ATF Universe
"Where the hell are they? I know they're in here somewhere, damnit!" Vin Tanner was on all fours searching through the floor of the bedroom closet. His short, sculpted cutoffs exposed firm tanned legs and accentuated a firm, tight ass. "Ha, gottem!" he said, pulling out the old Reeboks and putting them on. There were worn spots in the same place on both sneakers, right above the big toe. Still, they were his most comfortable pair and suitable for tennis so Vin didn't give a rat's ass what they looked like. He knelt again, butt raised, head down, peering into the dark recesses of the closet on another quest."Chris, you sure this is the closet your old raquet's in?" he yelled. "This isn't your way of gettin' me to clean out the closet, I hope, 'cause that ain't happenin'. I'm makin' a bigger mess tearin' it apart lookin' for the damn thing. Chris, you hear me?" Vin yelled louder.
Vin Tanner was not in a good mood. "Damn raquet, stupid ass tennis. 90 fuckin' degrees out. Fag rich kid's sport, anyways, dressed in their precious white shirts and shorts. What's he wanna go and play in this heat for, stubborn ol' fool," Vin muttered to himself as he grew more irritated by the minute, still unable to locate the tennis raquet.
"What was that, Vin?" Chris Larabee asked of his young lover. Arms crossed, eyebrows raised, Chris stood right behind Vin, enjoying not only the sight of Vin squirming out of the closet in his tight cutoffs, but relishing how Vin was going to squirm out of the comments Chris had just overheard.
"Shit, Larabee, sneak up on a guy why doncha! Wear a bell for chrissakes." Vin's mind was racing. How much had Chris heard? Shit, fuck piss! Deep breath, Tanner, like you're undercover. He stood up slowly and faced Chris. "I was saying, Chris, that I can't find the tennis raquet you said was in here. Found my old Reeboks, though," Vin said calmly, looking down at his shoes and wriggling his toes through the holes.
"Something about 'fag rich kids' is what I think I heard. That right, Vin? You think tennis is for fags? You think I'm a fag? Hell, you think I'm 'old' and a 'fool'?" Chris said too softly, hoping for a menacing tone, his green eyes narrowing. He hoped he wouldn't burst out laughing watching Vin's mind scramble for a lifeline. This was fun, Chris thought. Any minute now beads of sweat should pop out on his forehead.
Shit, fuck, piss, he heard everything, Vin moaned inwardly. He took a breath. "Um, nothin' personal, Chris, I mean, well maybe the 'old fool' part was kinda personal, come to think of it, sorry, but tennis, come on, those perfect white outfits for cryin' out loud. Geeze, look at you, a walking poster boy for just what I'm sayin'. How much that set you back, that outfit you got on?" Vin's voice held an equal measure of admiration and resentment as he fingered the unbuttoned plaquet of Chris's brand new, crisp, white, perfect tennis shirt, his fingers brushing Chris's neck. "Fila. I bet over $150 bucks. For what? Shirt and shorts." Vin shook his head, anger lacing his words. "Lemme guess, captain of your tennis team in high school, right? Hell, you jocks had it made. The money, the looks, good at whatever sport you tried. Damn, I woulda hated you in high school, Chris, and you woulda hated me right back," Vin said hoarsely. Vin's outburst faded as he raked his eyes over Chris standing there, a shocked, defenceless look on his face. Blue eyes met green.
Vin leaned into Chris and kissed him heavily on his lips. Chris looked stunned.
"God, you look great in white, I ever tell you that? You're golden. And those tight, white shorts....," Vin said huskily, swept up in his lust to touch Chris's firmly muscled, tanned body. He kissed Chris again, swirling his tongue around Chris's, probing the hot depths of his mouth. Chris broke away.
"What the hell, Vin. You had me going there for a minute, thought you were seriously pissed at me, pard. You're changing gears faster than Ezra. Think you are spending way too much time with him," Chris smiled in relief.
"Nah, best defense is a good offense, is all. Didn't mean for you to hear what I said. I was talkin' to the closet, not you, cowboy. Mad I couldn't find the raquet. Never did find it so I guess we should take this over to the bed, huh?" Vin said eagerly, cupping the bulge in Chris's shorts.
"Ah, I see where this is going now, Vin old pal, old buddy. You don't want to play tennis and this is your way of distracting me. Not today. As horny as I am, and you can attest to that seeing as you are still holding the evidence, Vin, we are playing tennis. I am giving you a lesson. Now. It'll be fun, you'll see. Get hot and sweaty, run around. I get to watch you in those cutoffs bending over to pick up the balls, your sweat-soaked white t-shirt plastered to your chest, practically see-through with the wetness, your muscles rippling beneath the shirt, your nipples hard, rubbing against the wet shirt." Chris slid his hands over Vin's chest. "You'll probably take your shirt off midway through the set, won't you?" Chris said softly, "and your muscles will glisten in the sun." Chris's breathing was noticeably heavier as was Vin's. "Your perfect white teeth will shine in the hot sun, your pink tongue will dart out to moisten your lips." Vin gripped the hard bulge in Chris's shorts even firmer. "You'll keep pushing your silky, wavy hair off your face but after a while it will be wet with sweat and you won't have to and it'll curl on your shoulders. I won't be able to see those sparkling blue eyes of yours because of the RayBans you'll be wearing, so I'll just have to imagine your eyes are watching my every move. You'll want the match to end because it is so hot out and all you want to do is come home to the air-conditioned bedroom and fuck my brains out," Chris rasped, as Vin backed Chris to the bed, still fondling Chris's rock hard cock. "You'll probably give up trying to beat me at the game and forget all the pointers I've painstakingly given you during the set, just wanting to get home, won't you Vin?" Chris could hardly speak.
Vin just nodded, afraid to break the spell Chris had woven. Aside from the overwhelming urge to get laid, part of Vin's brain rejoiced at the cancelled tennis lesson. He wished he felt guilty knowing how much Chris loved the sport. 'Fuck 'im,' he thought, quite selfishly, and an evil grin played at his mouth. 'Yup, that's the plan, all right.' He undid the button of Chris's new Fila shorts and unzipped them. They fell to the floor. Vin's faded cutoffs joined them. Vin peeled the jockstrap down Chris's legs and was about to toss it over his shoulder when Chris grabbed his wrist. "I'll take that Vin," the older man said. Vin couldn't quite place the tone in Chris's voice. Chris pulled off his shirt letting it drop to the floor with the shorts. He had the outfit a month now and he still hadn't played tennis in it. Damn Tanner and his body, can't think straight when he's near, Chris thought ruefully.
Vin peeled off his t-shirt, kicked off his tennis sneakers and flopped backwards on the king- sized bed. Life was sweet. No freakin' tennis lesson in 90 degree heat. Vin Tanner was finally in a good mood. He patted the empty space next to him and grinned up at Chris.
"How do you do it, Vin? How do you get me to, once again, give up an afternoon of my second favorite activity for my first favorite, huh?" Chris said grinning. "And make it seem like it's my idea? You really do need a lesson, pard." With that Chris snatched Vin's wrists tightly in his grip, brought the jockstrap from behind his back and quickly tied its leg strap around Vin's wrists, tying the other end to a rung in the wooden slatted headboard.
Vin's deep blue eyes flashed in surprise, anger, curiousity and finally lust. "Teach away, coach," he drawled, flexing his fingers and pulling against the tight strap around his wrists. The jockstrap held.
"First, some warmup exercises," Chris grinned. Chris pushed Vin's legs aside and propped a pillow under his ass. Chris got on his knees facing Vin's rolled-up buttcheeks. He grabbed his glutes and spread them wide. "Cute little pucker you got there Vin," Chris said and waggled his tongue at the younger man. He began to tickle his crack dragging his fingers up and down the sweat-soaked crease, giving special attention to the puckered shut-tight entrance. Vin's blue eyes were wide on Chris as he began to moan softly. Chris tentatively pushed against his anal button. "You're too dry and hard, Vin, gotta lube you up."
Chris reached over for the K-Y tube on the nightstand and liberally rubbed the wetness into the dry folds of Vin's ass. With his thumbs Chris punched some globs of lubricant deep into Vin's hole, massaging it in, stretching the delicate velvet skin wide. When Vin was thoroughly greased Chris lowered his head and got down to business.
"Next part of the lesson, basic strokes." Vin groaned with pleasure as Chris licked at his asshole, shoving his tongue deep into the dark cavity. He stabbed over and over into the depths with his tongue as Vin shivered with the exquisite sensation of need shooting up from deep inside.
Vin's breath got ragged as Chris reamed the relaxed muscles now with his fingers, feeling the puckered O-ring stretching further open. Vin's hips began to writhe as his butt hole closed over Chris's fucking fingers. Vin's arching and aching shaft bounced rockhard and hot above his tightened balls. Chris spread Vin's asscheeks wide with his hands, adjusted his hips, aimed his cock and pressed into him.
Vin gasped, his dark blues wide, staring up into Chris. "Jeezus," he hissed out between his teeth. Chris could feel Vin was ready for more. A slight push and the head of Chris's cock snapped through the stretching ring of screaming muscle. Vin was so tight. Chris groaned with pleasure at the feeling and shoved a bit harder into him. Chris's cock felt the clutch of Vin fighting against the invasion of his body, trying to reverse the driving intrusion. "Relax, Vin, ease up," Chris whispered. Chris wiggled his hips and pushed in another couple of inches. Vin moaned and began to relax the pressure against Chris, his spasming anal muscles reversing themselves to drag Chris deeper inside, tugging him into his hotter and hotter depths. A fresh new bloom of sweat broke out on Vin's upper lip.
"Last part of lesson, repitition. Practice makes perfect," Chris gasped out as the heat from Vin's grabbing ass-muscles focused all Chris's screaming nerve endings into the bottom of his butthole. Chris wanted to fill his lover totally, be consumed by his hot, sucking sheath. Vin was grinding his hips like mad now, groaning and cursing through gritted teeth, laughing and giggling at the same time, dragging Chris in deeper, sucking him all in. Vin's asshole clamped around the root of Chris's cock, gripping it spastically with his butt muscles, heating it to boiling. Chris slammed his cock in and out, driving Vin crazy, making him scream with pure undiluted fucking pleasure. Chris screamed out Vin's name as he came, gushing cum deep into Vin's quivering butt. Three or four more bone-jarring jolts and Chris had finished shooting his load.
Slowly, Chris's vision cleared. Vin was grinning at him, his cheeks reddened and wet. Chris wiped the sweat from Vin's face with the edge of the sheet, then wiped his own. "You're a fucking fine tennis coach, Chris." Vin gave Chris a lopsided grin. Chris grinned back and kissed his ass.
"Now let me loose. My back is killing me and my butt feels like chopped liver. Still, better than a real tennis lesson, anyday," Vin said contentedly. Chris untied Vin's hands and kissed his wrists where the strap had left reddened welts. "You okay?" Chris asked.
"Never better, cowboy. Hey, Chris, think you'll ever find that old raquet of yours?" Vin chuckled. "Can't wait for another private lesson, coach. I'm a slow learner and need to be drilled on a regular basis." Chris laughed and leaned over to kiss the smile off Vin's face. That part of his game plan still needed work, however, for the grin on Vin's face remained and couldn't have gotten any bigger.
THE END
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