ATF Universe
Déjà vu is a psychological phenomenon in which you see or experience something for the first time, but you have the absolutely certain feeling that you have seen or experienced it before.
“It was déjà vu all over again.” - Yogi Berra
Having spent the better part of the last 12 hours sweating and swearing over the annual budget, pending casefiles, and performance revues for Team 7 of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, his day was nearing the end. ‘Guess that’s why I get the big bucks’, thought Chris Larabee, with a sigh. His eyes red-rimmed with fatigue, a tension headache building, agent-in-charge Larabee clicked off his computer and called it quits. The leather couch in his office beckoned him to give up, give in and fall out, but Chris was eager to get home to a hot drink and some cold sex. A giggle escaped his lips which was quickly transformed into a manly snort. Shit, I’m so tired I can’t get my fantasies straight, he thought. He ran his hands through his short- cropped blond hair, grabbed his jacket and headed for the ranch.The hot sex waiting for him, for Chris had revised his earlier thought, was with Vin Tanner, one of the 7 of Team 7. Vin had moved in with Chris at the ranch two months ago. And to Chris Larabee it was two of the happiest months of his life. Chris and Vin were simpatico. They often communicated with no more than a raised eyebrow or knowing glance. Their silences spoke volumes to one another. Not since his wife and son were alive had Chris felt such contentment. Chris was hesitant at first, as was Vin, to make the giant leap of commitment required for the move. Vin gave up his apartment in a less than desirable part of town and life at Chris’s ranch had become a dream come true.
Chris was looking forward to getting some rest over the weekend. The past few days had taken its toll on him. Sleep, when it finally came each night, was fretful and anxious. Memories of his wife and son surfaced in his dreams as the anniversary of their violent deaths neared. That combined with the stress of number-crunching his department’s budget made for an exhausting week. TGIF, Chris thought, as he pulled into the driveway. He hoped Vin had dinner ready as he had every night that week. Vin was becoming quite the accomplished cook to the amazement of both men.
“Vin, I’m home,” Chris yelled as he walked in the door and went over to the closet to hang up his jacket.
“You’re late. Your dinner is ruined. The least you could have done was call,” Vin said in an accusatory tone as he stepped into the living room.
Chris’s back was to Vin as he spoke, finding a hangar for his jacket. “Ha, ha, Vin, not funny. Your imitation of my wi----,” Chris started to say but as he turned to face Vin he froze.
His mouth hung open and he clutched at the closet door for support. “Vin, wha, wha..,” Chris sputtered.
“Like it,” Vin asked, running his hand through his very, very short hair. “Josef said my hair was so 70’s. Said I needed to get with the millennium.”
“Josef?,” Chris asked weakly.
“My hairstylist.”
“Since when do you go to a barber?,” Chris asked increduously.
“Hairstylist.”
“Ok, then, hairstylist. My God, it’s so short,” Chris said sadly.
“Makes me look years younger, don’t you think?”
Chris numbly walked over to the living room couch and collapsed, his thoughts reeling. He tightly squeezed shut his eyes and willed the apparition before him to disappear. Because this person sitting across from him holding a glass of white wine! was not his scruffy, long-haired lover. This person was not scruffy at all and no longer long-haired. And where was Vin’s customary bottle of beer? Where were his ripped, tight, faded jeans and flannel shirt? Where was Vin? This man had on a slate blue silk shirt and denims so new the crease was sharp. Vin sat primly with his legs crossed, twirling the long-stemmed glass of wine between two fingers, a sour look on his face. Chris had never seen that look before, ever.
Chris thought of looking under the couch for the alien pod that must have hatched this creature from another planet. He noticed the alien was wearing black leather loafers instead of well-worn cowboy boots. His stomach churned. What happened to his Vin?
“Vin, what, what happened? You look so, so…”
“I know. A new me. I knew you’d love it but don’t change the subject Christopher. Why didn’t you call when you knew you’d be late?”
“Christopher?,” Chris said weakly. No more ‘Cowboy’? he thought as he longed to hear his nickname on his lover’s lips. He shook his head as if this would clear his mind. “Vin, I, you….help me out here. I’ve been home late every night this week. The budget, casefiles, you name it, it’s on my desk. I thought I mentioned at the office I’d be late again, and to eat without me, and ohmygod I feel like I’m talking to my wife,” Chris groaned.
“Oh, I ate already, hours ago. Your plate is in the oven but don’t you dare mess up that kitchen. That kitchen is clean, and so is the bathroom and I made the bed. And did I mention laundry? If you would pick up your dirty clothes once in a while instead of leaving them on the floor it would make my life a lot easier. How much energy does it take to pick up your socks and underwear and throw them in the hamper?,” Vin went on.
But Chris was no longer listening. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Gone was the soft Texan drawl and laconic nature of his lover. Hell, the guy sitting across from him wouldn’t shut up! If he had been knifed in the gut Chris couldn’t have felt worse than he did at this moment.
Vin continued. “And put it on your calendar, a week from tonight, no excuses. The Denver Ballet is performing “Romeo and Juliet” and we’ve got tickets.”
Chris leaned back on the couch, utterly defeated. ‘ What was that noise?’, he wondered. He cocked his head, a question on his lips. Before he could voice it Vin said,
“Maria Callas, her ‘Madama Butterfly,’ the La Scala performance. Just got it today,” Vin enthused. “Not as definitive as her Berlin debut, but this one just gives me goosebumps.”
Chris’s mouth fell open. He was going to be sick. He stood up to go to the bathroom, weaving slightly.
“What’s wrong with you, Christopher, have you been drinking? You are white as a sheet and there are beads of sweat on your forehead. Are you going to be sick? Because if you are you better clean up that bathroom when you are finished. And don’t expect me to hold your head. That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve been drinking again. You’re thinking about her and next week is the anniversary and she means more to you, dead as she is, than I do, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she?,” Vin harped.
Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He ran to the bathroom his hand over his mouth, bile rising in his throat. He was violently sick into the toilet. He rinsed his mouth out and splashed cold water on his face. This couldn’t be happening he thought. I have to get out of here. He couldn’t bear to be in the same room as that stranger claiming to be Vin. He stumbled out of the bathroom, down the hallway, back to the living room.
“Hurry up and eat, Christopher. My favorite movie is on in five minutes and I’m dying to see it again. You do not want to make me miss it,” Vin yelled testily from the kitchen.
“What movie?,” Chris called, making neutral conversation as he slipped into his jacket and opened the front door.
“Sleepless in Seattle.”
Those were the last words Chris Larabee heard as he escaped into the cold night air, his screams echoing in the dark starlit night. “Nooooooooooooo.”
+ + + + + + +
“Mister Larabee, Mister Larabee.” His shoulder was being gently shaken.
“Sarah. Vin, Vin, NO!” Chris Larabee’s eyes flew open and he woke with a start. He was breathing heavily, damp with sweat. He looked up into the kindly careworn face of Al, the janitor.
“OK if I clean in here, Mr. Larabee? Will I be in your way?”
‘Godalmighty what a fucking nightmare,’ Chris thought, wiping his hand over his face. He noticed there was a slight tremble in his hands. He sat up from the leather couch. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.
“No, go ahead Al, I’m leaving now. What time is it?” His voice was scratchy, his throat dry.
“11:30, sir. Late even for you.”
Al shuffled over to the outlet in the corner of the office and plugged in the cord to the vacuum.
Chris stood up, yawned, stretched and got his jacket from the closet. “You ok sir, you look a might sickly if you don’t mind me sayin’.”
Chris gave the janitor a small smile. “Al, I couldn’t be better. Word of advice__avoid the blue plate special in the cafeteria. Deadly. Stuff of nightmares.”
Al nodded as he turned on the vacuum.
Chris shrugged on his black leather jacket and walked out of his office, down the empty hall to the elevators. If he was the kind of man who was in the habit of whistling absentmindedly that’s what he would have done. But Chris Larabee was not that kind of man. He did, however, allow himself an unaccustomed chuckle of relief as the horrors of the nightmare faded. He felt almost giddy for a split second but then a shudder ran through him at the thought of what Vin had become in his dream and how terrifyingly real it had all seemed.
The elevator door opened to the deserted parking garage. Chris walked over to the Dodge Ram, his footsteps echoing off the cement. He narrowed his eyes at seeing the windows of the Ram fogged up.
“What the__?”
He pulled open the front door to see a toussle-haired Vin Tanner struggling to sit up from the back seat.
“Vin, what on earth....What are you doing here?”
“Hey, cowboy,” Vin yawned, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes. “Must have dozed off. You through for the night?”
Vin moved up to the front as Chris got behind the wheel.
“Had some drinks with the boys over at the bar and thought I’d wait for you. Fell asleep. You look like shit, Chris, even in this crappy light,” Vin said.
Vin spoke in his soft Texan drawl. No screeching, no nagging, no accusations. Chris was overcome with relief, joy and love at the sound. He leaned over and cupped his hand behind Vin’s neck, feeling his silky long hair beneath his fingers, and pulled him into a groin tightening, toe tingling kiss.
“Mmmmmmm...missed you too, Cowboy.”
“Vin, I’m just so damn glad to see you. You have no idea.” Chris continued to stroke Vin’s wavy, long hair.
Vin’s blue eyes widened. “Workin’ on the budget and all that paperwork really gettin’ to ya, huh?”
“I thought I’d lost you,” Chris continued as if Vin hadn’t spoken.
Vin frowned and was about to ask Chris what he meant when his lips were once more crushed against Chris’s.
“Hey, what’s . . .,” Vin began but Chris put his finger to his soft, full lips and glanced to the back seat then glanced back to Vin, meeting his eyes with a hungry look.
‘Looks a might uncomfortable,’ Vin was thinking but what was a bruised elbow or two if it would erase the haunted look from his lover’s eyes.
“A roll in the Ram. Sounds like a plan to me,” Vin grinned, his white teeth shining in the shadowy interior of the pickup.
Vin clambered in the back of the Ram half falling sideways and backwards, banging his knee on the console and ending up sprawled out on the leather seat.
Chris took the easy way using the door to climb in and sit next to Vin who was struggling to get his boots off. Chris kicked off his shoes. They quickly shed their jackets. Both men’s breathing got noticeably heavier, fogging the windows even more densely.
Chris unbuttoned his shirt, a task he usually reserved for Vin, but tonight he was in too much of a hurry, his nerves too exposed to wait for his lover’s gentle fumbling. Vin pulled his flannel shirt over his head ignoring the buttons altogether. It was a heated race to see which man would get naked first. As it was the two finished in a dead heat, panting with the effort.
Chris knelt on the seat and leaned over Vin running his hands over his slim, hard body. Vin gasped as he lay back against the cool leather.
Chris ran his tongue down Vin’s smooth chest tracing the line of soft hair that slithered from his navel to his groin. He took Vin’s outstretched hot, velvety shaft in his mouth as Vin arched his back, moaning slightly. Vin was hard and throbbing in Chris’s warm, wet mouth. Chris heard Vin exhale loudly, a great whooshing sigh of pleasure as Chris sucked and twisted his lips around Vin’s long cock. Vin ran his fingers through Chris’s soft blond hair.
Chris seemed to inhale every inch of Vin’s eager cock down his throat. His tongue was licking the staff as his throat caressed Vin’s cockhead. Vin let out a startled “ Ohhhhh” which built to a full-fledged scream of “Chris!,” as he spasmed into Chris’s mouth. The sensation of Chris swallowing his semen made Vin’s testicles tingle and he felt light-headed. “Oh, Cowboy,” he rasped, “that was....volcanic.”
Chris smiled at that, his green eyes pinning Vin with desire. Vin got to his knees and pushed Chris back onto the leather seat and began to move his hands over Chris’s long, hard, tanned torso, then running his tongue over the blond chest hairs which ran along his pectorals. Vin’s tongue licked Chris’s heaving chest. He clamped his teeth around his right nipple chewing very lightly, letting his tongue wash over the hardened nub. Then he moved to the other one, repeating the same action until his tongue slipped back and forth between Chris’s hardened nipples, exciting them to standup like two tiny hard-ons.
He went down on Chris’s craving body, not missing an inch with his hot tongue, as Chris moaned his name. Vin’s lips and tongue traveled to Chris’s crotch, where he breathed heavily, blowing softly against the soft hair. Within a heartbeat Vin opened up and inhaled Chris’s rockhard shaft gulping him into his wet mouth. Vin’s agile tongue licked and teased Chris to a frenzy. He held Chris captive in his throat as long as he could, sucking on Chris with his sensuous lips. Chris let go a climactic scream and exploded into Vin’s mouth. Vin mewled loudly in his throat as he gagged slightly against the force on the back of his throat. He released Chris and collapsed back against the side door.
“Aw, Chris,” he whispered huskily, trying to catch his breath.
“Vin,” Chris smiled, his eyes dancing in the dim light. He leaned over to kiss Vin gently on the lips. The two men could taste each other in the kiss.
“What a way to start the weekend, Chris,” Vin drawled, stretching as far as he could in the confined space.
Chris grinned back at the younger man. “How about we get dressed, head home and finish what we started in the comfort of a king-sized bed?,” Chris said, rubbing a sore knee.
“Makin’ out in the back seat too much for ya there, cowboy,?” Vin grinned.
His earlier nightmare all but erased by the life-affirming, if frantic lovemaking, Chris merely shook his head and said, “Let’s go home, pard.”
THE END
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