Don't Come Much Livelier

by SueN.

Disclaimer: I hate this part. They're <gag> notminetheybelongtootherpeople. I'm gonna go cry now.

Notes: Okay, y'all, here it is (ta da!): the third, AND FINAL, part in my "signature line" series (geez, it sounds like a car) following Like Lickin' Butter Off A Knife and So Much fer Easy, and the part in which C/V finally earn that "/" (Rita, you can put down that gun now.)

Feedback: Would you? Could you?

Vin stared at the man across the table from him, watched the low light in the saloon glinting off the dark golden hair, saw lightning flashing in the jewel-bright green eyes, read every one of the thousand thoughts and emotions flickering over that sculpted face, studied the tightness of that lithe, sinewy body, and knew he'd waited long enough for this man to be his. Their recent experiences in the Seminole village and against Stuart James had raised the very real possibility that if they put this off any longer, one of them might well be killed before they could discover exactly what this was.

"Reckon we might's well give 'er a whirl," he drawled casually, his smoky dark blue gaze never leaving Chris's face. "Been pussyfootin' 'round it long enough." He nodded slightly in resolution. "Reckon it's time we shit 'r git off the pot."

Larabee almost choked on his whiskey at that. "You got a real way with words, Vin," he gasped harshly, his eyes and throat burning. "Real romantic."

Tanner smiled slightly and shrugged. "Well, I got me some nicer words, but I reckon I'll save 'em 'til we're alone. Cain't have nobody thinkin' yer goin' soft." He winked at the black-clad gunfighter. "You bein' 'the bad element' 'n all."

Chris scowled at the tracker's brazenness. "I'm gonna shoot yer ass yet, Tanner!" he growled, trying to glare the younger man into submission, and failing miserably.

Hell, it worked on everybody else, why not Vin Tanner?

But Vin only sighed sadly and shook his head. "That'd be a right shame," he breathed. "'Cause I's thinkin' of a few other things I'd rather have ya do ta my ass."

The whiskey exploded from Larabee's mouth, spewing all over himself and the table, leaving him coughing and gasping for air. With a small, wicked smile, clearly pleased with himself at having shattered the older man's legendary composure, Tanner unknotted his bandana and held it out to Larabee.

"Terrible thing when a feller cain't hold his liquor," he said in a low, husky drawl, watching through shimmering sapphire eyes as Chris used the bandana to mop the liquor from himself. "'Course," his eyes tracked a bead of whiskey sliding down Larabee's throat, "if'n we's ta go ta yer room, I c'd mebbe help ya clean up some." Wanting nothing more than to start right now, but using his tongue instead of that damned bandana, he slowly licked his lips.

"Seems... the least you could do," Larabee croaked, feeling a shaft of heat stab through him as his eyes followed the path of the tracker's tongue across those full, firm lips. Tanner's mouth had become his torment and his delight, and he found himself hungering for it as he'd never hungered for anything in his life. He'd been denied the taste of it long enough; tonight he'd have it, or die trying. "Could be a long, demandin' job," he said in a low and remarkably steady voice, his gaze shifting from Tanner's mouth to the blue eyes gone so dark and deep with desire. "Needs somebody with stayin' power." He smiled slightly, teasingly, his own eyes smouldering. "You think you can handle it?"

Handle it? All Vin wanted at this moment was to handle Chris, to tear away his clothes and get at that long and impossibly lean body, to throw the gunfighter across the table and ravish him on the spot. Fire sped along his every nerve, set his blood to boiling, and seared an agonizing path down to his throbbing cock.

Handle it? Lord God, the first person to try and stop him would die an ugly death!

But when he saw the smug grin on Larabee's lips, his stubborn spirit rose, and a flash of defiance went through him.He wanted Larabee, wanted him so badly he felt he could die from the wanting, but he'd be damned if he'd let the arrogant bastard have this all his own way.

Aware of Chris's fascination with his mouth, and not at all above using such knowledge against the man, he smirked devilishly, ran his tongue slowly, deliberately over his lips and drawled, "Like lickin' butter off a knife."

Chris could not stop the gasp that tore from him at that, could not prevent the tightening of his body or the clenching of his hands. Heat ripped through him with a sudden force, and he knew only that mouth could extinguish it.

Lickin'. That's what he wanted to feel Vin doing. But not any goddamn knife!

A wolfish smile curved about his mouth, and his green eyes burned as he swept his gaze slowly over Tanner's body, trying to decide exactly where he'd start once he got the man alone. He leaned forward in his chair, every muscle taut, and consciously licked his own lips.

Tanner gasped at that, his eyes widening, and a shudder ran through him. Sudden uneasiness mingled now with his raging desire, and he felt very much like a rabbit caught out in the open with a hawk descending. "So," he rasped, his soft voice even huskier than usual, "whatcha got on yer mind, cowboy?"

"Was thinkin'," Chris said in a low voice that was little more than a growl, "you could show me if what I hear about folks in Tascosa is true." His mouth curved into a hungry, feral grin. "I hear they don't come much livelier."

Vin's eyes widened still further and his lips parted, and, for long, long moments he forgot to breathe. All at once, he was painfully aware of the racing of his heart, the rushing of his blood, and the excruciating fullness of the throbbing, swollen flesh now straining so painfully against his pants.

Chris stared at the young man across from him and felt a sudden rush of tenderness. Vin looked like a child who'd just been handed the best Christmas present ever, and who was desperately afraid someone would take it from him at any moment. Larabee had lost an awful lot in his life, but at least he'd had it to lose. Vin, he suddenly realized, had never even had that much.

"Breathe, Tanner," he urged with a slight smile, leaning across the table to slap Vin's arm. "This ain't gonna be nearly as much fun if you're unconscious."

Vin released the breath he'd been holding then, and hurriedly sucked in another. But this time he reminded himself to exhale, then blushed furiously and bowed his head at the laughter in Chris's eyes. "Ain't no call ta make fun'a me," he murmured ashamedly.

Lord God, Chris must think he was as green as JD!

"Ain't makin' fun," Chris assured him quietly, staring at Vin in rapt fascination. Jesus God, the man was blushing! Tougher than dried leather, deadlier than a rattlesnake, and here he sat, his face as red as a beet. Tanner was a goddamn marvel! "Just don't want ya passin' out is all. I got plans, and I'm gonna need you awake and cooperatin'." He sat back and nodded once. "I'm gonna go on up to my room. You have another drink, practice that breathin', then come up when you're ready. All right?"

Vin nodded, but didn't speak, was still much too embarrassed. For once in his life, he had everything he wanted, was going to get what he wanted, and now here he sat, blushing and forgetting how to breathe like some goddamn virgin on her wedding night.

<<Oh, Jesus, sweet Jesus, please, please don't let me ruin this! If'n I c'n have this an' make it right, I'll never want another goddamn thing, I promise!>>

Chris uncoiled himself from his chair and walked across the deserted barroom, then out the batwing doors, fighting against the urge to clutch at himself as each step heightened the pain of his swollen flesh. The cool night air brought some relief from the heat surging through his veins, but not much. And as he entered the boarding house and went up the stairs, he was deeply grateful he still wore his duster.

Goddamn, Vin's blush had gotten him harder than a rock!

In his room, he shed his duster, hat, boots and gunbelt, got out a bottle and two glasses, poured himself a drink and lit a cheroot, more at peace than he'd been in three years. His steadiness surprised him. He'd expected to feel nervous, uneasy, about what was to come. Hell, he was about to make love to a man, for Christ's sake! But there was no nervousness, no anxiety, no doubt. There was only hungry anticipation, and the unshakable, instinctive certainty that this was right, more right than anything in his life had been in three long years.

He had no idea what would happen tomorrow, and flat didn't care. So long as Vin was a part of that tomorrow, the rest could take care of itself.

He heard the soft knocking then, and smiled. Hell, how could a man as dangerous as Vin Tanner sound so goddamn shy just knocking on a door?

"Come on in," he called quietly.

The door opened and Vin slipped in, then shut it silently behind him. For a moment he stood with his back to it, blue eyes sweeping the room, a trace of nervousness on his face. Chris was reminded of an animal searching for the trap it sensed was near, and felt a twinge of sadness for the young man.

Had to be hell, living like that, always having to keep looking over your shoulder...

"You all right?" he asked quietly, handing the tracker a glass.

Vin nodded and accepted the whiskey, his wide blue eyes going to Chris and staying there, as if seeking strength and assurance from the older man. He still couldn't quite let himself believe this was happening, couldn't quite accept that, for once in his life, he wasn't going to be denied what he had dared let himself want. And he knew if he gave any thought to it at all, he could come up with a hundred ways this could still be snatched from him even now.

<<So jus' don't think about it, Tanner. Don't think about nothin' 'cept that man right there in front'a ya, 'n all the things ya want him ta do to ya.>>

"I... I'm fine," he breathed at least. "Just ain't much fer bein' indoors."

Chris grinned, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "We could always find a quiet alley."

Vin's mouth fell open at that and a strangled squeak escaped him. Desperately, he took a drink, but drank too much, too fast, and choked on the fiery liquid. "Shit, Larabee!" he gasped, coughing harshly. "You tryin' ta kill me?"

Chris's grin widened, and he shrugged. "Five hundred dollars is a lotta money, Vin," he answered coolly. "And I gotta think about my future. Me bein' such an 'old man' and all."

Vin wiped his streaming eyes and nose with the back of his hand and glared at the unrepentant gunslinger. But the glare lost its force as Chris slowly advanced upon him, suddenly putting Vin in mind of a large, sleek cat stalking its prey.

And it didn't take much to figure out just who the "prey" here was...

Chris reached out, took the glass from Vin's hand and set it on the bedside stand. Next, he removed Vin's hat and tossed it to join his own, then slid the hide coat slowly from Tanner's unresisting body. All the while, those wide, unblinking blue eyes stared at him, the full lips parted, and he again saw the youth behind the tough exterior.

"You ever done this before, Vin?" he asked softly, setting strong hands lightly on the younger man's shoulders. As Tanner nodded, Chris frowned slightly and reached up, absently brushing the curling fringe of hair out of those beautiful eyes. "I don't wanta force nothin' on ya," he breathed. "You sure you want this now?"

Vin nodded again, then licked his lips and forced himself to speak. "More... more'n I ever wanted anything in my life," he rasped, his drawl thick with emotion. He ducked his head and swallowed hard, then lifted his head and searched Chris's face intently, taking in every line, every plane, every angle of those chiseled features, his soul sinking into those brilliant green eyes. Without realizing he did so, he raised a trembling hand and lightly ran callused fingers over that face, studying it with sight and touch as he would a trail he was following. "Ain't ever let m'self want nothin' or nobody b'fore," he whispered. "Couldn't see no sense in wantin' what I wasn't gonna git. But you... when I saw ya... I jus'... I wanted..." The words wouldn't come, and he bowed his head again. "Aw, hell!" he whispered in frustration.

"Look at me," Chris said gently. When Vin didn't, he slipped a hand under Tanner's chin and raised his head until their eyes met again. "It's all right, Vin," he soothed. "You don't have to be embarrassed, or ashamed, or afraid with me. Say anything you want, or nothin' at all." He lightly stroked Vin's chin with his thumb, and smiled slightly as Tanner turned his face more fully into that caress. "Like that, huh?"

Vin nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing as Chris stroked his chin and jawline, as the gunman's other hand slid down to his waist and rested comfortably there. That touch was everything he had hoped, prayed, known it would be, was startlingly gentle, yet seared through his flesh to his very soul. He felt himself leaning ever further into that touch, until, to his surprise, his head was resting against Chris's shoulder.

"Like it," he said in a shaky whisper. "Like you. Want you."

Chris reached up and ran gentle fingers through Vin's thick hair, twining them into the long curls. "Glad ta hear that, Vin," he said softly, smiling slightly. "I'd hate ta think this is just your way of startin' a new job."

Vin's head came up sharply at that, and he stared at Chris with a sudden wide-eyed fear. "I don't... I mean, it ain't..." He recognized the laughter in the green eyes then, and went red with embarrassment. "Oh," he breathed, again bowing his head. "Yer jus' havin' fun with me."

"Well, that was kinda my idea," Chris teased. Then, as the face grew redder and the head went lower, his teasing manner faded, replaced by tender concern. "Vin," he called softly, "look at me, please."

Tanner did, startled by the word "please." He couldn't remember ever hearing the gunfighter say it before.

Chris gazed into those blue eyes, saw again the youth in them, as well as the shadows of some haunting past. "Listen to me, cowboy," he ordered gently, sliding a hand around to the back of Vin's neck and lightly stroking with long, sure fingers. "I wanta have fun with ya, Vin, been thinkin' for days now about nothin' else. But I hope ta God I never have my fun at your expense. That's not my way."

Vin licked his lips slowly, trembling beneath the fingers at the back of his neck, and the ones now stroking his left hip. "Wh... what... is yer way?" he stammered, his heart hammering hard against his ribs.

Chris smiled slightly and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Vin's in a tender, searching kiss. "This," he whispered against the lips he'd craved for so long. "And this." He slid his hand around to Vin's back and gently pulled the younger man close against him.

Vin went willingly, eagerly, to him, moaning softly and shuddering as Chris's mouth and hands set his soul free and sent his senses spiralling. The warmth and pressure of that long, lean body against his was a delicious torment to him, sharpening the edge of his hunger, deepening the ache of his need, fueling the fire raging in him. He reached up and thrust his hands into the gunslinger's hair to pull that golden head closer, even as he pressed his taut and straining body more closely still against Chris. A thick groan escaped him, and he opened his burning, throbbing mouth beneath the onslaught of the gunfighter's kiss.

A hard shudder racked Chris's body as that mouth trembled and opened for him, as he was suddenly given what he'd craved for so long. The wet warmth of Tanner's mouth acted like a drug upon him, shattered his senses and restraint, arousing his hunger to a fever pitch. Like a man being sucked into a whirlwind, he fell ever deeper into that mouth, his tongue laving the swollen lips, then thrusting past the straight teeth to seek out and dance with Vin's tongue, the two meeting, tasting, twirling, stroking, each exploring the other with a wondrously intimate thoroughness. And still deeper Chris fell, burying his mouth in Vin, devouring him, feasting greedily, frantically, upon the sweet, luscious mouth that had tantalized and tormented him for so long.

The naked ferocity of that kiss unleashed an answering wildness, a savagery, in Vin, and he growled low and deep in his throat, clutching and clawing at Chris and thrusting his body hard against him, needing to feel the gunfighter in every part of himself. While his mouth kissed, bit and sucked ravenously at Larabee's, his strong, long-fingered hands roamed freely over the man's body, stroking and kneading the broad shoulders, raking down the length of the tight-muscled back, then sweeping around and playing over the deep, strong chest.

"God, Vin!" Chris gasped harshly as the tracker's hands and mouth sent rivers of molten heat pounding through him. "Oh, Jesus!"

Vin tore his mouth from Chris's with another growl and attacked the gunfighter's throat, licking, sucking and biting, still able to taste the whiskey on Larabee's flesh. He lapped at Chris as a cat would a dish of milk, his tongue working greedily up and down and over that throat, leaving no part of it untasted. And all the while he breathed the man's scent ever more deeply into himself, grew drunk upon the mix of whiskey and tobacco and potent musk that was Chris, and wondered how he had ever lived without this smell before.

Chris groaned and shuddered and let his head fall back, exposing still more of his throat to that devastating mouth. He gripped Vin's arms, dug long, strong fingers into the sinewy muscles and pulled the smaller man ever more closely to him, wanting -- needing -- to feel that lean body against him. He could feel Vin's heat mingling with his own, could smell the whiskey, leather and earth that made up Vin Tanner, and knew he now held all he needed to be complete.

Vin slid his hands up Chris's chest, found his nipples through the black fabric of his shirt, and traced slow circles against them with his thumbs. Then, continuing to stroke with one hand, he slid the other slowly downward to the tight crotch of the gunfighter's pants, biting sharply into Chris's throat even as he found and fondled the man's bulging erection.

"Goddamn it, Tanner!" Chris gasped, shuddering violently as the tracker's mouth and hands tormented him mercilessly.

Vin laughed softly as he played with Chris's body, delighting in the older man's trembling and harsh, heavy breathing. "Ya got a swellin' here, pard," he drawled, his breath fanning warmly against Larabee's jawline and throat. "Reckon we should call Nathan, or d'ya want me ta tend it myself?"

Chris wondered when the shy, stammering young man had given way to the hellcat, and realized he'd have to watch Vin more closely in the future. "Sneaky bastard," he moaned as Vin's hand continued to fondle and stroke him through pants that felt two or three sizes too small. "Gonna kill you yet!"

"Mm, mebbe," Vin whispered, stepping closer still and pressing his mouth to the warm flesh just above the collar of Chris's shirt. Unable to resist the lure of this man, he feasted upon Chris with lips, tongue and teeth, trying to drink him, to breathe him, ever deeper into himself. He trailed his ravenous mouth up and down the length of that throat, and over it to the tender flesh just below an ear, his own breathing grown fast and ragged. "'Course, I c'd jus' kill you first," he whispered, then bit sharply at that tender, beckoning earlobe.

"Jesus!" Chris yelped, suddenly thinking that was a distinct possibility. "Vin..."

"Ya gotta shuck them clothes, cowboy," Vin rasped, stepping back and ruthlessly tugging Chris's shirt out of his pants. Next the nimble fingers attacked the buttons, but when they proved stiff and unresponsive, he growled deep in his throat and grabbed the shirt, ready to rip it open.

"Don't!" Chris ordered, grabbing Vin's hands and holding tightly to them. "You tear it, and I'll make ya buy me a new one."

"Hell," Vin breathed in irritation. "How many black shirts does one feller need, anyway? Well, hurry up, then!" he snapped, tearing his hands out of Larabee's. "Git it off! I'm gittin' old as you, standin' here waitin'!"

Chris scowled, but hurried to unbutton the shirt. "You ain't worth five hundred dollars," he snarled. "You know that, don'tcha, Tanner?"

Vin smirked. "Ain't what the Sovereign State'a Texas says."

"Yeah, well," Chris finished the last of the buttons and removed the shirt, then peeled down the top of his underwear, "ever'body knows you Texans exaggerate-- Goddamn it!" he yelped as Tanner pounced.

Lightning-quick, the tracker grabbed Chris and threw him back on the bed, then all but leapt atop him. Straddling Chris, he stared down at the man through blue eyes gone dark and dense with passion, running his tongue over his lips as his hunger raged through him. Marveling at the beauty of the lithe, lean body beneath him, he ran his hands slowly over Chris's broad, strong shoulders and down the long, sculpted chest, lightly stroking the pale, smooth skin with worshipful fingers. He traced the downward path of the fine golden hair, then trailed both hands back up to the dark nipples, rubbing callused thumbs lovingly over them and feeling them grow pebble-hard beneath his touch.

Chris sucked in a sharp, hissing breath as that touch seared through him, as Vin wrought sweet torture upon him. Then slowly, slowly, Vin's face was coming toward him, and his most blissful imaginings were again coming true.

That mouth. Lord God Almighty, that mouth was on his, warm and wet and eager, searching, tasting, teasing, driving shards of delight ever deeper into Chris's soul. And he responded hungrily to it, opening his to admit Vin's tongue, his own darting out to meet it, the two swirling and dancing together, each sweeping, stroking the other's mouth, learning the taste and the feel of these new places. And as familiarity grew, the two mouths locked in kisses growing ever deeper, ever more demanding, biting, sucking, licking, with purrs and growls in two throats signalling a pleasure beyond any either man had dreamed existed.

And suddenly -- he had no idea how -- Vin was on his back and Chris was pinning him to the bed, the gunfighter's hard and hungry mouth plundering his with an exquisite force. His blood pounded through him in white-hot torrents, and he writhed beneath Chris, against him, in the anguished frenzy of arousal. His arms locked about Chris and his hands clawed at the man's naked flesh, his long, strong fingers raking across his shoulders and down his back while he thrust himself desperately against the bigger man's body. He could feel Chris's erection grinding against his own, and pain erupted along his every nerve. Then Chris was tugging and tearing at his shirt, struggling to get at the flesh beneath it, and Vin felt the buttons give way beneath demanding fingers.

"Goddamn it, Tanner, how many layers'a clothes you got on?" Chris growled, tearing his mouth from Vin's as he pulled open the tracker's shirt to reveal a sort of undershirt, soft and with only a few buttons, and, beneath it, the man's underwear.

Vin scowled up at him, frustrated that Larabee had stopped. "I git cold easy!" he snapped. "'Sides, what business is it'a yers?"

Chris smirked. "Well, I figure tryin' ta get you out of 'em all makes it my business." He peeled off the outer shirt and started pulling the other out of Vin's pants. "I'm beginnin' ta wonder if you're worth all this trouble." Vin just lay there, letting Chris tug on his clothes, and Larabee sat back and glared at him. "Well?" he demanded. "You gonna help me out here?"

Vin smiled wickedly. "Seems you's doin' all right on yer own," he drawled. "Y'ain't tore nothin' yet. 'Sides," he indulged in a catlike stretch, "I kinda like watchin' you work."

Chris shook his head and chuckled, then lightly slapped Vin's hip. "Sit up and take your goddamn clothes off, Tanner. And get your spurs the hell off'a my bed!"

Vin sat up with a scowl and began stripping. "Gittin' almighty crotchety in yer old age, ain'tcha, cowboy?" He yanked his second shirt off over his head and tossed it aside, then removed his boots and sent them sailing, as well. But as his hands went to the waist of his pants, he stopped and threw a narrow-eyed stare at Larabee. "Seems I'm th' only one shuckin' clothes here," he pointed out. "You know some way'a doin' this without gittin' nekkid?"

Chris grinned and stood up to unbutton his pants. "Now who's gettin' crotchety? Past your bedtime, boy?"

Vin glared harder but said nothing, merely scrambled off the bed and turned away, his back to Chris. Bowing his head, he unbuttoned his pants and slid them off, then started removing his long underwear.

Chris, meanwhile, stepped out of his jeans and underwear and got back on the bed, stretching out on his side and propping his head on one hand, gazing intently at Vin. He was surprised that the tracker had turned away, and marveled yet again at the shyness that cropped up at the strangest moments. The man was as deadly as they came and cold as ice in a fight, but he blushed like a schoolgirl and didn't want anybody watching while he undressed.

God Almighty, they grew 'em strange in Texas!

But all such thoughts were swept from him as Vin slid the longjohns down, finally revealing his body. Chris stiffened and gasped at the sight, his green eyes widening, his cock twitching. God, Vin was beautiful! His lean frame carried not an ounce of fat upon it, was sleek and sinewy, taut muscles rippling with a lithe and tensile power beneath smooth skin. Strong shoulders topped a slender back that tapered down to narrow hips and a tight, firm ass. The only flaw, if such it could be called, was the slight but noticeable curve of his spine near the small of his back that raised his right hip above his right; suddenly Chris understood why the tracker leaned so much of the time.

And when Vin turned slowly to face him, his head bowed, eyes downcast, his face wearing that now-familiar blush, Chris feared he might come on the spot. Tanner's slender chest was beautifully sculpted, his stomach flat, his legs long and slim. And at his crotch, nestled in a thick thatch of brown hair, his cock stood thick and erect, tearing another harsh gasp from Chris.

Jesus God, what had he done to deserve this?

At that gasp, Vin lifted his head, saw Chris stretched out before him, and went weak in the knees. Eyes wide, cock throbbing and twitching, he stumbled to the bed and got clumsily onto it, staring in rapt adoration at the wonder before him. Chris reminded him of a stallion -- long-limbed and perfectly proportioned, sleek and powerful, all grace and strength, the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld. Dark golden hair glinted over the beautiful chest, brown nipples beckoned to his fingers, and fair skin stretched over hard muscles brought water to his mouth. Most enticing of all, however, was the long, thick staff of flesh that twitched invitingly, that served as a powerful reminder of just how long he had hungered for this man. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped him, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

Lord God, Chris was here, and he was his!

Hardly knowing what he did, aware only of the terrible ache building in him, he went slowly forward on his knees and reached out, running a shaking hand slowly down Chris's chest, his callused fingers trailing their way down that warm skin. He traced the contours of bones and muscles, followed every line, every ridge, every curve, his soul rising in wonder. He'd never seen such beauty, such perfection, and he wanted to commit it all to his memory, engrave it upon his heart, his soul, so that he would never again be without it.

Vin's touch was an agony to Chris, was stoking the fires of his hunger and sending a pounding heat through every part of his body. But it was an agony he welcomed. Those fingers danced like feathers over his skin, stroking, caressing, worshiping, and he gave himself wholly over to them, feeling their movements against him in the very depths of his soul. A harsh, strangled gasp escaped him as the hands moved lower, down his flat belly and over his hips, and finally, finally to the burning, throbbing heart of his need.

Vin slid a hand slowly over the hard length of Chris's cock, and felt the gunman buck violently under his touch. He slipped back the foreskin and ran a forefinger lightly over the sensitive head, through the pearly moisture seeping from its slit, then down the large, prominent vein. And as Chris shuddered heavily and groaned thickly, Vin licked his lips and bent low, opening his mouth and taking that swollen shaft into it.

Chris cried out harshly and very nearly bucked off the bed as that mouth engulfed him. Oh, God, that mouth! He groaned and wound his fingers in Tanner's hair and writhed in torment upon the bed as that mouth worked its wonders upon him. Vin licked and nipped and sucked, feeding upon him, devouring him, shattering and making him whole at once. That beautiful tongue was lapping at his head, licking down his length, laving his balls, sending waves of pain and pleasure crashing through him. Again that mouth took him in, took him whole, sought to swallow him, and he thrust frantically into it, uttering incoherent pleas.

"Vin... please... God... please..." Then he felt it, the hot boiling at the base of his spine, the hard tingling that rose through him, that filled him and surged through him, tearing another anguished cry from him. "God... yes... VIN!" He drove his fingers into Tanner's hair and thrust frantically as he erupted into that mouth with an elemental fury.

Vin caught that potent stream, swallowed every drop and sucked at and milked Chris for still more, nourishing himself on this man. And when at last Larabee was empty, he let the soft cock slip from his mouth and laid his head against Chris's chest, closing his eyes and listening to the strong, fierce beat of his heart.

Chris brushed gentle fingers through Vin's long hair and struggled to bring his breathing under control, stunned by what had just happened. That mouth. Oh, God, that beautiful mouth. All day long he'd been thinking about it, never realizing just how wonderful it would be.

Hell, nothing he had imagined had even come close to the reality!


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