Feedback: Oh do. Really, I'm grateful for every crumb tossed my way.
Disclaimer: Wish I did, but I don't. Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide, CBS and TNN all have that privilege. Even if I could have one or two to keep, by the looks of things, I'd be standing at the back of a verrry long line.
Comments: Okay, this is a tad, um...wilder...than the others I have written, kinda nervous...it was all I could do to hit the send button, so if you like it, great! if you don't, well, hitting the delete key'll solve that right quick.
Note: This is for Judy. Happy Birthday, Judy!-and thanks for all the quick reads, your kind words of encouragement have definitely helped urge me to continue trying my hand at writing this stuff. So, I hope this helps satisfy a little Vin fix. Also, if anyone's looking to read a holiday fic, this ain't it. I do hope it helps spice up your week, though.
Vin Tanner stood outside with one shoulder braced, the remainder of his slender frame curving gently away from the wood post in front of the saloon. He surveyed the quiet street and emitted a long sigh, breath clouding before him as it mixed with the cold air. He heard the almost silent whoosh of batwing doors swinging open, then shut behind him and a quick wisp of the saloon's warmer air sweeped his face, then was gone. Sensing the figure standing behind him, he spoke without turning."Buck."
"Vin. You just gonna stand out here all night, or you comin' inside?"
"Don't rightly know. Kinda peaceful out here."
"Kinda cold, too. And shouldn't you be taking it easy? Nathan aware you're roaming the streets?"
"Easy? I'm just standin' here, Bucklin. I swear, you're gettin' t' be as annoyin' as Nathan. It *has* been almost a month and I wouldn't 'xactly call what I'm doin' *roamin'*."
"Yeah well, just wanna make sure you ain't doin' too much, too soon, is all. I mean, damn Vin, gunshot wounds take time, I know. And the way you're leanin' looks like your rib's still botherin' ya some, too."
"Hell, Buck, he always leans", Chris Larabee's voice called out as he soundlessly slipped out of the dark to stand beside the two men, his black clothing blending with the black night.
"Yeah, ain't that just so, Chris. Shit, I bet this boy'd stand six inches taller if'n he ever decided t' quit holdin' up buildin's," Buck laughed then drained the remainder of his beer. He turned to go inside, "You two comin'?"
"In a minute."
"'Kay, Chris. Talk to him, he's gettin' that look means somethin's turnin' in that brain o' his. Ought not do nothin' wild too soon after bein' shot, Vin. You tell him Chris. Okay, lemme get back on in there, see if Miss Mollie's ready for a little 'tention..." Buck smiled broadly as he turned back inside, disappearing into the smoke filled room.
Chris levelled his gaze at the man before him, his green eyes intent on blue, "That right? You gettin' notions in that hard head of yours? So you're okay now, you're sure." It was a statement, not a question. Vin sighed, looking back down the fire-lit street.
"Hell yes, I'm sure. 'Tween Nathan, Buck and you I got more eyes on me 'n a potato. Been tellin' you fer a week I's okay, y' just ain't listened...And holy hell, JD been followin' me 'round like 'nother shadow since Nathan let me out. I mean, it ain't I'm not grateful fer him findin' me like he done..."
"He just wants to make sure y' ain't pushing things, is all. We all know how you get, Tanner."
Vin stared back, nodding, "Yeah, reckon y' do. Still, Chris, been long 'nough..."
"Believe me, Vin. I'm aware how long it's been, still, there ain't no shame in takin' the time to let yourself heal properly."
"Shit, Chris, you make it sound like I oughta jus' be back lyin' in bed."
"There's a thought. You in bed."
Vin's eyes shot up to meet Chris's and a grin shaped his mouth, mirroring the one facing him.
"What? Y' mean now? When...right now? 'Bout time, I been hintin' at that fer near a week now..." He said, a trace of hope edging his words.
"I dunno, Vin. I ain't gonna be responsible for facing up t' Nathan if you're not all the way healed and something happens you make it worse," Chris admitted, softly adding: "Like I been telling you, it ain't I don't want to, it's been just as long for me, too. Just wanna be sure you ain't gonna be takin' on too much."
"Too much? Huh, thinkin' awful high on yerself, ain'tcha?" Vin grinned, arms folding across his chest, "Hell, I can take as much as you got t' give, more even."
"Oh...you think?" Chris said quietly, taking a step forward so he now stood a hair's breadth away from the other man.
"Hell Larabee, I done tol' ya before: even with m' hands tied I could take more 'n the best you got t' give out. Ain't no injury slowin' me down, neither: I'm healed fine. Yer th' one ought be careful, lay low. Can't help yer gettin' on in years, y'now. See, us young fellers bounce back lots quicker 'n' you old types. Shit, I'm more 'n' ready for anything comes my way. 'Specially you," Vin grinned even more, enjoying the teasing that always seemed to send Chris into arousal mode.
Chris moved a step closer, his chest brushing the tracker's as he whispered, "That so?"
Vin could feel his heart quicken and was almost sure its beat was loud enough for those inside the saloon to hear as well. Heat rushed to his face and groin and he exhaled with a soft hiss.
"You spring a leak there, Vin?" Chris's eyes caught and held the other's. He placed a finger on Vin's chest, letting it trail slowly over the buttons that held closed the deep blue shirt. "You just raring t' go, hunh? All healed up, busting with steam."
Vin smiled, "Like I said, I'm feelin' more 'n' just fine, I can take whatever ya think y' got t' gimme, that a fact." He let his gaze slowly shift down to linger on the black pants; on those tight black pants that housed that hot shaft, now so close to him. So incredibly close to him. God, it had been almost a month since he'd had this man's touch on his body and he desperately craved the feel of Chris's hands once more tracing over his skin.
Chris watched as Vin's eyes lowered to focus on his crotch. He shifted his weight, his pants now all too confining and he was hard pressed not to just throw the tracker down and ravage him right there in the shadows. Hell, right on the boardwalk in front of the crowded saloon. Wouldn't *that* be a show. He grinned at the thought, ready to reach out and pull the young man toward him, somehow whisk him away to his cabin or room in the boardinghouse and have at him. But a voice sounded behind him and his hand dropped away.
"Vin? That you? Oh, it is you. Hey Chris."
"Nathan."
"Listen, I know you feelin' better 'n' all Vin. But Buck jus' told me yer standin' here, maybe gettin' ideas t' leave or some such. Well, I already told you, you ain't ready t' be ridin' just yet. Not 'til I know f' sure that cracked rib's healed. Ridin' just make it worse, 'specially goin' on that mean ol' mule y' call a horse. You're ready for most things, just leave the ridin' alone for 'nother week or so, will ya? I don't wanna see all that healin' bust apart 'cause you got a notion t' light out on that damned animal o' yers."
"Nathan, anything else he oughta stay away from doin'?" Chris asked. Not that he thought Nathan knew exactly what doin's he had in mind, but still, he certainly wasn't about to do anything that might hinder Vin's healing process.
"Nothin' he can't do, really, long as he's careful an' takes it slow, he'll be okay. Y'now, he's awful lucky that bullet just hit the one rib, coulda been out o' action for lot longer than just a few weeks. But JD didn't haul him all th' way back here for me t' sew him up jus' to have him go and hurt hisself again. Alls I'm sayin's just no ridin' 'til next week. Don't want him bouncin' 'round none, reinjurin' them insides. Y' hearin' me Vin?"
Vin glared at the two men, not at all happy about being discussed as though he weren't standing right there next to them.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear. No horse 'til next week. Got it." He watched as Nathan turned into the noisy saloon and then, with a suggestive leer, spun back to Chris, "So, now you ready t' gimme what all I can take?"
"Nope. Not 'til you're done healing. I ain't going t' be the one to start you hurting again."
"Shit, Chris. I done tol' ya, I'm right as rain, even Nathan just said so."
"That ain't exactly what Nathan said, Vin."
"Alls he said was I couldn't ride."
"Exactly."
"A *horse* Chris. Said I couldn't ride a *horse*. Didn't say nothin' 'bout no Larabee," Vin grumbled, pouting as he sensed the desire that had been emanating from his partner seeping away.
"Next week, Vin," Chris said, placing a hand behind Vin's back and steering him through the doors of the saloon. He needed a drink badly and was sure the younger man needed one too. Vin said nothing, just headed to the bar, ordered a whiskey for them both and turned to survey the room with eyes cloudy from dissapointment.
It was going to be a long week.
TWO
Six days. Six days down and one more to go until he could ride and, well, *ride*. Vin smiled to himself at the thought as he made his way down the dimly lit street. The scattered street fires burned brightly with their inviting heat. It had gotten much colder during the past week, colder than he'd felt in some time and he hunched down into his hide coat.Few people were out, those that were made their way quickly to their destinations, some stopping briefly while warming their hands over the night fires, then hurrying off to seek warmth indoors. He nodded in response to those who greeted him, then paused to stand outside the saloon.
Laughter and music trickled into the air, he could see shadows moving as they were cast from patrons near the windows and he was sure the inside would be enormously crowded. Too crowded. He listened for a while, trying to pinpoint one particular voice above the rising din, but couldn't separate the many tones as they weaved together. It occurred to him he hadn't seen Chris all day, hadn't since supper the night previous and he wondered if the man had been purposely avoiding him. The past week had been hard, his desire to touch Chris, have Chris touch him had consumed almost every waking moment. No matter he was busy, his thoughts constantly drifted back to his lover's body and hands. And face. Those eyes...and that chest....Ooh, and that...
Shit, he was doing it again. He sighed, one more day.
Chris had certainly seemed to be controlling *his* urges, though. Vin shook his head thinking about last night's meal, the last time he'd seen Chris. His hand had drifted over to rub against the dark clad thigh and crotch, all the while remaining secluded under the table, hidden away from the eyes of the others. And he had certainly felt Chris's interest rising at having that hand parked there. But then, Chris had removed the hand and placed it back on Vin's lap with a stern look and frown.
What th' hell?
By the time the dishes had been cleared and they'd all relaxed with coffee, Vin's hand had advanced forward again. Only this time he met resistance immediately, having his hand deposited back into his own lap without so much as a miniscule squeeze of flesh. This time, it was he who frowned and quickly looked away.
Chris then said, "So, Nathan. Vin here's gettin' the itch to ride tomorrow, that okay with you? A day early?"
Nathan had scowled at the question, his eyes narrowing as they met the tracker's. "Vin, do you know how many days 're in a week?"
"'Course I do," he'd responded with slight irritation. Geeze, thanks Chris.
"Then you know that tomorrow is day six. NOT seven. You wait little longer, then you can do what th' hell you want. Got it?"
He'd nodded. Okay, so Chris wasn't going to break the seven day rule, either. That was obvious.
Vin stared unseeing into the saloon, picturing the dinner, then shook himself and ambled away toward the livery. He wasn't going to ride, just wanted to check on his no-account horse. Since he hadn't been around, Peso had given everybody a hard time, including JD, who had a ton of horse sense. He was the only one besides Vin the stubborn animal would even allow near him, and JD had tried to make sure Peso had been excersized while Vin had remained incapacitated.
Vin rubbed his hands together, blowing on them for added warmth. The town quieted down as he made his way further away from the saloon. He pressed his hand against his side, twisting slightly as he tested the injured area. No pain, just a mild pull from the newly healed wound. And his cracked rib seemed to have mended without incident. Didn't hurt at all. He would be more than ready to ride tomorrow.
He passed Sam, one of the liverymen and waved.
"Howdy Mr. Vin. Y' comin' t' check up on that horse o' yers?"
"Yeah, Sam, guessin' I am. Kinda miss him some."
"Well, I guess ever'body's gotta have a weak spot in 'em. Ornery cuss, that horse. But he's doin' okay, jus' th' same. I's 'bout done mendin' tack fer that fancy friend o' yers, took me longer 'n I thought, so I'm jus' leavin' now to git on home. My eyes 'bout goin' blind workin' under them shitty lamps, pret' dark in there. But them horses, they's all doin' jus' fine. Always check on 'em, ever' one, 'fore I turn in fer the night. You go right 'head, say h'llo t' him. Ol' ornery cuss though, don't much like none o' my hire horses. Don't much like none o' nobody, come t' think of it."
Vin laughed, making his way into the dark stable. He lit one lamp, it's light dim from dirt and grime that had built up on its glass surfaces. No wonder Sam was 'goin' blind', he mused, heading toward his horse's stall. He spent a good while talking to and brushing the big black. Finishing that and giving Peso a last nuzzle, he threaded his way through to the darkened front area, weaving around tables piled with assorted works-in-progress. He set down the lamp and picked up a newly constructed bridle, the scent from the leather straps strong and clean. As he made his away around a small upended carriage in for repairs, he realized his head no longer held his hat and turned, retracing his steps back into the stable.
Hanging the lamp on a hook, he spied the hat resting against the base of an empty stall. He bent to retrieve it, when out of nowhere, a tremendous force plowed into him from behind, rushing him to the back of the empty cubicle. His face was turned into the wood wall and firm pressure from a forearm leaned heavily onto his neck. In one swift move, his gun was taken and his hide coat was pulled down, trapping his arms, then yanked off as the weight on his neck shifted, and he was thrown roughly to the ground. Lying prone, his face buried into the hay muffling his voice, he grunted as a knee dug sharply into his back.
"Not a sound," the voice whispered into his ear, low and gutteral.
Barely hearing the command, Vin's mind reeled as his body struggled, unsuccessful in its attempt to throw off the assailant. Despite what he'd said earlier, though not in any pain, he knew he was still somewhat weakened from his recent injuries and couldn't seem to manage enough leverage to toss the other's weight. The pressure on his back remained, pushing him down further into the hay and he felt hands grasp his wrists, pulling them backwards and together. He struggled as a rope looped over first one hand then the other and he bucked again and again, trying to dislodge his would-be captor. Feeling the ropes encircling his wrists pull tight, binding them, he clenched his fists in an effort to create some slack.
Knees parted his legs, pushing outward as a hand grabbed the waist of his pants and he was pulled up to a crouched position. He felt warm breath on his neck, ruffling his hair and could just make out the faint trace of whiskey and tobacco, almost overpowered by the odor of hay and horses.
God, a bounty hunter? He cursed himself for being careless, not paying enough attention to his surroundings. Where had the man come from? Geeze, Tanner, how could y' be s' damn stupid?
The man shifted again, and Vin flinched when a cloth covered his eyes. He felt it wrap tightly around his head, secured with a knot in the back.
Vin started, "Who," but was quickly silenced when a hand clamped his jaw shut.
"Not...a...sound," the voice repeated in its menacing whisper, and another cloth was pulled into his mouth between his teeth, silencing him as it, too, was tied at the back of his head.
He suddenly found himself standing and twisted sharply to try and lunge at the man, but an arm circling around his neck stopped him.
"Don't," the voice said, its volume so low it was more breath than word.
He was led to the back entrance to the livery, a blast of cold air hitting him in the face, then thrust forward and up until he was standing on top of a good-sized crate. Vice-like fingers dug sharply into his shoulder and for a sliver of a moment he thought he was going to be hanged, half-expecting to feel the rough noose slip around his neck.
He heard the creaking of a saddle as the man mounted a horse, and just when the fingers eased and he turned to jump and run, an arm snaked around his waist and he was pulled up onto the saddle, his back resting against solid muscle. A hand guided his leg over, his coat was thrown around his shoulders, the arm around him tightened and they were off.
THREE
Vin tried to get his bearings. He knew inititially they'd ridden north of the town, but now he was confused as to which direction they headed. The man seemed to have guided the horse in circles for a while and Vin hoped it was because there were signs the others were following. He hoped someone had seen their hasty departure or, at the very least, hoped one of the seven would wonder where he'd gone.Because it was night, there was no sunshine to give any indication which way they traveled. And he couldn't see much of anything through the blindfold. Engaging the man in conversation to feel him out was more or less out of the question, with the gag in his mouth he could hardly manage a sound, much less a word. He wiggled his wrists, trying to loosen the ropes but a hand grabbed his elbow and the voice sounded again.
"Stop," it whispered its warning, warm breath touching his ear.
Vin figured they'd been riding a little under half and hour when he felt something cold and wet hitting him in the face. He ducked his head, trying to avoid the snow and ice now stinging his cheeks. The wind whipped around, and he trembled with cold under his hide coat. The man pressed him back, his hold tightening around Vin as he shivered.
They rode somewhat further, then stopped. The snow was thickening, Vin could feel it on his hair, dripping icy threads down his neck. The man dismounted, then pulled Vin down, hands helping him slide off and ushered him inside some sort of dwelling.
"Don't move," the man whispered, again his voice barely audible, and a door closed shut.
Vin stood, uncertain if he'd been left alone, and flexed his wrists, testing the bonds that held them. They slipped a minute amount and he twisted his hands further. His arms ached from being pulled behind him and the corners of his mouth felt almost as raw as his wrists. He heard the door open and pulled harder at the ropes, hoping for some slack, stopping suddenly when firm hands gripped his shoulders.
His hat and coat were pushed aside, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He flinched as a finger traced down the side of his face and he heard and felt the expulsion of breath near his temple. A hand swept at his hair and he jumped when he felt a wet tongue flick his ear then disappear. He tried to kick out, but stopped when hands pulled back his hair and a fingertip traced a line across his now exposed neck, so much like that of a knife slitting a throat.
"Don't," the voice repeated holding a much more menacing tone in its soft whisper.
Behind his gag, he murmured soft protests that went unheeded as fingers tugged on the buttons of his shirt, opening it. He jumped again when icy hands touched his bare chest, drifting lower toward his navel, then up again and around his nipples, already hardened from the cold air. The hands released him and he quickly stepped backwards, then found himself pushed until he fell supine on a small mattress.
Vin's mind was racing a mile a minute. He twisted his torso, trying to get out from under the weight that now pinned him, but without the use of his arms, his efforts were futile. Kicking proved worthless, the man was sitting on his thighs, making any movement by his legs virtually impossible. He arched his back in an attempt to shift to one side but a hand cupped his jaw and held him firm.
Again the tongue licked him, once on his upper lip, then repeating the action on his lower, its movement slow and deliberate. Vin attempted to bite down, but the cloth placed between his teeth prevented him from fully closing his mouth and he groaned in frustration.
The weight imprisoning him shifted and he felt his boots being tugged off. The weight shifted again and he felt hands unbuckle his empty gunbelt, slide it under his hips and throw it down to the floor. Nimble fingers found the buttons on his pants, working them loose, and he thrashed violently as they were pulled quickly from his body. He wore no underclothes, rarely ever did, and couldn't help but hear the soft exhale that escaped from the man's throat. The pressure on his thighs lifted and he attempted to kick out again with his legs, only to find them forced back down, held firm as ropes twined around each ankle. His legs were spread apart, then tied securely to the corners of the small bed on which he lay. He sat up but was quickly pushed back down by strong hands.
A feather touch traced around the healed bullet wound in his side, the skin pink, suture marks still visible. Vin sucked in a breath as the light touch followed the line of his ribcage, left to right then left again, traveling in a slow arc. He squirmed and growled but with his voice muffled by the gag, it resembled more a moan.
Hands eased around his back, lifting him to a sitting position and the instant he felt the knife saw through the ropes on his hands, freeing them, he lashed out. Swinging violently, he attempted to strike at anything within range, feeling somewhat victorious when he made contact with a hard skull. He made a grab for the blindfold covering his eyes, fingers pulling at the soft cloth, then cried out as his arm was wrenched abruptly down, pinned to the bed with a knee resting on the inside of his elbow. He reached over with the other hand in an attempt to push free the weight and in seconds, that arm, too, was grabbed and held immobile. The weight sat heavily on his chest, knees sharply pinning his arms in place and Vin felt something soft being wound around each of his wrists. They were then crossed, tied together and stretched above his head. When the pressure on his chest eased he pulled on his arms, testing the strength of the resraints and discovered he was held securely in place, the wrist ties having been wrapped around the center rods on the headboard of an iron bed frame, and he fingered it noting how much they resembled bars on a cell.
He cocked his head, raising it slightly as he listened to the sound of bootheels walking away from him and he exhaled, lowering his head back to the mattress. He heard the rustling made from the building of a fire, and smelled the faint trace of smoke as it wafted over him. The room seemed to heat quickly as the flames caught the wood and he was thankful for at least the added warmth.
He stiffened as the footfalls approached, and again bit down hard on the gag when hands resumed their exploration of his body. Fingertips steadily trailed up and down his torso, coming to rest lightly on his abdomen. They sat for a moment, unmoving, then began to creep lower, circling around and avoiding his genitals to instead brush gently down the inside of his thighs, traveling so slowly as to almost not be moving at all. Vin arched his back, pulling up in his try to dislodge the inquisitive hands but the fingers remained steady, and he arched again this time feeling them slide up to his shoulders, where they gripped him with steely claws.
"Stay," was whispered harshly in his ear and he thrashed violently upon hearing the hushed command. He swore, his curses unintelligible as he jerked himself up from the bed hard as he could manage. Over and over his body bucked, limbs pulling hard at the restraints in protest of their imprisonment, the muscles in his arms and legs aching from being stretched taut. His head tossed from side to side, desperate in its attempt to remove the blindfold. In blind fury he fought, his ankles and wrists turning bloody, until finally he stopped, chest heaving from exertion and he willed himself calm, taking what deep breaths he could through his mouth and nose.
Vin lay still, panting softly, barely registering the stinging in his extremities. For a time he could only make out the crackling of the fire and thought for a moment that he'd been left alone once again. Then he heard it: the faintest of breath coming from near his head and he turned his face away from his tormentor.
He didn't move, just remained as he was. Perfectly still. It wasn't easy, his ankles and wrists burned from the tight bonds and the muscles in his arms and legs were beginning to jerk with uncontrolled spasms. He hadn't been touched again, not in a while and with the warmth of the fire, he had to fight the urge to doze off. His mouth was dry, it pained him to swallow and he found himself wishing for a drink, wishing the gag and blindfold would be removed. For that matter, wishing he could untie his arms and legs, too.
What seemed like almost hours later, the hands returned. Fingers traced over his profile following dual paths, trailing over his covered eyes, tickling his lips, around his chin and down his neck. He flinched as they lowered, outlining his nipples, pinching lightly at each then playing softly over his stomach and lowering again toward his groin. He yelped when the fingers pulled, tugging sharply on the soft curly hair and it angered him when he heard the faint laugh. Suddenly, a mouth fully encased the head of his soft organ and had he not been tied down he was sure he would've hit the ceiling. He felt himself harden and that angered him most of all, that he couldn't control his body's response to the persistant touching.
The tongue around him licked and sucked, letting go briefly as a slick hand pumped in its stead, then the mouth returning to engulf him once again, plunging him deep within its recess. He moaned involuntarily and tried to pull his groin out of reach but hands grabbed his hips, holding them firmly in place while the warm tongue resumed it slippery ministrations.
Vin tried to allow his rage to become all-consuming. He wanted to feel nothing but anger at the situation but his body was betraying him at every turn. The tonguing continued unabated and fingers ran deftly up and down his torso, sometimes playing with a hard nipple or tenderly fondling his balls or just lightly tickling him down his ribcage. Once they skimmed hard on the healed bullet wound and somehow having hit just the right spot, sent a tiny flash of pain into his side, making him cry out in more surprise than hurt. The tongue hesitated then, the hands lifted and for a moment everything stilled. Then the onslaught resumed and Vin tried desperately to rein in his voice. For an instant he was thankful for the gag, it kept his almost uncontrollable moans and growls at bay. He knew his vocal reactions were audible, and the thought that his captor could hear them enraged him further. The last thing he wanted was to give that amount of satisfaction.
The tongue licked. And licked and licked. Up and around his shaft, flicking quickly then changing to swirl slowly from base to head and back. Slowly sucking him in, slowly easing him out, slower and slower, then speeding up its deliberate pace, sending him so near the edge. Again and again and again. For what seemed an eternity, Vin was brought to near climax over an over, yet never offered the full release his body now craved. As he would be so close, each time praying he'd be allowed that final stimulation needed to send him spiraling into fervent climax, the oral contact would cease and he would be left lying there, panting and sweating and thrusting at nothing. Close to tears and desperately wishing for an end to the erotic nightmare, the tongue would reappear to resume its slow seduction of his body, only to disappear once more, as he neared orgasm.
Vin was sweating, his body flushed. He was breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, trying to pull in as much air as he could. His groin ached, hurt almost in its search for release. He could think of nothing else, just the throbbing of his tightened member and he thrust himself hard into the air, desperate for any contact, anything that would allow him to plummet from that fine edge where he was, and down into the deep abyss where he needed to be. If he had his voice he knew he would be screaming, begging for any touch no matter how minute and he hated himself for knowing it. And hated that his captor was knowing it also.
FOUR
Then, the mouth returned, this time unrelenting, working itself into its wet, frenzied rythym around his erect shaft and he felt himself biting down hard, tasting blood as his molars pierced the inside of his own cheek. He ground the back of his head into the mattress beneath it and pulled hard against the restraints, each limb shooting searing pain down their length as his seed, once again, began to churn. With his muffled voice he demanded, pleaded, begged for a release and when it was finally, finally granted, all his muscles contracted and he came with such great force that he couldn't begin to supress the long moan that accompanied this ultimate satisfaction. And when it was over, his body collapsed, weak and spent, his remaining strength having ebbed until he lay limply on his back.The hands pressed onto him, drifting upwards, palms sliding flat over his warmed skin and he felt the wetness of the tongue leave his softening organ and follow after. Body weight pressed him into the mattress and he flinched when naked flesh stretched full out onto his own nude body. One hand touched his face in an almost tender caress, the other snaking under his shoulder, entwining itself into his hair and he felt a sharp pull, forcing his head back and his neck to arch. The tongue fluttered over him, from collarbone to chin, leaving a wet trail up his neck and into his hair. He felt lips brush lightly over his ear and he remained unmoving when it whispered, "Behave."
Fingers played with the ties at his ankles and he felt some measure of relief when his legs were freed and pressed together. He felt the urge to kick, but the limbs were dead weight, their nerve endings pushed well past the point of tolerance. Suddenly, without any warning, he was flipped onto his stomach and the air rushed out of him in surprise. His arms twisted above him, their bindings twisting as well and he groaned as the muscles in his shoulders cramped in protest. His legs were left unbound and although he couldn't move them, he was grateful for the freedom allowed.
He exhaled with a hiss as the heavy weight of a naked body topped him, sliding down and to the side as legs straddled his ass. A finger followed the crevice there, running its tip slowly up the split then furthering its course as it traced along his spine and up past his shoulderblades.
Vin felt his hair being pulled aside, exposing the nape of his neck and he jumped when that mouth plunged down, teeth biting and sucking the area just below his hairline. His thrashed, moaned and rolled with renewed energy, his teeth grinding visciously on the already soaked cloth between them. The mouth ravaged him, sucking harder, teeth nipped and the tongue licked, all centered on this one place, managing an all-out assault on this delicate area of tender flesh.
And it was Vin's undoing. His body and will caved and he tried to remember to breathe. He moved to turn away but hands wrapped around his head, holding him firm. The mouth sucked harder, released, then blew lightly over the reddened area, waited until Vin's breathing quieted, then plunged again, sucking, and nipping and biting.
That was it. Vin was desperately grinding his body into the mattress below him, trying to bury himself down deep, not make a sound, not wanting to let his captor know he was near to losing what little control he had left, and until he felt the breath on that little sensitive spot, he actually thought he might hold out. But he couldn't. As the sucking resumed, Vin yelled out, no screamed out, as loudly as the gag would allow because he just couldn't hold back a minute longer, his voice dry and hoarse and raw:
"Chhrrrrriiiiissssss..."
And Chris Larabee grinned, reached down and released the blindfold from Vin's face, slipping it off as he gently kissed the prone man. He then grabbed for the oil at his side and with a large handful, coated his own hand and cock until they were slick. He leaned heavily over Vin's back, kissing and sucking the flesh there all the while easing one, two, finally three fingers into his ass, searching then entering the tight opening, feeling the muscles clench then give.
Vin tossed his head, moaning louder with each invasion, his own erection building again, caught uncomfortably between his body and the bed. His thoughts and emotions ran rampant, anger and fury mixing with desire and lust at seeing his lover and knowing truly it was Chris above him. He was eased onto his knees, weight resting on his elbows, wrists still bound to the headboard and he heard himself voicing an almost continual moan as slick fingers worked wonders within him.
"Chrisss," he managed again, his voice so raw it burned in his throat. Chris entered him then and he gasped, tensing briefly as his muscles tightened, then relaxed as they slowly adjusted to the penetration. As Chris began to move, he did as well, their bodies attuned to one another's rythyms and his heart swelled when he heard Chris' soft whisper.
"Sooo good, Goddamn it's been tooo long, Vin."
And Vin growled his agreement, again grinding his teeth so hard he thought for sure he'd finally slice through the cloth that separated them. They rocked together, Vin squeezing around Chris and Chris's hand reaching around, taking firm hold of Vin's now rock-hard erection. The soft growls and moans intensified, finally building into a heated crescendo as two voices called out one another's names. And when orgasm was achieved by first one, then the other, they slipped to the bed, weak, tired and for the moment, completely sated.
FIVE
Chris had both arms wrapped tightly around Vin, his head resting on the sweaty shoulders. He drew his hands up, lightly tickling across damp skin and planted a deep kiss directly between the shoulderblades. Vin mumbled unintelligibly and Chris smiled down at him."What was that, Vin?" he chuckled, then rolled him gently onto his back, taking in the flashing blue eyes. "Hold still, I got a towel," he explained, wiping at both their bodies. He then bent down and planted a kiss in the middle of the bound man's forehead.
Vin looked pissed.
Chris straddled his torso, taking most of his weight onto his bent legs as he lightly sat on Vin's stomach and peered down at the seemingly angry man. With one finger, he circled each softening nipple, fascinated as they immediately puckered to harden.
Vin was grunting at him.
He then reached up and slowly released the tie around the headboard, unwound the bindings around each wrist, fingers skimming lightly over the chafed skin. He gently massaged the sore arms and kissed each wrist as he lay them down, glancing again at the man beneath him.
Vin was definitely glaring.
Chris's grin widened, his eyes sparkling as he tenderly unknotted the twisted bandanna. As he eased it from Vin's mouth, he frowned for an instant at the angry sores at each corner then bent down and kissed these, too, while brushing his thumb against the dry lips.
Vin sat bolt upright, pushing Chris aside, throwing the bindings onto the floor.
"Goddamn Chris, jus' what th' hell y' think yer doin'?"
"Well...right now I'm rubbing your sore lips...and a minute ago, I'm pretty sure I was almost dyin' from finally bein' inside you...and before that, lessee...I think I was enjoying suckin' on that spot on your neck there that always seems t' make you moan really lou-"
"No, dammit, that ain't hardly what I mean, 'n' you know it. Where th' hell you get off ambushin' me like y' done...an' tyin' me like, like...well, like I don't know what all. I mean, shit Chris...well, shit, just what th' hell y' think yer doin'?" Vin didn't know whether he ought to punch the man or kiss him. Shit.
"I was thinkin' I was answering your challenge."
"Challenge? What challenge? What? What th' hell ya talkin' 'bout Chris?"
"Well, I seem to recall someone...and I know it wasn't me so I guess it must've been you... boastin' real loud, sayin' something about being ready for anything coming his way. Even with hands tied, I believe you said. Yep, that was it: Even with hands tied, you said you were ready for anything. So I just thought I'd oblige. Kinda fun, too."
Vin sat staring at the other man, his rage dissapating as he mulled over what he'd just heard. He nodded, glancing down as he rubbed his wrists, then nodded again, his voice calming.
"Reckon ya sure did at that, cowboy," he agreed, his mouth curving into a smile then a wince as the action irritated the raw skin. "Jus' didn't think ya'd take me so...so-"
"So literal?"
"Yeah, thanks Ezra."
"So, when didja finally figure out it was me? Hell, Tanner, sure took ya long 'nough. Fought me pretty good at the livery, though I still got a good jump on ya. Figure you ain't as rarin' to go as you thought you were, huh?" Chris said, reaching out to skim fingers over the healing scar on Vin's torso. "Course, you worry me how much you were enjoying what this 'bounty hunter' was doing to ya. Moaning pretty hard there for someone who'd just been taken prisoner."
"Shit, Chris, I knowed it was you from the start. Well, 'cept for a few minutes at the livery, y' had me goin' there for a mite, I admit," Vin frowned, his rough voice quieting as he shook his head. "Y' s'prised me good, I couldn't seem t' get an advantage, guessin' I's weaker 'n' I thought. Lucky it was just you. Still, yer lucky I didn't shoot ya. Hell, y' oughta feel lucky I don't shoot ya now fer what y' done."
"Gotta get past me to get your gun," Chris added, grinning widely.
Vin returned the grin, then continued, "What really started me wonderin' was why a bounty hunter'd put me up on his own horse, though."
"Well, if that brute you ride would've let me near him, you wouldn't o' been. Damn horse tried t' bite me couple o' times. You feel like shootin' someone, it oughta be that damn animal."
Vin nodded again, "Aint' th' first time I heard that. Anyways, I was thinkin' this bounty hunter's pretty nice guy, warmin' me up when I's gettin cold. An' then yer hands was so gentle an' I was wonderin' why that was, too. Not to mention, I never did hear no gun bein' drawn. Never felt no knife at m' throat, neither, just yer finger that time, 'Course, not bein' able t' hear an' see it don't mean there weren't one there, so I wasn't gonna take no chances jus' yet. But I did start t' wonderin'."
"Yeah, well you smacked me good in the side of the head when I cut your hands free, 'fore I tied 'em down to the bed. Wouldn't have sat on ya so hard but you were wavin' all over, almost got that blindfold off, I just didn't want you to see me, yet."
"Yep, that got me t' thinkin', too. Now why's a bounty hunter care if'n I see what he looks like or not, less'n I knowed *him* from somewheres. So maybe he ain't no bounty hunter. Sure weren't actin' like one, that's fer the sure, so's I'm guessin' maybe yer someone else. An' then ya started really touchin' me, slow-like and I knew I's on the right trail. Ain't like I don't know yer hands, Larabee. You was usin' 'em real soft, 'specially touchin' over m' bullet scar. Felt ya lettin' go when y' thought ya's hurtin' me. But, Goddamn, when that mouth o' yers hit my dick, I knew damn well who it b'longed to. An' when ya sucked the livin' hell out o' m' neck under there, well, there weren't no question it was you, then. I mean, ain't nobody knows that spot...." he blushed suddenly, his gaze breaking away from those green eyes.
"Yeah, you're just so smart...," Chris said, still grinning, his blood racing at the faint rosy tinge of Vin's cheeks. He handed him a canteen of water, nudging him to drink.
"Y' didn't hafta keep that thing in m' mouth that long, though, tore up the sides pretty good, feels like."
"Oh, I don't know, Vin. Kind o' nice havin' the quiet, you can get t' moanin' pretty loud sometimes," Chris grinned again, then leaned over taking the younger man's chin in his hand. He gently ran a thumb over one raw corner, then kissed it lightly.
Vin looked up again, glaring his annoyance at the words. Then he relaxed, sighing, "I's purty pissed y' did this at first, tried hard not t' wanna strangle th' daylights out o' you when y' let me go-"
"Yeah, I could tell how *hard* you were tryin'...," Chris said, running a hand over the lean thigh.
"Shit, y' just think ya know it all, don't ya?"
"I know you seemed to be likin' what I had to give ya," Chris wanted to add that his own arousal was almost too intense at having so much control. That seeing Vin bound and gagged and so vulnerable had heightened all his senses like he'd never felt before and it had taken all his composure to not just wage an all out attack on the tracker's body. But he said nothing. Hell, he was damn sure he wanted to play this game again, no sense in scaring Vin off from it now.
He gently pushed Vin down to the bed, letting one hand linger on his shoulder, the other outlining the sore mouth. Grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen to the floor, he tucked it around Vin's tired body. "Stay put, I'm gonna put another log on," he said, heading to the fireplace.
"That it then?" Vin called after him. Chris could hear the exhaustion evident in his voice.
"Is what it?"
"All you gotta gimme?"
"Vin."
"C'mon Chris," he said, sounding sleepy, "Think that wore me out, do ya? That really all y' got t' gimme?"
"Vin, enough."
"Hell, I had more 'citement when I thought y' was a bounty hunter gonna take me in th' livery...Told ya I could take the best y' got, old man. I mean, shit, I's ready for anything comes my way, even if I's got both hands-"
"Enough Vin. Enough."
End
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