ATF Universe
ONE
Shit, shit, shit, Vin pounded the steering wheel of the jeep in frustration. Chris was going to kill him. No, first Chris would make him suffer for a week: give him the silent treatment, tell him to go fuck himself and then kill him. And not being fucked by Chris was even worse than being dead, Vin thought.All he had to do was get to the ranch in 15 minutes to be within Chris's acceptable time frame. The problem with that was he was at least a half- hour away. He pressed down on the accelerator.
It seemed to Vin that the events of the day were conspiring against him deliberately. He normally wasn't the paranoid type but after a day like today, he was beginning to feel like that Mulder guy on TV. First the report he had been working on the entire day got stuck in the computer.
Vin's explanation to his co-worker, "the fucking report is stuck in the fucking computer and the fucking computer is frozen, JD," was uncharacteristically bad-tempered for the normally soft-spoken Texan, but he couldn't afford to be late getting out of the office this afternoon and this snafu was making him just that. He couldn't leave work until the problem was fixed and luckily JD fixed it for him. Thank God JD knew his stuff and didn't make him feel too much the cyber-challenged idiot when he nudged Vin aside and took over on the keyboard. Vin didn't even pretend to pay attention to the magic his younger co-worker was performing, his fingers flying fast and furious over the keys. All he cared about was the end result of storing and printing his report and with JD's help that was accomplished. But it delayed him 15 minutes.
The second hold up occurred at the dry cleaners. What the hell were all these people doing picking up their dry cleaning on a Friday after work, thereby causing a line to form and making a certain ATF agent even later? Vin wished fervently he had accomplished this little chore during lunch like he originally planned that morning. What should have taken less than 5 minutes had taken closer to 15. Vin was sweating and swearing as he got in the jeep, carefully draping the black suit he had just picked up across the back seat of the jeep.
And then there was the traffic. The mass exodus out of Denver on a Friday, early evening, resulted in minor but extremely irritating delays. Shit, shit, shit, his litany continued, as Vin's frustration mounted. He knew from previous experience the cell phone wouldn't connect, batteries too low. One more thing to feel paranoid about as he could have sworn he had recharged the batteries on the cell phone only two nights ago.
Vin was already rehearsing what he would say to Chris to explain his tardiness. His excuses sounded lame, even to Vin. He was supposed to have picked up his suit earlier in the week. He really shouldn't have taken that two-hour lunch with the boys. Maybe if he hadn't he would have gotten his work finished on time. Oh, man, Chris is gonna be pissed. Vin felt guilty at being so late, he knew how important the evening was to Chris. But then he grinned at the thought of being "tardy," and wondered why he thought of that word. He hadn't heard that expression since grade school days with the nuns. "Mr. Tanner, you are tardy again," or "This is the third time this week you have been tardy, Vin Tanner." Maybe when he thought of Chris being angry with him, staring him down with the Larabee glare, he was flashing on the stern faces of the nuns. And then Vin burst out laughing as he pictured Chris in a habit. Oh, shit, I better not share that little image, ever, if'n I want to live to see 27, Vin thought, still smiling. Coming, Sister Larabee! and he cracked himself up again. He still felt guilty, of course, and would have to make it up to his lover somehow. Vin smiled at the possibilities. Finally he was out of the city, making up for lost time on the winding mountain roads leading up to Chris's ranch, to home. Vin had moved in with his boss and lover some months earlier and he still got a warm feeling in his gut when he thought of Chris and "home." The more he thought about his lover, the lower the feeling spread until Vin felt a certain, familiar tightening in his groin, a not altogether unpleasant sensation.
Vin flashed on that morning's wake-up call from Chris. It was getting to be light in the gray kind of way it gets when there are too many clouds for a sunrise. Vin was curled up on his side, his butt up against Chris's crotch, a layer of sweat between them. Chris's arm was casually draped over him. Chris had a hard-on, as usual, and he didn't have to shift himself around too much to get inside Vin. Chris held himself there until the two of them were breathing together, inhaling and exhaling, in and out, and Vin woke up and they fucked before he even turned around. "'Mornin' pard," Chris whispered into Vin's ear. He kissed the back of Vin's neck, moving his silky hair away. Vin sighed deeply and mumbled a "Good morning, cowboy," to his lover, then turned to face Chris, kissing his lips softly and hugging him. He nestled his head under Chris's neck, resting on his warm chest.
Chris began, "Don't forget, tonight, we absolutely have to leave by 7 at the latest to make the dinner. We leave any later we walk in on a roomful of bigwigs already seated for dinner. And we don't want that, do we Vin? We leave earlier we get to enjoy the cocktail hour. And those finger foods you like so much." Chris was climbing out of bed, heading for the bathroom as he said this.
Vin exhaled an exasperated sigh, a little irritated at Chris's patronizing tone. The older man had been reminding him of this little shindig every day for the past week and Vin was tired of hearing about it. He pulled the pillow over his head to help drown out Chris's words.
"You've picked up your suit from the dry cleaners, right? And dress shoes shined? Your white shirt ironed?" Chris yelled from the bathroom down the hall.
"Yeah," Vin yelled back, lifting the pillow up off his face. Note to self, pick up suit during lunch hour and shine shoes as soon as Chris leaves. The dress shirt was the only item on Chris's list Vin had taken care of. He hid under the pillow again.
"I won't be in the office at all today, meeting with Travis. Josiah's in charge. Just this once let him think he's the boss, okay Vin? No practical jokes, no 2-hour lunches." Chris walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He picked the pillow off Vin's face, staring down at the young man, eyebrows raised, a slight smile on his face. "Comprende, amigo?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it. We'll make you proud," Vin said in an attempt at sincerity that fell short as a sly grin lit up his face. "Uh, Chris, about tonight. Do I hafta go? I mean it's a regional dinner for supes like you and bureau chiefs and politicians, for chrissakes. I'll be a fish outta water, say the wrong thing, use the wrong fork, splash soup on my tie," he fixed his eyes on Chris, willing the man to see reason.
"Vin, you sound like a broken record and I'm getting a little sick of it, to tell you the truth. Every day this week you've tried to weasel out of this. You're going, get used to the idea," Chris said, a tight smile on his face. "You won't be the only agent there as I've explained, oh, let's see, five times now. Stop acting like a kid. And why aren't you out of bed yet?" He threw his towel at Vin's head, finished dressing and left the bedroom.
Vin stayed in bed a little longer thinking to himself how much like a father Chris sounded. Vin suspected the only reason Chris wanted him to go to the dinner involved Vin being the designated driver should Chris drink too much, which he would. He always did. It wasn't as if he was being groomed to step into Chris's shoes and take over Team 7 when Chris retired. Hell, that was a long way down the road. Vin couldn't imagine not having Chris Larabee as his boss at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. He certainly couldn't picture life without Chris as his lover. He rolled out of bed and padded into the living room, just as Chris was heading out the door.
"Hey, cowboy, don't worry. I'll be here in plenty of time. Promise." Vin smiled and walked over to Chris and kissed him goodbye. He brought his hand up and squeezed the back of Chris's neck and pressed his full, soft lips against Chris's, sliding his tongue into Chris's mouth. He tasted of mint from the toothpaste. Their lips were tight together and their tongues moved around inside the cave their mouths made.
"Hmmmm," Chris moaned, pulling away. "Hey, let's not start something we can't finish, pard. See you later." He ruffled Vin's tousled hair, kissed him quickly on the lips and was out the door.
+ + + + + + +
Damnit, Vin, where the hell are you?" Chris frowned as he glanced at his watch again. A minute had passed since the last time he looked. Vin's parting words echoed in his mind. Promise, I'll be here in plenty of time. Chris peered out the front window of the ranch into the darkness for the third time that evening. It was 7 o'clock and he had to leave. Now. He tried Vin's cell phone once more. Nothing. He knew Vin had left the office because he had phoned there first and received no answer. Anger, worry and annoyance were vying for first place in Chris's mind. If something had happened to Vin....no, he would have heard something by now, he convinced himself. No, Vin was late, pure and simple. The anger was winning out. He probably got stuck in traffic, but why didn't he allow for that? Chris went into the kitchen and poured a big glass of milk, coating his stomach in preparation for the night of drinking. 'Damn, he promised me he'd be here in time.'
Chris taped the invitation and map to the country club on the bathroom door for Vin. Had the club had been located south of the ranch there might have been a possibility of passing Vin on the way but as it was the club was just north of the ranch, not a far drive but tricky to find if you didn't know just where to turn off the main road.
Chris made one last trip to the bathroom, stalling for time. 7:05. He tore his eyes away from his watch, ran his fingers through his short blond hair, glanced in the mirror to make sure his tie was straight, gave a cursory brush to the shoulders of the dark suit, rinsed his mouth with some Scope, all the time straining to hear the phone. Come on, ring, damnit, ring. The silence was deafening. That's it, then. He's on his own. Chris grabbed his keys off the dining room table and was heading out the door when the phone rang.
TWO
"C'mon, pick up, pick up, don't already have left yet, please," Vin muttered to himself, tapping nervously on the wall above the phone near the bar.Chris dove for the phone and grabbed it on the third ring. "Vin, this had better be you," Chris said tightly.
Vin could hear the tension in Chris's voice. "Yeah, Chris, look, I'm so sorry. I'm, like, less than ten minutes away. At Pat's. I...."
"What the hell are you doing there, for chrissakes, Vin,?" Chris yelled.
"If you'd let me explain, Chris," Vin began. This was going to be just as hard as he imagined. "Um, I had to stop and go. I mean I had to stop in order to go. Emergency in the call of nature department. Chris, I swear, if I could have waited another few minutes, believe me, I would have, but I had a serious need, pard. Had that powerhouse chili for lunch at Inez's. You know how I get...," Vin was hoping Chris would chime in any time now. "So, anyway, I'm leaving as we speak. Ten minutes from you, tops."
"I'm leaving now, Vin. I'm already late as it is, waiting for you. The directions to the country club are taped to the bathroom door. Your suit is laid out on the bed," Chris said calmly.
"No it's not, I have my suit....oh, shit. Sorry again, Chris. I didn't pick up the suit earlier like I said I did. But my shirt's ready and I shined my shoes." Vin felt like a teenager. He was mad at himself for disappointing Chris and getting madder by the minute at Chris for making him feel so damn guilty. Which he was, in spades.
"Whatever. See you at the club," Vin shivered at the icy tone in Chris's voice. This was going to take some major repair work later on, Vin knew.
"Chris, wait cowboy, I'm really sorr....." Vin started to say.
But Chris had hung up. Aw shit. I am so fucked, Vin thought miserably.
+ + + + + + +
When Vin felt a sudden churning in his stomach he cursed a blue streak, knowing his body was betraying him. I don't have time for this, he thought frantically, looking for somewhere along the road he could stop. "Shit, shit, shit!" Vin found no humor in the accuracy of the curse he chose. Could this day get any worse? Vin wondered miserably. If only he knew.
Pat's Farms was a misnomer. There was no Pat and there certainly was no evidence of a farm, if indeed one had ever existed. What Vin was relieved to see as he pulled into the dirt parking lot was a dilapidated old convenience store sharing the same roof with a small bar and grill. An ancient gas pump stood forlornly near the front door to the store. Since living at Chris's Vin had been in the place several times for the occasional milk or bread purchase. He had never been in the bar section. Chris had mentioned something once about it being a 'biker bar', the clientele mainly comprised of 'the bad element,' so Vin had steered clear of the place. But it had what Vin so desperately needed, a men's room. "Restroom for customers use only" read the hand-printed sign on the front door. Damn! "I'll grab a six pack on the way out," Vin yelled to the man behind the bar and quickly pushed open the swinging door to the men's room banging into a walking tree trunk as he did so. "Sorry," Vin said as he squeezed by the young man, wrinkling his nose at the assault to his senses at the reek of cheap cologne the teen must have bathed in.
The tree trunk in question sauntered outside to stand next to a tall, overweight man in dirty, faded overalls. The younger man looked up at him and nodded, "Pa."
"Son. See anthing you like yet?" the older man idly swiped at the bottom of his stubbly chin. His thick, bushy eyebrows met together in the middle of his forehead giving the appearance of a caterpillar at rest.
"Yup. Fella just ran in the men's room. Long hair. He's real purty, Pa. And polite. I want him." The younger man picked at a pimple on his acne-ridden cheek.
The man grinned revealing mostly gums, the few teeth remaining stained yellow. "Noticed him myself, son. Good choice. That there's his jeep." He reached down to scratch his crotch though the denims. "Let the party begin," he winked at his son and the two giants casually walked across the dark parking lot to Vin's jeep.
After taking care of business, Vin grabbed a six-pack of beer off the shelf, paid the clerk and ran to the jeep. He gunned the engine and tore out of the lot churning up dirt and stones in his wake.
Home free, Vin thought. Even with this latest delay he would still be able to join Chris in time for the main course, he was sure of it. Chris would miss the opportunity to glare at him over the soup and salad but would make up for it during the entrée. Vin knew he was in for major grief from Chris, no matter what. And rightfully so. Vin would almost rather Chris be angry at him than face his disappointment.
Whump, whump, whump. The jeep pulled erratically to one side and it was all Vin could do to keep the vehicle on the road. He slowed down and looked for a wide enough area to safely pull over. Motherfucker, now what! He grabbed the flashlight out of the glove compartment and got out of the jeep, slamming the door in anger. Vin checked the tires and found the right back tire was flat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Each curse was punctuated by a kick to the flat tire. If he had his gun with him he would have shot the offending tire just for the hell of it. He changed the tire, cursing and fumbling in the dim light cast by the small flashlight he had placed on the ground. He was tightening the last of the lug nuts when a rusty, old pickup truck pulled up behind him.
Vin saw that one of the men getting out of the truck was the big teenager he had just bumped into at Pat's. The light from the interior of the cab revealed an older, balding man behind the wheel. When the older man stepped out of the truck Vin noted he was even taller and heavier than the kid. The heavy duty flashlight he held had a powerful blinding beam and he shined it directly in Vin's face. Vin stood up as the two men approached and he shielded his eyes from the glare. He felt a shiver travel up his spine even though it was an unusually warm evening for early spring.
"You need help, boy?" the man asked.
"No thanks, I'm finished. Just a flat. Do me a favor, shine that light somewheres else. Kinda blinding." Vin brushed at the dirt he had gotten on his pants. In one hand he still held the wrench he had used on the lug nuts. He tightened his grip as the man continued to blind him with the flashlight's beam. He heard the younger man say,
"Yep, Pa, this is the one I want."
Vin felt his blood run cold. "Hey, now, fellas, not wanting any trouble here. Just back up and I'll be on my way." He brought the wrench up in front of him and stepped back to the passenger door, not turning his back on the two.
"Hold it right there, boy. No one's goin' anywhere. I'm Hank and this here's my son, Bob, Jr. and it's his birthday today. He's just 18. And you're his present." Hank said this in a calm, almost gentle voice, as he walked towards Vin.
"Don't come any closer. I don't want to have to hurt you." Vin hoped his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He licked his lips. "You're threatening a Federal agent. That's a federal offense." He stressed the word "federal" hoping that might scare them off.
"Here that Bob, Jr? You got yourself a Fed for your first fuck. Ain't that special?"
Bob, Jr. cackled. "Pa, this'll be my best birthday ever."
Vin stiffened as heard the distinctive clicks of a double-barrelled shotgun being cocked.
"Familiar with that sound, aren't ya, boy? So don't you move none 'less you want some of this. Put down that wrench and just come along peaceable. No need for bloodshed, this is a birthday party, after all." Hank closed in on Vin.
Vin swung the wrench at the flashlight, connecting with Hank's wrist, and ran blindly towards the woods.
"Give me the shotgun and go get him, Jr." Hank winced in pain, feeling for any broken bones in his wrist.
Vin ran across the grassy clearing leading to the woods. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark. He heard pounding footsteps and heavy breathing coming up behind him. Least I ain't shot yet, Vin thought grimly. Suddenly he was tackled to the ground, a tremendous weight driving the breath from his body. Vin lost his grip on the wrench as he was pounded into the ground.
Bob, Jr. grunted as he pinned Vin to the damp grass. "Gotcha!"
"Get the fuck off," Vin panted, gasping for air, struggling against the monster weight of the teen.
Hank walked up, the light from the flashlight bobbing along the grass as he approached. The shotgun was cradled under his arm.
"Nice tackle, son." Hank crouched down by Vin's head and rested the flashlight on the grass. He grabbed a fistful of Vin's hair and yanked his head up. "You play nice with my boy, hear? Ain't no one gonna get hurt---much, anyways." Hank reached in his back pocket for a pair of metal handcuffs. A length of sheepskin was tied in several places along the inside diameters of the cuffs. Hank dangled them in front of Vin. "See? You won't feel a thing - least not on your wrists." Hank winked over at his son.
Bob, Jr. grabbed Vin's arms and pinned them back while Hank cuffed him. "Comfy, ain't they, boy? You can haul him up now, Bob, Jr. Let's look for a likely place for you to celebrate your day."
The younger man lumbered off Vin then grabbed Vin by the back of his denim jacket and pulled him to his feet. Hank began to walk the edge of the grass clearing, shining the flashlight into the edge of the forest. Vin strained against the cuffs. His stomach was in knots and he felt like puking. He could feel his heart beating wildly and wondered if it could burst right through his chest. He hadn't calmed his breathing yet, even though the weight from Bob, Jr. was gone. His back still hurt from being tackled. One part of his mind, the part not fighting the terror of the situation he faced, housed a new respect for pro football players.
"Over here, son. This looks a likely place as any. That log there, see? Bend him over it. It'll be easier if his ass is high, Jr." Vin couldn't believe he was hearing Hank calmly and in the most fatherly of tones giving advice to his son on how to rape him. "You might want to gag him son," Hank continued. "You never know how screams carry in the nighttime air."
"Sure thing, Pa, thanks." Bob, Jr. pulled the filthy, sweat-encrusted bandana from around his neck and tied it tightly around Vin's mouth. Vin gagged at the smell of stale sweat and cheap cologne and the feel of the rough material in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment hoping when he opened them he'd find it was just a very bad dream. No such luck.
Vin balked against the force from Bob, Jr. pushing him down over the log. He kicked back with his leg but the teen sidestepped Vin's efforts. Panic set in as Vin felt Bob reach around to unbuckled his belt and undo the top button of his Dockers and pull the zipper down. He started screaming through the gag and struggling wildly as Bob Jr. yanked down his pants and boxers.
"Hold on there, boy. Relax. You'll just do yourself an injury moving like that against this here log. You wouldn't want to splinter-up your dick now, wouldya? That'd be a might painful." Hank laughed down at Vin, shining the light in his face. Vin turned his head away. Hank was right. Vin was already in agony from having his penis and balls rubbing against the rough log and Bob's weight wasn't even on him yet.
"Now, son, don't you go leaving any marks on him. No evidence of a crime of a violent nature, isn't that what they's always saying on them law shows. Remember what I told you about these city boys, especially the long-haired purty ones. Ain't none of them ever told the police about the "parties" and no need for this time to be any different. Hell, son, you know I've been doin' this for years and no one's reported me, ever. After tonight, you and me's a team, Jr. Damn, you got good taste Bob. Why, if it weren't your birthday I woulda claimed this one for myself. But this here is your night, your cherry-breaking ceremony! Happy birthday, son. Happy reamin'!" Hank moved back to kneel on the grass. He angled the flashlight towards Vin's ass. It cast an eerie glow. "See okay, Bob? Sometimes it's a might tricky findin' the hole at night. Another good reason to be a team. You hold the light for me and me for you."
Bob, Jr. was distractedly picking at a pimple on his chin as his father was speaking. He squeezed a hard lump; it popped and streaked his finger and thumb with yellow fluid and a streak of blood. He was getting impatient to open his present. "Yeah, Pa, sounds good." He reached around to grab Vin's cock. Vin flinched and bit back a cry.
"No, no, no son. Never, ever touch a man's dick. That's for homos. We ain't homos, son. You never kiss 'em and you never touch 'em like that. Ain't you been listenin' to me all week? We been over this, Bob. You could let him blow you, if'n ya like, but never suck him or stroke him. What would your mother say?" Hank sounded exasperated.
"Get to it now. We don't have all night. The truck and his jeep are just along the side of the road. You never know, someone might get curious."
Vin blinked back the tears that were starting to form. Damn these motherfuckers to hell! Ain't no way they're seein' me cry. He fought the urge, letting anger take the place of the hurt and fear.
Vin could hear the hulking teenager unzip his jeans. He put his hands tentatively on Vin's narrow hips, getting a purchase on him. He kicked Vin's legs apart. Vin's cock and balls were ground into the rough bark of the log as Bob began to press down on his hips and ass. Vin was starting to feel lightheaded from the downward angle he was forced to assume. Blood was rushing to his head, he could hear it roaring in his ears. Please, please, please stop, he prayed. He thought about Chris sitting at the dinner, the seat next to him empty, waiting for his lover to show up, surrounded by his colleagues, probably getting drunk as a skunk. Oh, cowboy, help me, please. His thoughts of Chris were ripped out of his head as he felt his body tear in two. He screamed into the gag. Tears sprang to his eyes. Bob, Jr., in his eagerness and excitement at the beautiful body in front of him had forgotten to prepare his present in any way. Vin was taken dry.
"No, no, no Bob. You gotta lubricate him up first. We talked about this! Tarnation, now look what you've done. Keep goin' son, too late now. You're in. That's right, pump him, pump him. Harder. Now you got the rhythm. Next time, son, use some spit or your cum or WD-40, K-Y, whatever you got handy, beer even. Hell, his blood's wettin' you up some by now, I reckon. Thirsty work, ain't it son? A beer would taste mighty fine." Hank stood up slowly, easing the kinks out of his knees.
"Bob, you keep on keepin' on. Tighten up on that grip, son, he's slippin' away from you some. I'm goin' to this fella's jeep to get us some beers. He flew outta Pat's with a six-pack under his arm and if'n he was awake I know'd he'd want us to toast your birthday. Him practically bein' the guest of honor."
When Bob, Jr. pushed his way into Vin the first time, Vin thought he was going to die right then. He wasn't prepared in any way for the pain that assaulted him. It felt as if Bob's penis might tear through his ass and out his stomach the boy felt that huge. Vin couldn't move, impaled as he was by Bob. He couldn't ease his balls or cock up from the log. The tentative, almost uncertain hold the teen first had on Vin's hips gave way to a painfully strong grip as Bob's pumping grew in intensity. There was no doubt in Vin's mind that the wetness he felt which slightly eased Bob's thrustings was his own blood and that was the last conscious thought he had.
THREE
Vin woke to hear murmured voices, quiet laughter and the clink of bottles. He couldn't tell how long he'd been out. He gasped at the pure, raw ache he felt inside his ass. He tried to shift his weight up off the log and settled for rolling over on his side and sliding off the log, landing on the moist grass, falling on his back. He stared up at the starry sky and blinked away the threat of tears. His arms were achey and sore from being forced behind his back and his hands were numb from the cuffs. His mouth was dry. Bile rose from his stomach and he felt the sudden urge to throw up. He groaned through the gag."Lookee who's awake, Bob. Your fella. Take the gag outta his mouth, son. He's gonna hurl, they alway do." Hank drained the beer bottle and tossed it over his shoulder. "Let him have some beer after, son, it's only polite."
Bob, Jr. removed his bandana from around Vin's mouth and put it back around his own neck. He helped Vin get to his feet and pulled up his underwear and pants. The inside of Vin's thighs were streaked with blood.
"You gonna puke, mister? Let me know when so's I can get outta the way." Vin nodded his head and sunk to his knees, leaned against the log and vomited what little he had in his stomach. Bob knelt beside him and held a beer to Vin's mouth. Vin clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.
"Come on, mister. It ain't poison. It's just a beer. You gotta be thirsty after, you know, what we done together." Bob's voice was as calm and reasonable as his old man's.
"You and your pa can go to hell," Vin rasped. "And we didn't do nothin' together. You raped me. Plain and simple." Vin's wide blue eyes flashed a look of hatred at Bob.
Bob shook his head at Vin's anger and held the beer up to his mouth. Vin's desperate thirst won out and he drank half the bottle before Bob pulled it away. Bob stroked Vin's hair almost caressing it. Vin ducked away from Bob's hand.
"You got nice hair, mister." Bob ran his hand through his own thin, wispy blond hair. He looked over at his balding father wistfully. He got to his feet slowly and picked up the shotgun.
"We're goin' now, boy. Don't you even think about followin' us. I'm takin' the cuffs off now. You just stay down on your knees. Have the rest of the beer, it's right in front of you. Come on Bob, Jr. Night's young. We got people to meet." They grinned at one another. "Get the flashlight, Pa."
Hank and Bob,Jr. walked back to their truck. The last words Vin heard were Hank's: "Sorry about the tire, fed." After that, silence.
Vin stood up. He was shaking all over. His hands were trembling. He could feel the wetness running down his thighs. He held his wrists up close to his face - not a scratch. He zipped up his fly, not bothering to tuck in his shirt or buckle his belt. Now what? Oh, yeah, dinner with Chris at the club. A harsh laugh came out of Vin, surprising him. Shit, I'm losing it here, get a grip Tanner. Vin stood there for a few moments, swaying slightly, willing himself to move. He shook his head as if to clear it. Home. Chris. Those two thoughts were beacons of light piercing the fog which had settled around his brain.
With an exhausted sigh, Vin gripped the steering wheel. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against it. His groin ached. His insides no longer felt like they were on fire but the painful throbbing and stinging in his rectum was constant. He looked out the window of the jeep and was surprised to see the front of the ranch. How did he get here so soon? He didn't remember the drive home.
Get out of the jeep, go in the house, take a shower, get dressed, drive to the dinner. Vin sat there. "Move!" his desperate cry startled him into action. He eased himself out of the jeep. The ranch never looked so good.
Vin was raped only minutes away from home. On a normal day, with normal driving conditions, Vin would have been at the ranch in 3 or 4 minutes. It took a very long ten minutes for him to make his way back to what he and Chris shared.
Vin peeled off his denim jacket, shirt, pants, socks and underwear and left them in a heap on the bedroom floor. He didn't have the energy to put them anywhere else. Later for that. He glanced at his watch before taking it off to shower and was surpised to see it was a little after 8:30. Bet he hasn't even had desert yet.
Stepping out of the shower stall, Vin wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror above the sink and stared at it wondering if he looked any different. His eyes were rimmed in red. He glanced down at his crotch. His balls and cock were scraped raw, he noted remotely. They felt sore as hell. Could anyone even tell I was raped, he wondered. Don't ask, don't tell, he thought. What would telling Chris involve? Let's see, a trip to the hospital, talking to the PD's rape squad, pity from his friends and co-workers, anguish, understanding and heartbreak from Chris...shit, shit, shit. Everyone would find out. Something like this.....'something,' rape, you mean, Tanner, say it out loud. Rape, rape, rape. Vin said it his mind but he couldn't voice the word.
Towelling off after the long, hot shower Vin noticed there was no fresh blood in evidence. Thank God for small mercies. Hank's words floated back to him: 'no evidence of a crime of a violent nature.' Vin had just washed away any existing evidence in the steaming shower. Vin knew he was going against everything he had been taught in law enforcement by destroying the trace evidence in him. Fuck that, he thought angrily. This was his body, his problem to deal with. No one else need know. What was the percentage of unreported rapes, anyway? 50 to 70%? Some figure like that. And that was for women. Fuck it, there's not even a category in the Uniform Crime Reports for male rapes. So what was reporting this gonna matter in the long run? What were those stages, again? Disbelief, denial, anger? Or was it anger and then denial? Denial, not just a river in Egypt. What was the next stage? No wait, that's when you find out you're dying. Well, hell, I felt like I was dyin'. Oh, yeah, acceptance. The last stage. Vin snorted at the idea of ever arriving at the last stage no matter what hand in life he was dealt. He was having trouble focusing his thoughts, he realized. A shudder ran through him, a shudder that combined self-pity and self-hatred. Fuck it, who gives a shit? My anger stage rears its ugly head. He wrapped the towel around his waist, unsure what thoughts he should be having instead of the ones that were screaming in his head. He walked into the bedroom.
A very drunk Chris Larabee stood near their bed, holding Vin's suit, still in the plastic bag from the dry cleaners. "Looking for this, Vin?" Chris said coolly. He held it out to the younger man. "Found it on the backseat of the jeep."
"Chris! Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doin' home already?" Vin willed himself to sound normal now that he was over the initial shock of seeing his lover standing in front of him. Chris was weaving slightly, his tie loosened, his white dress shirt half out of his pants. His suit jacket was carelessly tossed on the bedspread.
"Missed you so much, just had to come back early," Chris said with a smirk. The sarcasm in his voice left no doubt in Vin's mind where the conversation was headed. "Waited and waited and waited for you. But no Vin." Chris glared at Vin as if daring him to come up with a plausible excuse for breaking his promise.
"I'm sorry, Chris. You have no idea how sorry. I was going to make it to the dinner, I swear. I was just getting ready...," Vin began, desperation creeping into his raspy voice. He had no idea where he was headed with this explanation to Chris when the older man held up his hand.
"Shut. Up. I don't want to hear it, Vin. Bottom line - you weren't there. End of story," Chris's clipped words were laced with anger. "Take it." Chris was still holding out the suit to Vin. Just as Vin reached for it Chris deliberately dropped the suit on the floor. "Sorry," Chris said lightly. "My mistake." He sat down heavily on the bed and raked his hand through his blond hair. "So? You were saying? What was it again? Promise I'll be there. Meet you there. Lessee, that was, how long ago was that, Vin?" Chris squinted up at Vin through bleary and blood-shot eyes. He was having trouble focusing.
Vin hadn't seen Chris this drunk in over a year. God, he's so pissed. Pissed off and pissed drunk - not a good combination. Vin could only imagine how dangerous Chris could be in this state. He hung the suit up in the closet, got out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and turned his back to Chris to dress, throwing the wet towel behind him on the bed.
Chris sat and watched Vin, narrowing his eyes and raking them over Vin's naked back.
"Whassat? On your hips, marks of some kind," Chris said evenly. He stood up slowly.
Vin froze at Chris's words. Of course, the kid's iron grip on him must have caused some kind of bruising. Shit! Vin nonchalantly turned around to face Chris, a forced grin plastered to his face.
"Must have bumped into something. I guess I black-and-blue easily," he said softly. He pulled the white t-shirt over his head and pulled on the jeans. His clear blue eyes widened, fighting off the tears that threatened to erupt. There was a knot in his throat.
"You black-and-blue on both hips evenly, neat trick," Chris said dryly, a frown creasing his brow. Chris started towards Vin when he tripped over the pile of clothes Vin had left on the floor. Vin moved to pick them up. Chris held up his hand to stop him. He reached down a little unsteadily and picked up Vin's jean jacket. He fingered the dry, crusty white stain running along the back of the jacket, absently picking at it with a fingernail.
"Vin?" Chris's green eyes glittered. He held the jacket in one hand and carefully reached down for the khaki slacks. He stared at the dirt and grass stains on the knees. "What am I looking at here, pard?" Chris's voice was hard.
Vin stooped to pick up the rest of the dirty clothes. He was frantically thinking of something to say to appease Chris. He didn't know Bob, Jr. had shot his semen all over the jacket. Vin didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Bob, Jr hadn't come inside him, but why was that so important all of a sudden? The man he loved was thinking the worst, most obscene thing imaginable, and if he was in Chris's place he'd be thinking the same thing. Now what? Vin thought. His mouth opened but no sound came out. A thousand thoughts flew across his mind. How about the truth? Where the hell did that come from? He swallowed nervously.
"Chris, I was, tonight, I was..." he couldn't meet Chris's steady gaze. Suddenly his mouth was so dry he couldn't swallow.
"What were you tonight? Or, more to the point, where were you? The last I heard you were at that biker bar down the road, not five minutes from here. You meet someone? Is that what you're trying to tell me, Vin, ol' buddy? You get on your knees for someone? What'd he do, miss your face and come on your jacket? Or were you on all fours at the time?" Chris was frantic. He was losing control, he could feel it but was powerless to stop himself. He couldn't stop the ugly thoughts crowding his mind. The pounding in his temples wouldn't quit. He could hear himself yelling at Vin, the man he loved. Vin couldn't have, not his Vin. But why isn't Vin saying anything? Why can't he look me in the eye? Damn him! He grabbed at the clothes Vin was still holding loosely bunched in his hands. He snagged the boxers and stared at them seeing the dried blood stains. The color drained from Chris's face. His stomach clenched as if gut-punched. He grabbed the front of Vin's t-shirt, bunching it tightly in his fists. "You bastard!" he cried hoarsely. Chris pushed Vin back against the bedroom wall still clutching the front of his shirt.
Vin could smell the alcohol on Chris's breath. He flinched at the intensity and hatred in Chris's green eyes. Tell him! Just say it - three words, I was raped. Vin opened his mouth to speak. Tears stung his eyes. "Chris, I, I...." There was a catch in Vin's voice. "Chris, I...," a sob tore from Vin's throat.
"What??" Chris cried. The control he had been barely hanging on to all evening finally broke as he brought his fist back and punched his lover and best friend in the face, snapping his head back with the force. Vin slid down the wall. Chris stood over him, his fists clenched, his breathing ragged. His stomach lurched. Chris's whole body became a knot of pain.
Chris stumbled down the hall to the bathroom and threw up. When he was finished he splashed some cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth. The room was spinning. He gripped the sides of the sink and squeezed his eyes shut. How could I have hit him? I love him. I love him so much I hit him - nice logic Larabee, you drunk fuck.
Chris slowly walked back to the bedroom. Once there, he slid down the wall to sit next to Vin. He leaned his head back against the wall and turned to look at his lover.
"Vin, I'm sorry," Chris began hesitantly. "Aw, shit. When I saw those bloodstains, I saw red." Vin raised his eyebrows, a small smile played on his bruised lips and he winced. Chris was so drunk he didn't realize what he had just said. "The first thing I should have asked was, are you okay? You look okay. That blood...." He brought his hand up and with his thumb gently wiped the blood from the corner of Vin's mouth. Vin leaned his head into Chris's hand. "'S 'kay, Chris. Vin's deep blue eyes were brimming with tears. "My fault. Not your fault," he said softly, "you didn't know. You couldn't know."
"Vin, look at me." Chris gently turned Vin's face to his, their eyes locked. "I don't know a lot, pard, that's my problem. What don't I know specifically?" Chris stumbled over the last word.
Vin took a deep breath and looked up at Chris through wet, dark eyelashes. His forehead was lightly glazed with sweat. He watched the play of emotions on Chris's face. His tongue flickered pink for a second, to moisten his lips. Chris felt a twinging in his groin. "Vin, please?" he whispered.
"I was raped."
Vin squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bare to see the look in Chris's eyes. He felt Chris pick up his hand and hold it tightly. He could hear Chris's breathing growing more ragged.
After a few moments, Vin opened his eyes to see Chris's shoulders shaking, his free hand covering his face. A wave of nameless emotion had swept through Chris's body and his clenched eyes overflowed with tears. Vin reached his arm across to hold Chris to him. He rested his head along side Chris's. Relief rose up and washed over his limbs. Vin took a deep breath. His anguish had torn itself free. He could get through this with Chris by his side.
"Hey, cowboy, you okay?" Vin gently asked.
"Shit, Vin, shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one got...." Chris couldn't say it out loud. He lifted his tear-streaked face. "Let me look at you. You hurt? Stupid question, of course you're hurt. You bleeding anywhere? Hell, we should be doing something. Shouldn't we be doing something?....calling the locals, going to the hospital? God, I can't think straight. I wish I wasn't so fucking drunk. Vin, we'll get these guys. Did he, they, beat you up?" Chris searched Vin's face. The only bruise marring the handsome young man was from Chris's fist. Chris touched Vin's mouth with his outstretched hand. "Forgive me?" Chris sighed heavily.
"You have to ask?" Vin smiled, his teeth gleeming white in the shadowy room. "I love you with all my life, of course I forgive you. I can't talk about what happened right now Chris, 'kay? Not yet." Maybe not ever, Vin thought. But what he said out loud was, "tomorrow's soon enough." Vin was in no mood to argue with Chris tonight. He deftly changed the subject.
Vin looked into Chris's bloodshot eyes. "Haven't seen you this blotto in a long time, Larabee. You drive home like this? Hell, you coulda been...."
"I know, I know. Real stupid. I was lucky tonight." Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and released a sigh.
"Me too, lucky I mean. Coulda been worse, y'know."
Chris's thoughts and dreams centered on Vin, and at the thought of losing him his gut clenched. The breath caught in Chris's chest and he almost cried out with it. The earth seemed to reel and he steadied himself against the wall. His throat was tight.
They leaned against each other for support. "Chris, tonight, in bed, could you hold me?" Vin's voice was raw with emotion.
"If you can get me up off this floor, pard, I'll hold you forever." Chris smoothed back some damp strands of curling hair from Vin's forehead. He lost himself in his lover's wide-spaced, beautiful blue eyes.
Vin flashed Chris a sweet toothy grin. Love flooded him. Their lips met in a long, deep kiss. Vin moaned softly. He looked down at their joined hands and then at Chris's face, paler than he was used to seeing it, and he wanted to put his arms around him, not passionately - too much had happened tonight for that - but with tenderness and affection.
"Vin, what you said before, 'my fault, not your fault.' If I hadn't insisted on you coming with me to the dinner this wouldn't have happened...so it's..."
Vin put a finger to Chris's lips to stop him. "Compromise? No one's fault, 'kay? Bad things happen to good people and all that shit, right? No more about this, Chris, not tonight, I can't...," Vin left his thought unfinished. He was so exhausted.
Chris nodded, closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. Vin glanced over and saw Chris was fast asleep, breathing deeply. He smiled at the sight.
He scooted sideways, stretched out on the floor and lay his head in Chris's lap. He gently took Chris's arm and draped it over his chest. Then Vin brought his own arm up to rest over Chris's. They fell asleep that way, secure in each other's arms, wrapped in each other's love. Vin wasn't sure exactly how or why, but everything was going to be okay.
THE END
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