Neither of the two men pushing their horses to the limit remembered the ride home from Ella Gaines's ranch taking so damn long. Few words were spoken as they rode, just monosyllables expressing basic needs: food, rest, piss. Words weren't necessary because an understanding had been reached as their physical and mental wounds had healed, an unspoken acceptance of each other and the bond between them. They'd spent five long days at Ella Gaines's ranch, waiting for Chris's leg to be mended enough to ride. Vin had buried the bounty hunter and practiced shooting, laying claim to the hunter's Remington. A cocky smile graced his features as he hit everything he aimed at, including the fancy white tie from the suit Chris had worn, knotted to a branch 100 yards away. The rest of the clothes they found had been used for bandages, or worn grudgingly by Chris to replace his torn ones.The rest of the time they had spent in each other's company, close but not touching. There was still a rift between them that words couldn't heal, so they simply sat in silence, listening to the sounds of heartbeats and breaths that spoke more to them than words ever could. On the morning of the fifth day, Chris stood up, stretching his knee, and said, "Reckon I'm healed."
"Reckon I am too," Vin replied.
Once that accord had been achieved, both wanted to act on it as soon as possible, and they rode like the devil was chasing them away from Ella's ranch. Each was thinking, to hell with returning to town; there's flat ground over yonder, let's shuck these clothes and get at it.
But both Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner showed the restraint of impulse that had kept them alive throughout many dangers, even though it was nearly killing them. Larabee didn't remember his pants being so damn tight, or Tanner his saddle so damn uncomfortable before. When the small wooden frame of Chris's shack appeared on the horizon just as the sun disappeared, Tanner said more than he'd said all day.
"About goddamn time."
Chris raised an eyebrow in challenge, and they raced to the shack, both men melded to their horses in fluid grace as they galloped over the rocky trail to their destination-and release.
They only took the barest of care with the horses; saddles tossed quickly over the corral fence, food and water sloshed in a trough, brushes barely combing away sweat and mud, earning each of the men nips and glares from the beasts that went unnoticed in their haste.
In unspoken hurry the two headed for the shack, and had started undressing before the door was even closed, shirts and boots tossed in corners, but gun belts as always within easy reach.
Vin finished undressing first, and sat down on the bed, stroking his cock to hardness as he watched Chris ease out of his pants. God, he wanted this; he couldn't remember ever wanting anything more. As Chris finished, leaving his pants in a pile on the floor, Vin laid down on his stomach on the narrow bed. Chris grew hard as he watched the sharpshooter stretch out on the mattress, pale skin stretched taut over his sinewy frame. He knelt over his friend, resting his hand on the mattress as he straddled him.
"Yer on my hair, pard," Vin said. Chris jerked his hand up, losing his balance so his knee landed hard on Vin's back. Both grunted in pain. "Damn, yer heavy for a skinny guy, Larabee."
"Do you always bitch this much?" Chris asked, trying to reposition himself so his weight wasn't on his injured leg. He couldn't find any position that didn't cause pain to shoot up his body.
"What the hell are ya doin'?" Vin asked, trying to look.
"Leg hurts," Chris replied, finally leaning back so the weight was off his leg entirely. "Don't think this is gonna work."
"Switch places," Vin replied, moving over so Chris could lay down. He scooted down so he was able to place his knees on either side of the gunslinger's narrow hips, and ran his hands down his friend's sides.
"Shit, your hands are cold!" Chris said.
"Do ya always bitch this much?" Vin said with a grin. He leaned back, and Chris tensed.
"Watch the leg, damn it," he growled.
Vin quickly hopped off the bed. "What don't hurt yer leg then?" he asked.
Chris sat up slowly, holding back a groan as he pulled his leg in front of him. "Nothing," he replied with a sigh.
"Hell, I'm hurtin' too, but you don't hear me whinin," Vin said.
Chris ran his hand through his blonde hair. "Maybe this ain't such a great idea."
Vin turned and looked around for his saddlebag. He found it tossed over a chair.
"We could hold off for a little while," Chris continued.
"The hell we will," Vin said. "I didn't ride fifty miles with a hard-on for you ta get the jitters." He dug around in the saddlebag, pulling out a lavender-colored jar. He walked back and sat down the bed.
Chris looked at him suspiciously. "What the hell is that?" he asked.
Vin shrugged. "Don't know," he answered. He lifted the delicate lid. "Smells real nice."
"Where'd you get it?" Chris said, staring at the contents. "Looks like gun oil."
"It's a gift," Vin answered.
"From who?"
"Ezra."
"Ezra? Our Ezra?"
"Yep." Vin dipped a finger into the fragrant oil. "It's kinda warm too."
Chris sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Where did Ezra get it?"
"Don't know that either."
Chris watched Vin swirl his finger in the smooth lotion. "Vin?" he said softly, belying his desire to throttle the man sitting beside him for making him drag the story out of him. "Why did Ezra give it to you?"
Vin shrugged. He could feel Chris tense, and he knew he better answer before he ended up punched. "He didn't say why. Just said he hoped I'd figure out a use for it." He scooped some of the oil onto his hand and set the jar on the floor. He then rubbed his hands together slowly. "Wanna give it a try?"
Chris was distracted from his irritation by the sight of Vin slowly rubbing his hands back and forth, his palms glistening with the musky oil. A drop fell and landed on his thigh. Chris reached out and rubbed it into the tracker's warm skin. He nodded. "Yeah, let's give it a try."
Vin climbed behind Chris on the bed, placing his hands on the blonde man's shoulders and slowly kneading the lotion into his tight muscles. "Hands warmer now?" he asked, leaning in so his mouth was a breath away from Chris's ear.
"Oh yeah," Chris replied. He closed his eyes as all the tension and horror of the past few months was eased out of his body by Vin's strong hands. The sharpshooter traced languid circles on his back, then moved his hands up to knead his neck. Chris groaned as his head dropped.
"My turn," Vin said. He moved to the edge of the bed so the gunslinger wouldn't have to move his injured leg too much. Chris reached for the jar, admiring the play of firelight through the purple glass as he scooped out some of the oil.
He looked up to see Vin watching him. "You gonna turn around?" Chris asked.
Vin shook his head. "I got some leg cramps from all that riding."
Chris smiled, and rubbed his hands up and down his friend's legs, tracing the outline of muscle on calf and thigh, raising an eyebrow as Vin's cock hardened with each caress. He moved his hands down lower, smoothing the lotion into the tracker's arched feet. Vin sighed in contentment.
"That's real nice, cowboy."
Chris smiled. He used to do this to Sarah, and she'd enjoyed it too. Chris waited for the stab of pain that always accompanied a memory of his wife, but it didn't come. Instead, he felt warmth and tranquility that he had found that camaraderie and intimacy again. He'd almost lost it, thrown it away like garbage because of lies and some nice horses. He had no idea why Vin had stuck around, much less forgiven him.
"Vin, I..." He started to apologize, but couldn't think of the words to express his remorse.
Vin grabbed his hand where it rested on his thigh. "Don't," he said. "Whatever yer gonna say, I don't need it said. I had enough words and thinkin' to last me a lifetime. OK?"
Chris nodded.
Vin grinned mischievously. "If'n yer so all fired up ta use that mouth of yers, I can think of a way ta put it ta better use."
Chris laughed. "So can I," he said, moving his coated hands up to stroke Vin's cock. He tried to turn so he could move his mouth closer, but a groan escaped him as the pain returned.
Vin shook his head. "Sissy," he teased. He climbed off the bed and stood in front of the gunslinger. Chris pulled Vin's hips closer and lowered his head so he could run his tongue up and down the tracker's stomach, then moved to his shaft, tracing the thick vein and swirling the swollen head. He gripped Vin's ass tighter as the tracker swayed a bit when Chris engulfed his cock with his warm mouth, moving his head slowly back and forth so Vin could feel the excruciating heat of his tongue slowly play up and down his length. It was exquisite torture; Vin didn't know how long his legs would hold him as one of Chris's hands moved to trace his hole, tauntingly pushing a finger in then withdrawing it in time to his mouth on Vin's cock.
"God, harder, Chris, harder." He felt the blonde smile around his cock, and tried to restrain himself from thrusting, but he was losing the battle. He lost all thought as Chris wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft, pumping fast and hard as he flicked his tongue over the precum oozing from Vin's cock, then into the slit. Vin finally grabbed hold of the blonde's hair to hold him still and his hips began thrusting uncontrollably. He didn't want it to end, but his body was working on its own, pushing and pulling him to fulfillment, moaning each time the head of his shaft eased along the roof of Chris's mouth and hit the back of his throat. Chris's finger was back at his hole, and he pushed inside to the knuckle, sending Vin over the edge, his hips pulsing in small frantic thrusts as his seed shot down Chris's throat. Then he stilled completely, limp and panting, watching through glazed hooded eyes as the gunslinger swallowed the rest of his cum, and then slowly pulled his cock out of his mouth.
Vin's legs did give out then, and he barely managed to collapse on the bed, lying back with his arms spread wide. "Holy shit," he whispered.
Chris sat back against the headboard, smiling. "Did you like that?" Vin could only nod. "I'm glad," Chris said.
Vin opened one eye, suspicious at the complacency he heard in Chris's tone. "Did ya just do that ta make it up to me?" he asked, sitting up. "I don't need yer fuckin' pity."
"It ain't like that, Vin," Chris said. "Just figured I'd make you feel good. If you're going to get so pissed about it, then you can suck me off from now on instead."
"Suck yerself off, Larabee," Vin said, moving to climb off the bed. "Yer more trouble than yer worth."
Chris moved quickly, pushing him back down on the bed and laying on top of him. He grimaced at the pain the sudden movement caused, then opened his eyes to find his face inches from Vin's, their lips so close he could feel the tracker's warm breath. His loins jumped as he realized he wanted to kiss this man, to taste him and be tasted. But he hesitated. This would be taking things to a different level. It would be more than two friends plugging each other's holes; it was commitment and closeness far beyond a quick lay. Chris realized staring down into Vin's wary blues eyes, still dark with passion, that he was ready for that.
He didn't know if he lowered his head or Vin raised his or if they met in the middle, but suddenly their lips were together in a hard passionate kiss, tongues dueling, teeth nipping, lips pressing as each tried to suck the breath out of the other. Chris felt Vin's hands tangle through his hair, pulling him even closer, his tongue being captured and sucked on in a way that caused his already swollen cock to fill to a painful limit.
Out of breath, both pulled away panting.
"I ain't a girl," Vin said finally.
Chris stared at his red swollen lips as he answered. "I know that."
"So long as ya remember that, I reckon ya better kiss me some more."
Chris smiled as he lowered his head, his lips meeting Vin's, this time more gently, tongues entwining in exploration, not possession. Chris traced the shape of Vin's lips, surprisingly soft and full, running his tongue around the inside in a way that elicited a shiver from the tracker, and Vin did the same to him, tongues dipping and swirling in a slow dance punctuated by low moans and sighs.
Chris rubbed his shaft along the inside of Vin's leg following the rhythm of their tongues to ease some of his need, not wanting the kiss to end. He heard Vin chuckle, and regretfully lifted his head.
"Something funny?" he asked, tracing his thumb around the pebble of Vin's nipple.
"Ya got somethin' needs takin' care of," Vin replied, nudging Chris's swollen shaft with his thigh. He pulled up his legs so his knees were spread and the dark puckered hole of his ass exposed. Chris glanced down and groaned, thinking he was going to come just by looking at the invitation.
"You sure you wanna do it this way?" he asked.
Vin nodded. "Only way ta get ya ta stop humpin' my leg," he replied with a grin.
Chris reached again for the small jar of oil and scooped out what was left, rubbing some on his own cock before using his finger to trace Vin's hole. He gently pushed the finger inside, moving it slowly to widen the passage before inserting another finger in deeper.
"Missed them long fingers of yers, cowboy," Vin said. Chris slid in a third finger, and Vin pushed down on them, his cock slowly hardening as he was stretched. He closed his eyes and moaned as Chris massaged his tender balls with his other hand. He was ready, more ready than he'd ever been in his life, and was about to say so when Chris pulled out his fingers and he felt the swollen head of the gunslinger's cock at his opening.
Chris was at the end of his endurance. He felt Vin was prepared, so he entered him slowly, stroking Vin's cock to ease the discomfort of intrusion. He slid into the tight channel easily. It felt right, perfect. Not like with Ella. That was forced, he knew now; he'd been dreaming of this while he was with her, this absolute perfect fit. He was lost in Vin's body. He pumped fast, stroked Vin's cock hard. Vin grunted as Chris hit the sensitive gland in him, his head thrashing from side to side as Chris slowed his thrusts against the small bump, extending the swells of pleasure that traveled from his center to every limb. Chris watched the man beneath him; his eyes closed, back arched, hands clutching frantically at the bed sheet. Vin pulled his legs up higher, resting on the balls of his feet so Chris could fill him deeper. Chris pumped Vin's cock faster, feeling how close he was, and with a hoarse cry, Vin came for the second time that night, coating Chris's hand in warm spurts.
When Vin was soft, relaxing back against the mattress with eyes still closed, Chris shifted his position, resting his weight on both hands on either side of Vin's flushed body, then resumed his hard thrusting, the dying spasms of Vin's orgasm nearly bringing him to the edge.
Vin opened his eyes, watching Chris above him. He lifted his ass more so Chris could fill him completely, the long fierce strokes alternating with short fast ones. Chris's eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. His arm muscles were taut holding most of his weight, and the telltale vein throbbed on his forehead. Drops of sweat cascaded down his face and landed on Vin's chest. Vin was mesmerized; he belonged to this man, and he had from the first day they met. It had taken them awhile to figure things out, but he wasn't ever going to let Chris throw him over again. He saw Chris tense, and as he felt the first warm surge of cum inside him, he grasped Chris's shoulders and pulled him down, latching on to the tender skin of his collarbone with his teeth, marking him as he came inside him.
Chris opened his eyes in surprise at the sudden pain, but it just enhanced the ecstasy. The wave after wave of pleasure washing over him as his hips continued uncontrollable thrusting, emptying himself of every stored-up drop, contrasted with the sharp pain of Vin's teeth marking his skin.
Vin let go as Chris collapsed on top of him, his head buried in the sharpshooter's long hair. Vin wrapped his arm around the gunslinger, his thumb lightly tracing a slow line on Chris's back as their breathing slowed and their hot skin began to cool. Chris finally found the energy to roll off his friend, laying beside him and missing the contact instantly.
"If you were hungry, I could have fixed you something to eat," he said, trying to see the mark Vin had left.
Vin closed his eyes. "You can cook fer me later. Sleep now."
"Smart ass," Chris said. Vin drifted to sleep wearing a satisfied smile.
Chris lay awake, watching Vin sleep, content that the man with a bounty on his head was able to sleep so deeply, trusting him. The trust was frightening, but comforting as well, because it worked both ways. He'd had a home and family he'd been entrusted to protect, and he'd failed. With Vin, he'd also be protected, and the fact that he needed that, even relied on it, surprised him. What he had with Vin was never going to be a home or family; even if society didn't forbid it, Vin wasn't about to be domesticated. Yet it was still right, a perfect fit for two misfits. He was relieved beyond anything else that he got the chance to figure that out, and he was going to spend the rest of his life thanking God or the lucky stars or whatever higher power it was that had led this soft-spoken man to him. He vowed to never push him way again.
As he lay contemplating, Chris lightly traced the mark on his collarbone. It didn't break the skin, but it started to throb slightly and he could feel the welt rising. He reasoned he should be mad, but he wasn't. He'd get his revenge. He glanced over as Vin rolled away from him, his light snoring showing how deeply he was asleep. If Vin had been awake to see the devilish glint that appeared in the gunslinger's eye, he would have bolted from the house at a full run. Chris grinned as he ogled the smooth white skin of his friend's ass, knowing exactly where he was going to leave his mark.
THE END
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