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Thursday, and a change of plans
Everybody was going to get the day off on Friday, Sunday was Christmas, so Thursday was basically a wasted day in the federal building. Office parties on several floors. Chris and Buck remembered gifts for the secretarial staff, the latter making obscene requests that each and every one of them sit on his lap and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. How he got away with that was a wonder.Nettie and Casey stopped by, showering Vin and JD with attention and enormous brightly-wrapped packages. What they contained kept the boys busy the rest of the afternoon. Semi-automatic Nerf weapons and extra ammunition. World War III waged. Ezra hid in Chris’ office and closed the door.
“I assume that things between you have been resolved in a satisfactory manner?” Ezra didn’t need to elaborate; Chris didn’t need to say anything in response. He just raised and lowered his eyes seriously, each movement changing the expression, from warning Ezra to stay out of it, to telling him that everything was fine, to looking egregiously smug about something he wasn’t revealing.
“Ah.” Ezra kept his expression bland as ever, reading Larabee’s expression as perfectly as ever, tugged on his cuffs and continued as if the question hadn’t been raised. “I’m bringing Thai chicken curry on Sunday. I assume you are grilling and Josiah is making chili?”
“Yep.” A war whoop of victory echoed through the closed door. “Who’s winning?” Chris tipped his head toward the battle grounds.
“Who do you think?” Ezra slanted him a knowing glance. Vin was deadly with anything he could shoot. He was pretty deadly with his bare hands too. Ezra rubbed his lower lip, grinning with his eyes. “His punishment was … amusing. You might have set a new standard for allowing misbehavior.”
“You’re treading on thin ice, Standish.” The words were cautionary, but the expression was wry.
“Yes, sir.” Green eyes were laughing. He straightened the crease in his trousers and changed the subject – again. “What time shall I be to the ranch Christmas Eve?”
“Whenever you like. I think Buck is coming out in time to help me with the horses.” A body slammed against Chris’ door, making the windows vibrate. “Unless I kill him this afternoon. I think it’s time we went home before Travis hears this.”
The team was informed they could leave for the day only after they had cleaned up the office. As victor, Vin made the casualties clean up after themselves and followed Chris and Ezra out the door. Nathan and Josiah, unofficial Red Cross volunteers, stayed behind to help JD and Buck, who were moving the mess around more than cleaning it up. “We’ll be at the saloon, guys,” Vin taunted.
“It’s not fair, Buck, that Vin doesn’t have to stay to help just cause he’s sleeping with Chris.”
Buck lifted JD swiftly and bodily off the floor and shoved him into Chris’ vacated office, kicking the door closed behind them. He swatted the kid upside the head when he set him down on the carpet. “You’ve never given me reason before to think ya was stupid, kid, but ya ever say anything like that again and I’ll tan yer hide! Now pull yer head out of your ass and think twice before ya speak! That has got ta be the worst, dumbest, most asinine thing you’ve ever said. Whether or not they’re sleeping together, and if and when they ever do, ya keep it out of the office. Ya hear me, son? Ya never say things like that, ever, even if they are true, not ta me, and certainly not to anyone else on the team!”
JD was pouting and rubbing his head. “You can’t honestly tell me that Vin isn’t gonna get special treatment.”
“Yes. Yes I can. And if ya want ta hear it from Chris, ya just ask him. I dare you. I’ve known Chris almost longer than you’ve been alive, JD. He doesn’t play favorites - ever. And certainly not on the job. Ya figure that out ‘n you’ll live longer.” Buck shook his head and looked JD with admonition. “Now let’s get back out there and pray ta God that Chris never hears ya said that.”
He opened the door and gave JD a shove into the bull pen, where Nathan and Josiah were eyeing one another with wary glances. Much to their credit, Chris never did know, and in years to come, JD learned just how wrong he was. More than once.
+ + + + + + +
The saloon was crowded; it seemed half of the ATF was there. Chris led the other two to their usual booth, and Ezra remained standing until Vin and Chris were seated – next to one another. Then he took a place on the opposite side.
He didn’t like to have his back to the door any more than they did, but with the two of them plus two dozen other agents in the room on guard, it was the only time he could feel comfortable letting down his. He watched the two of them discreetly as they fell into quiet and smiling conversation while he leafed through the latest Christie’s catalogue. The more he didn’t watch them, the more he observed how profoundly and transparently they were in love with one other. Perhaps transparent only to him, but Ezra had studied mannerisms for so long that in his opinion all that was missing was a flashing neon sign.
The hands between them ultimately vanished under the table, Vin drinking with his right, Chris with his left, and Ezra dropped his napkin strategically so he could bend under the table and allow himself an enormous smile at two hands loosely intertwined, resting comfortably on Vin’s left thigh.
He couldn’t have been happier for them.
Someone across the saloon caught Larabee’s attention, and he excused himself, scooting past Vin as they stood and deliberately brushing their hands together as he passed. Vin watched him leave, watched him all the way across the saloon, continued to watch him closely as he interacted with a table full of other agents. Any night previous, he wouldn’t have paid any attention, or at least wouldn’t have let on that he was. As it was – he almost spilled his beer, his hand knocking clumsily against it because his eyes were focused elsewhere.
“Jealousy makes a vigilant man,” Ezra commented, amused, sipping at a glass of claret. Napa Valley, 1999.
“I ain’t jealous.”
“As you like.” He was not about to argue the obvious. “Though I dare say you have nothing to fear on that score, Mr. Tanner.”
Uncomfortable discussing this, this relationship that wasn’t yet, Vin altered course. “How can you drink that stuff, Ez?”
“With relish, sir. Would you care to try it?” He slid his glass by the stem across the booth.
Vin sniffed at it and made a face. “Smells like rotten fruit.”
Ezra smiled indulgently. “It is rotten fruit, Mr. Tanner. Close your eyes. What else do you smell?”
Obeying, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “Jam. Smells like jam, that black currant stuff you ordered for Josiah. And dirt. Limey dirt. And hawthorn. And something purple.”
Ezra was genuinely impressed. “Those are plums. Very good. Now taste it – with your eyes closed. Go on. The minerals you smell all come from the soil. As do most of the details in a good wine.”
“Doesn’t taste bad. Hits you on the back of your tongue like some serious cherry cobbler.”
“Very expensive cherry cobbler,” he whispered archly, but he smiled with pure joy. It was refreshing to hear honest impressions from the uninitiated. Wine snobs tend to be, well, snobbish.
Vin gave him back his glass and returned to spying on Chris, who was laughing much too much for his liking. Then he hugged a man who had just joined the group, and they stood there in that hug for far too long. Vin looked crestfallen. He absently tucked wayward strands of hair behind his ear and let his fingers trail along the line of his jaw to his mouth, touching his lips almost reverently. Ezra took note, recognizing the familiar gesture and wistful expression.
Quietly, “Tell me, Mr. Tanner, when did he kiss you?”
“In my kitchen the other,” face snapping forward, eyes wide, “how did you know he kissed me?”
“I didn’t.” Ezra smiled gently. It was an absurdly easy deduction. “He does love you, you know.” He tossed that out informally, as if it was a well-known and universally accepted fact. Vin was taken aback, and Ezra pretended not to notice. He was swirling his wine, observing the little patterns of sediment at the bottom. “I was almost in love once. But as you might say, almost only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes.” Vin gave a small snort, and Ezra didn’t break stride. “It is strange … My childhood was an education in prevarication, manipulation, and prestidigitation – sleight of hand. I learned at a very early age that I was the only person upon whom I could ever rely, and that lesson has remained with me until this day. It is still difficult, at times, to reconcile years of habit and conditioning with the fact that, however much I tease all of you, you are the very closest friends I have ever known. Although, that wouldn’t necessarily be saying much, all things considered,” he admitted contritely, with a small twitch of his lips. “Yet I do wonder that if my life hadn’t been other than it has, I might have learned how to fall in love.”
Ezra had kept his eyes on his glass the entire time, not looking at Vin, who was rather fixedly looking at him. It was such a rare occasion that Ezra ever opened up about any part of his past. Hell, he hardly ever opened up about his present. As he finished, though, Ezra glanced up and awarded Vin an exceptional glimpse at unguarded eyes, full of sorrow and longing.
Vin nodded, accepting, understanding, and started absentmindedly peeling the label off his bottle. “I’ve had a boyfriend or two, sort of. I’ve had guys who were nothing more than fuck buddies, and I’ve had handful of one night stands, but I don’t know how to really be with someone, you know? I don’t know how to let my guard down long enough to trust anybody – no matter how much I want it. No matter how much I trust …” He looked to Chris and then to Ezra then, and the undercover agent took the cue.
“And you think that Chris deserves more than that.”
“I know Chris deserves better than that. Better than me.”
“Don’t ever say that. Don’t think that,” Ezra brusquely cut in, then backed down. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tanner, please continue.”
Shrugging off the apology, “I don’t know what else to think. And I’ve wanted this so badly … it doesn’t seem possible. What if I can’t let go?” He searched Ezra’s face for understanding. “I’ve never had friends like you guys and I thought I’d been in love once before. But that isn’t even a … a …” Vin lacked a suitable metaphor, so Ezra supplied one.
“Isn’t even a drop of water in the peripatetic ocean of your affection for Mr. Larabee?”
“Something like that, though I don’t know what that big word meant.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ezra waved it off and smiled a little, even though his eyes remained down-turned. “I am far from an expert on the subject, Mr. Tanner, but love requires trust. If you cannot trust him with your fears, then you cannot trust him with your heart. This is one of the most problematical conundrums of any man’s life. However, I wager he is strong enough to cope with both – your heart and your fears.”
“How much would you wager?” Vin thought that if Ezra could put a figure on it, he might feel more secure in naming his own bet.
“No. The question is how much would you wager? If your answer isn’t everything, then this entire discussion is moot.” He spun one elegant hand in the air dismissively. “Love, after all, takes everything. Everything you have and everything you ever will. But if it is love, then you will always get more in return. Personally, I admire those odds.” He smiled faintly at Vin’s serious expression, the way one corner of his mouth was pinched in concentration. “You are much stronger than you think you are, Mr. Tanner. Much stronger. Strong enough to break.”
Explanation of that mysterious statement and further conversation was abandoned as Vin spotted the rest of the team bumping their way through the front doors. Immediately, Ezra’s expression became the essence of bourgeois indifference.
“Damn, Ez. I’d love to know how you do that. I can’t manage the poker face.”
“No, Mr. Tanner, you don’t want to know. You shouldn’t admire my ability to stifle every living human emotion.”
“Shit, Ez. Don’t you know you just need to get laid?” Vin couldn’t keep from laughing even as he said it. He felt he needed to lighten the air somewhat lest Buck sense it and interrogate them to death.
“Oh yes,” Standish clapped his hands together, “sex fixes everything. Why hadn’t I thought of that?”
“Well, if things don’t work out with Chris, I’ll give you a go.” Vin giggled into his beer.
“Duly noted. You should suggest a threesome. See if he’s up for it.”
Vin gaped. “You … scare me.”
Laughing loudly, somewhat madly, “As well I should, Mr. Tanner.”
“You don’t really have a collection of gay porn – do you,” he asked quickly and quietly hoping for an answer before the guys sat down.
“Drink your beer,” was the evasive reply. Damn him anyway.
Josiah and Nathan scooted their way into the booth next to Ezra, Buck slithered away to hassle Inez, and JD sat down in an unnatural silence. Chris returned then, all smiles, explaining that he hadn’t seen the guys at that table since the Academy. The man he had hugged was an old instructor. He took in a small twitch of relief in Vin’s eyes, something no one else would ever notice, and gave the younger man a reassuring squeeze under the table. Pitchers of beer were ordered, and all was right in the world once more.
By the time Buck joined them, Nathan and Josiah were in the middle of an animated argument about the nature of platonic love, and what Plato actually meant by that. Fitting discussion for a table of seven men who so decidedly loved one another like brothers. Well, except for Vin and Chris. Ezra asserted that Plato had no such notions of brotherly love, insisted the definition was more in keeping with the contemporary Greek way of life. Josiah was open to that possibility; Nathan was decidedly against it. Buck was all for more love of any variety and gave JD a smacking beer kiss on the cheek. Ezra offered the poor boy a wet-wipe from an inner pocket of his jacket.
All the while, Chris and Vin were in their own little world, content to watch and listen, and exchange commentary in the form of silent smiles and glances. All was definitely right in their world.
The collective gaiety of the evening (no pun intended) led the team to stay longer at the saloon than they realized. They were in no hurry to leave, knowing they could sleep in tomorrow, and spent several pounds of change at the jukebox, arguing over the relative merits of Garth Brooks, Jimmy Buffet, and Frank Sinatra. They spilled out into the parking lot singing “My Way” and laughing at Chris, who flatly refused to sing along, despite Vin’s vociferous pleas.
Nathan said that Rain would be out on Sunday after she finished her shift at the hospital, JD said Casey would be showing up with Nettie, and Josiah asked if Maude Standish would be joining them, remarkable woman that she is.
“If your God is in the least merciful, then no,” Ezra replied with a shudder. They hadn’t spent Christmas together in a decade, but he always sent her a card. A religious one. Just to vex her.
Nathan gave them all standing sobriety tests, and everyone piled into their vehicles, save Chris and Vin, who remained standing by the Ram, fidgeting with their keys. It smelled like snow, wind already picking up flurries of paper and debris, swirling and dancing at the feet of streetlamps.
“When do you want me out at the ranch?” Vin’s eyes sparkled with mirth. They were back to that again.
“When do you want to come out?” Chris folded his arms, reasserting that it was entirely up to Vin.
“When do you want me to?” Vin folded his arms too. So there.
Chris inched closer, dropping his voice, laying down the gauntlet and a little bit of his heart, “About now would be good.”
Vin ducked his head, fighting a grin, and stamped his feet, tucking his hands into his armpits. “It’s fucking freezing out here.” Plumes of steam rising in the narrow space between them attested to the fact. “I could pack a bag.”
“I could follow you to your apartment and drive you out. Else you’ll have snow drifts in your jeep.” He reached out to brush hair from Vin’s face, but laughter and the noise of other patrons exiting made the two men take a half step further apart from one another, Chris looking over his shoulder at the gaggle of people.
“You don’t have to be chauffeur, Chris.”
“I don’t mind …”
“I’m not,” Vin broke in, “I’m not good at this stuff. At relationship stuff. Hell, I’m not very good at people stuff, not that it’s any real shock to you.”
“More like a fantastic understatement.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ok.” He grinned wide, for humor, for Vin. “Just consider it two people with a whole lot of emotional baggage trying to stay warm.”
Vin was grinning back. “I gotta take care of a few things and I’ll meet you later. Kay?”
“Need me to get anything?”
“Nah.”
“Ok.” He stepped closer and drew his hand down Vin’s arm, before clasping it in their familiar forearm handshake. Then, he kissed the tip of his thumb and touched it to Vin’s lips. “See you soon.”
Vin shivered, but not from the cold, and stood there while Chris got into his truck and drove away. Neither one of them noticed the man standing in the shadows, watching. Neither one of them saw the car that followed Vin out of the parking lot. For Vin, the whole universe and everything in it was in the cab of that Dodge Ram.
Vin drove back to his apartment a little faster than normal, feeling a lot more nervous than he’d felt in a long time. Not a bad nervous; a titillating, zinging nervous that made his head light and his heart lighter. The deep affection in that tiny gesture from Chris had warmed him to the core. He didn’t remember to turn on his heater all the way to Purgatory. He slid into a parking spot and jogged up the stairs to his apartment, not even shutting his door as he drifted around his rooms, packing a bag for an entire weekend at Chris’. This wouldn’t be like the previous times he’d stayed there. He wouldn’t be sleeping in a guest room, wouldn’t be crashing on the couch. Chris wasn’t like those who had been before, he told himself. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t demand. Or maybe he would push, in all the right ways. And that would be good too. This would be okay.
This would be a dream come true.
Toothbrush, yes. Extra socks. Dangerously loose sweat pants. Chris’ shorts. That made him smile.
A noise in the other room made him exit the bedroom – and brought him fist to face with Jack Hunter. Hunter was standing just to the side of Vin’s bedroom door, made just enough sound to bring Vin out into the open, and hammered him in the side of the jaw hard enough to send him reeling.
“Should learn to lock your door, Tanner.” Hunter was wearing leather gloves that stung fiercely as they connected with Vin’s face. “Should learn to keep your fucking hands to yourself, fucking faggot!”
But Vin was tougher than he used to be, stronger than he used to be, and knew how to fight. Ignoring the taste of his own blood, he blocked Hunter’s next punch, jabbed him twice, quickly, and Thai kicked him in the thigh, distracting him long enough to catch his own breath. Hunter was a big man, outweighed Vin by fifty pounds, and had hatred on his side. He feinted right and hooked left, sending Tanner crunching into the wall, hard enough to crack the plaster.
“Guess you never learned your lesson in Dallas. I’m here to finish what I started, you goddamn …” His words were cut off with an “ooosh” as Vin kneed him in the stomach and leg swept him to the ground.
Weight difference or no, Vin was wiry and fast, knew a little Jiujitsu, and Hunter couldn’t get a solid position on him. Vin rolled over one shoulder off of him and aimed to knee-drop him in the stomach, when Hunter pulled a knife. Vin grabbed his wrist and tried to dislodge the blade, but in sheer strength, Hunter had him beat, and on his back in seconds. Vin used both hands in a near bench press, shoving with all his might against the bigger man who was using his entire body weight and more to embed the knife in Vin’s chest.
“You turned my cousin queer. You turned him into a cocksucker.” Spittle collected in the corners of his mouth as he hissed.
“I didn’t do anything to him he didn’t want. Or enjoy,” Vin sneered. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to do so quietly.
A shadow fell over the two of them, and Hunter was ripped off of Vin and tossed sideways across the coffee table, his knife falling from his hand. Vin couldn’t believe what he was seeing at first, his head ringing loudly and his vision slightly blurred. Chris was there. Chris had come. And Chris was beating the absolute shit out of Jack Hunter.
“You want to mess with somebody, motherfucker?!” Chris was shouting at Hunter, sitting on his chest, knees on his biceps, pummeling him ferociously, “You fuck with him, you fuck with me,” hit after hit like he was never going to stop. It sounded like someone taking a sledge hammer to a watermelon.
“Chris. Chris!” Vin slowly swayed up off the floor and yelled at his best friend. “Chris! It’s enough, man. It’s enough. You have to stop. You’re gonna kill him.”
It was true. If Vin hadn’t intervened, Chris would have beaten him to death. As it was, Hunter’s face was nearly unrecognizable for all the blood. Chris was shaking hard, his own face twisted with rage as he stood up and looked at Vin. Vin was pleading with him, but he could hardly hear it, the rush of adrenaline loud in his ears. His hands were covered in blood; he had probably broken a knuckle or two.
“It ain’t worth it, Chris. He’s not worth it.”
Chris couldn’t stop shaking. “Are you alright, Vin? How bad did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” Vin’s nose was broken, not a first. “We need to call him an ambulance, pard. I need to see if he’s even breathing.” Vin skirted the coffee table and knelt down beside Hunter’s unconscious body. Breathing was determined by the disgusting bubbles of blood forming at the corners of his mouth. His nose was too mashed to allow the passage of air. “Can you sit down, Chris? Chris?” Vin reached out and put his hand on Larabee’s arm.
“Yeah, Vin. I’ll sit.” He seemed in a daze, a red haze of wrath. He sat on the couch and stared at his hands while Vin grabbed his phone and called for an ambulance. They didn’t touch the knife, just left it where it lay. Then Vin called Buck, which started the whole Team 7 phone tree. Not surprisingly, Buck, JD and Josiah arrived even before the paramedics, bursting in, hands on weapons.
“Holy shit, Chris. What happened?” Buck stared aghast at Hunter’s body and over at his partner and the glossy blood on his hands. “You should wash that off, pard.” Buck had only seen Chris like this after the explosion that took Sarah and Adam. He was almost unresponsive.
Josiah took Vin aside while Buck helped Chris to the kitchen sink. “Anything you want to confess, son, you better say it now.” They could hear the sirens approaching.
“I didn’t lock my door,” he began unsteadily, “Hunter came in and attacked me. I threw him to the ground and he pulled a knife. Chris came in and …” Vin looked down at Hunter who still wasn’t moving. “I think he pretty much lost it.”
Josiah ran a large hand across his jaw and mouth, staring at the ceiling as if in silent prayer. “Ok. If that’s all, then you have nothing to worry about – officially. This is gonna get pretty ugly as it is. There’s probably going to be a trial, a review panel; we’ll be lucky to keep this out of the press. The cops are here.” He jerked his head toward the door.
Vin’s small apartment was quickly filled with emergency personnel and Denver’s Finest. Nathan and Ezra arrived shortly thereafter. Nathan was horrified, but mostly concerned, almost more for Chris than Vin. He reset Vin’s nose and stuffed it with cotton as Vin was questioned by the police. Vin answered their questions honestly, elaborating a bit more than necessary. Ezra stepped in at one point, stilling Vin’s stammering, and explained that Hunter and Vin had once been teammates in Dallas and that they did not know why he might want to kill Vin. Not the absolute truth, but close enough. Meanwhile, Hunter was taken out in a cervical collar on a backboard. He still hadn’t woken up.
The knife was bagged and tagged, its existence the only reason Chris wasn’t arrested. However, he was taken in for questioning, and Buck and Josiah went with him. The rest of the team idled at Vin’s apartment for a little while, surrounding him with a palpable wall of support, waiting while the police took photographs and carpet samples and all the little investigative things that accompany attempted murder and assault. Vin was questioned further, each time giving the same answers. He didn’t know why Hunter had attacked him, how he knew where Vin lived, why Chris had followed him back to his apartment. He really didn’t know that one, though he could guess.
By the time the police left, Vin felt hemmed in, trapped; he kept staring at all the blood on the floor like it wasn’t real. He so desperately hadn’t wanted it to come to this – to the point where the people he cared for most would have to step in to save him from the mistakes of his past. Distant past, recent past – it didn’t matter. It seemed to him that no matter what he did, he always fucked up. That no matter how good he felt, how secure he convinced himself to be, it was all a mirage. Nothing good ever lasts, even on Christmas.
It was nearly 2 AM when he drove out to the ranch alone, with his bag. Chris arrived about a half an hour later and found Vin waiting for him in the living room, drinking coffee and not watching the TV that was on in the background. Larabee looked more alert, and less angry than apologetic. His right hand was bandaged.
Vin stood and grabbed him into a long, crushing hug. “You okay?” He felt Chris relax in his arms, but didn’t loosen his grip. “I’ll remember not to ever piss you off, pard. You pack a hell of a punch.” He tried for humor, unsuccessfully.
“I’m not sorry, Vin.” Chris’ voice was raspy with exhaustion. “I wouldn’t care if he died.”
“I know. God, I never wanted this, Chris, all my shit to come back on you. Don’t want to see you get nailed for this. I meant it that he’s not worth killing over.”
“But you are, damnit!” He buried his mouth in Vin’s neck, not kissing him, just trying to get as close as possible, trying not to cry. He stood there for an uncharted amount of time, let Vin rock him back and forth gently, stroking a hand up and down his spine.
“What did you tell them?” Them being anybody who asked.
Chris’ lips moved on Vin’s neck, his voice trembling into Vin’s ear. “I told them exactly what happened. I drove over to pick you up, I saw him trying to kill you, I reacted. I told them I’d never seen the man before.” All of which was true. “I didn’t tell them anything about you and Hunter and Dallas. That would only complicate things.”
“I thought you’d gone home. Why didn’t you?”
“I decided I wasn’t gonna let you drive that jeep out to my place and back in the snow. I’m not your fucking chauffeur; I just care. I know how cold you get and …”
Vin hushed him, not really needing an explanation. “It’s ok, Chris. It’s not important. Let’s go to bed. Let me hold you for a while. Kay?”
Chris just nodded and let Vin lead him into the bedroom.
Holding sounded good. It sounded necessary. Come morning, the shit would hit the fan, if it hadn’t already.
Friday
“You broke his face, Chris.”Orrin Travis showed up on Chris’ doorstep at 9 AM, looking equal parts furious and worried. It was snowing out, a steady, light dusting of snow that promised to continue into the night.
Vin’s face was dramatically bruised, Hunter’s adding to those he’d gotten in the gym days earlier. Travis gave him a cursory inspection, but paid most attention to Larabee. Vin remained respectfully silent, knowing Chris didn’t need him to speak on his behalf, but he sat right next to the man, resisting the urge to hold his hand.
“He’s going to need plastic surgery. Facial reconstructive surgery. You’re damn lucky that you’re not under arrest.” Buck had already told Travis most of what he needed to know – who Hunter was, what had happened at Vin’s. “You’re certain he had pulled the knife before you came in?”
“Yes, I’m fucking certain. He was trying to kill my partner.”
“Well, when he woke up he was saying something different. We’ll know more in a couple of days. He can’t exactly speak well right now with his jaw wired shut.” Larabee gave Travis a look that told him he couldn’t possibly care less. “Did you at least announce yourself before you hit him? You could have drawn your badge and your gun and arrested him just as easily.” Travis said this knowing fully well how difficult it would have been to think clearly at that moment. But ATF agents are supposed to be able to think clearly under extreme stress; they can’t lose their cool or people die.
“The only stuff I said shouldn’t be repeated in public,” Chris answered derisively. Vin fought back a smirk; this was to serious for laughing.
“It’s going to be repeated, Larabee. The board of inquiry is going to hold an official panel on this.”
“I figured.”
“Well figure that you’re suspended until the outcome of this investigation. I need your gun and your badge. And you’ll be required to take anger management classes. Figure yourself extremely lucky if that’s all you have to do. Hunter is likely to sue.” Travis looked tired, looked like he’d aged overnight. Chris handed over his federal issue revolver and his badge without a fuss. He knew it was coming, but honestly didn’t care.
“Now, I’m going home to my wife and daughter and grandson, and we’re going to have a quiet Christmas at the house. Just … try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the weekend.” Travis shut the door behind him and left as Buck was driving up.
Vin knew it was going to be a long weekend.
Josiah volunteered to have their Christmas gathering at his house. Attendance was not mandatory, but they could at least try to salvage the holiday. Besides, he had an enormous, brightly-decorated tree whereas Chris hadn’t made that effort in years. Nathan stopped by to check on both his patients, making sure Vin wasn’t concussed or hiding any injuries he’d failed to mention the night before. Ezra brought food, yet another unexpected gesture, which he justified by lying that Nathan had made him do it.
Evening saw Buck finally leaving to meet up with JD at a movie megaplex. They needed something to occupy their minds. JD was the only one who hadn’t stopped by; he didn’t know what he could possibly say.
Buck made sure they had everything they needed, not that they needed anything more than one another, and closed the front door softly behind him. Chris and Vin were lying on the broad sofa, Vin squarely enfolded in Chris’ arms, lodged up against his chest. They hadn’t been more than two inches apart all day, Vin helping Chris do things he couldn’t easily do with a broken hand, Chris complaining that he had enough of a mother in Buck – he didn’t need two. But he loved it, and Vin knew it. Anything that kept Vin next to him was a worthy excuse.
Snow was drifting onto the window ledges outside, wind singing through the chimney down to the smoldering embers of a fire. All lights were out in the house save the one Buck had left on in the kitchen, its ambient beam throwing long shadows on the maple floor. It’s A Wonderful Life was on.
“This is one of the cheesiest movies ever made,” Chris murmured into Vin’s hair, relishing the scent, and the perfect alignment of their bodies nestled close. “Even Sarah wouldn’t watch it.”
“Hmmmm. It was one of the shows we always watched … I always saw as a kid. I always felt like Jimmy Stewart, you know?” No, Chris didn’t know, and he didn’t know what to say in response. He hugged Vin a little tighter, running a hand up and down the long arm in front of him. “I don’t want you to burn over this, just cause of me.”
“It’s a little late for that, Vin.”
“No, it’s not.” He turned in Chris’ arms, rolling onto his other side to face him. “You know how this is gonna go. Review panel is gonna eat you alive.”
“I hope they have strong teeth.”
“This isn’t a joke.” Vin was trying to look Chris in the eyes, but his gaze kept falling to a pair of faintly moist lips just inches from his. “I do not want you to throw away your life over this.”
“Over you?”
“Yes, over me. Over what you did to save my life. They’re going to dissect our personal lives and sit us under a spotlight. If they … if they want to use this as an excuse to let you retire early, I’ll resign. I’m not going to take you down with me.”
Chris closed his eyes and shook his head, his expression pained. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was not much more than a harsh whisper. “I can’t.” Then softer, “I can’t.” He let his calloused fingers wind themselves in falling strands of Vin’s hair, opening his eyes as Vin spoke.
“I said I’d quit, cowboy. I didn’t say you’d lose me.”
There was a long silence between them, the sounds of Christmas merriment coming from the television. Jimmy Stewart had come home. Chris found himself spellbound, lost deep in vivid blue eyes, and his hand found itself touching Vin’s cheek, slightly flushed, slightly stubbled.
“You don’t owe me anything, Vin, and you’re not obligated, and me coming on to you in the wake of those tapes is just bad fucking timing, but I’m not going to make another move until you do. Ok? We take this at your pace. Alright?”
This. There was that word again.
“You sound so damn sure of yourself. I said before that this wasn’t gonna be easy, but especially not now.” Vin’s final argument was a weak one; he had already surrendered. Their lips were too close.
“Feels easy as breathing to me.”
Chris continued to lovingly stroke Vin’s face, circling the bruises, over his cheeks, his nose, his lips. If he hadn’t turned his truck around the night before, if he hadn’t gone to get Vin anyway, if he had arrived two fucking minutes later …
“I love you.” Chris didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but he did mean it. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it, you cagey bastard. I love you and I don’t want you thinking otherwise. And if it isn’t easy, then that makes it all the more worth fighting for.”
Vin’s eyes glossed over and he closed them, giving himself into the warm caress of fingers. “Then you better get ready for another fight, cowboy.”
“God, Vin.” Chris drew him into a deep kiss, ferocious in its tenderness, holding the back of his head lest he try to pull away. Vin didn’t. Couldn’t. He was done trying to fight it, or maybe if this was fighting, he could keep it up forever. It didn’t matter anymore. Chris was consuming him, body, soul, and mind.
“I’m sorry,” Chris broke away, panting like he’d just run a marathon, “I told you I wouldn’t make another move and I’ve already broken my word.” He was laughing at himself, grinning with his eyes closed. He pressed their foreheads together as they searched for breath. “Goddamn, I want to make love to you.” He whispered so close, so soft. “I want it so bad I hurt. Tell me to stop. Tell me to give you time.”
Reeling, capitulating, Vin said the only word he heard in his mind. “No.”
Chris’ eyes peeled open and he backed his head into the couch cushion behind him, feeling a stab of disappointment that rapidly faded. “Ok. Sorry.”
“No, I meant …” Vin’s eyes opened too and he moved a hand to the side of Chris’ face. “I meant no, don’t stop.” He formed a lopsided grin. “There’s a fucking cliché for you.”
The smile on Chris’ face was nothing less than overjoyed. “Ok.” He quickly pressed a kiss into Vin’s palm. “You sure?”
“Oh yeah,” Vin breathed, less than a breath.
And Chris didn’t let him say anything else. Vin moaned into Chris’ mouth as his own was explored deeply, his tongue pushing back, matching stroke for stroke. On the TV a little curly-headed girl in the arms of Jimmy Stewart was ringing a bell.
They didn’t notice.
Chris kept trying to tell himself slowly, slowly, but his body wouldn’t listen. His heart wasn’t helping. He wrapped his right arm around Tanner’s slim waist, melding their bodies even closer together, while his left remained locked beneath neck and head, hand lost in a jungle of wild hair. He used that hair to turn Vin’s face, leaving Vin’s already swollen lips in order to sweep his tongue and teeth along the square line of lightly stubbled jaw. Devouring the man whole didn’t seem too difficult a task, and he set about to prove it, attaching his lips to Vin’s exposed throat and sucking the skin into his mouth. Vin’s pulse stuttered at his tongue and he couldn’t help but chuckle at how it was keeping the same frantic pace as his heart, galloping in his chest.
He stopped sucking on Vin’s throat when he heard a small whimper, knowing that he must have formed a sizeable bruise by then, but continued to lave the site with his tongue. Ice cream, lollipops, fudge-cicles, that monstrous chocolate dessert, no taste catalogued in his sensory memory had ever been as sweet. And, oh joy, there was so much more to taste.
Chris turned them, rolled Vin beneath him and freed Vin’s hands from their awkward position between them, only to grab both his wrists and imprison them above his head. He wound his fingers with Vin’s, squeezing his hands powerfully and plastering the smaller man’s body with his. Once again he was at Vin’s mouth, drawing their tongues together in long, convincing strokes. There was no denying that Vin was as aroused as he was; he could feel it through their clothing, could feel Vin’s cock poking him in the hip as he sensually undulated into the lithe form compressed beneath him.
But making love properly couldn’t be accomplished on the sofa in front of the TV. Or at least not this time.
Needing to inhale a breath larger than he could get through his nose, Chris released his grip on Vin’s hands and levered himself up on his elbows, raising his mouth. “I don’t want to do this on the couch. Bedroom?”
“Uh-huh,” was the dazed response.
He had succeeded in kissing Vin mindless, and he grinned as he rose, then drew Vin back into his arms and kissed him, snaking backwards toward the bedroom. Shirts were removed along the way and tossed aside, Chris’ one long-sleeved, two of Vin’s three. Chris started laughing as they both tried to toe out of their socks while standing – and kissing.
“Just tell me you don’t have more than one pair of socks on.”
Vin reached out and pinched a nipple in response. He gasped and pulled Vin to him by his belt, tugging the final layer of shirt free from its confines and yanking it off the younger man’s head. But then he stopped and stood for suspended moment grazing his fingertips down the beautiful length of Vin’s chest and stomach, reading his skin like brail, watching it flutter slightly as Vin tried to remain calm. Chris grazed all the way back up, stopping to do a little teasing of his own. Stroking Vin’s nipples with the pads of his thumbs caused the younger man to shudder, goosebumps rising on his skin. The wicked grin that lit Chris’ face did not prepare Vin for the onslaught the followed.
Cause it was agonizingly slow.
Wanting to savor every single microsecond, Chris took his time, starting at Vin’s throat – or perhaps returning to Vin’s throat – the intent was the same. He wound a hand in Vin’s hair – he would have to amend his earlier recommendations that Vin should cut it – and used it to control the angle of his head and jaw, plying his lips to every millimeter of flesh, neck, collar bones, jawline, making love to the skin with avid concentration. He added several more love bites, slowly, languidly, increasing Vin’s breathing rate to near hyperventilation, before finally reclaiming his lips in a searingly heated kiss.
Vin was simply letting him, letting go, letting down, allowing himself to bask in the moment, feeling totally, and incomprehensibly, worshipped by the one man he had grown to nearly worship himself. No one would ever believe Chris was this fantastic a kisser, and he would see to it that no one else ever found out. Ever again. If this was what making love felt like, he was glad Chris was the first person to show him. The only person.
He felt good enough to die.
Chris pulled back from Vin’s mouth, pulling his lower lip with him, and stood there grinning like a damn cat. Eating cream was definitely on his mind.
Vin opened his eyes slowly, lids excellently heavy, head unstable on his neck. And then he realized Chris had been trying to drive him insane. Bastard. Gathering a semblance of sanity and mischievousness, he shoved Chris backwards onto the bed. Fortunately it was close enough that Chris fell mostly gently onto his back with a stifled giggle. “Bout time you woke up, Tanner.”
“Oh, I’m awake.”
“Really? I wasn’t sure there for a minute.”
“Really.” Vin trapped Chris’ thighs in between his own, standing over the man, and began undoing those infuriating damn black jeans. How a man ever drew breath in jeans that tight was a wonder, but Vin wanted him out of them. He unbuttoned and unzipped them practically one metal tooth at a time, loving the hungry expression on his lover’s face, and then leaned over and rolled his tongue around Larabee’s belly button. Chris had no idea how much that drove him crazy, but he had an idea that he’d eventually find out. Couldn’t ever hide much from Chris; didn’t want to hide this from Chris.
Inching the jeans off those slim hips, Vin drew his tongue lower and lower on the flat stomach, following the jeans. He chuckled at the distraught moan that left Chris’ throat as he began to tongue his cock through his briefs. He wrapped his mouth sideways around the thick cotton-covered organ and moved his head up and down its length as he yanked Chris’ jeans off his ankles.
Now look who’s panting, he thought.
“Goddamn, Vin.” Chris was fisting the quilt and clenching his jaw in resistance. “If this is your idea of revenge …”
Chuckling again, “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it.” He leaned over, bracing himself on one arm and descended on Chris’ lips. He just couldn’t get enough of kissing this man, loved Chris’ hands in his hair as he did.
Chris skated his hands down Vin’s back and around to the button of his jeans, undoing it and groping beneath it, snarling in appreciation as Vin apparently had the same idea, breaching the nominal resistance of his boxer briefs and taking him in hand. Damn. That felt too good, if there was such a thing. Chris knew very well that they could finish just like this, and as wonderful as it would be to feel Vin buck and spurt into his hand ...
He came up for air, framing Vin’s face in his hands, trying to steady their feverish pace. “I want to make love to you, Vin. Let me.”
“Ok.” Vin was searching his eyes, back and forth. “Show me.”
“Show you?” Chris parroted, unclear.
“Show me what that’s like.”
Chris’ forehead crinkled, first in confusion and then in amusement. “I haven’t done this with a man in ten years and you want me to show you?”
“If anybody could.”
Chris wanted to laugh, but Vin was serious. Absolutely fucking serious. Wow. So he said, “Ok,” with something that felt a lot like awe coloring his expression. Gently, he rolled Vin to his back, but they were still hanging half off the bed, so he slid aside and up the mattress, guiding Vin to lie next to him. If Vin wanted a demonstration, Chris would gladly indulge him.
God, but he was beautiful. Something Michelangelo would have created. No, more beautiful even than that. Chris inclined himself on one elbow, as close as he could manage, and for long minutes did nothing more than admire the view. Vin’s skin was attractively flushed, almost completely hairless, glowing with light perspiration. Perfectly sculpted, every single inch of him. Not an ounce of fat, almost too thin. But strong, and vital, and stunning. His pants were still undone, and Chris had to gulp air at the vision of his cock erotically exposed, jutting out between the V of his jeans.
His hands soon followed his path of sight, lovingly charting the ridges and planes of muscle and bone. It’s perfect.
“What’s perfect?”
Chris snorted, realizing he’d spoken aloud. “You are. Absolutely perfect. Except for these bruises.”
Vin half grimaced. “Just the fight in the gym.”
Chris checked his tongue, telling himself that now was definitely not the time to remind him how foolish that was, not the time to feel as angry as he could get just thinking about someone hitting Vin. “Well then, let’s see if I can’t take your mind off of them,” he whispered low and seductive, climbing down Vin’s torso and making good on his word.
Take his mind off? Hell, Vin hadn’t been thinking about the bruises at all, but he wasn’t going to tell Chris that. Chris could distract him as much and as long as he wanted.
And he did. Slowly descending Vin’s body, one kissed inch at a time. He hated the bruises, questioned the occasional scar, but said nothing to either effect, his mouth having much more pleasant things to do. Vin moaned helplessly loudly when Chris discovered the secret joy of his navel. He wanted to laugh, but his lungs didn’t have enough air. Chris’ hands were stoking his ribs and wafting across his chest, never stopped exploring, never stopped loving. Eventually, reverently, Chris slid the jeans off Vin’s legs and over his feet, then began a painstaking ascent toward his obvious goal. He massaged Vin’s legs as he did, kneading the compact muscles of calf and thigh, licking beneath sensitive knees and cataloguing every sound and sigh from his lover.
Finally, his lover.
Vin was digging his fingers into the bedsheets, crumpling them and wadding them, trying not to quiver. And Chris thought he hurt? Vin knew that every spare ounce of blood was stabbing sharply through his cock, and probably some blood he couldn’t afford to spare – as light-headed as he felt just lying there. He wondered if part of making love involved begging because he was damn close to doing just that. Addled and aching, he wondered whether Chris had any lube or condoms around the house, and why hadn’t he brought any!? Lube he could invent. Condoms … Oh Christ … were strangely forced from his mind as … Jesus … Chris could just suck him off. Oh please.
A hot mouth was nibbling at the juncture of leg and hip, a nose nuzzling at the side of his testicles, and Vin thought he might get off like that, without warning, just explode all over himself. A small keening sound struggled its way from his throat, and Larabee chuckled.
He chuckled right before be began to lick his way around Vin’s needy cock. It jumped in appreciative response and Chris wanted a taste, just one taste. Or more than a taste as he swiped his tongue across the dripping head, and it tasted …
“So fucking good, Vin. God …” He captured the head in his mouth and sucked gently, causing Vin to jerk and whimper. It was so soft, warm and perfect and so damn smooth. As was the rest of it, which he began to stroke with his tongue. Long, loving strokes from base to tip, like licking that thick fudge brownie from his fork
Chris reached up to touch Vin’s over-exercised stomach as his lips moved to Vin’s balls, kissing them and mouthing them. He looked up to see Vin’s eyes squinted shut, his hands strangling the sheets. So he lifted his head, let his fingers wander a little more, one seeking behind and finding Vin’s puckered entrance.
Vin’s eyes flew open and his heat shot off the bed. “Fuck, Chris, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
“Would you like that?” He grinned playfully and continued to massage the waiting hole.
Vin did laugh then, a tense little sound, like a bad radio signal on the highway. It gave way to panting, and he spread his legs further and breathed, “God yes.”
“Kay. Be right back.” Chris got off the bed and almost sprinted to the bathroom. A little messy rumbling in the cabinet over the sink produced condoms and lube, other items falling abandoned into the porcelain basin. As he returned, he nearly stumbled over his own feet, seeing Vin spread out and hungrily waiting for him on the bed. If there were words for such a feeling at that moment, he lacked them. He knee-walked up the mattress, in between Vin’s legs and found his hands were shaking.
Then he laughed a little, and looked up sheepishly. “Can I confess something?”
“As long as it’s confessin’ you ain’t gonna make me wait any longer.” The prospect of that made Vin want to weep.
“I stocked up on this stuff after I left your apartment that night.” He gave a half shrug.
“You’re one cocky son of a bitch, Larabee.” Vin didn’t care as long as Chris was planning to use the stuff. And his cock. And soon.
“Why thank you, Vin,” Chris retorted in false pride, looking down at himself as he ripped open the condom and rolled it on.
Vin rolled his eyes. Not what he meant, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t incidentally true. His heart rate sped up watching Chris touch himself, open the lube and smear it on. He made a vow to spend as much time discovering Chris’ body with his mouth as Chris had with his, especially the hefty erection that Chris was stroking right then.
Chris was having to be careful not to bring himself off, but wanting to be as thoroughly lubed as possible. He hadn’t done this in forever, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his lover their first night in bed. With this thought in mind, he squeezed more lube on his fingers and scooted close between Vin’s legs. Vin bent them instantly, drawing and folding his knees over Chris’ thighs.
“Jesus, that’s cold,” he couldn’t help hissing when Chris touched him.
“Sorry.” He’d forgotten about the whole warming up process, but he didn’t stop touching. He circled Vin’s hole carefully until he thought Vin was ready for him. Sliding one digit earned him a sputtering moan, and Vin closed his eyes, rocking his hips onto the invading finger. Chris added a second, easily, Vin more than ready for him to do so. He stroked them in and out and around, in and out and around, feeling Vin loosen and shove back toward his hand.
Finding the little bump inside brought Vin’s eyes open once again and another loud groan, accompanied by the most wonderful shudder. Chris smiled, not ornery or teasing, but blissfully adoring, wanting to make Vin do that every time he touched him. Wanting to love the man inside and out and all ways.
Always.
“You ready,” he asked low, and all Vin could do was nod. “Ok.” Chris withdrew his fingers, a third he had added at some time, and placed his dick at Vin’s moist opening. He bit his lip as he began to press inward, having forgotten how fucking heavenly this felt. Vin was relaxed and open and eager, and hot, pushing toward Chris as Chris pushed into him. Chris shut his eyes and dropped his jaw when he felt himself seated all the way to his balls. He had to hold still then, over stimulated and, honestly, a little intimidated.
Vin’s muscles constricted around his cock and he warned, “Don’t do that!”
“Then move.”
“I can’t. Not if you want this to last.”
Vin’s responding chuckle brought his eyes open to look at a face full of laughter and love. “S’ok cowboy. I figure you’ve got more than one condom in there.”
“I feel like a fucking teenager,” Chris said self-consciously, “And if you start singing Like a Virgin I’m gonna pull out.”
Vin clamped his mouth shut even as it was grinning. They held each other’s gaze a minute, Chris collecting his stamina, Vin coaxing the hands that were on his hips, both sharing a look of utterly defenseless joy. They ended up smiling wide and full, just smiling, like they couldn’t believe they were finally doing this, like they had found the pot of gold without ever having seen the rainbow. Maybe they were just lucky like that.
No maybe’s about it.
Their eyes held as Chris began to move. He moved his hands to the outsides of Vin’s thighs, moved his hips out and back ever so slowly, moved his mouth as it formed the silent words I love you. Vin wanted to look away, pierced by the gaze and the body within him, like a sword of flame straight through his heart. He knew what Ezra meant then. And he was so fucking happy to be broken. Broken wide open.
“Oh my God, Vin.” Chris’ head rolled back a little as he increased the pace, sliding out almost all the way and plunging back in, strong, steady, “Oh my God …” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Vin’s ribs, and Vin hooked his ankles behind Chris’ back, lifting his hips into each deep thrust, echoing Chris’ grunts with each slap of skin on skin. Chris adjusted the spread of his own legs, adjusted the angle of penetration, and Vin moaned, mouth staying open, eyes nearly crossing.
“Fuck, Chris, keep doing that. Keep doing that.” His prostate was being rubbed with every stroke and little explosions were going off in his brain. Insensate moaning was soon all that was left to him. He knew his eyes were watering, running down the sides of his face, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It was all he could do remember to breathe.
Chris unhooked Vin’s legs and lifted them to his shoulders, leaning further forward, ramming home more quickly now, sweat trickling down his face and chest. It was so hot and tight and way beyond anything he’d ever felt with a man before, Vin’s moans speeding him right to the edge. He reached around and grabbed Vin’s cock, slipping it in and out of his fist, drawing his finger over the slit.
Vin inhaled a loud breath, something on the edge of a wail, and his jaw moved with unspoken vocalizations, right before he cried out and his inner muscles began to convulse. Hot semen spurted over Chris’ hand and onto Vin’s stomach, and Chris kept pumping him in time with his thrusts.
“Oh Jesus, yes, shit. Fuuuuuccckkkk.” Chris came with an elongated moan, slamming jerkily into the body beneath him, unable to keep his eyes open. He wanted to look Vin in the eyes as he came, but there would be time to practice that later. Along with how to maintain stamina.
Damn.
His movements soon subsided, but not completely, his hips still thrusting forward as though he had any more to give. So much he wanted to give. Exhausted, he fell forward onto Vin’s sticky chest, breathing hard and kissing what skin lay before him. Vin’s arms came about him, not quite clinging, but close enough to make him smile.
Slowly, gradually, he levered himself off of Vin, knowing his legs must be uncomfortable in their current position, both of them making small, unhappy noises as Chris had to withdraw. He rolled off the condom and tied it tight, then aimed for somewhere near the bathroom.
Vin was wiping his eyes. “Damn.”
“Damn?” That sounded abundantly pleased.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” It most certainly was that. “Here, let me up a sec.” He wiggled out of Tanner’s arms and went to the bathroom for a washcloth, picking up the spent condom on the way. He wet a rag in the sink and stood there looking at a very flushed, very well-fucked Chris Larabee. If he was being honest with himself, that was on his top tem list of best fucks. Show him what it’s like to make love … yeah, he’d spend the rest of his life showing him.
“You gonna stand in there all night? I’m cold.”
The voice from the bedroom drew him from his thoughts, and Chris turned off the sink. He returned to Vin and began to gently clean him up. An ornery thought crossed his mind as he finished, and he took his sweet time getting to his side of the bed, purposefully slithering across Vin’s naked body on the way.
“I see how it’s gonna be,” Vin teased.
Drawing Vin back into his arms, and pulling up the covers, “Yep. Jesus, you are cold, thin-blooded Texan.” Vin bit him on the shoulder. Chris jostled him playfully and reached down to wrap his hand around one butt cheek. “Keep that up and you’ll get more than you bargained for.”
“Think might highly of yourself, dontcha?”
“Smart-ass … gonna have to find something better to do with that mouth.”
Vin hummed long and happy. “Can think of a few things.” He started sucking on the nearest section of skin.
Still ornery, “So, was it good for you?” To which, Vin nipped him. “Alright, Tanner, that’s it. You’re in for it.”
And he was. And they were off.
Making love the second time was no less earnest and prolonged and exquisite as it had been the first time, Chris doing his best to wear Vin out. They laughed like kids, wrestled until the covers were on the floor, fought to see who could be first to reach the lube, and Chris took him with infinite care, whispering tender endearments that Vin had never heard.
They finally let sleep claim them, spooning tightly, legs intertwined, not bothering to clean up. They had no idea where the washcloth had gone.