Author's Note: March 2001 MBECO Ghosts of the Confederacy challenge. Many thanks to Kap for reading this through for me and pointing out all my moments of idiocy <vbg>
Comments: I love feedback... feedback makes me happy... positive feedback makes me ecstatic and eager to write more ::shameless hint::
Disclaimer: Chris Larabee, Vin Tanner and all other Magnificent Seven regulars belong to MGM, Mirisch, and Trilogy Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: A new take on that first episode.
This silent world, we're living in. Nobody knows, nobody knows 'bout me and you; In silent words, we talk together, Nobody hears, nobody hears a word we say. 'This Silent World' by Chris de BurghHe had ridden into this small frontier town penniless, illiterate and alone. The first problem was easy to solve for a man who had no qualms about taking on any job that would put a few dollars in his pocket, no matter how menial. He had checked around, asked in a few places if they needed a handyman; was even prepared to shovel horse manure at the livery if need be.
As it turned out, he was a mite luckier as Potter, the owner of Watson's hardware store, needed an assistant to keep the floor swept and the shelves stocked. To be truthful, it was Mrs. Potter who had taken pity on him after his initial request for work had been met with a negative from the old man. As he stepped back outside his sharp hearing had caught her kind voice berating her husband for taking on too much at his age and saying he needed some help. Vin could not help but grin at her description of him as some poor vagabond child needing a good meal and some Christian charity. Potter had hurried out moments later and Vin had been waiting for him. He was gruffly offered the work and he accepted gratefully.
It was not a rewarding job but it paid five dollars a week, enough to put Peso up at the livery and still leave a little left in his pocket for a drink or two. Mrs. Potter had insisted on feeding him twice a day, and Virgil Potter had offered him the floor of the storeroom to sleep on, thereby saving him even more money.
For a hunted man, trying to escape the unjustified bounty on his head, this was more than he could have hoped for. It was a chance to stop and take stock of his situation, a time to consider all the alternatives and see if there was anything he could do to prove his innocence.
He did not plan to stay long, maybe just a few weeks - or until the first bounty hunter tracked him down.
-ooOOoo-
The early evening sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow across the scrubby land and, through the dark shadows it cast, picking out the planking on the wood-constructed buildings that lay ahead. The lone rider pushed on into the town, keeping to the centre of the street where he had a good view of all the doorways and windows. Despite his relaxed posture, he was alert to danger, his hand loose around the reins in case he had to drop them fast and go for his gun.
A number of people were bustling about but they took no notice of the black-clad stranger, too caught up with their own lives and the need to get off the streets before night fell. A body came hurtling out of the door of the saloon, assisted by the bartender, and fell onto the dusty street just beyond the boardwalk. Chris Larabee turned away; not interested in the protesting drunk who had hauled himself onto his unsteady feet before lurching away, slapping his dusty hat against his thigh and spitting curses back towards the saloon.
Chris came to a halt outside a building proclaiming to have rooms for rent, and stepped down from his horse, tying the gelding securely to the rail out front. He pulled the saddlebag off the back of his horse and slung it over his shoulder, his eyes taking one last look in each direction. His spurs jangled as he stepped up onto the boardwalk, slowly making his way into the dimly lit interior. There was a small bell on the counter and he hit it hard with the palm of his hand, then leaned onto the counter top to await the patron.
A comely woman in a stained apron came out from a back room, rubbing her hands together to shake off the flour that coated them. The aroma of fresh corn bread and meat stew wafted through the door behind her, reminding him that he had not eaten for many hours. She appraised him uneasily, taking in his dusty appearance and menacing air.
"Says you have a room for rent."
"How long d'you need it?"
"Few days. Maybe a week."
They bartered for a moment and, upon agreeing on a price, he threw a few dollars onto the counter. The woman pocketed the money and leaned under the counter to retrieve a key, her demeanour changing once she realised he had paid for that week's rent up front. He followed her up the stairs and along the darkened corridor, waiting patiently while she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Following her inside, he nodded his approval at the clean room and then he took the key from her outstretched hand.
"That stew'll be just about cooked by now. Be serving it downstairs real soon... if you're hungry."
He nodded, his stomach almost rumbling at the memory of that fine aroma that had drifted out from the kitchen. He just hoped it tasted as good as it smelled. Chris waited until he had heard her steps disappearing down the hallway before he dropped the saddlebag onto the bed. He moved over to the window, drawing back the curtain so he could take another look down the length of the main street.
The sun had almost set, the dark shadows moving through the town like ink-stained fingers reaching out to grasp at the last shards of light. The glow from oil lamps started to reach into the street from the various establishments, pushing back those claw-like fingers of darkness. The tinkle of a piano drifted across from the saloon; a siren call that beckoned to him and he licked his lips, already tasting the fiery whiskey that would push away some of the darkness in his soul.
Chris saw to his horse first, riding along to the livery and handing over a dollar to the stablemaster. He wandered back along the main street, taking note of the many faces he could see through the windows but he recognised none. That was good. He did not want to meet anyone he knew. He wanted to retain his anonymity, to find a dark corner to sit in while he considered his options. Since the loss of his family, he had spent too much time moving from town to town. He was tired; tired of the dusty trails, tired of the constant stream of new faces and old trouble, tired of the impersonal rooms that mocked his memories of a time when he had a place he called home. For three years he had been searching for the men who destroyed his life, leaving everything he had ever loved in a burnt-out shell of a ranch. His thirst for revenge was as strong as ever but the sharpness of that terrible black grief had started to dull around the edges leaving him feeling hollow inside. He had long resisted the temptation to fill that emptiness with whiskey, aware that, although the alcohol dulled his mind, softening the harsh memories, it gave only a temporary solace and he paid dearly for the overindulgence both physically and mentally.
He returned to the boarding house, filling himself up with the beef stew and fresh corn bread, grateful he had not given into the urge to head straight for the saloon. With a full stomach, and a slightly happier disposition, Chris made his way from the boarding house, stepping across the street to where the piano was still playing lively.
He pushed aside the batwing doors and walked up to the bar, using the mirrors and his peripheral vision to scan the faces but, again, there was no one even remotely familiar. Taking a bottle of Red-Eye and a shot glass, he made his way across the still relatively empty saloon to a table set back against the wall in a darkened corner. With his back to the wall and a good view of the interior, he sank back into the shadows where the light of the oil lamps could not reach him, and he nursed his drink.
The evening passed by slowly, the saloon gradually filling. Working girls began to cruise the clientele, searching for lonely men willing to spend their hard-earned money on a few minutes of sweaty sex. A withering look convinced the girls to stay away from him, and he ignored the regret in their eyes as they moved on to another target.
His eyes widened when a familiar, tall figure entered the saloon. Before he was even aware, he had risen partway out of his seat, intending to greet this old friend, but then he hesitated, sinking back deeper into the shadows and watched; memories of happier times crowding through his head.
Buck Wilmington grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a girl, in that order, and headed up the stairs, large hands slapping the woman's ample rump, drawing a grin from Chris as he heard the woman's squeal of delight. Unlike most of the men hanging around the bar, Buck knew how to show a woman a good time so Chris was fairly certain he would see no more of him that night.
Eventually, the hour grew late and the saloon started to empty, except for a few drunken stalwarts and those occupied in a game of poker with a smartly dressed gambler. If he had been in a more friendly mood then he would have been tempted to sit in on that game, although he had a feeling he would have ended up shooting that gambler, if only to stop the man from talking so damn much.
Chris corked the still half-full bottle and pushed himself up from the table. He slipped the bottle inside the deep inner pocket lining his duster, leaving his hands free in case of trouble, and headed back to the boarding house.
He had spent a long, hard day in the saddle and it was time to ease his tired body into the bed in the hope that it would prove to be a mite more comfortable than the dusty ground.
-ooOOoo-
The thunder of hooves, and the rattle of a buckboard bouncing across the ruts in the dry street, brought Vin out of a good sleep. He rubbed his eyes, recognising the feel of a pre-dawn morning by the almost imperceptible lessening of the darkness, his inner sense telling him that the sun would be rising within the next few minutes. He pulled on his jacket and went out to investigate the noise, staying in the dark shadows of the alley beside the hardware store.
The men milling about the main street near the livery looked like part of a large gang waiting on their leader, but Vin sensed that they were more likely part of that cattle drive that had been slowly making its way across from Texas. The light was on where the healer lived, and Vin supposed these men had come riding in fast with someone injured. He nodded carefully, realising it would be smart to keep a low profile in case any of those Texans had seen or heard of him. He did not want to chance any of them deciding that bounty hunting paid far better.
He went back inside, took off his jacket and tied on the apron, grabbing the broom from the corner of the storeroom. There was no point going back to bed now he was wide-awake, and the far side of the store could use a good sweep.
-ooOOoo-
Chris moaned, turning over in the surprisingly comfortable bed, the sound of horses and men yelling pulling him out of the best sleep he had known in ages. He crawled out of the bed, rubbing at the ache in his back from the hard days travelling the day before, and went to the window, teasing back the curtain and squinting into the darkness. The men had moved on to the far end of town, near the livery, and so Chris sighed and crawled back into the still-warm bed. He pulled the covers up, checked his gun was still within reach and then fell back to sleep, eager to recapture the dream he had left behind. It had been a long time since he had experienced good dreams, and this one had been filled with the presence of someone whose face had remained hidden and yet, some how, Chris had a feeling he would come to know this face better than he knew his own.
Many hours later, the sound of shots being fired brought him awake again. Realising he had slept away most of the morning, he glanced out of the window to see a fair number of men, all liquored up, shooting the clouds and anything else that happened to be in the path of the bullets they let loose.
Remnants of that dream still held him and, as he considered it, he felt the hairs rising at the back of his neck, sensing a strangeness in the air, some sense of pre-ordination, as if he was destined to be here at this time. He had felt the pull of this town from the moment he left Eagle Bend, even though his first impulse had been to head for Tombstone, but that feeling was far stronger today. Perhaps it was the easing of the heavy burden of guilt and grief that he had carried for so long? Or perhaps it was just the right time to stop this nomadic existence? Whatever the case, the sudden reappearance of Buck in his life alone gave him a feeling that this was the right time and place to take stock of his life.
Dismayed that there would be no more sleep to be had, Chris splashed some cold water over his face then dressed, slowly shrouding himself in the dark clothes that seemed to represent his state of mind.
He made up his mind to seek out Buck, and the most obvious place to start was at the saloon where he had seen him last. Ignoring the gunfire, Chris walked slowly to the saloon and up to the bar.
"Seen Buck Wilmington this morning?" he said, the thought of the bartender not knowing who he meant never even occurring to him. Buck had always had a way of attracting people to him, though it was mostly the women, making the acquaintance of everyone he met with his playful air and ready smile.
"Nope. He's still upstairs."
Another bullet thudded off the bar top and the man ducked lower, moving away quickly.
"Take a shot of whiskey."
"Help yerself."
A bullet took the top clean off the bottle that was standing close to his elbow, but Chris decided to treat that as a good omen and slopped some of the Red-Eye into the glass. He downed half of it, lips curling back from his teeth at the burn that trailed all the way down his throat to his empty stomach. More bullets thudded into the saloon, ricocheting off tables and walls. He stepped over the man lying flat out on the floor near the window, uncaring if the man was alive or dead, and unconcerned with his own safety. He had long since stopped caring about death, figured that if one of those loose bullets should hit him then it would be doing him and the rest of the world a favour.
He stood on the threshold of the saloon for far longer than was safe, his duster flapping in the breeze that flowed along the length of the main street, staring out at the drunken cowboys riding up and down as they emptied their guns in any direction. His eye caught sight of an old timer seated close by. The man flinched every once in a while when a bullet landed too close for comfort but, otherwise, he made no move to protect himself.
"Town always this lively?"
-ooOOoo-
Though he had only been in town a week, Vin knew that Nathan Jackson was a good man. Jackson had come into the store several times and Mrs. Potter was always kind to him, adding extra little items for no charge, knowing that the healer often treated people with no expectation of payment, never turning away someone who was sick or hurting.
As he stood on the boardwalk, broom in hand, he watched the scene being played out, saw the Clarion's Editor, Mary Travis, stand up to the drunken lynch mob and get knocked down. He came to a decision that he hoped he would not regret, and pulled off the apron.
He had lost his own rifle more than a week before, could remember his annoyance as it skittered down the side of the mesa, the stock breaking away from the barrel as it smashed against the sharp rocks. It was his own fault. If he had stopped to rest earlier then he would have heard the rattler that spooked his horse. If he had not been so tired and careless then he would have ensured the rifle was more securely fastened so it would not have slipped from its holster as his horse reared in fear.
That incident had been the impetus he needed to bring him into this town when his first impulse had been to skirt it and head straight on into Mexico; he needed money to buy a replacement rifle. After all, what good was a sharpshooter without a rifle? It was only when he entered the town, and fell into the welcoming arms of Mrs. Potter, that he realised he also needed a place to stop and put his head down in relative safety for a few weeks.
There was one other thing he needed, something he was loath to admit even to himself except on rare occasions: he needed company. He had spent so many years alone and was quite capable of surviving without companionship, but there were times when the loneliness became hard to bear, times when he needed even the company of strangers. In his heart he had always hoped he would find far more than that. He had hoped he would find a friend but, through all his years hunting buffalo and men, he had never found anyone he felt he could trust that implicitly.
As he stepped back outside with the rifle he had taken from the store, Virgil Potter told him in no uncertain terms that if he walked away now then he would no longer have a job. It was all bluff, of course. Vin knew the old man had a soft spot for him and was hoping to dissuade him from his suicidal intent, but there was something about Nathan Jackson's plight that was calling to him. Perhaps it was being forced to live with the very real fear of being strung up for something he had not done that made him acutely aware of Jackson's situation. He checked the rifle was loaded then looked up, his eyes catching a stranger's across the breadth of the main street.
The black-clad stranger gave a slight tilt of his head, and Vin felt his pulse start to race. He nodded back and saw complete understanding in the man's expression. Strange warmth filled him, the kick of adrenaline and something else indefinable, flooding through his veins, igniting every nerve and sending power to every muscle. His senses seemed to heighten and he had to turn away from the lean figure of the approaching stranger as the man fell into step beside him, scared that this man would read the desire in his face and back off from the fight rather than stand with him. Together, they walked along the centre of the main street, heading away from the livery towards the distant cemetery.
The few seconds of appraisal had set his stomach flipping, he had seen all the colours of the rainbow in the mostly green eyes, caught the light glinting off the short dark blond hair that feathered out beneath the flat-brim hat. Images of the firm lips and white teeth that chewed on the cheroot made his heartbeat faster as he imagined what those lips and teeth could do to his body. He could smell the aroma of the cheroot, rich and warm, and the staleness of trail dust clinging to the folds in the dark clothing. Beneath it all was the musky scent of this man; the pure masculinity that teased at his senses, sending new warmth flooding to his groin.
They strode together, side by side, with silent words echoing between them. It was if every step was telling him the life story of this stranger; every rustle of cloth showing him a possible future. They moved in perfect harmony, in long easy strides, and passed through the gathering crowd by the cemetery until they were facing their enemy, waiting until they were acknowledged.
"Cut him loose."
The voice was naturally soft, the words rolling from those perfect lips like water flowing over fine gravel, and everyone fell silent, collectively holding their breath as they waited for events to unfold.
Vin knew how the cards would play, knew the lynch mob were too liquored up to use the good sense they were born with so the outcome was inevitable. However, it was the speed with which the stranger by his side reacted, and the accuracy of his shots that brought new respect. The gunfire spooked the horses holding the buckboard in place and Vin could hear the gasps from the crowd as Jackson began to swing.
He aimed at the rope wrapped around the tree branch and cursed silently when he missed. The sight was off on the rifle he'd taken from Potter's store. He ducked back, and then tried again, compensating for the error and was rewarded by the sight of Jackson dropping like a stone to the hard ground.
It was only after the remaining cowboys had fled did they finally exchange names, amazing himself by revealing his own at a time when the less people who knew who he was, the better. The moment was spoiled by the nosiness of Mary Travis, her officious tone demanding where they had come from and where they were going. As they jointly responded to her final question with a single word, Vin knew fate had brought him here for a reason and only time would reveal exactly what that was, but he could not help hoping that Chris Larabee was part, or all, of it.
-ooOOoo-
The Seminole had bedded down for the night, leaving them alone with the offer of an empty stable for their own bedding, having decided to trust these white men who had arrived in their village earlier that day.
Chris stared across the fire at the relaxed figure of Vin Tanner, still in awe at the ease with which they had come together. He reflected on the way they could speak a dozen words without a single syllable falling from their lips, just a slight nod or an easy gesture taking the place of those silent words.
Around them the other five men, whom they had gathered for this fight, chattered about inconsequential things; the rise and fall of ancient empires or the pretty eyes of woman. He tried to keep abreast of the conversations as Buck related tales of his romantic exploits to the wide-eyed youth who called himself JD, but he could barely concentrate, barely hear the cynical comments in retort from Nathan Jackson. He attempted to follow the convoluted theories flying between the ex-priest, Josiah, and Ezra Standish, the verbose gambler he had first spotted in the saloon the night he had arrived in the town. However, Chris found that their voices were slowly being drowned out by his desire, until all he could hear was the crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of this man he had connected with.
Vin raised his eyes, the orange firelight reflecting back, caressing his sun-tanned face and casting flickering shadows across the strong jaw and straight nose. A tilt of Vin's head sent Chris's pulse racing, the blood draining from his head and flowing directly south to his groin. He nodded imperceptibly as Vin stood, watching him stretch his lean, buckskin-clad frame.
"Gonna take a turn round the village, maybe sit up on that small mesa awhile to keep watch."
Chris heard a chorus of approval from the others and smiled softly before standing up too.
"Reckon I'll join you."
"Yer company'd be welcome."
They moved off together, side by side, and Chris could feel the electricity crackling between them, both men knowing where this was leading. They walked for some time, finally stopping in the deep shadows near the top of the small mesa.
The stars were glinting in the sky like diamonds strewn across black velvet. The gibbous moon was low on the horizon, casting its light across the plain that stretched out before them, turning the pale sand to red dust, as if foretelling the blood that would soon be spilled upon it.
Chris let his hat be drawn from his head by the nimble fingers, allowed his duster to be pushed from his shoulders. His own hands reciprocated, pushing at the thick buckskin coat, dropping the cavalry hat on top of his own flat-brim. They moved together, mouths seeking the warm, moist contact of its partner, tongues sliding together, teasing and tasting. Hands reached around, drawing them closer, palms running flat down the back of each man's body to cup the firm asscheeks, pulling them forward until their hips and groins rubbed together with just the flimsy barrier of cloth to dull the exquisite touch.
Moaning softly, Chris pushed away, tongue trailing across his kiss-swollen lips as he gauged the need of the man standing with him, seeing the desire in the moonlit face. His hand rubbed the hardened mass at Vin's groin, his eyes darting down, tongue slipping across his lips as if hungry to taste what was on offer. He made his decision and started to tease apart the buttons of Vin's pants, smiling at the almost audible swallow when Vin realised what Chris was offering.
His fingers were gently pushed aside and he watched, for a moment, as Vin worked on his own buttons, held mute by those large eyes alight with desire and need for him.
They stripped in silence, clothes joining the heap on the ground near their feet until they both stood proud and naked, the evidence of their passion arching towards firm stomachs.
In the pale moonlight, Chris could see the droplets of precome glistening on the tip of Vin's beautiful shaft. He reached out and smeared those beads over the flared head feeling the shaft jerk beneath his touch, hearing the soft moan of pleasure fall from the swollen lips. He fell to his knees slowly, hands lightly gripping the pale flanks of his soon-to-be lover, his tongue easing out to taste the bittersweet essence. Strong hands grasped his head, trailing through his hair, pulling him closer and he opened his mouth wide to take in all Vin had to offer. He sucked and teased against the sensitive tip, holding Vin's hips tighter to prevent the man from thrusting too hard into him. One hand slipped down to caress the tight sac, feeling it tighten even more as Vin stiffened, hands clenching hard on Chris's head. The hot juice filled his mouth, overflowing to run out the corners and dribble onto his chest. Chris swallowed as much as he could, holding the softening shaft inside him until Vin was ready to pull away. He leaned back on his heels and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before trying to lick away any remaining sticky residue. Vin dropped to his knees in front of him, head darting forward to latch onto the spilled droplets on his chin, gradually working down his throat with small licks and bites before gathering up the remaining droplets from his chest.
Chris did not protest as Vin slowly pushed him onto his back, the younger man straddling his body. He waited patiently as Vin reached into the pocket of his buckskin coat, withdrawing a small tin.
The grease-slicked hand that wrapped around his aching flesh felt like heaven and he arched off the ground as Vin stroked across the sensitive head. He watched through narrowed eyes as Vin prepared himself, mesmerised by the lean fingers that thrust deep into the waiting hole. His breath came faster as Vin positioned himself above him, holding his shaft and guiding it to that relaxed hole as he slowly slid back down.
The incredible tightness and heat wrapped itself around him, and he could not help the small gasp of pleasure that echoed in the silent air. When Vin began to rise and fall above him, Chris thought he would die from the pleasure, feeling those inner muscles clenching around him, milking him strong and hard.
Vin seemed to read his need, his body moving faster, muscles tightening and Chris cried out as his senses overloaded, his essence pumping into the body poised above him. Soft lips caressed his sweaty brow as Vin lay down beside him and he gathered the slightly smaller man into his arms, letting the warmth of Vin's body take some of the night chill from his rapidly cooling flesh.
They did not stay that way for long, both aware that it was only a matter of time before someone decided to check on them. With great reluctance they dressed but, as he turned to walk away, Chris felt Vin's hand on his arm. He turned back and was drawn into a sweet and loving embrace. He kissed the soft lips, his hand carding through the long curly strands of hair falling to Vin's shoulder.
By unspoken agreement, they broke apart and turned back to the village.
-ooOOoo-
If the Chief was right then they could expect Colonel Anderson and his Ghosts of the Confederacy to return the following day, giving them less time to prepare. Chris pushed hard, aware that everything had to be in place before sunset if they were to have a chance of repelling the attack. When all that could be done had been done, he told everyone to stop and rest up knowing they would need all their strength for the battle ahead.
It was late afternoon, the sun was dropping low in the sky, when Chris informed the others that he was going to the top of the mesa to keep a watch. The quick glance and tilt of his head told Vin that his company would be more than welcome, the heat in that glance letting him know Chris's true intent.
No one questioned his decision to accompany Chris; most of them just too plain tired to care less where he went and with whom. When they had reached the seclusion of that wide ledge just below the top, Chris turned and pulled Vin into his arms, mouth hungrily seeking its partner. Vin was more than happy to oblige, thrusting his own tongue into the heated mouth in arrogant possession.
They spent no time teasing each other, quickly undressing and laying down on the duster that Chris had spread over the sandy ground. Hands and mouth played over each other's sensitive skin, seeking pleasure points and savouring the reaction. Vin clamped his lips over one nipple, feeling the bud tighten beneath his sharp teeth and inquisitive tongue, his hands steadying the lean figure that thrashed beneath him. He lavished plenty of attention on the hardened peak before his mouth latched onto the other nipple, giving it equal attention, his pulse throbbing as Chris moaned and gasped beneath the onslaught. This time Vin intended to be the one doing the taking. This time he wanted to be enveloped by the incredible heat and tightness of another male body.
He moved slowly down the lean body, tongue and fingertips exploring every curve of bone and muscle, dipping into the hollow of navel and savouring the soft chuckles as he tickled the sensitive flesh. The overpowering scent of maleness sent spikes of passion blazing through his body, tingling to the tips of his fingers and toes and setting his blood on fire.
The temptation to tease was strong; a mischievous urge to prolong Chris's torment and by-pass the swollen head of the hardened shaft, but he knew time was a factor. One of the others might decide to join them, and this sort of relationship between men was something that had to be kept secret. There were plenty of people who would be disgusted by their attention to each other.
He heard another small gasp as he descended upon the firm flesh, drawing the large head of the swollen shaft inside the wet warmth of his mouth. He ran his tongue from base to tip, swirling it over the blunt head, dipping into the slight crevice and rubbing hard over the bundle of sensitive nerve endings. The hands tightening in his hair made him hiss and he moved away, ignoring the cry of disappointment, his hands and mouth soothing his frantic lover with actions and silent words.
When he returned to the aching flesh he felt those fingers scrabbling in his hair once more, but Chris had regained some control. He smiled around the mouthful of hard flesh, hearing the sigh of pleasure fall from those perfect lips, to be carried away on the gentle breeze. When he felt Chris tense he pulled away, shushing the cry of misery with soft kisses.
"Want us ta come together. Want ta be inside ya when it happens."
He flipped the lid off the small tin and smeared the grease thickly around the small hole, his grease-slicked finger rimming the edge before pushing inside. As the second finger entered the willing flesh, Vin gazed up to find those startling eyes watching him, the green iris almost completely swallowed by the dark centre. He could see his own reflection, could read the lust written upon his own face, and he wished he could stay in his lover's eyes forever.
When he judged Chris was ready for him, Vin raised Chris's legs over his shoulder and pressed his own hardened flesh against the entrance to his lover's body. He grasped Chris's shaft, fist stroking along the silken flesh, thumb reaching out to caress the sensitive tip, and then he pushed forward, burying the first inch of his own length within the beautiful, firm body.
Chris groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain before actively seeking more of this intrusion, hips rising higher, silently begging for more. Vin obliged by thrusting forward, burying the length of him in the heated channel, eyes rolling back as the exquisite tightness sent a frisson dancing through his mind that matched the liquid fire racing through his veins.
They set a slow rhythm of thrusts, rocking against each other in counterpoint, letting the sensations build between them, taking them higher and higher. The tightening of internal muscles, clamping down hard upon him, and the tension in the corded thigh muscles heralded Chris's climax and Vin felt the warm stickiness covering his hand as he fisted the straining flesh. His own senses overloaded, trapped between the pain and ecstasy of the strong body surrounding him, and he thrust rapidly, emptying his essence into the welcoming body.
He dropped onto the heavily perspiring chest, the loud thump of a racing heart beneath his ear bringing a smile of even greater pleasure. His lips found the soft curve of throat and shoulder, mouth sucking, teeth biting until he had raised a sign of his possession on the creamy throat, his tongue lapping the tender flesh afterwards in long, soothing strokes.
He felt the pull of lethargy, his limbs languid and heavy in the aftermath of the powerful release, realising it was more than just the coming battle that had heightened his senses, or the fear of imminent death bringing a sharp edge to their passion. It was the feel and taste of this man in his arms that had sent him soaring. Vin wanted to stay locked in the strong embrace forever; safe and secure, but the day was coming to a close. Soon, night would be falling, and they would be expected back in the village to make the final preparations and to gain those last few hours of precious sleep.
There was movement beneath him, the arms tightening their hold for a moment, making him aware that Chris had felt the same pull to duty, and Vin sighed, knowing this peaceful interlude had come to an end.
Ten minutes later he was seated by Chris's side, no longer touching, the distance between them having grown with each item of clothing replaced. As the last of the daylight dwindled and died, he gazed out over the plains to the far away mountains but glanced sideways to find those beautiful green eyes appraising him. The comfort he had found in those welcoming arms and the sense of impending doom made it strangely easy to make the decision to share the details of his recent past. He talked of Tascosa, of the bounty on his head, wanting this one and only friend, this unique person he had come to know and love in such a short time, to take some benefit from his death.
It never crossed Vin's mind that he might live, and that Chris might die. Some how that thought was something to shy away from in the belief that if he did not think about it then it would not happen. All his life he had been alone, making his own path through the years. He had met other lonely men, even travelled with them for a time but always with the certainty that he did not need them nor care for them beyond a few sweaty moments of sexual release. Chris was different, had been different from the moment their eyes met. It was if everything around him had ceased to exist at that instant, leaving just the two of them in that silent world where no other man could hear the words that passed between them.
At his revelation, Chris looked away, the warmth and pleasure in the shy smile filling the empty places in Vin's heart.
As the last rays of the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the darkness descending upon them like a warm blanket, they fell into a deep companionable silence; still seated slightly apart and yet touching on a far deeper level, within their souls.
-ooOOoo-
Chris settled into his blanket, ignoring the snuffling and snoring of the five men sharing the small stable, and he thought back to Vin's declaration.
Friend.
Vin had called him his friend and, in doing so, had revealed that these few days had been enough to forge a deep friendship between them. He felt a pleasurable quickening in his heart, a feeling that had been missing these long years as he moved from town to town seeking vengeance or penance. He knew his thirst for revenge had been driven as much by his guilt in failing to protect his family, of failing to be there when they needed him, as by the grief of losing them.
He sighed deeply, pushing away thoughts of Sarah and Adam, focusing instead on the warm hands and firm lips that had teased him. He recalled the soft drawl that brought light to the dark places in his soul, soothing over him, like a balm to the raw edges left behind when his family was ripped from him. He could still see those sky blue eyes poised above him, locked onto his own as their bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time. But there was life, and desire just for him, written in those eyes, rather than the faraway look he had come to expect from the two-bit whores he had paid to ease the deep ache.
Soft movement made him aware of Vin's return and he felt a different kind of ache, a dull burning in his groin, a flip of his stomach and a skip of a heartbeat. He watched, covertly, as Vin spread out his bedroll next to him, lying only inches from his side and yet he may as well have been on the other side of the village.
So near and yet so far.
His fingers ached to reach out and touch him, his ears strained to hear Vin's soft breath above the snoring of the others. He jumped when warm fingers scrabbled beneath his blanket to find his own, eyes flying open but unable to see much more than a glint of firelight reflected back from Vin's eyes in the darkness. The slight squeeze on his fingers said more than mere words could ever convey, and he closed his own eyes once more, finally allowing sleep to overtake him.
-ooOOoo-
That first battle came as a shock. He had expected the Colonel to have twenty soldiers at his command but there had to be at least forty, maybe more, but he had held the element of surprise. By the time the smoke of battle cleared there were many of those ghosts laid to rest, the remaining confederates high-tailing out of there but Chris had seen the look on the Colonel's face. He knew that look, had seen it reflected back from the mirror from his own face more times than he could remember. It was the determination of a man bent on revenge.
"What'll ya think?"
Chris wondered how he could have become so quickly accustomed to Vin, seeming to be aware of Vin with every fibre of his being. He heard the unspoken words, felt the disbelief in Vin's voice vibrate through him and answered in kind, aware that Buck was not in tune with them.
"Maybe."
"I'll take first watch."
Vin's words confirmed how they both felt, that it was not over yet, and next time there would be no element of surprise in their favour. He knew Anderson would regroup, setting up camp for the night to let his men lick their wounds, and then he would return. All Chris could hope was that they spotted them first and ensured Anderson could not bring that cannon into the fray.
Darkness fell all too swiftly and Chris decided not to spoil the party atmosphere with prophecies of doom but sank down on a bench beside Buck and watched JD upend a bottle of gut-rot whiskey. It had been a rude awakening for the boy, discovering that the romanticism of those Dime Store novels was a fallacy, that there was little beauty in facing the wrong end of another man's gun. When his well-intentioned words were brushed aside in anger, Chris walked away. He'd had a bellyful of fighting already today and he had a hard feeling, deep in his gut, that there would be worse tomorrow.
He knew what he wanted; he wanted to feel those strong arms holding him, wanted to be filled, wanted to let someone else take charge for just a while. No. Not someone else. He wanted Vin, but Vin was still on watch and there would be no opportunity to take what he needed from the other man this night. He spent a few minutes talking with Buck, reaffirming their friendship as they made their way back to the small stable that had become their home these last few days.
Chris was aware of Nathan rising to take over the watch some time during the night. He could not prevent the small pleasure rising as Vin returned a short while later, bedding down beside him once more, the spread of his blanket concealing the hand that reached out to his own.
-ooOOoo-
Vin tried to keep his eyes to the front, tried to ignore the harsh breathing that only he could hear as Chris tried to free himself from the metal cuff of the chains Anderson had ordered placed onto them. He spent some of that time thinking about the man by his side, remembering the ill-fated climb up the rope to reach that cannon and put it out of action before it destroyed the village completely. Despite the urgency of that climb, his mind was filled with fond memories. His hands had itched to leave the rope and touch the firm curve of that beautiful ass, remembering exactly how that silken flesh had felt against his skin.
He barely suppressed a grin as the absurdity of it all hit him. Here he was, chained and defenceless, about to be executed in a less than pleasant manner, yet all he could think about was the soft moans of pleasure falling from Chris as he thrust deep into that perfect ass. His only true regret was that they had not been able to do more than hold hands on their last night of life.
The arrival of former Captain Francis was an unwelcome distraction from those beautiful memories, and Vin found himself unable to dredge up any pity for the man who would soon share their fate.
After that, everything happened so quickly. They had all believed that Ezra Standish had deserted them but it was Standish who caused the distraction that allowed Chris the opportunity to make that final twist to release his hand from the cuff. Once free Chris quickly dispatched some of the Confederates holding them prisoner while Ezra dealt with the others.
Gratefully, Vin held up his hands as Chris unlocked the cuffs, trying not to grimace at the sight of blood slicking those well-remembered fingers. He had already figured out enough to realise that Chris would not appreciate any coddling, especially when there was still so much for them to do. Instead, he stuck to his new lover's side, following him down to into the village and then into the heat of battle, guarding Chris's back as the bullets let fly.
His own frustration was as great as Chris's as they missed time and again in their attempt to bring Anderson down; the branches of a tree foiling their shots. Eventually he was rewarded as a bullet from the Mare's Leg tore into Anderson's arm. Moments later, Buck's shot hit the Colonel high in the shoulder and a bullet from Chris's gun slammed into the man's thigh. He glanced across at Chris in disbelief, ducking as another bullet ricocheted off the rock close to his head. Those shots barely slowed the man down, and Vin heard Nathan's explanation over the roar of the battle, that the Colonel was dosed up high on laudanum.
Everything spiralled to a halt when Nathan's knife added to the sheer mass of the wounds, bringing Anderson tumbling from his horse, his men in a quandary, milling about on their horses, uncertain what to do when they saw their former Captain draw and fire upon their leader. Anderson drew his gun and aimed it at Frances, but it was a single shot from Chris, straight through the Colonel's heart, that finally put an end to the battle.
It was all over. The Ghosts quickly dispersed, finding themselves free to return to their families. Vin looked around him, at the battlefield that had once been the Seminole's home. He knew they would not dwell on the material damage, which they could repair but, as the wailing of the women rose around him, he knew there were some things that could not be replaced. He shook his head as he watched Chris approach first the injured Buck then the chief, his son's knife in his hand, seeing the slight stoop in the old man's shoulders as he tried to find comfort in knowing his son had died bravely.
As Chris rejoined him, Vin steeled his own heart, preparing to say his own goodbye to a man who had been a stranger only a few days earlier, but who had captured his heart and soul since then. There was a nonchalant quality to the soft voice that asked his destination now the fight was over, as if Chris was trying not to crowd him, to allow him the opportunity to walk away from the relationship they had forged in battle.
"Tascosa."
He smiled at the genuine surprise that raised the soft voice, questioning his decision. It seemed a little crazy to him too, returning to a place that would probably have him swinging by the neck before he could even begin to protest his innocence, but these last few days with Chris had given him a taste of real life. He had discovered there was far more to life than riding the trails or running from town to town in fear of the noose. He had found the companionship he had been seeking, but he knew there could be no future for him with Chris while that bounty lay on his head.
A future with Chris.
He sighed at his own fanciful dreaming, berating himself for being like one of those lovesick men he had seen mooning around the skirts of a pretty girl. Even if he did free himself of that bounty there was no guarantee that Chris wanted anything more than those two short interludes spent in each other's arms.
"Never know how much time there'd be to set things right."
The words that followed swept over him like a tsunami, drowning him in the unspoken promise that what they had found together did not have to come to end. The guarded green eyes slid around, taking in the people milling about who may have overheard the first part of their exchange. He gazed at Vin, letting his eyes and that smiling mouth draw Vin back into their silent world while other words filled the air to assuage the suspicions of any eavesdroppers.
"Gotta saloon there?"
"I reckon."
They rode off together, flanked by the other men who had joined them in the fight to protect the Seminole, knowing that these last few days had changed each of them in some way. Ahead lay the town where they had come together and as Vin glanced sideways, he was transfixed by the longing in the green eyes, his own softening in response as they stepped back inside their silent world.
THE END
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