ATF Universe
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Trilogy, MGM, Mirisch etc and were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made
English spelling has been used in this story
Friday had not come soon enough. It had been one of those weeks and Chris’ Larabee was more than ready to go ballistic.There were a number of reasons for his anger.
Firstly, Vin had turned up for work in spite of doctor’s orders to the contrary. He had a badly broken right arm and numerous cuts and bruises after a fall in a warehouse during an arrest of some gunrunners the previous week. Because of the severity of the injury, the doctor had been concerned that Vin should not use the arm under any circumstances, and knowing his patient of old and so not trusting him an inch, had bound the arm firmly to his chest and had then told Larabee that Vin should be put on sick leave.
Well, all that had happened on a Wednesday and then, on the following Monday, Chris had arrived at work bright and early for what was stacking up to be an exceptionally busy week, with annual reports and projected budgets due, to find the sharp-shooter there before him.
Vin was sitting with his scuffed boots on his desk and a purring Cuervo on his knee. He was sharing a hamburger patty with the cat.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chris demanded, glowering at him.
“I work here,” Vin replied, hoping his voice was steady, though his heart was thumping under Larabee’s disapproving gaze.
“Not with that arm you don’t.”
“But I took two days off last week, Chris, just like the doctor said,” Vin added virtuously. As he spoke, he carefully placed the cat on his desk and scrambled to his feet. It was always easier to cope with the intimidating Larabee scowl when on a similar level to its owner.
“He meant more than two days.”
“Did he?” asked Vin, his eyes wide with assumed innocence, that did not fool his boss for a moment.
“Yes, and you damn well know he did.”
Vin tried another tack. “But it’s so borin’ at home.”
“Move out to the ranch then.”
“But ya won’t be there during the day and ya seem to work late all the time recently.”
“I know, I’m sorry, Vin, but once I’ve got all the annual reports done I promise I’ll have more time for you.” He wrapped his arms gently around his lover and cuddled Vin to his chest.
Vin smiled happily. It was so rare for Chris to show affection, let alone in a potentially public place. He snuggled in to Larabee and nuzzled his neck.
Then the mood was abruptly broken, when Chris pulled away and said, “Now I’d like you to go back to your place or to the ranch so I can get some work done.”
Vin pouted. He had hoped the cuddle had meant Chris was giving in and allowing him to stay. Then he smiled as a thought occurred. “But I could catch up with my paperwork if I stay. Ya know I can type as fast with my left index finger as with my right one.”
“’As fast’? Don’t you mean ‘as slow’?”
“No! Well, maybe,” he conceded, “but I can still do it and ya know yer always on at me to get my paperwork done.”
At that point, the door had swung open and Buck and JD made their appearance. “Whatcha doing here, junior?” Wilmington asked. “I thought ya were off sick.”
“I’m gonna do some of my paperwork. Chris said that was okay.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to dispute that, but Larabee decided it was not worth the effort. He had far too much to do to stand there arguing the toss with Vin. Shaking his head, he went into his office and closed the door firmly behind him.
As he did so, he was aware that J.D was telling Vin how pleased he was that the sharpshooter was back as the office was too quiet without him.
It was certainly anything but quiet from that point because as soon as Nathan, Josiah and Ezra had arrived, Buck had began to describe the absolutely fantastic weekend he had just had with Marcia, the most incredible female that had ever walked the earth.
All were well used to his stories. Wilmington seemed to be continually falling in love, and if he could be believed, each new woman far surpassed the previous one, in spite of the fact that the last one had been deemed to be beyond compare at the time.
What Vin found most incredible was the fact that there was rarely any animosity involved in all this. Buck had such charm that the rascal seemed to be able to keep on good terms with most of the ladies he had dated. Frequently tongue-tied in the presence of females, the sharpshooter envied the ladies’ man’s happy confidence and his way with words. Not that he had any desire to chat up females, but sometimes he wished he could find the words to say all that was in his heart to Chris.
As usual they all listened initially with varying degrees of interest, but as the week progressed all, especially the harassed Larabee, became heartily sick of Marcia. Wilmington could never resist talking about his ladies, but for some reason seemed to be worse than usual.
One possible reason for that was absence making the heart grow fonder. Marcia was an airhostess and was out of town until Friday. She was going to phone Buck at four o’clock that day. Buck pointed this out several times, while adding smugly that when the aircraft landed she was going to run straight to a phone because she was so smitten with his charms.
According to Wilmington, Friday night was going to be incredible. Then, of course, all the others would have the opportunity to meet the lovely Marcia on the Saturday because they had all been invited to a fancy dress party.
By the end of the week, the other six all began to see that as a strong disincentive for attending the party because they were heartily sick of Marcia. Buck seemed to manage to work her into every topic of conversation and Chris was wondering whether strangling his long-time friend would be classified as justifiable homicide.
However, the party itself promised to be a lot of fun and preparations for it had been the third source of aggravation for Larabee as his team seemed to be obsessed with it. It was so hard to make a final choice of costume and such fun playing with various props from potential outfits.
The sharpshooter was the only one who had decided on his costume immediately upon receipt of the invitation. Vin had told Chris, two weeks previously, that he was going as a cowboy and had immediately obtained the few items he needed to add to his normal attire of jeans, denim shirt and boots. Privately Chris thought the costume lacked imagination, being so close to Vin’s usual dress, but he knew Vin had always had a thing about Westerns and so was unlikely to be dissuaded from his choice. Truth to tell, Larabee shared his love of the genre.
However, in spite of his firm decision re his costume, Vin was enjoying fooling with the gear the others produced and was definitely the ringleader in their games. On several occasions, the loud noise that that inspired caused Larabee to open his door and demand silence and, on one memorable occasion, to confiscate the props.
That had happened on Thursday, mid morning. An already fuming Larabee was trying to check columns of figures when he was disturbed by a series of whoops, laughter, thumps and clashing metal. He flung open his door in time to see Ezra, incongruously attired in a broad-brimmed hat resplendent with ribbons and a large red feather, topple off his desk, having slipped in an attempt to avoid a rapier thrust from Vin.
The sharpshooter was atop JD’s desk, ignoring the kid’s protests as his papers were trampled and scattered.
The horseplay was bad enough, but Chris knew only too well that it could have been Vin that had taken the fall, with potentially disastrous consequences for his injured arm.
“Ya didn’t know that I’m ambi … ambi …whatever with a sword too, did ya, Ez?” Vin crowed, waving a sword in his left hand.
“I confess I was also unaware that the rapier was yet another weapon in which you are more than proficient,” Standish responded.
“Anyone else wanna go?” Vin asked hopefully. “Or is Ez the only one with guts?” he added provocatively, looking at Buck and JD.
Larabee decided it was time to make his presence and his ire known. “Get off that damned desk, Tanner!” he ordered. “You are supposed to be looking after that arm, to say nothing of the work you’ve all got to do. Now give me those toys.”
“Sorry, Mr Larabee, I …” Ezra started, as he surrendered his weapon.
However, he broke off his apology when he saw Vin, still on the desk, raise his sword. “Betcha ya can’t get it offa me, Chris,” he challenged.
Under normal circumstances, having done more than a little fencing at college, Chris would have met that challenge, but he was too busy and only too aware that the doctor would have thrown a fit if he could see Vin Tanner’s idea of resting and taking care of his arm. Indeed, he was ready to throw a fit himself. He glared at Vin. “Get down now, Tanner, or I can guarantee the only thing you’ll be doing is heading home.”
To the others’ amazement, Vin hesitated and looked as if he was about to dispute that. The sharpshooter was nothing short of foolhardy at times, though if anyone could survive Larabee’s wrath it would be him. JD and Buck exchanged glances of commingled apprehension and delight as they waited for their boss to go ballistic, but then Vin bit his lip and nodded.
The fourth cause of Chris Larabee’s discontent occurred late that afternoon. Nathan Jackson had been in court all day or he certainly would have intervened to stop the sword-fight lest some injury ensue. Now he arrived to say the drug lord they had arrested some weeks before had got off on a technicality. They all knew the man was as guilty as sin and it had taken time and expense to get him to court, but now all had come to naught.
The final source of irritation for Larabee was that Vin seemed to be playing even more practical jokes than usual. He hated being inside for any length of time and his little tricks seemed to provide some release for his abundance of energy. These japes encouraged the others to retaliate in like manner and then Vin had to seek revenge and so things would escalate, much to the satisfaction of Vin, Buck and JD and much to Chris’ exasperation. It was one of these pranks that finally led to the explosion of Larabee temper that had been steadily building all week.
Four o’clock on Friday had finally come and Buck’s phone rang. It was bound to be the much-anticipated call from the wonderful Marcia. Wilmington grinned widely and all the others looked up expectantly, with one exception. Vin kept his head down, apparently engrossed in his work, using his long brown curls as a shield.
With a flourish, designed to impress the others with his suavity, Buck reached for the phone. Then his jaw dropped. Instead of raising the receiver to his ear, he had lifted the whole phone, and when he tried to put it down again he found he could not do so.
“What the hell have you done, Tanner?” he shouted, in no doubt who the perpetuator of the prank would be.
The normally quiet man was sitting shoulders shaking and giggling. Yes, giggling! There was no other word for it. Of course, Buck’s plight and the sight of a nearly hysterical Vin Tanner was too much for the rest and soon all but Buck were howling with laughter.
The noise disturbed their leader and it was the final straw. Larabee burst from his office with a face like thunder and demanded to know what was amiss.
JD tried to tell him. Spluttering with laughter, he gasped, “It’s B-Buck, he … Vin glued … t-telephone … stuck …” Unable to explain further, he clutched his stomach and complained, “That h-hurts” while going into another fit of mirth.
Taking in the situation, Larabee crossed to Vin’s desk and towered over him menacingly. He thrust out a hand. “Give it to me!” he commanded.
Since the treacherous JD, probably in retaliation for an earlier joke the sharpshooter had played on him, had given the game away, there was no point in trying to pretend innocence, so Vin quickly handed over the tube of Super Glue.
“And the solvent.”
The sharpshooter rummaged in his desk and came up with a small bottle. As he lifted it, he murmured, “Uh Oh.”
“Hand it over.”
Vin flicked a nervous tongue across his lips. “It’s empty,” he admitted. “The top must have come loose. I-I’ll have to go and …” he started, lurching to his feet.
“Stop right there!” Larabee ordered, clutching Vin’s shoulder in a punishing grip. He seized the bottle and tossed it to JD. “You go and buy some, JD.” He then turned to Vin. “I’ve had more than enough of you, Tanner. I want you to go home now before I do something I might regret and you certainly will.”
“B-But, Chris, I …”
“GO!”
Recognizing the implacable note in Larabee’s voice, Vin hung his head and walked slowly to the door. In truth, he did not blame Chris, but recognized that it was his own fault. He had got too carried away with his fooling and had pushed Chris just too far.
However, instead of going home, Vin headed for Chris’ ranch. Nothing ever upset him more that being at outs with Larabee and he wanted to make amends. He decided he would fix dinner for Chris and hope that his lover would calm down and see the funny side of his joke.
As he drove, he tried to think what he should say. He was not good with words. He wished Ezra were present to advise him. Standish always seemed to know exactly what to say, even if Vin often was in the dark as to what all his words meant. Further, Ezra knew of his relationship with Chris and so understood the situation. To Vin’s knowledge none of the others had twigged what was going on, although Buck was clearly suspicious from some of the teasing innuendo that he gleefully directed at Vin when Chris was not present.
However, Ezra was not there. Perhaps he should not try words. There was that old saying that ‘Actions speak louder than words’. Okay, he was cooking dinner as a peacemaking gesture, but what he really wanted was to be in Chris’ arms.
Then he smiled. Maybe he should really surprise Chris and he knew just how to do it. Larabee was used to being the one that initiated all their sexual activities. It would be a great surprise to him if his shy lover did so instead, if only he had the guts to go through with it.
During the week, all the fun and games with costumes had inspired the irrepressible Wilmington to recount several little stories of his past escapades involving ladies and interesting items of attire. Vin never believed half of what Buck said, but he could not help but be fascinated by the glimpses that Buck provided of a sex life that was fun. It seemed so much at variance with his own experiences, admittedly limited though they were, of that activity.
Listening to Buck, he had suddenly recalled a picture he had seen in a magazine a few months previously. The article was about Sydney’s Gay Mardi Gras and there had been one photograph that had been a real eye-opener for him.
The picture had depicted four laughing, young men in cowboy outfits, their arms entwined. Slender and handsome, they would have drawn attention anyway, but it was what was missing from their outfits that riveted Vin’s attention – jeans! Beneath their chaps, they wore no more than white g-strings.
Well, he already had the chaps as part of his outfit for Saturday night. All he needed now was the g-string. Impulsively, he swung the jeep around and headed for the nearest sex shop.
The owner had probably never had a customer who made such a quick decision. After spending a good ten minutes trying to talk himself into entering the premises, he finally rushed in and gabbled out his requirement of ‘a white g-string’. He then grabbed the plainest one on offer, paid quickly and fair bolted from the shop, his face burning from embarrassment.
When he arrived at the ranch, he let himself in. It had meant a lot to him that Chris had given him his own key. It suggested a permanency in their relationship that Vin had longed for, even though he had not yet made his home there.
Hurrying to ‘his’ room, he stripped off and was about to don his costume when doubts flooded in. What would Chris think? Maybe he would think it was a stupid thing to do and it would just make him angrier. He knew someone like Buck would think it was a great idea, but Chris had never suggested any of the many and varied sexual games that the ladies’ man seemed to enjoy.
He nearly chickened out and settled for just cooking the meal, but he still kept thinking about that picture. ‘Yer a damned wimp, Tanner,’ he berated himself, imagining how Wilmington would laugh at his cowardice.
With that thought in mind, he impulsively grabbed the g-string and cowboy outfit and dressed. The g-string felt rather odd and uncomfortable, but he supposed he would get used to it. Anyway, if all went as he hoped, Chris would have it off him in no time.
He gave up on the shirt because he could not manage the buttons, but he wanted to wear the brown leather vest. However, he knew the vest wasn’t going to stay on if he tried to keep his arm inside the garment, so he decided to cut his arm free from the bandages that bound it to his chest even though to do that was to risk a lecture from Chris.
Once dressed, he inspected himself critically in the mirror. ‘Well, I ain’t no picture,’ he thought wryly, ‘but here’s hopin’ Chris’ll like what he sees.’
Then he hurried to the kitchen to start cooking.
About half an hour later, he heard Chris’ Ram drive up.
He positioned himself in front of the stove and became very interested in the contents of the simmering pots.
The front door opened and he heard footsteps approach. He turned off the stove. Without turning around, he said, “I-I’ve got somethin’ here I th-think you’ll like, cowboy.”
“I can see that,” a voice drawled, as powerful hands descended on his upper arms, drawing him back against a broad chest.
Vin froze. “B-Buck?”
“Yes, I assume you were expecting our illustrious leader, but you’ll have to make do with me.”
“W-Where is he?” He tried to turn, but Wilmington held him in position.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s gone to the barn to check on a horse that was off its feed this morning. In the meantime, we can have a nice little chat about the little stunt you pulled today.” As he spoke, he began to move backwards across the room, puling Vin with him.
“Oh, that.” He tried to twist free, but to no avail.
“Yes, that. The kid had quite a job finding that solvent, you know. I was stuck for over an hour and when I was finally able to phone Marcia, she had gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Buck asked disbelievingly.
“I’m sorry ya missed her, but …”
“But not sorry you did it?”
“It was funny,” Vin admitted honestly.
“Well, let’s hope you find my revenge as funny. You’re certainly dressed for it.” With than he sat down on the couch and pulled Vin down and across his knees. As he did so, he captured Vin’s good arm and twisted it up his back.
Vin gasped with shock, as he realized the bigger man’s intentions. “No! Please don’t! Buck, let me up.” He tried to wriggle off Wilmington’s knee, but was held firmly in position.
Buck looked down at the creamy arse displayed so tantalizingly, albeit reluctantly, for his perusal and felt himself growing hard. Although pre-eminently one for the ladies, he had had some very pleasant interludes with males when much younger and now some fond memories came rushing back.
Since Buck’s planned date was clearly off, Chris had invited him home for an evening of watching sport on television. Wilmington had not anticipated that the sharpshooter would be present and he was certain that Larabee had not expected it either. However, it was obvious that his earlier suspicions about the pair had been correct and he surmised that Vin had gone to the ranch intending to make-up with Chris.
Of course, Buck would never have considered spanking Vin under normal circumstances, although he would definitely have sought some other revenge. However, having seen that tantalizing glimpse beautiful body that Vin, in his shyness, was usually at such pains to hide from view, he could not resist. He had no intention of hurting the younger man, and in spite of his arousal, would never have forced himself on Vin, but the latter did not know that. A little humiliation and fear would teach him a salutary lesson.
After this Vin Tanner would think twice before making Buck Wilmington the butt of one of his jokes. Butt? The appropriateness of the unintentional pun made him grin broadly and he suppressed a guffaw with considerable difficulty. It would not do for Vin to realize he was not actually that angry. He was never one to hold a real grudge and the telephone trick had been funny in hindsight. He only wished he had thought of it, as he imagined Ezra’s horror at finding himself attached to a telephone.
He dragged his errant thoughts back to the task in hand and looked down at the creamy globes squirming helplessly on his knee, the white thong of the g-string stretched taut between them. Who could have imagined the scruffy sharpshooter was concealing such attractions? Well, clearly Chris had realized it.
Chris! His only real worry at the moment was how Larabee would react to what he was doing. However, he was pretty confident that his old friend would think Vin was receiving his just deserts. After all, he had been brassed off by Vin’s disruptive practical jokes and he had also always been a subscriber to the old ‘eye for an eye’ philosophy. Further, he could not imagine Larabee being so besotted that he would protect his lover from the consequences of his misdemeanours. Hell, knowing Chris of old, he would probably quite enjoy watching Buck dishing out a little rough justice. However, he decided he had better wait until Chris put in an appearance, just in case.
Meanwhile, the sharpshooter was desperately trying to extricate himself from the humiliating and vulnerable position in which Buck and his own folly had placed him. Unfortunately, Wilmington was considerably stronger than he was under normal circumstances, and with his right arm out of commission, there was no way that he was going to get free.
He was going to have to abandon his pride. “Please let me go, Buck. I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll never glue ya to anything again.” That was the wrong thing to have said. As soon as the words left his mouth, a picture of Buck’s shocked face, when he had found himself attached to the telephone, formed in his mind, and in spite of his dire predicament, he sniggered.
Buck reacted automatically. A large hand descended none too gently on Vin’s arse and he sucked in his breath at the stinging slap.
At that precise moment the door to the room opened. Both Vin and Buck had been too engrossed to hear Chris enter the house.
Chris had seen the lights on in his home when he had arrived and had realized Vin must be inside. He had decided to send Buck on ahead, while he made the excuse of checking on the sick animal, in the hope that the sharpshooter would take the chance to make a proper apology to Buck.
Now he stood open-mouthed at the sight before him.
A blushing Vin was the first to speak. “Tell him to let me go, Chris,” he appealed.
However, Larabee was recovering fast from his initial shock and a certain part of his anatomy was already telling him that it rather liked what was happening. He caught Buck’s eye, noting the apprehension there, but then gave a brief nod. “I see you’re taking the matter in hand, pard,” he drawled.
Buck visibly relaxed. “Yeah, you might say I’m getting to the seat of the problem,” he responded grinning.
“You shouldn’t have to handle my problems for me.”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, but I’d better give you a hand.”
Between them they awarded the struggling and protesting Vin half a dozen sharp smacks, before Buck relented and swung him to his feet.
Vin’s face was bright red with embarrassment and his eyes were wells of unshed tears. He put his head down, trying to use his hair to shield his face. “’M sorry,” he muttered and headed for the door.
“Vin! Wait!” Chris appealed, hurrying after him into the hall. “Where are you going?”
“To get my things. I’m goin’ home.”
“There’s no need to leave, Vin.”
Vin ignored that. He went into his room and started grabbing his gear. He would get dressed in the jeep. He just had to get out of there. He tried to go out into the hall again, but Chris blocked his way.
“Let me past.”
However, Larabee clutched his shoulders to restrain him. He did not want Vin leaving in a distressed state. Apart from his guilt at upsetting his lover, he certainly did not want him driving in such a condition. “No, please, Vin, don’t go. Maybe we shouldn’t have spanked you, but we didn’t mean to really hurt you.”
“It didn’t hurt much,” Vin admitted, “ but I didn’t like … I feel … aw hell …” He hung his head in shame.
“We embarrassed you, didn’t we?”
“Sorta. Iffen it was just you … maybe I … maybe … but Buck …”
“You don’t want to worry about old Buck. He was just trying to scare you. He wouldn’t do anything serious to you … unless you wanted him to,” Chris added, trying to lighten the situation.
“W-Wanted him to?” Vin asked, looking up in perplexity at the addition.
“He is a lot of fun in bed, you know.”
To Larabee’s horror, the blood visibly drained from Vin’s face. The sharpshooter stared at his lover. “Was that … Were ya … Did ya bring him home tonight to … to …”
He broke off unable to continue. His world was crashing down around him, his heart was contracting painfully and he felt sick and dizzy. Chris did not want him any more and had clearly started an affair with Buck. He wondered how long it had been going on and when Larabee would have finally got around to telling him. He should have known he could not expect Chris Larabee to love him. Hell, Chris and Buck probably thought he was stupid to hope Chris might love someone like him. Tears welled up and began to roll down his pallid cheeks and he hugged his good arm across his chest.
There was no way he was going to get out of there with dignity, but he had to go. He pushed blindly past Chris, who more than somewhat stunned by his reaction, made no move to stop him, and headed for the door only to be intercepted by Buck and manoeuvred bodily into the living room.
Wilmington had been listening to the exchange, and well versed in matters of the heart, had realized exactly what Vin was thinking. “Woah, pard,” he said, as he wrapped unyielding arms around the slighter man. “You need to sit down here and let me explain things to you.”
As he spoke, he sat down on the sofa and pulled Vin down onto his lap. He kept his arms around Vin, trapping his good arm to his side.
Chris followed them in and knelt in front of Vin, looking up at him. He was not going to let Vin hide under that mop of hair. As he did so his eyes fell on Vin’s crotch. That outfit was such a damned turn-on. They should have been enjoying themselves, not having these hysterics. He was never good with tears and Vin’s reaction to Buck and his little bit of fun seemed ridiculous. “C’mon, Vin, calm down,” he ordered tersely.
“Stop it, Chris!” Buck rapped sharply. “This is your fault.”
“Mine? Hell, you were the one who decided to spank him.”
“You were the one who made him think we’re lovers,” Buck retorted.
“What???”
“Well, that’s what it sounded like.”
Chris looked completely taken aback. “Vin, you didn’t … you couldn’t … You know I … I love you.”
Vin ran a nervous tongue over his lips. “Ya’ve never said.” His voice was but a whisper.
“Yeah, but you know I love you.”
“N-No, I thought … I hoped, but .. but … but now …”
“Now nothing. Hell, it’s been years since I’ve slept with Buck. We would have been younger than you are now.”
“Truly?”
“I don’t lie, cowboy.” There was a slight edge to that.
Vin nodded his acknowledgement of that. “I’m sorry, Chris, I …” he started.
Chris interrupted, “No, I’m sorry, Vin, I put things badly.”
“B-but ya’d like to … to sleep with Buck.”
“Not me, us. When I saw the pair of you together …” He broke off wondering if it was politic to mention the spanking or if that would set Vin off again. “You’d enjoy it, Vin and it wouldn’t make any difference to how I feel about you. Buck and I know the difference between sex and love.”
“I kinda hoped … I mean I thought that … that they should go together,” Vin admitted.
“Hell, that would cramp my style with the ladies,” Buck laughed. “C’mon, Vin, let me show you what fun sex can be. You don’t have to just ‘lie back and think of England’, no matter what Chris has told you.” Unfortunately, the last comment, which Wilmington had simply meant as a joke, was all too near the truth. Truth to tell, Vin got little enjoyment from the actual sexual act. Larabee was a man used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. Foreplay for him was quickly stretching and oiling Vin before sheathing himself hard and fast. He frequently fell asleep straight after the act, leaving the younger man both sore and unsatisfied.
However, Vin had accepted that. For one thing, he knew no different. His only sexual experiences, before Chris approached him a couple of months before, had been with a couple of his so-called caregivers when he was a kid and the memories of those times still appeared in his nightmares. However, he loved Chris and what he craved was the closeness, having someone who cared about him, even if that person did not show it much. For the rare moments of tenderness, Vin could put up with the discomforts of the rest.
However, faced with Buck’s proposal, Vin hesitated. He did not know what to say. In truth, he was still in an emotional turmoil and was not thinking too clearly. The one thing he knew above all was that he wanted to please Chris and Larabee seemed to want a threesome, but he was scared, contradictorily scared both of what they might do to him and also of disappointing them. He nodded slowly. “Will ya stop iffen I ask?” he questioned.
“You won’t ask,” Buck replied confidently, deftly sidestepping the question. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s go.” As he spoke, he slipped the vest off Vin’s shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Then he surged to his feet, still clutching Vin in his arms.
The sharpshooter did not want to be carried, but bit his tongue rather than create more difficulties.
Chris swept happily ahead of them, swinging open the door to his bedroom and ushering Buck inside with a flourish. This was going to be fun. He remembered only too well some of the nights he and Buck had had with various ladies.
He had hardly believed his eyes when he had seen Vin’s outfit. The sharpshooter had always been so passive in bed, seemingly content to let him take the lead and never showing sexual desire at all. Okay, frequently that suited Larabee, when he just sought release, but at other times it bored him to have a partner who only seemed to want to cuddle up to him. Once or twice he had been on the verge of asking Vin if he would prefer a teddy bear to sleep with, but he did love the lithe sharpshooter and so had bitten back the potentially hurtful words.
It had never occurred to him that when Vin had originally entered his bed, he was totally inexperienced in lovemaking and had had no say in the few sexual experiences he had been forced to endure. Under normal circumstances, he and Vin had an uncanny ability to communicate wordlessly, but for some reason this seemed to desert them in the bedroom.
Wilmington tipped Vin into the centre of the bed on his back. Vin automatically rolled onto his stomach, as he always did for Chris, and waited apprehensively. His early assailants had trained him well. You lay down, spread your legs, kept as still as possible and never, never voiced any complaint unless you wanted to be beaten too.
Meanwhile Buck toed off his boots and stood looking down hungrily at the sharpshooter. He glanced across the bed at Chris, waiting for him to make the first move.
Larabee’s eyes were riveted on the creamy buttocks. He desperately wanted to push that white thong aside, sheath himself in Vin and to fuck him like there was no tomorrow, but he knew that would not please Buck. Wilmington liked games and teasing, and desired to give as much pleasure to his partner as he could even while he simultaneously drove them mad with frustrated anticipation, and Chris knew just how much fun that could be. So, he decided to let the expert take the lead. “Your move, pard,” he said.
“Okay, let’s remove the temptation for a while,” Buck said, patting Vin’s backside before gently turning him onto his stomach.
That not only surprised Vin, it did not suit the sharpshooter at all. He had preferred to burrow into the quilt rather than to have to face the pair. He had his eyes closed, his fists so tightly clenched that the knuckles showed white and his body was rigid with apprehension as he waited for one or the other to lift his legs onto their shoulders. Chris had taken him like that a couple of times in the past, so he knew what to expect.
Buck grinned at the sight before him. He had always suspected Vin had not had much sexual experience, but had not expected him to be so scared. He wondered whether Vin’s relationship with their boss had but recently commenced. “Right, now we need to help junior to relax a bit. You take that side and follow my moves.”
Not liking the sound of that, Vin immediately crossed his arms protectively across his chest. Buck chuckled, “No, Vin, you just relax and let us take care of you.” As he spoke, he captured Vin’s left wrist and drew it alongside his tousled head, pinning it to the sheets.
Vin automatically tried to pull free and reached out with his injured arm to try to push Buck away, but Chris carefully caught that hand and pressed it gently, but firmly down.
Wilmington then began to trail feather-light kisses down Vin’s inner arm. Chris hesitated for a moment. Although he always carefully prepared Vin by oiling and stretching him, he had never indulged in the foreplay that he would have with a woman, but as he watched the exceptionally touch-sensitive sharpshooter writhing from Buck’s attentions and heard his gasps he knew he had definitely been leaving out some most enjoyable activities. He began to mirror Buck’s actions, although the cast denied him access to Vin’s wrist and forearm.
The tickling sensations were driving Vin wild. He started to struggle and his tormentors were each obliged to hook a leg over one of his thighs to keep him under control. When they began to tongue his armpits, he could keep quiet no longer. “Ahhh! Nooooo! Don’t!” he protested, which only encouraged them to greater excesses.
Buck pushed the tangled curls aside and began to nibble at the sensitive junction of neck and shoulder. Larabee followed suit.
Vin flung his head back and Buck moved his attentions to the taut throat, while Larabee moved to suck on an earlobe. Both began to tease the sharpshooter’s nipples with their free hands.
Vin was going into sensory overload. “No, please I can’t stand it!” he cried, writhing helplessly under the exquisite torture.
“Yes, you can, Vin, ‘cause you have to. You ain’t got a choice about this,” Buck responded.
“Ya said ya’d stop iffen I asked,” Vin protested, uncomfortably aware that Wilmington’s words had made him start to harden. He vaguely wondered why his body seemed to like the thought of being subjected to the pair and yet usually be so fearful of that state.
“No, I didn’t, but if you don’t like what we’re doing, how about this?” He began to run his hand down Vin’s ribs.
In moments, Vin was practically hysterical, cursing, giggling and begging. “I don’t reckon I’ve met anyone as delightfully ticklish,” Buck commented casually. “I’d like to devote a lot more time to this area, but we’d better move on down apace. Give me your belt, Chris.”
Larabee handed it over and Buck started to loop it round Vin’s left wrist. Realizing Wilmington’s intentions, Vin appealed, “Please don’t tie me! I’ll keep still! Chris, please don’t let him!” There was real fear in his voice at the thought of the restraint and his tormenters both recognized it, although they did not know that he was recalling the horror of his first sexual experiences.
“Will you promise to lie still if we don’t?”
“I’ll try. Please I will,” he insisted, frightened lest they doubt him.
“Okay.” He slid a hand lightly over Vin’s penis and balls and then began to tickle between Vin’s legs.
Vin’s cock was pushing against the restricting material of the g-string. He moaned and clutched the sheets, desperately trying to keep still. It was a losing battle, especially when Larabee inserted the tip of his tongue into Vin’s belly button.
Unable to keep his word, he arched his hips, but there was nothing to push against.
He felt Buck moving a finger beneath the thong of the g-string and running it along his cleft. This pulled the g-string more tightly against his penis. He was now rock solid and frantic for release. “Chrisssss!” he appealed.
“Buck’s running this show,” Chris replied, wondering how he could last much longer himself.
Wilmington was well aware of the state of both. The scoundrel smiled happily. Things were going well. “As much as I love the outfit, it’s time for it to go,” he said, as he started to undo the chaps. Once they had gone, he peeled off Vin’s scanty underwear.
Then he positioned himself between Vin’s legs and turned his attentions to the tender white flesh of Vin’s inner thighs, licking and nipping.
It was all too much. Vin had never known anything like the sensations threatening to overwhelm him. The sharpshooter abandoned all pride and reached for his own cock. However, Larabee was anticipating such a move and clasped his wrists. “No way, Vin. Don’t be so impatient,” he remonstrated.
“Damn ya, Chris. Yer killin’ me, cowboy! I can’t … It’s not fair!”
Buck raised his head and his eyes met Chris’. They exchanged a grin over the last phrase. It was a line Vin used quite frequently when complaining about medical treatment that he was being forced to undergo and so, to anyone who did not know him well, might have seemed incongruous, but both knew that it usually came when Vin had reached the absolute end of his tether.
“All right, Vin,” Buck said, with pretended reluctance, “I suppose we can cut proceedings short if you insist.”
Short? The torment had seemed like hours to Vin and he was about to say so, when a hot mouth engulfed his penis. Vin was struck speechless by commingled shock and lust. He had never had someone go down on him before and he was receiving his initiation from a master of his craft.
He tried to warn Buck that he was near release, but Chris captured his lips and a questing tongue effectively gagged him. Then Wilmington suddenly pushed two fingers deeply into Vin and hit his prostate.
The sharpshooter screamed and ejaculated and his world spun out of control. He did not understand what was happening to him. Everything had gone black apart from exploding pinpoints of coloured light.
As Vin screamed into Chris’ mouth, his reaction had sent Chris over the top as well.
Vin was only vaguely aware of being rolled onto his stomach and of oiled fingers carefully stretching him. Then Buck began to push slowly into him.
That brought Vin back to earth hurriedly. It was going to hurt. It always did. Although Wilmington was being as gentle as he could, he was larger than Chris was and Vin panicked. He tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. Chris had his hands on his shoulders, while Buck was between his slender thighs, keeping them spread with his legs and had a firm hold on Vin’s hips.
“H-Hurts,” Vin gasped fearfully.
“Relax, Vin, you’re doing fine,” Buck murmured reassuringly. “Nearly there.” Then he nudged the prostate and Vin screamed again at the pleasure/pain washing over him.
“Didn’t you like that?” Wilmington asked, a teasing note in his voice. “Perhaps I’d better stop.” He started to ease back.
“Yes! No! Nooooooooo! Aw, hell!” Buck had thrust in again hitting the prostate once more. The sensations were too much for Vin to cope with. He could not stand them, but he could not bear for Buck to stop and was soon screaming his head off with sobbing pleas for Buck to stop, to thrust harder, to ... to … to do he didn’t know what. Buck was killing him and it felt so damned good.
Chris was grinning broadly, as he watched Buck making a shaking wreck out of his lover. That damned rascal Buck had such incredible control that it was almost as enjoyable to watch him in action as to take part oneself.
However, as he listened to Vin gasping and moaning with pleasure, he felt a stab of guilt. How could he ever have thought the sharpshooter unresponsive? He was too honest not to know the answer to that. He knew that he had been too selfish to give Vin’s needs a thought. Well, that was definitely going to change.
Finally, Buck climaxed and withdrew. Vin was lying completely exhausted on the bed. He heard Buck say, “Your turn, pard.”
To his relief, Chris replied, “I’ll pass, Buck.” However, that feeling was quickly replaced by apprehension when Chris added, “I want to do something else.”
Vin waited. He was just too tired and too sore, although the pleasure had been well worth any discomfort, to want anything else, but he would never deny Chris.
He felt Chris lifting him and heard him say, “Pull back the covers, Buck.” Then he was lowered onto cool sheets and felt the two men settling either side of him. Someone pulled the blankets up and he felt Chris sliding an arm around him and drawing him to him. Then, to his surprise, Chris gently kissed his lips and murmured “Love you, cowboy.”
And Vin found that at last he could answer with happy certainty, “I know,” adding, “I Iove ya too.”
“And I love both of you,” a voice intervened, “and I particularly love you when you shut up and let me sleep.”
“Ya know, Buck, I ain’t at all sorry I glued ya to that telephone,” Vin observed.
“Neither am I,” Buck admitted and all three laughed.
THE END