MAIN CHARACTERS: Chris/Vin
Editors' Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #13, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Dori Adams is the primary author of this story, she had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 7-22-2008. Art by Shiloh
Authors' Note: Inspired by the Mag7 Kink List, who offered a challenge: gynonudomania, the compulsion to rip clothes off others! How could I possibly resist?
Damn…
Goddamn…
God-fucking-damn… Larabee was just asking for it.
Bastard…
Fucking bastard…
He should have known the man would do something like this. He should have taken one look at that spark in the man's eyes and run – far and fast.
Damn…
Goddamn…
But, no. Hell no. He'd thought he'd be able to handle it. And he might have been able to, if it wasn't for the way the goddamn bastard was strutting around in that… that… that goddamn motherfucking shirt! It was like he was just asking Vin to come over and rip the son of a bitch off.
And he would have, too, except the rest of the team was there, helping them paint the goddamn barn, and he couldn't do a damn thing with all of them there.
Bastard…
Fucking bastard…
Larabee hadn't been wearing that shirt when he'd come out to get breakfast that morning. He'd been wearing that ugly, faded Bronco's T-shirt. And he had thought, at the time, that it was a good pick. If Larabee got paint all over it, no big deal, he could just toss it and who'd miss it?
But, no, as soon as the rest of the guys got there, Chris had excused himself, saying he didn't want to take a chance of getting that butt-ugly T-shirt covered with paint and he was going to go change.
And when he'd come out to the barn to join the rest of them – they had already gotten started with the painting – he'd been wearing that shirt!
Larabee knew how he felt about that shirt.
Bastard…
Goddamn fucking bastard…
He'd put that shirt on just to… to… to drive him crazy! That's what he was trying to do.
And it was working, too.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop staring. Those holes right along Larabee's shoulders were all finger-sized, and his fingers just ached to slip under that soft cloth and—
Shit, shit, shit! He couldn't be thinking about things like that right now! He could already feel his cock getting hard, and Buck was already shooting him looks, no doubt wondering what the hell had gotten into him…
Shit. He wasn't going to make it to lunch, let alone to the end of the day. No way he could survive the barbecue, the poker game, not if Larabee was planning to wear that goddamn shirt all fucking day…
He should just go get his gun and shoot Larabee, right now.
He grinned at the thought.
"Vin, you feelin' all right?" Nathan asked him.
"Huh?"
"You feelin' okay?" Nathan repeated. "You're lookin' a little—"
"I'm fine, Nate."
"You sure the fumes aren't gettin' to you up there?"
"I'm fine."
"All right," the former medic said, shaking his head, "but if you pass out from the fumes, don't expect me to fix you up when you fall out of those rafters."
Vin watched Jackson continue on to his section of the barn, then looked back at Larabee, who was standing not that far away, his hands on his hips, offering suggestions to Ezra as the undercover man dabbed paint on the windowsill trims.
There were more holes in that damn T-shirt than the ones running across the man's shoulders. There were revealing circles and ovals scattered all over Larabee's chest, including one perfect nipple hole that framed the single hard nub like a spotlight.
God-fucking-damn! Larabee was so fuckin' hot, he was making him ache.
Bastard…
And just because he'd done the man a favor! A fucking favor!
He'd gone out and washed the man's precious Ram! He'd gotten out of the house so Larabee could work, like he'd said he wanted to. It hadn't mattered that Vin was horny and had wanted to make love…
Oh, no, Larabee had paperwork to do.
Paperwork?!
Paperwork was more important than he was.
Well, okay, maybe it wasn't, but, damnitall, Larabee could have taken care of him and then done the fucking paperwork…
He stopped and giggled. Done him and then the fucking paperwork…
He giggled again.
"Vin, you feeling all right, brother?"
"Huh?"
"I asked you if you felt all right," Josiah repeated.
"I'm fine."
"You're looking a little flushed. Maybe you should come down and get some fresh air. The fumes are probably pretty bad up there."
"I'm fine."
"All right." Josiah sighed and walked away, shaking his head.
He huffed out a breath and shook his head. Damn, that was close.
There was no way he could come down, not in the shape he was in. His situation would be too damn obvious… And it was all Larabee's fault.
Bastard…
Just because he couldn't handle watching him out there, washing his damn truck…
That just wasn't a good reason to torture him like this.
He could have just sat there and finished his fucking paperwork, instead of coming out and fucking him…
How was he supposed to know the effect his new nipple ring was going to have on Larabee? He wasn't a damn mind reader, even if the rest of them thought he and Chris were.
This was Larabee's payback. That goddamn T-shirt… That goddamn ugly T-shirt…
How many times had he begged the man to let him rip it off him? Ten, fifty, five thousand? Had to be at least a million.
And what did Larabee always say?
"But I love this T-shirt!"
How could anyone love something that stomach-turning color?
The color, which he assumed had been some kind of green a few decades back, had now faded to a kind of muddy yellow-brown-green that looked more like horse shit than anything else he could think of. And not the round road-apple kind, either. Nope. It was the color of the liquid shit the horses sometimes passed. Equine diarrhea…
Who the hell wanted to keep a fucking shirt that looked like liquid horse shit?
Larabee, that's who!
And if the color alone wasn't bad enough, it was frayed all around the bottom, around the sleeves and around the neck!
The transfers that had been on the front and the back were so degraded, he had no idea what they were supposed to be.
And then there were those teasing, tantalizing, tempting holes…
God!
His fingers itched so badly, he could barely hold the damn paintbrush. He wanted, needed to slip his fingers into those holes… He needed to curl his fingers into fists and… pull.
God, yes. He needed to feel that soft fabric tearing away…
Oh, Christ!
"Vin, you okay up there?"
"Huh?"
"You okay up there?" JD repeated.
"I'm fine."
"Uh, Vin, you're face, it's all… purply."
"What?"
"He said you look like Barney," Buck translated as he walked up to join his roommate.
"Huh?"
"How long have you been up there, pard?" Buck asked.
"I'm fine."
"Okay…"
"Buck, you really think we should leave him up there?"
"Said he was fine, JD."
"Buck, he's… purple-lookin'."
"Just the fumes, JD."
"Can't those cause brain damage or something?"
"Hell, JD, you think Vin would notice if they did?"
"Very damn funny, Bucklin!"
Buck shot him a grin and got the bird in reply.
Larabee looked up at him, one hand coming up, his fingers slipping into a couple of the holes so he could scratch himself.
Bastard…
Goddamn fucking bastard…
Larabee walked off, giving him a look at the holes running along the blond's shoulders again.
His cock throbbed. And it stayed at least half-hard the rest of the fucking day. He was the last one to leave the barn, having had to slip into the small bathroom there to jerk himself off before he returned to the house to shower and change.
He jerked off again in that shower, too.
He had thought the rest of the day would be easier, but no, Larabee wasn't finished with him. He came out from his shower still wearing that damn T-shirt, and now he was wearing those damn shorts, too! The ones that had frayed all the way around the top of the waistband, white elastic showing under the fringe of faded blue cotton.
Christ, was he trying to kill him?
He fled into the kitchen, asking Ezra if he needed help fixing that God-knew-what-crap he liked. The smell alone was enough to kill his appetite.
Bastard…
Fucking bastard…
He ended up watching the clock, counting the minutes until they all left… Second by painful second…
And he could swear that Larabee had found some way to make the fucking clock tick slower than it should.
But, finally, they were alone.
"Larabee, get your goddamn fucking ass in here!" he bellowed.
Oh shit… Oh Jesus Fucking Christ… He was going to kill him.
"You ready for bed?" Chris asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't get any words out… That shirt… Those shorts…
Bastard…
Larabee smiled. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
"Bastard!"
"Who, me?" the blond asked, looking as innocent as he could manage.
"Yes, you! Fucking bastard!"
"What?"
"You— You— You know damn well what I mean!"
Green eyes blinked innocently. "Vin, I have no idea what you're talking about. You feeling okay? You look a little… red in the face. Well, more like purple, but—"
"Ahhh!" He threw himself at Larabee, his fingers sliding into holes in the T-shirt on the man's chest. His fingers curled into fists and he yanked downward.
The sound of the thin cotton rending under his attack brought a smile to his face and put a somewhat maniacal gleam in his eyes.
Chris looked down at his chest, laid bare by Vin's attack, and howled, "My shirt!"
"Not anymore!" Tanner bellowed, reaching up to use an effective karate move on the older man. It spun Larabee around so his back was to the sniper.
Vin's gaze was riveted on those annoying holes scattered across Larabee's shoulders. He reached up, driving his fingers into as many of them as he could.
"Vin, don't—"
But it was too late. Fingers curled into fists again and Tanner jerked down and away, the T-shirt parting to reveal Larabee's back.
"Goddamn it, Tanner!"
Vin stepped up, eyes dancing with delight as he studied the T-shirt, now hanging on Larabee's body by the ribbed collar and sleeves. Bending his head forward, he sank his teeth into the man's shoulder.
"Ah! Damn! Vin!"
With Larabee distracted, Vin shifted his attack from flesh to cloth, taking the collar in his teeth and using his hand to rip…
"Ack! Tanner! What the—!"
Tanner grabbed cloth and jerked, yanking the material down Larabee's arms.
Chris turned, his eyes rounding when he caught sight of Vin, eyes bright, lips curled off his teeth, chest heaving… And the two halves of his precious T-shirt, dangling from Tanner's hands.
"I loved that shirt!"
Tanner started toward him.
Larabee opted for the intelligent course of action: He ran. Uh, retreated.
Tanner caught him in the bedroom, tackling him onto the bed.
"Vin—"
A portion of one half of his T-shirt was shoved into his mouth, a ripping sound echoing in the room before strips of cloth were wrapped around his head and tied. Moments later, the other half of his shirt was being used to secure his hands.
He squirmed and fought, but Vin was already moving on to his shorts – his favorite shorts!
Vin reached for the button on the waistband, popping it open and then grabbing the material on either side and yanking. The rest of the buttons holding the fly closed flew off in four different directions.
"'In!"
Tanner yanked and pulled again. Material ripped and, before Larabee knew it, he was lying naked on the bed.
Vin stood, panting, admiring his handiwork for a moment, then he was yanking his own clothes off, casting them this way and that.
When he was equally naked, Tanner climbed onto the bed and straddled Larabee's legs.
"Uh-I me," Larabee said through the gag. Vin's eyes were burning with desire and the blond swallowed hard.
Reaching down, Vin took Larabee's hands and lifted them, slipping the knotted cotton over the fleur-de-lis at the corner of the headboard. That done, the sniper crawled halfway over him and opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the tube of KY.
"'In!"
"Give me a damn minute," Tanner muttered, already slicking up his cock.
"'In! Et me oh!"
With a look that reminded Larabee more of a cougar that was about to feed than a man, Vin dipped his head, lips, tongue and teeth all assaulting Larabee's left nipple. In seconds, he had the blond writhing on the bedspread.
One slicked hand slipped between Larabee's legs, fingers shoving into the man's crack. KY was rubbed over the puckered hole, Tanner teasing the tight ring of muscles as he continued his attack on the man's aching nub.
"'In!"
"Y' ain't ready yet," Tanner replied, then shifted his attack to Larabee's right nipple while one of his fingers slid into the man's ass.
Larabee grunted and jerked, his hips rising and falling while that digit explored him.
A second was added to the first, and Larabee's legs fell open, his cock rushing to fill. It poked against Tanner's belly, the man's sweat slicking it.
A third finger was carefully added, and Larabee's cock began to leak, precome mixing with sweat on Tanner's abdomen.
Larabee closed his eyes, his body beyond his control now.
And then, suddenly, there was nothing. No lips, no tongue, no teeth torturing his nipples, no fingers filling his ass, no slippery flesh to thrust his cock against.
Green eyes opened and he looked up at Vin, who was kneeling between Larabee's splayed legs.
"Ooh umting!" the blond cried.
Tanner smiled. It was a wild, dangerous expression – full of hunger and need. Then the man reached out and grabbed Larabee's shins, yanking his legs up and pressing them into his chest.
A moment later, Tanner's cock head was rubbing over Larabee's hole. He paused, pressed hard, almost forcing the flared head of his cock into the hot, tight channel, but then he eased off and started rubbing over him some more.
"'In! 'Am it!"
Tanner stopped and pressed again, the head of his cock almost slipping all the way in this time. Then he stopped again and began rubbing over Larabee's hole once more.
"'In, eeze!"
The pressure returned, Larabee's sphincter stretching as the man's wide head plowed into him, and it then closing again just behind the man's glans. Larabee lay, panting noisily through his nostrils, his body quivering and jerking.
Vin rocked his hips, creating a gentle tug on his hole, and Chris bucked his hips up, trying to force the man's cock in deeper.
A chuckle bubbled free from Vin's lips and he pressed his hips forward, driving himself in deeper, then stopping.
"'In! Eeze!"
Tanner drew back slowly, pausing just before the head of his cock popped free, then thrust back in, hard and deep, sinking himself to the root.
Larabee cried out, his body jerking, the muscles in his ass clamping and unclamping on the cock that was filling him.
"Mmm," Vin sighed, enjoying the dance of muscles playing over his cock shaft. He waited until the dance ended, then began to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed and power. Before long, he was slamming into Chris' ass, his balls slapping against the blond's ass cheeks.
Unable to do anything in the position he was in, Larabee squeezed his eyes closed and rolled his head from side to side as Tanner's cock slid over his sweet spot as he thrust in and pulled out. His own cock was so hard, it pointed straight up his belly, leaking constantly.
He knew he was close…
"'In… oh ose…"
Vin grinned, his hips slowing slightly, but thrusting harder.
As he pierced his lover again and again, he watched the man's cock swelling more, the flesh turning a deep wine red. He saw the contraction that marked the first pulse of come as it shot up the blond's shaft and, a moment later, the first creamy rope of semen shot free of the tip, striking Chris' chin.
Vin continued to ride into him as he came, reveling in the way the man's muscles tried to catch and hold him.
And even when the strong pulses of come stopped, Vin could force a few more small dollops out by riding over the man's sweet spot a few more times, which was all he could take.
With one final thrust to bury himself in his lover, Vin came with long, shuddering bursts that filled Chris' guts with his seed. He grunted and growled as he came, humping hard against the man's ass.
When he finally stopped, he slumped forward, panting, his cock still pulsing even though there was nothing left in his balls. He lifted his head, staring at the man pinned under him, gagged and tied, come covering his chest… It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Still buried in the man's hot ass, Vin carefully shifted Larabee's legs to his shoulders and settled back on his heels, waiting for his cock to soften. When it did, it slipped out of Chris' ass, come dribbling out behind it.
Larabee's legs were shifted to the bed, his hands were untied, and the gag was removed.
The two men snuggled together, holding and being held.
When their breathing returned to normal, and their bodies started to get cold, Chris grumbled, "I loved that shirt."
"Looked like horse shit… runny horse shit…"
"I loved that shirt."
"Mmm, so did I…"
"Those were my favorite shorts, too."
"Mmm, mine, too."
"You… killed 'em."
"Damn straight."
"Bastard…"
"Mmm…"