Disclaimer: The characters belong to Trilogy, MGM, Mirisch and were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made.
English spelling has been used in this story
Vin Tanner was trapped. Something large and heavy was pinning him down. Whatever it was it was lying across his right thigh and also immobilizing his arm on that side. He tried frantically to push the object off with his left hand, but it was a deadweight, and far from being dislodged, actually seemed to settle more firmly upon him.Panicking, he awoke with a start, his heart and head pounding painfully. What in tarnation had happened? And where in hell was he? Instead of being in his wagon or in Peso's stall, he was in someone else's bed. Even worse, that someone was right there sprawling over him, one knee firmly lodged between the tracker's thighs.
Although dawn had broken, the curtains were closed so the room was still fairly dark, and from what little he could see, it was unfamiliar. Who was lying on him? And what on earth had he done or let them do?
Willing himself, with considerable difficulty, to lie still so as not to awaken his bedmate, he began to try to figure out what was going on. With a hangover the size of Texas, that was not the easiest of tasks.
Gradually he began to recall parts of the previous evening. He remembered it had been a bad night. Buck and JD had thrown a surprise party for Chris's birthday. The saloon had been packed. That had discomforted the tracker, who hated crowds, but he had resolved to stay there for Larabee's sake. He did not want to do anything that might throw a damper on the festivities of his best friend.
However, as it turned out, he doubted whether Chris had even noticed him sitting isolated in a back corner because Mary Travis had clung to the gunslinger like glue, monopolizing him shamelessly.
Normally Vin was most abstemious, as he knew with $500 on his head he could never let his guard down, but he found himself pouring drink after drink. Unfortunately, every glass just served to increase his loneliness.
He told himself repeatedly that it should be enough that Chris Larabee was his best friend, that he had no right to want more, but he knew that was no longer true. No, it was not true by a long chalk. Sure he knew he could never hang on to the gunslinger's arm like Mary was doing and he would not have wanted to make such a public display of his emotions, even had the law and society not frowned upon such things, but he wanted the gunslinger in a way that he had never desired another person.
It was damned ridiculous he knew. Chris had been married. He would never look at another man, and if by some miracle he did, it sure as hell wouldn't be a scruffy tracker. However, knowing a case was hopeless and managing to give it up because it was, were not the same thing as Vin was finding to his cost. He had hoped the alcohol might drown his stupid yearning, but it just seemed to increase it.
Finally the party began to break up. He knew he should get up and leave, but had got to the stage where his legs seemed reluctant to support him. Steeling himself, he was about to make another effort to get to his feet, when Buck Wilmington slipped into the seat beside him.
"Great party, wasn't it?" the ladies' man observed.
"Ch-Chrisss ssseemed to like it," Vin slurred. Damn! His voice was as treacherous as his legs.
Wilmington did not miss the fact that Vin had expressed no personal enthusiasm for the event, but did not comment. In truth, he had been surprised that the anti-social tracker had turned up at all and even more that he had stood the distance. However, it had been the amount Tanner had been drinking that had really concerned him and he had kept a worried, but surreptitious, eye upon him all evening. Finally, having observed Vin's failed attempts to stand, he had decided he had better find out what was wrong. Okay, he knew a direct question would simply elicit Vin's time-worn "I'm fine" phrase that was trotted out on all occasions when he was clearly anything but. No, the thing to do was to be sneaky and so Buck acted as though Vin's answer was just what he wanted to hear. "Yeah, I wondered how he'd react, but I'm glad the kid talked me into it. It's good for old Chris to relax and enjoy himself," he enthused.
"S'pose," Tanner responded, his voice forlorn, without looking at Buck.
Buck saw that the tracker's gaze was fixed on a black clad figure, escorting a triumphantly smiling Mrs Travis out the door.
Never slow in matters of the heart, he thought, ‘So that's the way the land lies. Vin's finally startin' to realize what's what.' He wrapped a comforting arm around the slender tracker. "C'mon, Vin, I've got some whiskey in my room, let's go and have a nightcap."
Without waiting for a reply, he drew the unresisting tracker to his feet and led him out of the saloon.
+ + + + + + +
Well, Vin could recall Buck leading him out, ‘Though carryin' me might be nearer the mark,' he thought ruefully, as he recalled leaning heavily against the ladies' man for support. After that things got real hazy, but Vin had a horrible feeling that he had said things he shouldn't have. That he had revealed his best-guarded secret and told Buck exactly how much Chris meant to him. He even had a shameful memory of tears rolling down his face and of Wilmington brushing them gently aside and holding him and ...
Holding him??? ‘My God!' he thought. ‘It's Buck! Buck's lyin' on me!'
As if he had spoken aloud, Wilmington responded, by snuggling into him and one large hand snaked down to grope between Vin's legs.
At the intimate touch Vin gasped with shock and tried to pull away, but Buck's superior weight held him trapped. "B-Buck, please ... please I ..." he started, stammering in his shame and embarrassment.
"Please what, Vin?" Wilmington mumbled sleepily. "Ain't ya had enough yet? I'd have thought ya would be wantin' to rest up after last night. Still no one ever accused old Buck of not doin' everythin' he could to satisfy a partner."
With that, the hand slipped even further to stroke the tracker's perineum while the hand's owner began to nuzzle his way around Vin's throat. The tracker was shocked speechless, but then the sharp nip of teeth caused him to give a sudden yelp.
"It's okay, Vin," Buck soothed. "I'm just givin' ya a little memento of our night together."
Vin wanted to ask just what their night had consisted of, but could not bring himself to voice the question. If Ezra had asked him to bet on Buck Wilmington taking a man he would have thought the gambler had gone mad, yet here he was stark naked in Buck's bed, with the larger man casually fondling him and making references to the night that implied ... Shit, he didn't want to think about what it implied.
"Buck, I'd like to get up," he ventured.
"Dunno if I'm ready to let ya do that to me, Vin," Wilmington responded, deliberately misunderstanding. "I kinda prefer to be the one on top, ya know."
Vin's face burned. "I d-didn't mean ... Buck, I didn't ..."
"Don't get yerself all worked up, Vin," the scoundrel soothed. "Maybe I'll let ya later, but right now let's just have a nice, little cuddle." With that he surged over so he was completely atop the tracker.
"Yer squashin' me!" Vin gasped. He raised both hands to try to push Buck off only to have his wrists captured in Wilmington's strong grip and pinned above his tousled curls.
He tried to voice a protest, but an oh-so-talented mouth descended onto his and a probing tongue began to tease an entry.
Vin did not know what to do. Clearly Buck was of the opinion that he welcomed his attentions. He knew Wilmington well enough to know the man would never force himself upon another. Sure he would use all the considerable wiles and charm at his disposal to gain surrender, but not force, never force. Accordingly Vin knew he must have agreed to this the night before, so how could he now say he had changed his mind without offending or upsetting Buck?
And, even if he did manage to speak up, what good could it do? He could not undo what had been done. How in hell could he be stupid enough to make such a mess of his life? Things just could not get any worse.
A fatal thought! At that moment there was a cursory tap on the door and it opened to reveal Chris Larabee, brandishing a small sheet of paper. "What's this about ..." he started, striding in to the room, only to break off in shock as he realised his friend was not alone. "Excuse me," he said, backing up hurriedly.
"No worries, pard," Wilmington said easily. "Wait up! We're all friends here." The odd response stopped a bemused Larabee in his tracks. Then Buck rolled casually off the bed to reveal a horrified tracker, who was trying desperately to sink through the mattress.
Larabee went bone white and his mouth dropped open. Then he collected himself, glared daggers at Vin, strode forward and backhanded the hapless tracker across the mouth. "Ya damned slut!" he snarled, before turning on his heel and storming out.
Vin lay there pale and shaking, blue eyes wide with shock and blood trickling from his split lip. And he had dared to think that things could not get worse! Never in his wildest nightmares could he have imagined this situation. Not only would Chris never love him, he had lost his friendship for sure. Finally he managed, "I-I don't understand."
"What's got ya confused, Vin?" an unaccountably cheerful Wilmington queried.
"Why did Chris ... Why am ... Why am I the one that's a slut?" he asked plaintively. "I sleep with one person and Chris hits me and calls me a slut, but he doesn't care if ya sleep with half of the town."
"I think ya've answered yer own question," Buck responded smugly.
"Huh?" Vin was more confused than ever and Buck's reaction to the whole disaster was totally incomprehensible to him. He knew that Wilmington loved talking about his various romantic entanglements and adventures with the ladies, but he had thought that Buck liked him. He could not believe that the man apparently regarded what had just happened as a great joke, when Vin's heart was shattered and his world was crumbling around him.
"In his mind yer only meant to sleep with one person and that's Chris Larabee."
"What?" Vin questioned, certain that he must have misheard.
"Chris wants ya for himself."
"That's ridiculous! He's never ... He's never ..." Vin trailed off helplessly.
"Never asked ya? Never even hinted? Never tossed ya on yer back and taken ya without a by yer leave?"
Vin blushed hotly. Trust Buck to know what he was thinking even better than he did himself and that last image ... No, it didn't bear thinking about! He nodded.
"Well, Vin, I don't reckon our beloved leader actually realised he wanted to spread yer legs until this mornin'. He looked absolutely gob-smacked." The scoundral grinned happily at the memory.
Vin stared at him. "But he hit me. He was furious with me."
"Course he was! It looked like ya were givin' me what he regarded as his."
Vin's expression was frankly disbelieving.
"Trust me, Vin, I know about these things. Old Chris is jealous. Ain't that great?" Wilmington exulted.
Then looking at the distress in Vin's eyes he sobered a little. He was first and foremost Chris Larabee's friend and at one time he had resented the long-haired Texan usurping his long term place as the gunslinger's best friend, but he had come to like the tracker and felt he should make sure the younger man knew what he was getting himself into. "Now ya've got a choice to make, Vin, and ya've gotta think carefully."
"What choice?"
Well, Chris ain't exactly the forgivin' type. Ya've gotta realise if ya go to him ya can't sleep with me again ... or anyone else. Hell, ya'd be lucky to escape with just a backhander. More'n likely he'd thrash the skin off yer ass."
Abashed, Vin lowered his head so his face was effectively hidden behind his tangled curls. He didn't feel comfortable discussing such matters even with someone it seemed he had foolishly allowed to know him intimately. "Iffen Chris wanted me, I'd never even look at anyone else," he admitted, his voice barely audible.
"Good! That's settled then!" Buck said briskly.
"Settled? It ain't settled," Vin insisted. "I still think yer wrong. He's just mad at me." Sure he knew that the other five deferred to Buck's superior knowledge in matters of the heart, but he couldn't be right in this case. He couldn't, could he?
"No, he ain't. I'm goin' to fetch him back and ya'll see. Ya just lie right where ya are." As he spoke, he swooped Vin's trousers and boots up off the floor. "I'll just look after these for ya," he said cheerfully, clearly intending to forestall any rapid departure by the tracker. Then, without waiting to listen to any all-too-likely protest, he swept out of the door and locked it behind him.
In truth, Vin was tempted to run, but Tanners, as he kept telling himself, were not cowards. Besides what if Buck was right? It was a very slender hope, but he clung desperately to it.
Meanwhile, Buck headed confidently towards the saloon. As he had anticipated, Chris Larabee was already there, in spite of the early hour, slumped in a chair with a half empty bottle beside him.
"Go away, Buck," he growled warningly.
Anyone else would have fled, but Buck merely smiled and sat down.
Chris tried to ignore him, but Wilmington said, "Ain't like ya to sulk, pard. I've got a little late birthday present here guaranteed to cheer ya up."
Larabee raised his head and glared at him.
Buck grinned broadly. He shoved a key and a small jar into Larabee's hand. "He's waitin' for ya in my room. Use this and go slow and careful, pard. Remember our little tracker's still a virgin. Ya don't want to frighten him off."
Chris stared incredulously at him. "Still a virgin? Who are ya tryin' to kid? I saw him in yer bed with his neck all chewed."
"Yep, ya surely did. Just like I planned," Buck added smugly.
"Like ya planned? Hell, yer note didn't say why ya needed to see me so early this mornin'. Ya mean ... Ya mean ... So you and Tanner set me up!" His scowl was growing and Buck realised things might yet go awry.
"Hang on, Chris, I set ya up," he explained hurriedly. "Vin had nothin' to do with it. Our unhappy tracker thinks he let me have my wicked way with him and so has spoiled any chance he had with ya."
"Come off it, Buck! He ain't that naïve! Surely he knows if he's had sex or not."
"Nope! Boy was pretty much away when I took him to my room. A few whiskeys with a little concoction of my own mixed in and he was tellin' me how much he wanted ya and a few more and he was out to it. I stripped him off." He smiled reminiscently. "Now, I can tell ya, that was a bit of a surprise. He's got a very nice body, to match that pretty face, under all those damned clothes. I was tempted to deviate from my plan and sample it, but I couldn't do that to him ... or to you. Hell, Chris, I'm no fool in these matters. I knew ya both fell for each other that day ya met even if ya were both to blind to realize it. I figured the pair of you would come to yer senses eventually, but when I saw how upset Vin was last night I knew old Uncle Buck needed to step in and help things along as it were. And I've done a mighty fine job of it, even if I say so myself."
Larabee shook his head disbelievingly in the face of such effrontery. "Ya know I should kill ya," he remarked conversationally.
"Yeah, but ya won't. Ya might even decide to reward me with a bottle of whiskey later."
Chris smiled and tipped his hat. "I might. I'll let ya know." He eased himself to his feet and headed for the door.
The End
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