Disclaimer: They're not mine (rub it in, why don't ya?). They belong to (everybody, sing!) Trilogy, Mirisch, MGM, CBS, TNN. I'll hose 'em down... er, clean 'em up... when I'm done. The Dallas Cowboys still belong to Jerry Jones and the Dallas County Probation Office.
Notes: Okay, here's the sequel to On Any Given Sunday, and my debut E-day fic (I'm so proud!) You don't have to know football (God knows, the Cowboys are proof of that!), you just have to know that the Washington Redskins are bad, they are evil, they are the spawn of Satan and must be obliterated from the face of the earth and sent back to hell to roast for evermore in the fires of damnation. 'Kay? Oh, yeah, this would be the ATF/AU. Duh.
"Oh, God... Yes, yes...God... Yesss..."
The short, sharp cries escaped Vin Tanner as he surrendered to the ecstasy overtaking him, as he abandoned all restraint and gave himself wholly over to the fierce exhilaration rushing through him. His blue eyes were wide and dark in his pleasure-flushed face, and his breath was coming in quickened gasps. He rocked back and forth and side to side in a growing frenzy, his lean torso and narrow hips twisting and writhing in a frantic rhythm. They were so close now... so close...
"YES!" he shouted in jubilation as the blessed culmination came at last. "Goddamnit, Emmitt, YESSS!" With a loud whoop, he leapt off the couch amidst a shower of popcorn and spun around in wild exultation as the Cowboys running back dashed into the end zone untouched, capping off a beautiful 23-yard run with his third touchdown of the night. "HA! Take that, you overpaid sonsabitches!" he taunted the clearly dazed members of the Washington Redskins defensive unit. "'Best team money can buy,' my ass!"
He flopped back down onto the couch with a deeply satisfied smile, ignoring the crunch under his feet of the popcorn he'd sent flying in his exuberant display. The Cowboys kicking unit took the field, and Vin laughed aloud and clapped his hands sharply together as Tim Seder's point-after try sailed through the uprights, bringing the Cowboys' score to 31, and giving them a 17-point lead over their arch-rivals.
Damn, this was perfect! The Cowboys were beating the Redskins, in Washington -- well, okay, in Landover, Maryland, but, still, it was on Washington's home turf -- on a Monday night game, before a national audience, after having been discounted by the oddsmakers as 10-point underdogs. Every sports writer in the Western hemisphere had written them off as has-beens and jokes, yet here they were, kicking ass and taking names.
And as if that weren't enough, all the other members of Team Seven had plans tonight, leaving him to watch the game alone. With Chris. Who had finished all his paperwork earlier today, leaving him free and undistracted for an evening of nothing but football. And Vin.
Yep, like that old beer commercial said, it just didn't get no better than this.
Speaking of beer...
Vin leaned forward and snatched the can off the coffee table -- cans, for God's sake! Hell, a guy makes one mistake, throws one bottle at the TV -- wasn't like he'd hit the screen, either, and that notch in the corner wasn't real noticeable unless you looked close -- and he's condemned to drinkin' beer from a can for life. Or at least for the duration of football season.
Sometimes Chris Larabee could be a soulless bastard.
The "soulless bastard" returned to the den after a quick trip to relieve himself of his own beer, and made a stop at the bar for two fresh ones. He glanced at the couch, saw Vin deeply engrossed in the game, and had to smile. He'd always loved football, had played in high school and a couple of years in college, had thought he knew almost everything about the game there was to know.
But not until he and Tanner had become lovers had he realized that a football game made for incredible foreplay.
"Brought you a refill," he said, crossing to the couch. "I figured-- Uh, Vin?" he called, his voice abruptly lowering, his eyes narrowing. "There's popcorn all over the floor." He stared down the floor between the couch and the coffee table, spotting the overturned bowl and surveying the mess around it, then lifted his gaze to his lover. "You wanta tell me why there's popcorn on the floor?"
But Tanner wasn't listening, was too intent upon watching as the Redskins offense went to work. Quarterback Brad Johnson had a number of weapons he could use -- receivers Albert Connell, James Thrash and the always reliable Irving Fryar, and running backs Larry Centers, Mike Sellers and Stephen Davis, the last considered one of the best in the league. But to use them he first had to get the ball to them, and the Cowboys seemed determined not to let that happen.
"Get him, GET him!" Vin shouted to the players on the wide-screen TV. Cowboys defensive tackle Leon Lett, the "Big Cat," had broken through the offensive line and was chasing the quarterback all over what remained of the pocket, with linebackers Dat Nguyen and Dexter Coakley joining him in the pursuit. "Somebody HIT him, goddamn it!" Tanner yelled, watching as Johnson evaded one tackle and tried to find a receiver. "For Christ's sake... YES!" he cried, slapping his hands loudly together as a wall of white jerseys took Johnson down. "That'll show him!"
"TANNER!" Chris shouted, immediately getting the startled sharpshooter's attention. "Popcorn... floor... now!" he ground out through clenched teeth, remembering vividly just how much butter Vin had poured into the corn and trying not to think of it all now oozing over the hardwood floor.
Vin gazed calmly up at his lover, his boss, utterly unintimidated by the infamous "Larabee glare" now trying to burn holes in his hide. "Aw hell, Chris, cain't it wait? There ain't but three minutes left in the third quarter, and if the defense keeps on like this, Dallas is gonna get the ball again real soon. I'll take care of it after--"
"You'll take care of it now," Chris said sternly, trying to cross his arms against his chest, but hampered by the two beers he still held. God, why couldn't Vin just jump at his every command like everyone else? And once, just once, couldn't he at least pretend to cower before "the glare"? "I don't want a sticky mess all over the floor!"
Vin sensed his partner's frustration, and could understand how he felt. After all, Chris had spent years perfecting that glare, could turn it on at a moment's notice and use it to turn the biggest, strongest man into a quivering, sobbing mess. The glare was infamous, was spoken of in hushed and reverent tones by even the toughest of federal agents. Buck Wilmington swore the glare and a magnifying glass were all you needed to start a fire. Nathan Jackson said it should be studied for application in laser surgical techniques. So, with everyone else in the world duly in awe of the glare, Vin could understand how hard it must for Chris now to be constantly confronted by the one person to whom the legendary Larabee glare... well, to be frank, didn't mean shit.
Yep, he could understand it. But that didn't mean he couldn't also have fun with it.
He tilted his head slightly to one side, arranged his features into a mask of complete innocence, and, fixing wide blue eyes upon his lover's scowling face, said guilelessly, "Wouldn't be the first sticky mess we've ever left on the floor."
Chris nearly dropped both beers at that. The words -- and Tanner's angelic expression -- stripped him of his anger, defused his glare, and left him opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, all the while sputtering helplessly for some response that never came. Then, to his horror, Vin reached up and, still gazing at him through those goddamn blue eyes, ran the long, slender fingers of one hand through the silken wealth of his own thick brown hair and slowly licked his lips. Larabee heaved a deep sigh and bowed his head, his broad shoulders slumping. He knew when he was beaten.
"One of these days, Tanner," he groaned, raising his head and holding out a beer to the younger man. "One of these days..."
Vin took the can, then, still staring up at Chris, ran his tongue along the cold aluminum to catch a trickle of condensation sliding down it. "Why not tonight?" he all but purred. "Y'know what they say, 'never put off 'til tomorrow what you can do today.'" He winked, then lapped at another bead of moisture. "Or who you can do tonight."
Chris laughed aloud and shook his head, then walked through the popcorn and sank onto the couch at his lover's side. "Goddamnit, Vin, what'm I gonna do with you?"
Tanner popped open the can and took a deep drink, wondering if he could persuade Chris to go back to bottles. "Been thinkin' about that," he answered at last, turning and draping one leg over Chris's. "Been thinkin' on it long and hard."
"Long and hard, huh?" Chris asked, reaching out to lay a strong hand on Vin's slim thigh. "You come up with anything yet?" Entirely of their own volition, his fingers began stroking Vin through his jeans, rubbing slowly, eliciting a shudder in and tearing a soft gasp from the younger man.
Vin swallowed as Chris' hand brushed along his inner thigh, igniting a familiar heat within him. "Had... maybe... one'r two things... pop up," he rasped, leaning forward as those long, strong fingers slid up toward his groin. "Chris, please..."
Larabee grinned slightly, his green eyes gleaming, and ran a thumb over Vin's crotch. Tanner bucked beneath the touch, and Larabee's grin widened at the sudden swelling he felt there. "Yeah, I believe somethin' has popped up," he teased, stroking lightly. "Didn't know this was where you kept your ideas, though."
Vin drew a sharp, hissing breath through tightly clenched teeth and arched his hips to thrust himself more fully into that hand. White heat erupted through him as his aching flesh surged and strained against his suddenly too-tight jeans. He had been waiting for and thinking of this all day, wanting -- needing -- to feel Chris against him, inside him...
But, goddamn it, the Cowboys were playing, were winning...
Chris heard the whimper that escaped the sharpshooter and took pity on him, knowing what this game meant to him. Easing his hand from Vin's crotch, he chuckled quietly and leaned over, catching Tanner's mouth with his in a sweet, promising kiss as the younger man relaxed against him.
"Let's watch the game," he murmured against Tanner's mouth. "We can play our own game later."
"'Kay," Vin breathed shakily, trying to bring his breathing and heart-rate under control. Then, not trusting his own control, he removed his leg from Chris's and slid his feet to the floor, smiling crookedly at the crunch of popcorn beneath them. "Reckon I oughtta clean that up, huh?"
Chris shrugged, smiling. "Well, you could leave it for after the game. But," the smile turned wicked, "that would just delay other things."
That was all the encouragement Vin needed. "Believe I'd best get it now," he decided, all but jumping off the couch.
Larabee watched as Tanner hurried toward the bar, admiring -- hell, almost worshipping -- the tight, shapely ass caressed by the worn jeans. Vin was built like a cat, small, sleek, compact, not an ounce of fat on him, hard muscles rippling with a lithe and tensile power beneath smooth skin. Strong shoulders topped a slender back that tapered down to narrow hips and that beautiful ass. His legs were long and lean, but, as Chris knew from his own experience, had the strength of steel when wrapped around him...
No, best not go there now. Not when there was still a whole other quarter to go. But, damn, Tanner made it hard not to think of such things when he insisted on wearing those jeans...
"Don't think I cain't feel ya starin', cowboy," Vin called as he ducked down behind the bar. "Just 'cause I'm not scared of 'the glare' don't mean I don't feel it."
"Don't you have a mess to clean up?" Chris growled. Damned uppity Texan...
Vin stood up and emerged from behind the bar with a brush-broom and dustpan in hand. Padding back to the couch, he glanced down at Chris, saw the tell-tale bulge in the black jeans, and winked. "Just don't want you makin' another one without me, cowboy," he drawled.
"I shoulda shot you the first time you called me that," Chris muttered as Vin went to his hands and knees and began sweeping up popcorn.
"Prob'ly so," Tanner agreed, crawling between couch and coffee table to sweep, but raising his head every few seconds to watch the game. "Reckon you woulda saved us both a shitload of grief. Aw hell, now what was that?" he groaned, rising on his knees and staring at the TV as a blown tackle by the Cowboys resulted in a beautiful catch for Redskins receiver Irving Fryar.
"I believe," Chris said dryly, "it's called a first down. So much for the Cowboys gettin' the ball back."
"Stupid sonsabitches an' their goddamn arm tackles!" Tanner swore harshly. "Whatever happened ta knockin' the receiver off his goddamn feet? Shit," he spat, going back to his sweeping. "They're gonna end up losin' this yet!"
Chris stifled a laugh at Tanner's grumbling, knowing how personally the sharpshooter took these games. Realizing as he now did exactly what the Cowboys meant to Vin, what they had meant all through the hard and dark years of his difficult youth, he could understand the younger man's displays of intense passion during their games. And, he had to admit, he certainly did love watching Vin watch the Cowboys. Tanner was so open, so unguarded, at these times, freely expressing every emotion that gripped him, from delight to disgust.
Of course, it was that very openness that had gotten him demoted from bottles to cans...
Vin raised up again, then folded his arms across Larabee's hard-muscled thigh and gazed up at the older man. "Need ya to move your feet, cowboy," he said, rubbing his chest against that leg. "Unless you like the feel of popcorn between your toes."
"You're an evil bastard, Tanner," Chris rasped, intensely aware of the feel of Vin against him.
Vin moved closer still, then laid his head down on his arms and smiled slightly, his blue eyes fixed upon Larabee's face. "Reckon I've heard that before," he drawled. "But I ain't sure I understand it. Reckon maybe I need somebody ta show me the error of my ways." He pulled an arm from beneath his head and slid his hand along the inside of Larabee's thigh. "Got any volunteers?"
"Shit!" Chris yelped as Vin's wayward hand found his crotch. "Goddamn you--"
"Yup," Vin sighed, raising his head and shaking it slowly, his expression one of utter resignation, "reckon he will. Now," he slapped Chris's thigh, "get yer feet up off the floor so's I can clean up this mess."
Larabee did as ordered, lifting his feet and setting them on the coffee table. A low growl escaped him as Vin wriggled under him, making a careful show of sweeping up popcorn as he rubbed his back repeatedly against his lover's legs.
"Damn, this stuff goes ever'where!" Vin marveled, sweeping under the couch and table. "How much did you make, Chris? Thought I'd eaten most of it, but it looks like I'se wrong." He put his head down to get a better look under the table, leaving his butt stuck up in the air.
Chris groaned at the sight and let his head fall back against the couch, feeling an urgent need to unzip his jeans. Evil didn't begin to describe Vin Tanner!
"FUMBLE!" Tanner shouted, jerking suddenly upright as the Redskins receiver coughed up the ball. A swarm of white jerseys hit the stadium floor, and when the referees finally fought to the bottom of the pile, Cowboys safety Izell Reese was curled tightly around the ball. "YES!" Vin yelled, jumping to his feet and sending all the popcorn he'd collected in the dustpan flying once more into the air. "Didja see that, Chris? I told ya they was gonna get the ball!"
Chris stared from the popcorn covering his chest and lap to the jubilant form of his lover. "Yeah, Vin, I saw," he chuckled, delighting in the almost childlike pleasure written on that beautiful face. "What's say we just forget about the popcorn and watch the rest of the game. You're better with a gun than a broom any day." He leaned forward and took the broom and dustpan from Vin's hands, then tossed them aside and grabbed the waistband of Tanner's jeans, pulling him back onto the couch. "Better hope you never have to take a job that calls for more sweeping than shooting."
Vin nestled close to Chris and laid his head against one strong shoulder, gazing raptly into the lean face and tracing its strong lines with a feather-light finger. "Ain't thinkin' on firin' me, are ya, cowboy?" he breathed, his voice even raspier than usual. "'Cause of my evil ways an' all?"
Chris took Vin's hand in his own and carried it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss into its callused palm. "Hell, no," he breathed, planting kisses against each of the long, slender fingers. "It's those evil ways that cause me ta keep ya around. Jesus, Tanner," he moaned, sliding an arm about the smaller man and pulling him more closely to him, "what the hell've you done ta me?"
Vin turned and slid himself into Chris's lap, straddling him and leaning close, planting his mouth against the tender skin just beneath Larabee's ear. "Just showin' ya how much fun sin an' degradation can be," he whispered, kissing and licking his way down the length of that warm throat. "Come with me to the dark side," he intoned, then nipped sharply at Chris's neck.
"Jesus!" Chris gasped, his whole body jerking in response to those teeth. "Don't recall... Darth Vader... ever bitin' Luke!"
Vin alternated between biting and licking while his hands roamed slowly over Larabee's powerful chest. "Mebbe he shoulda tried it," he whispered, nibbling at the pulse pounding in Chris's throat. "Seems ta be workin' pretty good for me. Damn, ya taste good!" he growled, feasting greedily upon his lover.
"C'mere, you!" Chris ordered, snaking one arm hard about Vin and entwining the fingers of his other hand in the sharpshooter's long hair. Tugging firmly at the silken curls, he pulled Vin's head up from his throat and tilted it back, then smothered those ravenous lips with his own. White fire erupted through him at the taste and feel of Vin against him, and he buried his mouth in Vin's with a tortured groan.
The sheer savagery of Chris's kiss awoke an answering wildness in Vin, sparked a ferocity that Larabee alone could arouse. He plundered Chris's mouth with his tongue, licking, stroking, searching; then sucked and bit at the lips moving so demandingly against his own. His hands raked down Chris's chest, along his sides, down his back, while his powerful thighs squeezed ever harder at Larabee's lean hips and his butt ground rhythmically into Chris's bulging crotch. He was on fire with need, every nerve come to jagged, screaming life, his own flesh swollen to tortured fullness.
But, God, how he loved this pain!
"Vin... Jesus, Vin!" Chris groaned into Tanner's mouth. He pulled the younger man ever closer, held him ever harder, wanting nothing more than to make Tanner part of himself. The mouth ravaging his was delicious, the body moving against his, exquisite. Chris was on fire from his head to his toes and was more than willing to lose himself in the flames. "Gotta help me here, pard," he gasped as Vin ground himself again into the very heart of that fire. "I'm in pain. Need ya... ta help me out!"
Vin growled low in his throat and slithered off Larabee's lap to kneel on the floor, his hands going at once to the fly of the tight black jeans. Chris groaned harshly and let his head fall back against the couch, clutching at the cushions beneath him and thrusting upward with his hips as those talented hands moved against him.
"Vin... God... Hurts..."
Tanner smiled wickedly at the sight of the formidable, indomitable Chris Larabee reduced to moaning, writhing incoherence at his hands, and felt a sharp surge of exhilaration at the realization of his power over this man. But that power was based on love, and, needing Chris to know that, he rose to his feet and leaned over, pressing the tenderest of kisses to that wet and swollen mouth.
"Don't worry, cowboy," he breathed, gently stroking the tousled blond hair back from Chris's flushed face, "I gotcha. And I'm gonna take real good care of ya, for as long as you'll let me."
Chris opened his eyes and gazed up into that beautiful face, smiling into the dark blue eyes. "Then you'd best get used to takin' care of me, Vin," he murmured. "'Cause I ain't ever lettin' you go."
Tanner smiled brilliantly, his eyes flooding with joy, and he kissed Chris again. Then the smile turned wicked and he moved his mouth to nip at Larabee's ear. "'Nuff sweet talk, cowboy," he growled into that ear. "Time ta return to my evil doin's." And he dropped once more to his knees, returning his attention to his lover's swollen, needy crotch.
Chris lifted head and stared down, transfixed as ever by the expression of intense concentration that Vin wore at such times. His forehead furrowed beneath a curling fringe of hair as his slender brows drew downward over blue eyes gone darker and denser than usual, and the familiar pink tongue peeked through his frowning lips. Long, agile fingers -- capable of such deadly skill with gun and knife -- moved with that same ease against his fly, slipping the button through its hole and carefully pulling down the zipper.
"Glad ta see y'ain't wearin' them button-flys tonight," Vin teased. "Hell of a thing gettin' all them buttons undone with you strainin' so against 'em. Well, lookee here what I found," he drawled as Chris's engorged cock sprang free of its restraint. "Seems somebody left me some candy!"
At Vin's urging, Chris lifted his hips enough to let his lover strip him of jeans and briefs, then quickly removed his own shirt and threw it aside. Sinking back against the couch, he let his hand stray to his own aching, burning flesh, only to have it slapped away.
"Leave it be," Vin growled, as territorial as any wolf. "I'll get to it in a minute. But first, I got me a whole new playground t'explore." He stripped off his own t-shirt, then slipped between Chris's legs and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to his partner's naked chest. Starting at the notch in Larabee's collarbone, he slowly kissed, licked, sucked and bit his way down, delighting in the scent and taste that were Chris's alone. He fed hungrily on the man, breathed him deeply into himself, exploring and claiming him with mouth and hands, imprinting every aspect of Chris Larabee upon his memory. And when Chris's hands began exploring him, he briefly wondered if it were possible to die from pleasure alone.
But, Jesus, what a death it would be!
Chris ran his hands through Vin's hair, reveling in the feel of its tangled silk against his skin, then slid them down the slim neck and over the strong, supple shoulders, stroking and kneading the iron muscles beneath the warm, smooth skin. From there, they trailed down the slender back, his fingers tracing the scars they encountered, his heart clenching at the evidence of all the hurt his fierce and gentle lover had suffered in his young life. But, not wanting to cloud this moment with thoughts of pain, he forced his hands to move on, to worship with their touch the sinewy beauty in their grasp. Then Vin started to move lower, and, though not yet ready to, Chris let him go. He'd sworn he'd never hold Vin against his will, never seek to possess him.
It was, he knew, the only way he'd ever be able to keep the wild, free creature that was Vin Tanner with him.
Vin slowly lowered himself back to his knees, licking and kissing a path down Chris's taut, flat abdomen. Snake-like, his tongue darted in and out of Larabee's shallow navel, while his hands slid around to the man's narrow hips. He slowly stroked the soft, smooth skin there, then slipped his fingers downward to his groin and along his inner thighs. Meanwhile, his mouth worked lower, too, down from the navel to the thatch of curling dark golden hair against which Chris's thick cock was twitching. Unable any longer to resist its lure, he lifted his head a fraction and slid his tongue along its hard length.
"Jesus!" Chris cried, his hips bucking wildly as that wet tongue moved against his heat. "Shit, Tanner, you're gonna kill me!"
Vin gave a low chuckle, then laved his tongue against the weeping head, causing Chris to buck again. "Helluva way ta go, ain't it, cowboy?" he teased.
Chris couldn't answer. He was breathing hard and fast, his hands clutching desperately at nothing, his cock a screaming mass of fire. Vin's mouth descended again and took him whole, and Chris screamed out in wordless torment.
Helluva way, indeed!
Vin sucked ravenously at Chris, sliding his mouth up and down the thick-swollen shaft, tonguing the large vein and the leaking slit. Then he released the cock and turned his attention to Chris's heavy balls, licking and sucking, breathing deeply all the while of Chris's heady scent. But still another treasure called to him, and he let the sacs fall from his mouth, sliding his tongue between them to the dark, puckered hole just behind them.
Chris bucked and cried out again and very nearly came on the spot as Vin's tongue rimmed his hole. He was in pain, in agony, and moaned helplessly, sliding a trembling hand to his tortured, needy cock.
Again Vin thrust the hand away, gripping Larabee's wrist in his long, strong fingers. But he could see the man was on the verge, and knew it was time to end his torment. Once again, he shifted on his knees, then took Chris into his mouth.
"Oh, Jesus, yes!" Chris howled, thrusting frantically into the wet cavern that engulfed him. That glorious mouth sucked at him, while talented fingers played with his balls, the two combining to drive him into a mindless frenzy. He drove his hands into Vin's hair and pulled him down, forcing the young man to take him deeper still.
And Vin did, opening his throat to take all of Chris he could, sucking ravenously at the flesh that filled his mouth. He could taste Chris down to his soul, and thought he could survive on this alone.
Hell, he knew he could, because he'd survived on so much less!
Chris clung to Vin's hair and thrust into his mouth, uttering harsh, thick groans as the familiar boiling started within him. He could feel it building, and gave himself completely over to it, welcoming this shattering of his control. It surged through him with an elemental fury, and he cried out harshly as he erupted into his lover's mouth.
Tanner caught every drop of the powerful stream and milked Chris for still more, sucking and swallowing hungrily as Chris poured himself into him. And only when Larabee was empty and limp did Vin let him slip from his mouth. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Chris's trembling thigh, needing this moment of closeness.
Chris exhaled unsteadily and smiled slightly, gently stroking Vin's tangled hair. "Goddamn, Tanner, you're good!" he breathed. "Felt like you were gonna suck my brains out for a minute!"
Vin smiled crookedly and raised his head, staring up at his lover. "Reckon I'll take what I c'n get," he drawled.
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