ATF Universe
To celebrate the filing of my taxes for 1999.
“Vin, where’s your W-2? We got them back in January. It’s very important. Where – is – it?” Chris Larabee spoke very slowly and patiently. Seated at his burnished teak dining room table, Chris leaned back in his chair, tapping a pencil against his teeth. The many items scattered across the table included a calculator and a new box of yellow pencils, a mountain of papers, tax forms, envelopes, a legal pad, check book registers, and a big shoe box overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper in varying sizes. His reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, Chris once again tried to get his companion’s attention.“Vin!” he yelled across the room.
A head popped up from behind the couch. “Hrmpf? Wrnamrllmar,” came out of the mouth belonging to the head.
“No, I don’t want a mallomar and it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” Chris asked himself, not for the first time that day, what had possessed him to do this. ‘This’ was helping Vin Tanner, ex-Army Ranger, ATF agent, weapons expert, Team 7 sharpshooter, grownup, do his taxes. The answer was pretty simple. The deadline to file was less than 24 hours away.
Chris Larabee’s taxes were filed back in January. His personal financial papers were in impeccable order. Chris Larabee, agent-in-charge of Team 7 of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, was a precise, orderly man. What was spread out before him on the table represented chaos. Vin Tanner’s professionalism and attention to detail at work did not extend to his personal life, a sad fact of life which Chris was trying to do his best to come to grips with.
He tried again. “W-2, yours, where?”
“Chris, it’s gotta be in the box. Everything is in the box.”
Chris sighed. The box in question was a big old Timberland hiking boots cardboard box stuffed full of receipts, notes, medical forms, bills, and oh, what was that at the bottom, in an envelope yet to be unopened from the BATF, a W-2 wage and tax statement.
“Got it.”
Vin grinned and sprawled back on the cushions, his long legs hanging over the edge of the couch. He stretched his lanky frame and wiggled his sock-covered feet. He popped another mallomar in his mouth. “TV sucks, Chris,” Vin complained as he switched channels for the umpteenth time that Sunday afternoon. “Golf, golf, golf, monster trucks on TNT, chick movie, ice skating…man.” Vin registered his disgust. “Chris, when are you gonna get a satellite dish? Make that when are “we” gonna get a dish, huh?”
Vin had moved in with his lover earlier that month taking the biggest step of his adult life. For Chris Larabee was not just Vin Tanner’s lover but his boss at the ATF.
If Chris heard Vin’s plea he made no response, concentrating as he was on the pile of paperwork scattered before him.
Vin channelsurfed again, reaching this time for a Drake’s funnybone. The coffee table in arm’s reach of the couch was overflowing with the Vin Tanner version of the staff of life. In addition to the mallomars and funny bones were devil dogs, Oreos, a bag of cheeto’s and a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies, courtesy of Tracy, an agent from Team 3, with a sweet tooth rival to Vin’s. Vin took a pull on his longneck.
“Beer, Chris, while I’m up?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Chris continued to study the contents of Vin’s box, occasionally jotting some numbers down on the legal pad.
“God, I’ve never seen so many medical bills in my life. How many times in 1999 did you get hurt in the line of duty, anyway?”
“Can’t keep track, pard,” Vin yelled from the kitchen.
“It’s a wonder we got any work out of you at all last year,” Chris murmured to himself while leafing through the hospital and insurance company statements.
“Say again.” Vin padded across the oak flooring to the table in his gray, once white, sport socks and handed Chris the beer.
“Nothing, Vin.”
“Hey, it ain’t my fault the bad guys shoot at me all the time.”
“And don’t seem to miss,” Chris finished. “Let’s see,” Chris said, sorting through the statements. “Seems your penchant for getting injured extends way past normal work hours.”
“You channeling Ezra now?” Vin laughed.
“What I’m saying is you have to be more careful.”
“Like it’s my fault the sushi was bad that time,” Vin said in protest. “’Sides, I’m not the only one. JD’s always getting hurt somehow or another, too. Nag on him a bit why doncha’?”
“He’s got Buck for that as well you know.”
Vin pulled up a chair close to Chris. He didn’t attempt to touch any of the papers in front of him.
“Vin, just want you around a while. Like forever. Not naggin’ here,” Chris gave a little smile. They clinked their beers in a silent toast.
“Vin,” Chris sounded worried. “These therapists statements, I don’t see where you sent in any co-pays. I know your health insurance picked up a lot but there’s always some kind of out-of-pocket co-payment required. I can see you paid the hospitals and lab bills but nothing for any of the physical therapists.”
Vin’s eyes lit up. “They don’t charge me, Chris. It’s the damnedest thing. Nancy, Wendy and Kim, nicest ladies, got me up and walkin’ a bunch of times last year and in record time. Remember them at the hospital?”
“Yeah, and I seem to remember them coming out here to the ranch way after you were back to normal, too. Free private therapy sessions, Vin?,” Chris grinned.
“Yup, must be Buck’s animal magnetism rubbin’ off on me, huh?” Vin’s deep blue eyes sparkled.
“Uh, huh. Whatever you say.” Chris sighed deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and readjusted his reading glasses.
“Did you sell any stocks last year?”
Vin snorted in reply.
“Open an IRA, contribute to an existing one or convert to a Roth IRA?” “Chris, come on, look who you’re talkin’ to. You know me.”
“Just thought I’d ask, Vin. Hell, you have to get more organized.” Chris was beginning to lose patience at Vin’s lackadaisical attitude towards the IRS. Pretend it’s like the office. Keep your papers in separate files: medical bills, bank statements, receipts, your…..”
“I get it, I get it. I’ll try, ‘kay? You can be my role model, you being so much older an’ all,” Vin grinned. “Wish we could file a joint return, make life a whole lot easier.”
Now it was Chris’s turn to grin. “Dream on, Vin, this is Colorado.”
Chris threw his pencil down, stretched in the hardbacked chair and drank some beer. He rubbed his temples feeling a headache building.
Vin got up and stood behind Chris massaging his tight shoulders. “Thanks for doing this for me, Chris.” He leaned down to nuzzle Chris’s neck. Vin kissed him there and then nibbled on Chris’s earlobe, tugging gently at it with his teeth.
Chris leaned back into the deep massage. He loved the feel of Vin’s hands on his body. Vin’s fingers, so finely tapered, almost delicate-looking, belied an iron strength.
“Take a break? You’ve been at this all afternoon,” he murmured into Chris’s ear. Vin brought his right hand up and reached down inside Chris’s black polo shirt to fondle his nipples, still massaging the base of his neck with his other hand. Vin stroked and tweaked the nipples into hardened nubs.
“Bedroom,” Chris moaned in response.
“Bathroom,” Vin replied, racing off, tossing over his shoulder as he went, “beer goes right through me.”
Moments later Vin entered the bedroom nude and erect. Chris was waiting for him, his shirt already off. Chris admired the jut of his lover’s behind. Vin’s ass was high, firm and round and at that moment all Chris wanted to do was sink his cock into it. Chris began to undo his jeans. Vin’s hands stopped him. “Let me,” he whispered huskily. Vin fumbled at the top button of Chris’s black jeans and pulled down the zipper releasing Chris’s erection. He struggled to peal the pants off his lover but gave up, laughing.
“Hey, Larabee, wear your jeans any tighter and I’ll be able to tell what religion you are.”
Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A joke, Vin. You made a joke.” “Nah, heard it on the radio the other day. Stowed it away in the steel trap,” he said tapping his head.
Chris shed his jeans quickly. Eyes half closed, Chris reached for Vin taking him in his arms. Chris put his hands gently on either side of Vin’s face and licked his full, sensual lips. Chris explored Vin’s lucious mouth and Vin responded. Their tongues intertwined in the hot caverns of their mouths. Vin tasted like mint toothpaste.
They pulled apart then and moved to the bed. Chris tossed the down comforter to the floor. Vin sat on the edge of the bed while Chris stood over him, his sex in full arousal. “Come here and give me that,” Vin said, taking Chris’s throbbing cock in both hands and putting it into his mouth. Chris pushed his fingers through Vin’s soft hair and tugged gently.
Vin licked and sucked Chris into a frenzy, Chris aching with the need to come. Vin released his sex with a little smack of his lilps and lay back on the bed. Chris sat on the bed and leaned over to take Vin in his mouth. Vin groaned in pleasure. Chris’s skilled tongue had Vin moaning and writhing in no time. “Chris, I’m gonna .......”
Vin came, spurting jizz into Chris’s mouth. Chris sat up a moment and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Damn,” Vin said simply.
“Gotta catch my breath, Vin. You were so full I almost drowned,” he grinned down at the handsome young face.
Vin rolled over on his stomach to await Chris’s love-making.
Chris was still hard, painfully so, from Vin’s mouth on him. He reached for the lotion on the bedstand and liberally coated his cock. He ran his hands down Vin’s long, muscled back and smooth, supple thighs. He inserted a finger into his lover’s entry, priming him. Then two fingers, then three, all the while probing deeper. Vin began breathing harder. He shifted his hips up to press against Chris’s fingers. Vin was stretched out and ready.
“Chris,” he pleaded.
Chris straddled Vin, stroked his cock and rubbed it up and down Vin’s cleft then slowly pushed into him. The head pressed against Vin’s rim. Vin bucked his hips up to meet Chris’s hard member. Chris began to pump Vin, slowly at first, the momentum building.
“Faster, Chris, faster.” Chris got a firmer grip on Vin’s narrow hips and furiously pounded into him.
“Fuck me hard,” Vin screamed.
Chris was almost there as was Vin. A few more powerful thrusts and Chris reached his release and screamed out Vin’s name.
Vin felt Chris explode inside him and he climaxed a second later, hoarsely screaming his lover’s name.
Chris collapsed on Vin’s back, kissed him on the neck, then rolled off him, exhausted, to lay face up on the bed. Vin turned over slowly and the two men lay side by side, sweat and cum drying on their cooling bodies.
They were comfortable in their silence, heavy breathing the only sound in the room.
“That was......,” Chris began.
“Yeah,” Vin finished.
“Love you.”
Vin smiled. “And I’m nuts about being fucked by you.” Vin ran his fingers lightly over Chris’s glistening chest.
Chris’s green eyes gleamed.
His breathing back to normal, Chris said, “I’m never going to get your taxes finished at this rate, Vin. I’d much rather be here in the bedroom making you nuts than face that nightmare of a box of yours in the dining room.” Chris brushed back a strand of hair off Vin’s forehead and leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He sighed.
“Vin, I’ll just have to file an extension for you tomorrow.”
“Chris,” Vin’s eyes were all innocence, “I though you already filed your “extension.”
The two men grinned at one another. Vin leaned over and softly kissed Chris’s extension.
“File away, cowboy, file away.”
THE END
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