new home, but if he expected Vin to be his squaw, then he was mistaken. A faint worry started in his stomach, an itch that he got when he was feeling trapped. He'd had that itch a lot that first month in this town, but it had been gone a while. Besides, he was the one who wanted more from Chris; he'd been happy just to be mounted by the man, but when Chris had shown him how good it could be, he reckoned that was as close to heaven as he was ever gonna get. The kiss promised more, but he wasn't sure if he and Chris were headed the same direction.
Vin shook his head. He'd been thinking too much again, and that always got him in trouble. He could see the tops of the wooden buildings as he neared town. The itch in his belly settled as he thought about the job at hand, wondering what trouble had rolled in on the stage that day.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
The saloon was crowded. It was past midnight, but nobody seemed in a hurry to go home. Vin sat in a chair a little behind Ezra, for all appearances watching Ezra's back against the rough-looking miners he was playing against, but also surreptitiously watching Ezra play cards, to see if he could pick up any pointers. He knew he had no hope of ever beating the gambler, but maybe he'd learn a thing or two and beat Chris once in a while. The gunslinger had a poker face to rival a brick wall.
Vin was watching Ezra bluff his way to winning on a pair of nines when the bat-wing doors opened and several trail dirty men entered, looking around before stepping inside. Inez called out to them she'd be with them in a minute, as she delivered beer to a table of rowdy actors who had come to town to put on a play that Ezra had said was a classic, while also expressing his doubt that the production would do the play justice.
The man in the front of the group nodded slightly to Inez, then lead the way to an empty table near the piano, pushing his chair against the wall. A man who watches his back, Vin noticed, as he moved his chair so he could see their table more clearly, leaning back so it looked like he was dozing when in fact he was watching from beneath the brim of his hat, a trick that had served him well many times. As he watched, the leader of the band, a scrawny man with straggly brown hair and a patchy beard, leaned back against the wall and pulled down his hat as well, mimicking Vin's posture, and although Vin couldn't see his eyes, he knew the man was looking at him.
Vin leaned forward so he was near Ezra's shoulder. "Ezra," he said softly as he could over the din of the saloon.
"I am otherwise engaged," Ezra said, smiling to the other men at the table. "If you wish to confront those ruffians who just skulked into this fine establishment, go conscript Mr. Wilmington or Mr. Dunne."
"Ezra, yer no fun. Don't ya think confrontin' ruffians is more fun than cheatin' miners?"
"As I've said many times, my skills are so superior I have no need of sleight of hand. Besides, I like my hands as they are-unblemished."
"Sissy," Vin said, earning a glare from the conman, but he teasingly slapped Ezra's red-coated shoulder as he stood. Vin took one last look at Ezra before he went to find Buck and JD, trying to picture the fancy gambler with Chris. He just couldn't see it. Ezra and Chris. He couldn't picture Ezra, being so neat and proper, doing the things Chris had said he had done, with such skill, and he couldn't help the small kick of protectiveness that appeared when he saw Chris and Ezra around each other. Stop being silly, Tanner, he told himself. Cut it out before you start buying the man flowers and candy.
He waded through the crowd, keeping an eye on the group by the table, until he found Buck and JD by the bar.
"You see, JD," Buck was saying to young sheriff, "There's a right way and a wrong way to do things. And what you just tried there, that was the wrong way."
JD rolled his eyes. "I suppose you're going to tell me the right way."
"Better than that, boy, I'm gonna show you." The mustached ladies' man stood to display his talents but was stopped by Vin.
"Boys, we may have trouble," Vin said.
Both Buck and JD scanned the room. "Who?" JD asked.
"Over my right shoulder, up against the wall by the piano."
Buck and JD glanced at the group of men, who had by now been served beers and looked a lot more at ease.
"You sure?" Buck asked. "They're ugly as the back end of a horse, but they look quiet enough."
Vin shrugged. "Just a feelin'."
JD was still looking at the table. "That one against the wall looks familiar."
"Like wanted poster familiar?" Buck asked.
"Maybe."
"Well, sheriff, go check and we'll keep an eye on them," Buck said. JD finished his beer and headed towards the jail. Vin leaned against the bar next to Buck, nodding his thanks to the bartender who handed him a gut warmer.
"When'd you get back?" Buck asked.
"Few hours ago," Vin answered.
"Chris get his corral done?"
"Yep."
Buck glanced at the taciturn sharpshooter. Making small talk with him was like talking to a doorknob, so he motioned for another beer and leaned back to wait for JD, glancing around the room. He nudged Vin as his eyes met those of a brunette woman sitting at a far table. "You see that pretty little filly over there in the pink dress?" he said to Vin. "She's with that group putting on a play tomorrow night. She's an actress. You know what that means, right?"
"Means she can pretend she likes ya," Vin replied.
Buck's response was cut off as JD hurried back into the saloon, carrying a yellow piece of paper. He nodded and glanced at the table where the man still sat with his hat pulled low, watching them. He didn't move as JD walked to his table, Buck and Vin behind him.
"TJ Smithers," JD said to the leader. "I've got a wanted poster from the state of Missouri. Come with me quietly, and there won't be no trouble."
Smithers didn't glance up. "I was acquitted of that charge eight months ago. I'm a law-abiding citizen now."
"That ain't what this poster says," JD replied.
"Poster's wrong. Got my papers right here," Smithers said, reaching into his coat. Before he could pull out whatever was inside, three guns were pointed at his head.
"I wouldn't do that, mister," JD said.
"He's telling the truth," another of Smithers' gang said.
"Take the paper out slowly," Buck said. "Anything other than paper and we fill you full of lead."
Smithers did glance up then, a slight smile on his face. He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded document, opening it and spreading it on the table. JD leaned over to read it.
"See, Sheriff? I told you I was innocent."
JD stood back up and glanced at Buck. "Paper says he was acquitted. Don't say he's innocent."
"We ain't got a right to hold him then," Vin said.
"Can't we just put him in jail for the hell of it?" Buck asked.
"I wish. We can wire Missouri to confirm his story," JD said.
"Mister, why are you in town?" Vin asked the man, who once again leaned back and looked at Vin from under his hat.
"Thinking of relocating. Heard this was a safe God-fearing place to live."
"We'll wire Missouri in the mornin' to confirm your story. Until then, ya best watch yerself."
Smithers nodded. "I intend to."
Buck, JD, and Vin stepped out of the saloon.
"I don't like it," JD said.
"Me either, kid, but most we can do is watch him until we hear back from Missouri," Vin answered.
"We best post a watch outside the bank. Just in case," Buck said.
"I'll take first watch," Vin said.
"Good idea. I've got an actress to see to," Buck replied. JD rolled his eyes and followed Buck back into the saloon. Vin checked his gun and walked towards the bank, disappearing into the shadows to watch.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
Vin slept for a few hours in his wagon, and awoke stiff from sleeping on the thick pile of blankets he had placed there. He missed the mattress that Chris had on his bed at the shack, then chided himself for getting soft. But as his bones cracked as he stretched, he had a sudden image of strong callused hands that could work out those kinks in his shoulders, and wondered what Chris would do if he asked the man for a massage. Laugh at him or shoot him were the two things that came to mind. Of course, he thought, pulling his coat over his shoulders, he could offer first. He'd noticed Chris rubbing his neck and temples after they'd worked on that corral all day, or even hunching his back after riding too long; old man like that might welcome a rub down. Sure, he thought, he could get some whiskey in the gunslinger then walk up behind him and....
Vin suddenly shook his head. Hell, Tanner, what are you doing? Trying to figure out how to seduce Chris Larabee? Might was well eat a bullet on your own and save him the trouble.
Vin hopped out of his wagon and headed towards the telegraph office, hoping whatever news JD had would take his mind off a black-clad gunslinger with stiff muscles.
JD was stepping out of the telegraph office as Vin approached, holding the yellow piece of paper.
"Any news?" Vin asked. He noticed Smithers and two of his men standing nearby, watching them.
"They said they're checking," JD answered. "Get back to us in a few days."
Both peacekeepers looked at Smithers. "Guess this means we can't lock ya up," Vin said.
"I told you, I'm rehabilitated," Smithers replied. "I haven't done one wrong thing since I left Missouri." He nodded over Vin's shoulder. "Those pretty boys are the ones you want to watch. They've been eyeing your bank since they got here."
Vin looked behind him at three of the actors from the traveling troupe stepping out of the hotel. They caught the end of Smithers' comments.
"You better watch your mouth, sir," said one of the actors, a tall beefy man with a handlebar mustache who was billed as David Sawyer, the most talented actor in the West, on the posters that had been plastered over the town. "Before I take umbrage at your insinuation."
"He talks like Ezra," JD said to Vin.
"Except Ezra wouldn't wear them sissy shoes," Vin replied, referring to the man's high-heeled Hessian boots.
"You couldn't take anything from me," Smithers replied, and his men, sensing a fight, fell in behind him.
The actors moved closer. "Think we should break it up?" JD asked Vin.
"Reckon we better." They stepped between the two groups.
JD held up his hands. "Look, fellas, we don't want a fight, especially not before breakfast. Why don't you all go your separate ways, and nobody gets hurt."
Sawyer looked down at him. "Least of all you," he said.
The young sheriff stood a bit taller. "Mister, unless you want to watch that show of yours from jail, I suggest you get moving."
The actor smiled, and appeared to think it over, then bowed dramatically. "As you wish," he said, and turned to go. A snicker from Smithers halted him.
When he turned back, the actor's smile was replaced with a sneer. He glanced at JD, then shoved him out of the way and ran at Smithers, knocking him to the ground. The others joined in, and JD started to jump into the fray, but was halted by Vin, who pulled his gun from the holster and fired it once into the air. All the fighting men stopped at the gunshot, looked at Vin, then moved as group, dragging him and JD into the fight. "Aw, hell," Vin said as he ducked a fist and returned the punch, connecting with somebody's jaw and hoping it wasn't JD.
From there, the fight turned into a free-for-all, and Vin actually found himself enjoying it. It had been a while since he'd been in a good old-fashioned knock down drag out fight, and although he took a punch or two to the jaw, he gave more than he got. He also kept an eye on JD, and saw the kid was actually holding his own. Suddenly Smithers was in front of him, and Vin knew the fight had just turned ugly. He saw a glint of metal; Smithers was palming a knife.
"That ain't right fair," Vin said, tensing.
"Ain't supposed to be. Supposed to hurt," Smithers replied, grinning. Vin grinned back and lunged at him, knocking the knife from his hand as they fell to the ground, rolling and landing punches. Vin felt himself jerked up by the shoulders and one of Smithers' men had his arms. Smithers came towards him, still grinning. He landed several punches on Vin's stomach before Vin kicked out at Smithers, hitting him in the groin, and then back at the man holding him, hearing an ankle crack under his boot. No one ever accused him of fighting fair, either. He saw someone approach from his left, but didn't have time to react as he was knocked off his feet. He thought he heard a gunshot just before he landed head first into a water trough.
When he sat up sputtering, Chris and Josiah had the actors and outlaws rounded up. Ezra appeared briefly in the window of his room at the boarding house, holding his Remington, but then disappeared and the window slammed down.
The cocky grin on Chris's face told Vin he was sorry he missed the fun. He walked to where Vin was slowly standing up in the trough as JD and Josiah herded the fighters to the jail.
Vin began squeezing out the water in his clothes. Chris stopped beside him.
"Reckon it's been a while since you had a bath," the gunslinger said quietly, glancing at his sodden friend. "You're supposed to get undressed first."
Vin glared in response. "You gonna help me out of this thing or you gonna stand there making cracks?"
The corner of Chris's mouth raised in a slight grin. "I got a few more cracks yet."
Vin finished wringing out his jacket then started to step out of the trough. Chris grabbed his arm to help. "I can do it," Vin said, trying to shrug him off.
"I know you can. Just thought it'd be nice to help you with your bath," Chris said.
Vin looked at him, surprised. "Don't think the middle of town is the place for it, though."
Chris looked around at the small crowd pretending not to watch. "Ain't so sure. This town could use a bit of scandal."
Vin shook his head and stepped all the way out of the trough. "I don't want a scandal. Right now all I want are some dry clothes and a whiskey."
Chris let go of his arm. "I'll meet you in the saloon, once you're dry."
Vin nodded, and watched Chris walk away. As he stood there dripping, he watched the black tails of Chris's duster swirl around his legs as he disappeared into the saloon, wondering. The man he'd been thinking of seducing was talking about taking a bath with him, and he thought he should be right behind him, half-undressed already and hollering for someone to bring them a tub. Instead, the damn itch in his stomach was back, and it was getting stronger.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
The town was quiet that night, as nearly everyone was at the play, which had gone on despite three actors spending the night in jail for disturbing the peace.
Even the bar was nearly empty, both Inez and the bartender hurrying off to attend the show, leaving Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner to finish their whiskey alone.
"You didn't want to see that show, did ya?" Vin asked. He pushed the nearly empty bottle to Chris.
Chris grabbed the bottle and finished it. "Nope," he answered, sitting back and looking at the man across from him, slouched in his chair wearing a loopy grin. He liked to see Vin like this, relaxed, even if it was due to half a bottle of cheap whiskey. He was feeling the buzz himself, but it never relaxed him as it did the tracker. Instead, it made him remember, remember things he didn't want to, the family he'd lost, the bitch he'd nearly sold his soul to. Now here he was with Vin, doing God knows what. When he'd left his shack for town early that morning, he'd been looking forward to seeing the sharpshooter, not fucking him, not being with him, just seeing him, and then when he'd ridden in and seen Vin getting beaten on by two men, his heart had jumped to his throat. He knew Vin could take of himself in damn near any situation, yet he'd wanted to tear those two bastards limb from limb and only when he'd seen Vin clamoring out of the water trough did the rage and worry ease. The whiskey helped the rage too, but it also made him remember his family, and made him wonder if he wasn't somehow dishonoring them by carrying on with another man. Admit it, Larabee, he thought, it's more than that, and you'd better put an end to it soon before it gets too far out of hand, before his worrying scared Vin off.
But one glance at the smiling blue eyes of the man across from him, and he knew that he wasn't going to end it tonight. His eyes met Vin's and he nodded towards the stairs. "We got the place to ourselves," he said. "Might as well make use of it."
Vin nodded in response and started to stand, balancing himself on the table. Suddenly Chris was at his elbow, propping him up. "Looks like you need some help there, pard," Chris said, and Vin leaned into him as they headed towards the stairs.
They entered the small room Chris rented that overlooked the street. A slight breeze wafted the thin curtains, and the town was quiet, the only sound occasional applause echoing from the opera house at the other end of town. Vin sat down heavily in the bare rocking chair, while Chris closed and locked the door, then lit a lamp, keeping the flame down low.
Vin felt himself sobering quickly as he realized he was here with Chris, alone, and he wasn't sure what to do. When Chris had kissed him, it had changed things, and he still didn't know if he wanted to be kissed again. If he said no, he knew Chris would respect that, but he'd also know he was denying the man something, although hell if he knew what. All this was new to him. He'd started this. He'd wanted Chris, and Chris had taken him. That first time had been hard and fast, and empty. Then Chris had gone and learned to make it nice for the both of them, taking another step towards something. Then another step was taken when Chris kissed him, but steps toward what? He had wanted Chris, but now he was thinking that having Chris was maybe a bit more than he could handle; the man had been married, and by all accounts a faithful husband. He wasn't sure now what was going on in Chris's head, and if he even wanted to know. He sighed. Hell, whatever happened would happen tomorrow, because tonight they had a soft bed and a quiet town all to themselves, and he wanted to take advantage of it.
Chris took off his hat and gun belt, and sat down on the bed, bending his head and rubbing his neck. Vin remembered his earlier thoughts of seduction.
"Neck botherin' ya?" he asked.
Chris didn't look up. "A bit. It'll be all right."
Vin paused, then plowed ahead. "Maybe I could lend a hand?"
Chris looked up at him warily, then relaxed a bit as he saw Vin was serious. "That'd be nice," he said. Real nice, he thought, as Vin stood and climbed on the bed behind him, placing his rough hands on the tight muscles of Chris's neck. He groaned as the sharpshooter's thumbs worked at the knots, awkwardly and not at all gently, but still the tension eased out of him. He could feel the calluses on Vin's hands, especially the one on the outside of his trigger finger. Chris had closed his eyes, so he jumped when he felt Vin's hand on the top button of his shirt.
"Relax, cowboy. Just tryin' to get to yer shoulders."
Chris could only nod as Vin reached around to unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt, and began kneading his shoulders, then pushed the shirt down so he could ease the tight cords of his upper back, also trapping his arms in the material of the shirt.
"That's feels real good, Vin, thanks," Chris said. He shrugged back into his shirt as Vin pulled his hands away, then he turned to face him. Chris reached out for the top of Vin's pants, tugging on them to pull him closer, but Vin resisted.
"What are ya doin'?" Vin asked.
"Thought it'd be nice to try something different," Chris said.
"You ain't been with Ezra again and his fancy notions?" Vin asked.
Chris shook his head. "Nope, but I bet he'd have some good ideas."
Vin sat back on the bed, pulling away from Chris.
"I'm not serious, Vin," Chris said.
Vin looked at him suspiciously. "Then what'd ya have in mind?"
Chris stood suddenly, heading towards a dresser. "Never mind," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.
"Tell me, dammit," Vin said.
Chris looked around for glasses, but not finding any, opened the bottle and took a long drink. "Don't want my teeth kicked in," he said, setting the bottle on top of the dresser.
"Unless yer askin' me to marry you or some silly shit like that..." Vin said. Chris glared at him from across the room. "So what is it?" Vin continued.
Chris took another long pull from the whiskey, and then a deep breath. "Maybe it'd be nice to...you know...forget it. There ain't a good way to ask a man to suck on you."
Vin smiled a bit, his cock twitching at the mental image Chris's words inspired. "How do ya ask a girl?" he said.
"I just ask, how much?" Chris replied.
"I don't come cheap, Larabee," Vin said.
Chris stepped back to the bed, but stopped.
"You ever done it?" Vin asked.
"Nope," Chris answered.
"Not to Ezra?"
"Nope," Chris said again, and Vin realized he'd been hoping for that answer. "You ever done it?" Chris asked.
"Nope," Vin replied. There was another long pause.
"You wanna go first?" Vin asked.
Chris glanced at him. "You mean go first...or get done first?"
"Whichever."
"You choose," Chris said.
"You brought it up," Vin said.
"Wish I hadn't," Chris said under his breath. He glanced at the whiskey, then back at Vin. Chris saw the same hesitation and fear that he was feeling reflected in Vin's blue eyes. "I'll go first," he said.
"You mean go first or get done first?" Vin said. Chris heard a trace of amusement in his voice.
"I mean get your pants off, Tanner, before I change my mind." As Vin undressed, Chris walked back to the dresser and took another sip of whiskey, then turned back to see Vin unbuttoning his shirt, naked from the waist down, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sight nearly knocked him over. His own pants were suddenly too tight as he saw Vin's thick cock already semi-erect, and the unflappable tracker fumbling a bit over the buttons of his shirt.
He walked over and held out the whiskey. "This may help," Chris said, and Vin took the bottle gratefully, taking a long sip. He shrugged out of his shirt, and waited as Chris finished unbuttoning his own shirt, then removed his boots and unbuttoned his pants, but left them on. Chris grabbed the pillow from the bed and placed it on the floor, then knelt in front of Vin, not looking at him as he reached out to touch the man's cock, causing it to jump in his hand and Vin's body to stiffen in response.
"You ain't gotta do this," Vin said, but Chris didn't respond. He stroked Vin's cock gently, then leaned forward and licked, smiling at the groan that simple move elicited. He then placed his mouth over the head, sucking gently, dazed at the feeling of having a man's cock in his mouth. He ran his tongue under the ridge, grabbing the shaft at the base and pumping it, and relaxing his throat to take in more. His lips met his fist and he sped up his movement, smiling again as Vin fell back on the bed, the blanket clenched in his fists, low moans escaping every time Chris sucked him in. The taste was slightly bitter, the feel of the organ in his throat disconcerting, but he definitely liked having Vin writhing in pleasure beneath him. He glanced up as he continued sucking, seeing Vin's heaving chest dripping sweat, his knuckles white where he clutched the blanket, his breath coming in quick bursts.
"Chris, " Vin panted. "I'm gonna cum. God, yes, don't stop."
Chris wasn't sure what to do then, but he didn't have a lot of time to decide as a stream of cum hit his throat, so he kept sucking, the bitter liquid filling his mouth and dribbling out. When Vin was finished, Chris reached for his bandanna and spit out the warm seed, deciding swallowing was for another day.
Vin lay with his eyes closed, one hand resting lightly on his chest. "That was damn good, cowboy," he said, his voice raspy. "You sure you ain't done that before?"
"I'd sure as hell remember if I had," Chris said, reaching for the whiskey.
Vin sat up, resting on one elbow. "That bad?"
Chris thought about it as he sipped the whiskey. "Not really. Sure liked your reactions," he said with a devilish grin, then he shrugged. "Bet it just takes getting used to."
Vin sat up all the way, then patted the bed beside him. "Yer turn," he said.
Chris looked up at him. "Don't have to, you know. You ain't obligated or nothing."
"I know that. Now get yer scrawny ass up here."
Chris smiled as he and Vin changed places. "Hope that mouth is better at sucking than it is at talking," he said, removing his clothes quickly.
"Can't be any worse," Vin replied, then followed Chris's action earlier, stroking the gunfighter's cock until it was completely hard, then licking up and down the shaft, gauging the taste and feel of the muscle twitching beneath his tongue. Chris was quiet, as always, even when Vin engulfed his shaft, although Vin noticed he stiffened and grabbed the blanket as Vin had done. The cock slid in his mouth easily; he was surprised he didn't gag, as he expected to. He moved his head up and down quickly, but had to stop to catch his breath, instead sucking on the swollen head, and hearing a sharp intake from Chris as he did. He continued sucking and swirling his tongue, and remembering something he'd enjoyed from a saloon girl one time, he paused to spit on his fingers then reached his hand down between Chris's legs and lightly fondled his balls, earning him another intake of breath. Dammit, didn't the man ever make any noise? He squeezed the delicate sacs gently, then moved his hand down even further, to the sensitive skin underneath, rubbing it gently as he sucked. He thought he might have a heard a low moan, but then Chris lightly placed his hand on Vin's head, not pushing on him or pulling his hair, just his hand resting there as Vin's head moved up and down, lightly entwining his fingers in the long strands. Vin moved his hand back up to Chris's balls as he felt them start to tighten, just as Chris softly warned him with a single whispered word, "Vin," and Vin had to pull away, pumping Chris' shaft as he came, the seed dripping down on to his hands. He looked up to see Chris's eyes closed and his head thrown back, the column of his throat taut. A drop of sweat trickled down from his chin, and Vin had a mental image of following that drip with his tongue, amazed at the strength and power emanating from this man, amazed also that he had just had this strong powerful man in his mouth, in the most vulnerable position possible. And lastly amazed that he hadn't minded it at all.
"We should do that more often," Vin said.
"Yep," Chris responded, his breathing nearing normal. Vin sat up beside him on the bed. Chris glanced at him and saw the anytime, anywhere grin reappear on his face, then dropped his eyes to where Vin was already hard again.
"You're worse than a billy goat," Chris said.
"It's yer own fault. If ya weren't so damn desirable," Vin replied. Chris smiled slightly and stretched out on his stomach on the bed. He closed his eyes as Vin prepared him and pushed up to his knees so Vin could fuck him. It was good, as it was always good, but Chris couldn't help wonder how he could feel filled and empty at the same time.
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