Stay The Night
- Part TwoAfter Chris left the office, he stopped off at a supermarket to buy some food. Vin’s idea of a balanced meal would have punched a hole in his stomach, and the Texan needed more than leftovers and fast food if he was going to heal properly.
By the time he dealt with rush hour traffic it was dusk, and Purgatorio looked more decrepit and depressing than ever in the grey light. Chris parked, armed the security system on the Ram, and, with an alert eye on his surroundings, made it into Vin’s building. He took the stairs rather than relying on the elevator: it was a crap shoot at best. Vin had to get out of this place. And even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t leave easily. There was too much of Vin’s past in Purgatorio, just as there was too much of Chris’s invested in the ranch.
He opened the door to darkness, and thought that Vin was still sleeping until he went into the kitchen and felt the hard crunch of broken glass under his feet. He set the bag of groceries on the counter and heard the tinkle of more glass falling to the floor. "Vin?" he called out and turned on the light. "Jesus! Vin!" Blood smeared across the counter and the floor, a smudged trail of it led into the living room.
"Vin!"
"Ya don’t hafta have kittens, Larabee. I’m all right." A wry voice spoke from the shadows. "Jist had a little household accident."
Chris went into the living room and saw him silhouetted against the blue twilight coming through the windows. He drew a breath that he wasn’t even aware he had been holding. "Yeah, they say bathrooms and kitchens are death-traps." His voice was shaking; he fought for control as he reached to turn on the lamp next to the couch. "What the hell did you do t’yourself, partner?"
"’S’nuthin’, jist a cut across my fingers, n’then I was bright enough t’step on some of the glass."
Chris tilted the shade on the lamp so that light fell more directly on Tanner. "Let me see." He knelt in front of Vin. His hand was clenched around a bloodstained towel. Most of the stains were dark brown and dried, but there was enough fresh blood to cause concern. Chris slowly pried the curled fingers open. Vin’s breath hissed sharply. "Easy there. Just let me take a look, okay?"
He nodded, and Chris tried not to tug at the places where the fabric had adhered to the wound. It didn’t look too bad, but he needed a clearer view to be sure. "I’m gonna get some water, clean you up."
Vin was quiet, too quiet. Chris got a basin of water and a clean washcloth. He went into the bathroom and found the first aid kit. He took it back to the living room. Tanner’s head was tilted back against the rocker, but he was so far from relaxed that Chris could feel the tension vibrating through him, and he didn’t think it was just from pain.
"Once we get this cleaned up I’ll be able to tell if you need stitches."
"I ain’t goin’ back to the hospital," Vin said.
"Let me be the judge of that." Chris began soaking and blotting the blood away. He could feel every move of Vin’s hand, every twitch, every sudden flick of tension as he worked. He was cautious, gentle. The worst cut ran across the middle joint of the index, middle, and ring fingers, but it wasn’t as deep as Chris had feared, and the bleeding had nearly stopped. "Doesn’t look too bad. Don’t think you’ll need stitches."
"Told ya so." He sat still as Chris tended to the cuts. He felt the cool line of antiseptic cream Chris laid across the cuts, then the way he wound gauze and tape around each finger. "Ya could’a been a doctor, Larabee. Given Nate a run fer his money."
Chris laughed softly. "I’ve had my share of practice." He finished, sighed and sat back. "How’s the foot?"
Reluctantly Vin raised it. Chris stripped the sock off, and as he ran his finger across the ball, he felt a prick of glass. "Still got some glass in there." He rose to tilt the shade a bit more, then, with the tweezers from the first aid kit, pulled out the splinter. A small bead of blood gathered. Chris soaked it up with a piece of gauze, applied the antiseptic, then bandaged it. "I’m done. You’ll live. Stay put until I sweep up the glass."
Vin was so quiet that Chris thought he had fallen asleep. "Vin?" he queried.
Tanner’s head moved restlessly. "I’m still here. Sorry t’be so much damn trouble."
"Jesus, Vin. You’re not." Short, terse words because the ones he wanted to say seemed stuck in his throat. He stood up, gathering the bloody towels, the debris from the first aid kit, the bowl. He put things away, then returned to the living room. He ran his fingers through his hair, unnerved by Vin’s silence. "You want the TV on?"
He shook his head. "Nuthin’ on but bad news. Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Where’d you put the eye drops Dr. Rheinhardt prescribed?"
"In the gym bag." And then when the significance of the question hit him, he cursed beneath his breath. "Why didn’t you ask before I left?"
Vin gave a chuff of laughter. "Wasn’t exactly on my mind, Larabee."
Chris went to the gym bag and took out the small bottle. "You need ‘em now?"
"Yes."
Chris got the bottle, and carefully pulled the tape and protective pads from Vin’s eyes. His hands were shaking but he stood between the direct light and Vin, and prayed that he could still his hands enough to administer the drops. The swelling was way down, even from the morning. He put the drops in, wiped off the excess, and put the pads back in place. "Better?"
"Thanks."
"Yeah, I’m a regular Florence Nightingale." He sat down, rubbed his eyes. "What would you have done if I hadn’t come back?" he asked quietly.
"Called Mrs. Santos from downstairs."
"Why didn’t you?"
"I knew ya’d be here."
"How?"
"’Cause if it was you here, I’d have come back," he said.
The simplicity of it took Chris’s breath away. But then, that was Vin. True aim and a truer heart. The iron fist that had been clenching Chris’s heart relaxed its hold. He went to Vin, stroked a curved knuckle down his cheek. "I got some steaks, hash browns. Think you could eat?"
Vin smiled. "Yeah, I think I could." He caught Chris’s wrist, held it lightly braceleted in his fingers. "Missed you, cowboy."
Chris chuckled. "Then you need t’keep up your strength. I’m cookin’." A quick kiss, lips burned across a stubbled cheek, and though he knew there were other words to say -- words that had to be said -- they would wait quietly and not gnaw at his heart.
***************
The words waited through the evening. They ate, then lay on the couch and listened to a hockey game; Chris providing a play-by-play more descriptive than the color-commentator, and Vin stretched out alongside him, legs tangled with Chris’s, his head on Chris’s shoulder, content, even without sight. He knew Larabee wanted to talk, but Lord, he was tired, and right now all he wanted was to absorb Chris’s warmth, Chris’s strength. But he could also feel that Chris was rolling ideas around in his head, and wasn’t half as relaxed as he was pretending to be.
He turned, tilting his head up slightly. "Ya got somethin’ t’say?"
Chris’s shoulder hunched beneath his cheek. When he spoke, his voice had a rough edge to it. "I went to the office. Talked to Josiah. Spent a lot of the time staring at the pictures on the wall. Thought about what this job means to me. What it means to all of us." His fingers moved idly through Vin’s hair. "After Sarah and Adam died, I swore I’d draw a line between my personal life and the job, and I’d never cross that line again. And now I can’t do that -- separate the two -- because the job is part of us both. I’m still fighting with that, Vin."
Vin was quiet for a while. The same emotions had torn him apart; his feelings for Chris, the job, and the team, battling inside of him for a long time. Once he and Chris had become lovers, he had found peace, accepting that the three were, and always would be, irrevocably entwined. That complicated love was the best thing that had ever happened in his life, and he wouldn’t regret it to his dying day. Didn’t matter if it was tomorrow or fifty years from now.
He knew it was harder for Chris, carrying the loss of his wife and son. He couldn’t soothe those wounds, didn’t think he should try. That was Chris’s burden; all he could do was make it a little lighter. Vin sighed, searching for the right words. "Maybe you should stop fightin’," he finally said. He took Chris’s hand and laid it over his throbbing heart. "Ya feel that? You ever seen a picture of a heart? You could cut it in two, an’ the parts would look about the same, but ya cain’t live with jist a half."
For the second time that night, Vin had taken his breath away. Chris ached to look into his eyes and see the poet’s soul that shone there and was so rarely revealed. He cradled Vin’s face between his hands, feeling the strength in those fine bones. "You ..." he cleared his throat, shook his head.
Vin traced his thumb across Chris’s mouth. "What?" he rasped softly.
"This." He captured Vin’s fingers, kissed them, flicked his tongue across the sensitive tips, making Vin gasp. "And this." His lips found Vin’s, moving slowly over the pliant contours; lingering on the sweet curve of his lower lip. His kisses moved to Vin’s temple. "And this ..."
"It’s jist me, Larabee. Ain’t nuthin’ y’ain’t seen b’fore."
"I could spend the rest of my life with you and still be amazed." Like he was now, watching the blush rising in Vin’s face. "You just remember that, okay?"
It was Vin’s turn to be speechless. The love, the commitment, Chris offered was more than he’d had from anybody in his entire life. There were times when it frightened him; to need and want someone as badly as he needed and wanted Chris. No one had ever told him that this was love, this was how it felt. He was flying blind, literally, trusting that this man would carry him, would protect him, would not let him fall. So many others had, leaving him bruised and wary. But not Chris; even when he thought he had failed, Vin knew he was there, watching his back. He sighed. "I’ll remember." He shivered a little, thinking that the dark would be unbearable without Chris there.
"You cold?"
"Little bit."
"Think it’s time I got you into bed."
A faint stir of unease. "I ain’t helpless, Chris."
Chris laughed, pulled him close. "Umm, you ever think I might have a vested interest in that?"
Vin chuckled. "I love it when ya talk dirty, cowboy."
Chris’s response was to nuzzle against Vin’s ear, nip at the lobe and whisper, "Fuck you."
"Y’askin’ or tellin’?"
"Both." Those maddening lips moved from his earlobe down his throat, caressed the line of his jaw, and then rested against his own. "Your decision."
As much as Vin wanted Chris and craved the closeness of sex and the reassurance of love, he couldn’t, not tonight. His emotions were all jumbled; uncertainty and reluctance warring with desire. He had played a game in his mind often enough, a sexual tease of blindness and exploration, but reality had taken the erotic edge off of that fantasy, and he didn’t like thinking about it being a permanent condition. He caressed Chris’s face and neck. "Either way’s all right," he sighed. "But jist not tonight."
Chris drew away. "You feel that bad?" From the worry in his voice, Vin could see the expression on Larabee’s face; vertical lines between the brows, green eyes narrowed with concern and searching for signs of illness or fatigue that he might have missed.
"I’m all right." He frowned. "Tired, is all. But I miss seein’ ya, Chris. Miss bein’ able t’look in yer eyes. Y’understand?"
"I understand." Chris’s arms tightened their hold. "You worried about what Dr. Rheinhardt will say tomorrow?"
"I want ta rip off these bandages and open my eyes -- test ‘em out --"
Chris captured his hands, as if that action were a real possibility. "Vin, don’t --"
He snorted softly, amused and touched by the protective gesture. "I ain’t stupid." He sat up, scrubbed at his stubbled cheeks. "Am tired, though." He stood up, stretched out his back and grimaced as the muscles twinged. He felt Chris stand behind him and set a warm, strong palm on the small of his back. He began a slow massage until Vin groaned softly and leaned into the welcome pressure. When Vin sighed and drooped against him, Chris draped an arm across his shoulders, and they wandered down the hall towards the bedroom.
They paused, and Chris turned him to the right. "Bathroom. Brush your teeth like a good little boy while I turn down the bed."
Vin dug a sharp elbow into his ribs. "Yes, mom," he mocked. When he negotiated his way to the bedroom, he leaned against the jamb, aware that he could hear Chris breathe, could smell the drift of his soap, could feel the air stir as he moved about the room. He’d heard that other senses adapted when vision was taken; maybe it was true, but nothing could replace it. And right now, he was yearning to have it back so much it hurt.
He felt his way to the bed and sat down, exhaustion washing through him. He let Chris undress him, felt the way his hands turned each movement into a caress. Dizzy with longing, and at the same time too tired to move, he let Chris lay him down and pull the soft, cool covers over him. "Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Y’ain’t leaving, are ya?"
Chris paused. "You want me to stay the night?"
"Don’t think I could stand it if ya left," he said softly. Silence from Chris, and then he felt the mattress give and the motions of Larabee getting undressed. He heard him leave the room, water running in the bathroom, and the rattle of the old pipes when the toilet was flushed. There was a brief infiltration of cooler air as the covers were lifted, then Chris slid into bed, his smooth, hard body spooning around Vin’s. He laid a warm arm over his waist. Vin sighed. "Guess yer stayin’," he said, content and slipping into sleep even as he spoke.
"Guess so, partner." Chris settled deeper into the mattress, letting Vin’s slender body adapt to the curves of his larger frame. Tanner was a quiet sleeper, breath and body, and Chris loved the feel of him as he slept; butt snugged up tight to Chris’s crotch, which made for some mighty interesting mornings, but tonight just left him with a slight ache of arousal that faded as he let himself sink into weary slumber.
**********************
Chris didn’t need an alarm the next morning. A slight shift in position and a soft, deep breath communicated the change from sleep to wakefulness, and he knew Vin was up. They both lay quietly, savoring the morning feel of their bodies close and warm. Vin finally turned from his side to his back, uttering a slight grunt of pain as his shoulder came in contact with Chris’s chest.
"Mornin’."
"Seems about right. How’re you feeling?"
"Little stiff and sore. A hot shower would feel real good."
Chris lifted up on his elbow. "You can manage that?"
"I think so." He ran a slow hand down Chris’s chest. "If I cain’t, yer welcome t’lend a hand."
Chris’s cock stirred with interest, and he knew from Vin’s smile that the Texan felt it too. His hand drifted lower, and Chris nudged it aside. "Save it for later, partner. You’ve got t’be at the hospital in an hour."
"I know," he said softly. "I ain’t fergot." He sat up, Chris’s hand at his back. "Jist tryin’ t’push it outta my mind fer a while."
Chris rubbed Vin’s back in small, comforting circles. The flesh was smooth over the curves of muscle and bone and he put his lips to Vin’s shoulder blade, breathing in the scents of sleep, sweat, and the man he loved. "I’ll be there no matter what happens, you know that."
Vin’s head dipped, and Chris knew that he had moved Vin beyond words. He didn’t need words, all he needed was for Vin to be whole, restored, and at his side. He firmed his grip on Vin’s uninjured shoulder. "But if we don’t get moving here, we’ll never make it on time, and I don’t know about you, but the last person I want to piss off is Dr. Elizabeth Stone. And seein’ as she’s responsible for stitching up your miserable hide every time you get hurt, neither should you."
Vin’s smile broadened. "You got that right, cowboy." He leaned forward, missing Chris’s lips and landing a kiss on his chin. "Damn, m’aim’s all screwed up." He took Chris’s jaw in his fingers, turned it slightly, and this time, found his target, before he slid his legs over the side of the bed.
Chris stood up and stretched. He went into the bathroom, started the water running, made sure that there were towels ready, and set the bath mat on the floor so Vin wouldn’t slip. "I’m gonna start coffee. You’re all set in here. If you need anything --"
Vin stood in the doorway. "I’ll call." He paused for a moment. "Thanks, Chris."
"I’ll send my bill later. When you’re done, I’ll tape up that shoulder and put fresh gauze on your eyes, just don’t get it too wet."
Vin sketched a salute. "Yes, sir. Now git outta here, or I will be late."
Chris went into the kitchen and started coffee brewing. He found bread, butter, and honey; three staples Vin was never without. There were four boxes of cereal in the cupboard, ranging from coma-inducing, sugar-coated flakes to relatively sensible raisin bran. Chris grinned and shook his head. Amazing what the kitchen revealed about the taciturn, sharp-eyed Texan.
Chris’s cell phone rang as he set out the cereal on the counter. "Larabee."
"Well, good mornin’ to you, too, old pard."
"Mornin’, Buck." Chris poured a mug of coffee and carried it into the living room.
"Where are you?"
"Right now?"
"Hell, yes. Right now."
"Is there a problem?"
"Larabee, when yer ready t’stop playin’ Twenty Questions let me know, all right?"
Chris grinned. "Sorry. At Vin’s."
"What’s at Vin’s?"
"At the moment, I am."
"You stay there all night?"
Chris looked down the hall. The bathroom door was still closed, the shower still running. "I didn’t want him to be alone. Purgatorio isn’t exactly the safest place for a man who can’t see, even if that man is Vin Tanner."
"How’s he doin’?"
"It’s rough, Buck. He’s got an appointment with Dr. Rheinhardt this morning to check on his progress since yesterday. And Dr. Stone wants to take a look at his shoulder, though that seems to be healing well."
"You comin’ in to the office first?"
"Not unless I need to. Vin’s appointment is early."
"Think he’d mind if I met you there?"
Chris was silent. The shower had stopped running. "Listen, I can’t talk right now. I’ll call from the hospital." He flipped the phone shut. "Vin, you ready for some coffee?" he called down the hallway.
Vin padded into the kitchen. He was half-dressed; jeans and socks, his hair was damp and curling on his shoulders. He handed Chris the first aid kit he had carried from the bathroom. "Wrap me up, and let’s ride." While Chris bandaged, Vin drank coffee and had a quick breakfast of bread with butter and honey.
He didn’t speak during the drive to the hospital. The silence wasn’t unusual between them; neither man was much of a talker, but this quiet was filled with unspoken words; fear and hope mingling in an unsettled tension that small talk wouldn’t alleviate.
Vin waited at the front of the medical center while Chris parked the Ram. He was in unfamiliar surroundings, and the bandages over his eyes made him feel conspicuous and clumsy. He stood to one side of the doors, aware that there were people coming and going, and wondering if they were all staring at him with pity and curiosity. He shrank further back against the brick wall and recalled other times when he had sought the shadows, hoping that no one would take notice of him. Usually they hadn’t -- at times he imagined he was invisible. The anonymity was both comforting and painful. He thought back to the Wellesville Children’s Home on visiting days, when folks would come and take a look at what was available. Good people who wanted a kid to share their lives, hard-eyed people looking for an extra pair of hands, and some who just got their rocks off by being kind to those less fortunate. They were the ones who pretended not to see him; that skinny, shabby kid shrinking in the corner of the room. Yeah, there must be something wrong with that one, they thought and walked away ...
"Vin?"
The light touch on his arm brought his own hands up defensively before he realized it was Chris. Ashamed, he dropped them back at his sides. "Sorry, ya startled me." He felt a blush burning in his cheeks. "Sorry," he repeated, and hated his voice for shaking.
Chris didn’t say a word. He didn’t take Vin’s arm, but led him by the pressure of his shoulder, guiding him when he needed it, but taking it slow and easy, until they reached Dr. Stone’s office. "You ready?" Chris asked.
Vin drew a deep breath. "Yeah. This is the easy part."
Chris knew that wasn’t true, but at least Elizabeth Stone was a familiar presence. He wondered if Vin preferred being treated by a woman, if that touch was easier for him to bear than a man’s. It didn’t matter either way to Chris, but he’d never edured the abuse that Vin had at the hands of other men. Dr. Stone was an intelligent woman, and Chris knew when she treated Vin, she took extra care, seeming to know that he needed a softer voice and a gentler hand than most, and yet somehow managed not to smother him. She gave as good as she got from the smart-mouthed Texan, and for that, Chris was extremely grateful. Of course, she’d give him hell for slicing up his fingers, but that would be a distraction from the coming examination by Dr. Rheinhardt.
Chris was right about that. When she saw the bandages on Vin’s fingers, she scowled fiercely. "Now what?"
"It’s nothin’, doc. Jist a couple cuts and Chris fixed ‘em up good."
"We’ll see. Come on back," she sighed, and set her arm over Vin’s shoulder to guide him from the waiting room. Chris stayed behind to call Buck. He got voice mail, which didn’t surprise him, left a message and waited. It wasn’t long before Vin came out, followed by Dr. Stone.
"Well?" Chris asked.
"I’m fine."
"Yeah, sure. Mind if I consult with the doctor?"
Dr. Stone laughed. "He’s fine, Chris. The shoulder wound is healing nicely. He should take it easy. You’re his boss. Make sure he does."
"Yes, ma’am."
"Good job on his fingers, by the way."
Vin snorted. "Don’t encourage him t’hang up his shingle, Doc."
"Heavens no! With my luck, he’d end up being chief of medicine," she smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder. "Let’s try to take a month off, Vin. I’d like to squeeze in a few weeks of vacation without being called back for an emergency."
"Hell, Doc. I’m payin’ fer that vacation." Vin gave Dr. Stone the warm, sweet smile that so few people saw. Her eyes softened and misted over, but her reply was as tart as ever.
"Then go bother Dr. Rheinhardt. She could use a vacation, too." She smiled at Chris, mouthed the words, Take care, and retreated back into her office.
Vin took a breath and released it. "Well, one down, one to go. Let’s git this over with."
*******************
They waited for nearly an hour for Dr. Rheinhardt to finish an emergency surgery; Vin growing more restless and tense by the minute. He sat next to Chris, his fingers drumming on the arms of the chair, then his knees; then his leg began a nervous jiggling that nearly drove Chris wild. There was no one else in the waiting room, and, finally, Chris caught Vin’s fingers in his, and settled them on Vin’s thigh, stilling that motion as well. Vin caught his breath in alarm, and Chris hushed him. "Easy. There’s no one else here. Just me."
"I know. Don’t need nobody else." He straightened in his chair and gave Chris’s hand a brief squeeze before he released it. "Wish she’d get here, though."
"Yeah."
Silence fell again. Vin slid down on his spine and folded his hands over his stomach. Chris thought if he were wearing that old slouch-brimmed hat he kept at the ranch, he’d tip it down over his eyes like a sure ‘nough cowboy. But his nerves seemed to have settled; either that, or he was disguising them well.
"Vin, I’m gonna step out and give Buck a call, see if there’s anything going on at the office."
"Sure. Ain’t like I got somewhere else t’be."
Chris trailed a light finger across Vin’s lips. "I’ll be back." He stood in the corridor and punched in Buck’s number.
"Wilmington."
"Where are you?"
"Didn’t we have this conversation already?"
"Buck ..." Chris warned.
"If ya look up, you’ll see me walkin’ in the door, old son." Buck’s laughter came from the phone and from the doorway. He waved his phone at Chris. "Hey there." He sauntered over, his eyes glinting brightly. "Vin in with the doctor?"
"I hope so. She’s kept us waiting an hour." When Buck’s brow shot up, Chris amended, "Emergency surgery."
"Bet Junior’s about ready to climb the walls."
"He’s all right." Chris couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering back to the doctor’s office. "How’s work?"
"Deader n’ a doornail. Seems like all the crooks’ve scattered to the four winds."
Chris gave him a grim smile. "They’ll be back." He shook his head, seemed to bring himself back to what was most important. "I’m going back in."
"Want some company?"
"Didn’t think you drove all this way to turn around and leave." He was caught between relief at having Buck’s steadying presence at his side, and wondering how he would keep his feelings for Vin hidden from Buck’s sharp eyes. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d manage, and he was glad to have him there. The man was a rock, and the truest friend he’d had in his life.
The waiting room was empty, and the receptionist looked out at them and smiled. "Mr. Tanner is with the doctor. He’ll be a while." Chris caught Buck’s blue eyes kindle with interest for the pretty young woman. He laughed softly. "She’s wearing a ring, Buck. You’ll have to throw your line in elsewhere."
"It never hurts to look. And speaking of looking ... how long’s it been since you went out on a date?"
Chris’s stomach burned. "Not as long as you think. I ain’t the kind to kiss and tell, you know that."
"Well, all I know is it ain’t natural for a man to be alone."
"Maybe it depends on the man, Buck." Chris wondered what Buck would have said if he had asked in turn if it were any more natural for a man to be with another man?
"Sarah wouldn’t want --"
"Leave it, Buck." Chris’s voice was flat and cold, and Buck subsided, knowing too well the end result of his temper. Chris shook his head. "I’m all right."
"Yeah, well, if you ever decide you’re not, I’ve got some friends who would be mighty glad to cheer you up."
"I’ll let you know." Buck’s blue eyes were narrowed, but he nodded, accepting the answer for now. Relieved, Chris leaned forward, focusing on the door leading to the examination rooms. How long would this take?
*******************
Dr. Rheinhardt cut the gauze strips and carefully pulled the pads away from Vin’s eyes. His respiration was short and shallow, and she realized that this man, who was so skilled with deadly weapons, was terrified of *her*. She laid her hands over his where they rested on the arms of the examination chair. "Did that hurt?" she asked.
"No."
"Good. Now do me a favor and relax. I’m not going to do anything that will hurt you, all right?"
Vin nodded. "Sure, Doc."
"First, I’m going to shine a light in your eyes to take a look at your corneas and see if your pupils are reacting normally. It will be bright, but I want you to try to keep your eyes open. Ready?"
The intrusion of the beam from the ophthalmoscope made Vin shrink back and wince, but he held steady, and it was over quickly. "Good." Dr. Rheinhardt turned off the light. "Very good. The swelling around your eyes is nearly gone, the burns are fading, and your corneas and pupils look good."
"Do I need t’have the bandages on again?" Vin asked.
"No. But you will need dark glasses for a few more days. Your eyes will be pretty sensitive for a while yet. Now, let’s check out your vision. No more bright lights, just open your eyes."
Vin swallowed the huge lump in his throat. He took a deep breath. He opened his eyes. For a moment, the lights swam in a myriad of rainbow colors. He blinked away the tears that blurred his vision. Dr. Rheinhardt gently blotted them with a tissue. "Don’t force it, you’ll adapt naturally," she advised.
He closed his eyes, opened them again. He backed up against the chair and blinked. He saw a pretty, sharp-featured woman with grey hair and eyes, watching him with concern. Aside from a very slight blurring in his right eye, he could see her clearly. "Nice t’meet you, Dr. Rheinhardt."
She smiled. "How is your vision?"
"Right eye’s a bit blurry."
"Mmm. I’m not surprised. But from what I saw today, it will continue to heal. I think it will be 100 percent in a few days."
"Good as new?"
"I’d say so. You are a very lucky young man. I want you to come back in a week for a final check-up."
"Yes, ma’am. Thank you."
Her eyes crinkled at his old-fashioned courtesy. She found his vulnerability touching, and she had been very glad that his prognosis was so excellent. She wouldn’t have wanted to face his formidable boss, Chris Larabee, with less than sanguine news. "Do you have sunglasses with you?"
"No, ma’am. Didn’t know that I’d need ‘em."
She pulled a pair of disposable sunglasses from her desk. "These are temporary until you get a *good* pair -- none of those dimestore glasses."
He grinned. "Ma’am, I’m a sharpshooter, I’ve got a pair, don’t worry." He slid down from the chair. It felt good to be able to see, to orient himself visually, to feel normal again. He hooked the arms of the sunglasses over his ears, and with a nod of gratitude, went out into the waiting room.
**********************
"Hell, I reckon you fellers give new meaning t’that sayin’, ‘a sight fer sore eyes."
Chris’s head came up sharply, then as if pulled by marionette strings, the rest of his body followed, and the only thing that kept him from betraying every emotion filling his heart was Buck’s rowdy crow of laughter and those damned long legs of his that carried him across the floor before Chris could reach out to Vin.
"Junior! You c’n see?"
"You and that shit-eatin’ grin on yer face, Bucklin."
"All right!" Buck clapped a hand on his shoulder and Vin yelped, making Buck back away with his hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, wrong shoulder."
"Watch it ‘r I’ll sick Doc Stone on ya."
Buck actually paled. "Think I’ll head on back to the office, tell the others the good news."
Vin laughed. "Ya cain’t run and ya cain’t hide."
Buck turned to Chris, still standing back out of the way, and caught an expression on his boss’ face that made him look away fast. The only other people who could bring that emotion to Chris had been Sarah and Adam. Somehow, Vin had found his way into the heart that Larabee had kept closed and guarded since their deaths. Buck didn’t know if he should be glad or worried. He didn’t know what the hell he should think, but right now he wanted to celebrate the restoration of Vin’s sight.
"Tell ya what. Why don’t we meet at Inez’s fer drinks? I’ll round up the rest of the team and we’ll make a night of it."
Chris raised a brow. "Umm, I’ve taken sick time today, but I don’t recall filing any paperwork for the rest of you."
"Hell, you’re the boss, Chris. Can’t ya just bend the rules a bit fer t’day?"
Chris looked at the toes of his boots, at Vin. The small shake of Tanner’s head told him all he needed to know. "Right now, I’m taking Vin back to his place. And if he’s feeling up to it, we’ll meet you at Inez’s later. I’ll call."
His voice was even, pleasant, but there was that Larabee look in his eyes that would brook no argument. Buck tried to see past it, and couldn’t. "I’ll tell the team." He held out his hand to Vin. "I’m real glad things worked out, Junior."
"Thanks fer bein’ here, Buck." Vin clasped his hand and gave it a brotherly shake.
"Hell, what was I supposed to do? Couldn’t stand sittin’ and staring at the phone; not t’mention JD boucin’ his pencil on the desktop over and over. That boy’s gonna drive us all wild one a’ these days." He winked, tipped his hat, and ambled out of the office.
Vin felt Chris’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he turned to him. "Nice t’see you, cowboy."
"Let’s go home," Chris said.
************************
Funny what a couple days of not being able to see at all did for what you noticed when you could see, Vin thought during the drive back to his place. Even through the dark lenses of the sunglasses, colors and the shift of light and shadow seemed more pronounced. Watching other drivers, people walking down the sidewalks, the graffiti scrawled on the brick walls in colorful mosaics that belied the messages the gangs hid behind the graphics. Purgatorio hadn’t changed since he’d left for work that last time before his injury; hadn’t changed in twenty years, and wouldn’t likely change in another twenty, but it looked different, nonetheless.
"So, how’s it look, partner?"
Larabee was reading his mind again. Vin cocked his head, regarded Chris. "Maybe I’m seein’ things with fresh eyes, but it still ain’t gonna win any beauty contests."
Chris slanted a smile at him and set his hand over Vin’s where it rested on the leather seat between them. Vin threaded his fingers through Chris’s. "There’s other things I’d rather be lookin’ at," he sighed and set his head against the back of the seat, still turned towards Chris, but his eyes unreadable behind the dark glasses.
Chris wheeled the Ram into a parking place on the street. They got out, and Vin stretched a bit, bending the kinks out of his back. The release of tension was beginning to hit him, and he felt lightheaded, as if the only thing that had been holding him steady was the uncertainty of his eyesight.
"Vin?" Chris tapped his shoulder, and he realized he had been standing there, staring at nothing. "You all right?"
Vin rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Daydreamin’ I guess." He followed Chris inside and up the stairs. Sighted now, he wouldn’t take the elevator, which oddly hadn’t bothered him when his eyes had been bandaged.
Chris wrestled with the locks, opened the door, and Vin stepped inside. Home. Shabby, inconvenient, at times downright dangerous, but home nonetheless. He went to the tall windows and looked out. Wasn’t a bad view -- on a good day you could see the mountains in the distance and the sprawl of the city all around.
Chris stood behind him, so close that when he breathed, his body brushed Vin’s. He reached over to tug the shade down, then set his hands on Vin’s shoulders, turning him. The light filtered through the translucent ivory shade bathing the room in a glow Michelangelo couldn’t tint to match. Chris gently pulled Vin’s sunglasses off. "I’ve been waiting for this," he said.
Vin’s eyes were open, clear but for the slight irritation in the right one. The swelling was gone, and only the reddened skin above his cheekbones remained from the chemical burns. It could have been so much worse, Chris thought, and guilt turned again. Vin saw it ghosting through his eyes, and shook his head.
"You c’n carry that with ya fer the rest of your life, Chris, or ya can let it go right now, if you want me t’stick around."
The choice was easier than he deserved.
Vin saw the weight leave him; saw guilt shift and passion kindle. Smiling, he slid his arm around Chris’s lean waist and pulled him close. "I always said ya were smart, cowboy."
"I feel slow," Chris whispered, his lips teasing Vin’s, and the flare of desire in those blue eyes took his breath away. His arms wrapped around Tanner’s slim body and their mouths met, brushed, then clung. Their tongues twined and tangled in an intimate dance, and the temperature in the room seemed to shoot up twenty degrees. Then they were at buttons and buckles; quick, fumbling, somehow managing to find their way to the bedroom without losing physical contact. Lips, hands, a pause for a kiss; then they were on Vin’s bed, and stripped.
Breathing hard, Chris raised himself over Vin and looked down at him. Tanner’s hair was tangled over the pillows, his blue eyes narrowed and dark with arousal. He brought his hand up and ran his fingers over Chris’s mouth, down the length of his throat, then back up to brush through the fall of blond hair over his forehead.
"I’s afraid I wasn’t gonna see this ever again," he breathed. "Was afraid I’d fergit what ya look like ... "
"I’d have been here." Chris ran a finger slowly down Vin’s body, from the notch of his collarbone to the shallow dip of his naval. "And here ..." His lips followed the trail of warmth. "And here." Breath whispered across his groin and Vin gasped. His fingers threaded through Chris’s hair, and dreamlike, he waited, breathing softly.
Chris drew in the scent of Vin’s body, of the sweet, musky warmth of sex. The veins below the skin pulsed faintly against his cheek. Vin moved, his cock brushing against Chris’s cheek, and Larabee took that invitation. His mouth closed over the head and he tongued the sensitive slit, tasting the salty, rich fluid gathering there. He swallowed, and Vin made a strangled sound in his throat. Chris pressed his tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock. Vin’s hips thrust upwards, and Chris, smiling to himself, sucked and took Vin deep. He worked the shaft with his mouth and teased Vin’s sac with his fingers, loving the sounds he wrung from his normally quiescent lover.
A flush of heat spread from Vin’s groin, sweat misted his skin. God, Larabee was so good! His mouth, his tongue, perfect; and Vin was just sore and tired enough to let Chris carry him as far as he could without bringing him to climax. Chris released him to find the lube and slick up his hand. Long, strong fingers slid between Vin’s ass cheeks, rimmed him. Vin sank down into that touch, felt Chris’s finger penetrate gently, firmly, and when Larabee hit his gland, and his mouth worked him just right, Vin gave up everything.
Chris drank down Vin’s cum, held his cock in his mouth until the flesh softened, and released him with a sigh. His own body was thrumming like the strings of a guitar, aching for his own release, yet waiting for Vin to drift back from where his passion had carried him.
Vin opened dreamy eyes, saw Chris looking down at him, warm and smiling, but with a look about him that was hard, predatory, and expectant. Vin knew that look, knew what it meant. It sent a shiver up his spine, and kindled a fire in him to satisfy the need in this man he loved. He set a palm on Chris’s shoulder and forced him back on the pillows.
Chris’s eyes glittered. The sunlight coming through the blinds laid stripes along his body, tawny gold and shadowy blue, rippling across his muscles, moving like living water when he breathed. Awed, Vin stroked firm hands down to Chris’s pelvis. His fingers swirled through the rough curls surrounding his sex. Chris shivered, and the light on his skin trembled like it was sifting through aspen leaves stirred by the wind. Lord, he could have learned to live without this, learned to love with his hands and mind, but never to see this again would break his heart.
Vin closed his fingers over Chris’s cock and watched his lover arch into that touch. He slicked the pearl of semen over the head, and the skin gleamed as a warm band of light shifted across the flushed surface. Chris was writhing, his fingers gathering the blankets into his fists, his features taut as he concentrated on every sensation that poured through him. Vin’s cock was hard again, hot. He fumbled for the lube, found it, coated his hand and his shaft, then wrapped his fingers around Chris, pumping him until Chris’s hips jerked up convulsively. Vin’s fingers worked the rim of muscle at Chris’s hole, slid in the relaxed ring and stretched it. He was burning; breathless enough to match Chris, beyond patience. His cock was slick, Chris was loosened and ready. Vin slid inside and Chris cried out, not in pain, but in welcome. Their bodies found their rhythms. Vin’s left hand twined fingers with Chris’s, his right stroked and pumped his cock, his body surged hard and fast. Light and dark, sensation, breath, and life swirled into an overwhelming climax. They rose to the pinnacle of sensation together, they fell together, and drifted back to the world, together.
Chris slept, and Vin, though awake, lay close to him, on his stomach, his arm thrown across Chris’s chest. His head was turned towards Chris. That restless, impatient man was so seldom still, that to be there with him like this was a gift to be savored. Vin watched him through a veil of his own hair, warmed and iridescent in the sunlight. The rainbows were dazzling, and he marveled at the colors; at the shift of the spectrum as the strands were stirred by breath and currents of air. He was still for a long time, just studying his lover, until the growing ache in his shoulder made him cautiously shift his position.
Even that slight movement roused Larabee. He stretched and reached out a long arm to gather Vin close. "Come here often, cowboy?"
"Every time." Vin’s grin lit his face. "Ya ought ta be able t’figure that out, seein’ as yer so smart."
Chris laughed through a wide yawn. "What time is it?"
"’Bout four, I reckon."
Chris knew he meant that literally. Vin reckoned, not often needing a clock, as if light and shadows were enough to tell the time. Another loss avoided. A line of pain drew across Chris’s heart, quick and fleeting, then gone. "I guess we’d better clean up and get ourselves over to Inez’s for Buck’s celebration."
They showered and dressed, Chris borrowing a plain dark shirt from Vin, which fit him since Vin liked them long and loose. Vin leaned against the wall and watched him as he tucked it in his jeans. "Looks good on ya." Seeing Chris wearing his shirt gave him a warm stir in his groin, and Larabee, catching that glimpse of heat in his eyes, grinned into the mirror.
"Save it. We don’t have time."
"Got time fer this." Vin pushed himself off the wall and prowled over to Chris. He hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him close enough to kiss. He loved the taste of Chris, the shape and firmness of his lips. He loved the sleek form of him, the strong curve of muscle and bone; broad shoulders, and narrow hips, the press of his thighs.
He wanted it to be like this more often than it was; just him and Chris, together. Maybe he was just being greedy, maybe he was asking too much. He hadn’t had much in his life. Had lost more than he’d owned, been hurt more than he cared to remember. Here, in Chris’s arms, he had everything he’d ever need for eternity.
He sighed, backed away a bit, not realizing that so much of his thoughts had been in his kiss, until Chris’s hand slid to the nape of his neck and held him there. "You want me to call Buck and tell him we’re not coming?" he asked, his green eyes grave.
It was a temptation. Vin sighed. "Nah, Buck’s countin’ on us bein’ there."
"Then we’d better get going." Chris combed his fingers through Vin’s hair, kissed him once, lightly, then stepped away. "Just kick me when you’re ready to leave."
"Jist don’t fergit ya told me that." He bumped his hip playfully against Chris’s as they left he apartment, and Chris felt another shackle of guilt drop away.
**********************
Inez Recillos was used to the sight of the seven men gathered around two tables shoved together, used to the sounds of mirth that rang from that part of the room. When they weren’t there, the place seemed empty even when all the tables were filled.
Their laughter ranged from JD’s boyish shout, to Josiah and Nathan’s deep-throated chuckles, and Buck Wilmington’s full, rich, masculine laugh. Ezra tended to wry commentary rather than vocal amusement, while Chris and Vin were nearly silent, with only their eyes reflecting their thoughts.
It was good to have them all there. Buck and JD had been in last night and had told her about Vin’s injuries, and she had gone home and prayed that God would love him enough to heal him. Looking at the light in those beautiful blue eyes, she couldn’t imagine a more cruel fate than that they should be sightless and dark. And the answering light in Chris Larabee’s told her more than anything else that Vin would be all right.
She loaded up her tray with six glasses of beer and one red wine, and carried it over to the table. "Gentlemen, this round’s on the house." She set the tray down, stood next to Vin, and ruffled his hair. "And yours are free all night."
"Now, sweetheart, that ain’t fair," Buck protested. "Junior here, never drinks more’n three in an evenin’ and seein’ as he just got out a’ the hospital, he shouldn’t indulge --"
"Y’oughtta be ashamed, Bucklin, angling fer my drinks," Vin said and slapped Buck’s hand away from his mug. "Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with m’sight, so hands off."
"I was just helpin’ Inez pass things around," Buck protested. Instead of grabbing another mug, he reached for Inez’s hand.
JD giggled. "Looks more like you’re making a pass, than making to pass, Buck!"
Inez snatched her fingers away, Buck’s hand closed on air, and JD laughed so hard that tears ran down his face.
Vin laughed, too; nearly silently, his arm tight against his ribs. He slouched down on the bench seat, his right thigh pressed against Chris’s, feeling the warm strength of it setting his nerves to humming. He looked at the men gathered around him; brothers and friends, strong and steady. He thought of all the times they had been there for him, watching his back. How often Buck had shored him up with laughter and courage. And JD, armed more often with a laptop than a gun, and nearly as deadly with his weapon of choice as Vin was with his. Josiah, watching his soul, and Nathan his body. And Ezra, casual about his own bravery, but with more grit than anyone suspected. He was absurdly happy to be there with them, getting more of a buzz from their presence than from the beer in front of him.
Buck recovered enough of his dignity to pass around the drinks, and Ezra stood up, his glass of Cabernet in hand. "Seeing as I have been elected official toastmaster of this fete, I would ask you all to take up your glasses and drink to the recovery of our sharpshooter, our teammate, our friend. Lord, I don’t care to imagine what we would have done without the ameliorating effect his presence has on the combustible temperament of our fearless leader. To Mr. Tanner -- to Vin."
The others raised their mugs, and Vin’s cheeks burned and his eyes teared. He coughed, hoping that would cover his embarrassment. He felt the steady pressure of Chris’s leg, and the quick, encouraging squeeze of his fingers beneath the table. He took a breath, set both hands on the table and stood up. "Thanks, Ez. Didn’t understand more’n half a’ the words, but I reckon I got the jist of it. Y’all ‘re everything ya said, and more t’me. And seein’ as you’re my teammates and ... friends ... Least I could do is not t’leave ya t’deal with Larabee alone." He ducked his head and sat back down, listening to the laughter, to Chris’s protest that he was not all that hot-tempered and impatient, which made everyone come up with at least one example illustrating that he was.
Inez brought a second round of drinks, and Vin sipped his slowly and sat in silence, as if his speech had used up all the words he had that evening. He put his dark glasses on to shield his eyes and let himself drift into a half-doze.
Josiah was the first to leave since he was taking the night shift at the shelter where he volunteered, and Nathan left soon after to pick Rain up from the hospital after work. JD got a phone call from Casey that sent him off in a hurry, and Ezra drank his wine, excused himself and went wherever Ezra went after hours, leaving Chris and Buck to reminisce over old cases, old days, and old times.
Somewhere between the drinks and the stories, Chris realized that the silence from Vin was approaching deafening. He lifted the rim of his sunglasses, saw the long lashes closed and the face peaceful. He smiled, set down his glass. "I think the guest of honor needs to go home."
"All those free drinks wasted," Buck said regretfully. "You want some help?"
"Nah, piece of cake." Chris shook Vin’s shoulder. "Hey, cowboy. Rise n’shine."
"What?" Vin pushed himself upright from his slouch, and pushed the dark glasses up his nose. "Last call, already?"
"Last call for you, partner. C’mon, before you drift off again."
"I’m awake," he protested.
"Yeah, right. You sure you don’t want me t’come with ya, Chris? Help ya carry Junior up all them stairs?"
"Don’t need carryin’, Bucklin," Vin said crossly. He stood up, swayed on his feet, felt Chris’s arm come around his waist. Aware that Buck was watching, and that the man might be occasionally blind, but never stupid, he pulled away from Chris. "Thanks, guess it’s the beer goin’ t’my knees."
"In that case ya might reconsider my offer," Buck grinned. He laid his arm over Vin’s shoulders. "Least let me help ya out to the truck. I reckon I’m goin’ yer way."
Vin didn’t need the support, but he walked out to the Ram with Chris on one side and Buck on the other. Friends did for friends, that’s what his grandpa had always told him, and he’d learned to value that advice. You didn’t take friendship lightly, or slap aside an open hand. When they reached the truck, Vin paused with one foot on the running board. "Thanks fer givin’ up yer Friday night date, Buck. I owe ya."
A wide, white smile lit Buck’s face. "Shoot, who said I was givin’ anything up? And I owe you a hell of a lot more than a Friday night beer. You take care, Junior." He waited as Vin hauled himself up into the Ram, then closed the door and gave it a slap. "See ya on Monday." He snapped a salute to Chris, and ambled off towards his own truck.
Chris watched Buck until he vanished into a pool of shadow. He turned the key and the Ram roared to life. Vin turned his head towards Chris. "Someday he’s gonna figure this all out. You know that?"
Chris sighed. "I know. But not tonight. And I don’t intend to worry about it." He put the truck into gear and started driving. When they got to the intersection he stopped and gave Vin a look "We have a choice. I can drive us both out to the ranch, or I can take you home. Your call."
Vin figured that as much as he wanted to be with Chris, Larabee might prefer a night in his own bed, away from Purgatorio. "It’s late," he said, as if that were an answer to the question.
Chris thought it was. He made the turn towards Purgatorio. When he pulled up in front of the apartment building, Vin set his hand on the door handle, but paused there. "You coming up?" he asked.
Chris raised an eyebrow. "I thought I might."
"I hate t’keep you away from the ranch. You’ve been here for a couple days now."
"Things’ll keep. I called the neighbors to take care of the horses, and the house sure doesn’t need me there." Chris reached across to stroke Vin’s cheek. "If you want me to stay, I’ll stay."
Vin drew a deep breath. "I want you to stay."
"Good, because I sure as hell didn’t want to drive for another hour tonight." He turned off the ignition. "All you ever have to do is ask, Vin."
He turned to Chris, pale in the light of the street lamp. Chris was watching him with nothing but tenderness and comprehension in his green eyes. "I ain’t used to askin’ I guess," he said softly.
Because if he didn’t ask, he wouldn’t be rejected, Chris thought angrily. Pride could only take so much, and Vin had chosen to hang on to dignity rather than be reduced to begging. "Ask me," Chris said.
Vin’s shoulders lifted as he inhaled like he was about to dive into deep water. He turned to Chris, the streetlights shadowing his features. "Will ya stay the night, Chris?" The breath of the question lingered.
Chris smiled. "Tonight ... always. As long as you want me around." Their hands clasped, warm, firm, strong.
Vin’s mouth curved in that twist of a smile that could heat Chris up faster than a striking match. "Guess I c’n get used to that." He nodded once, and knew Chris understood without fancy words, how much it meant to him.
Epilogue
Timing was everything. The day, the weather, the phases of the moon, the company he kept. And when it was perfect, it was ... perfect. Chris had waited for this, prayed that everything would work in concert when he needed it, and was still amazed that it had.
He guided Pony along the trail he had chosen, Vin riding on Peso, behind him. The trail was off a shared access with his neighbor’s land, and it had been a long time since he’d ridden there, and never with Vin. There were things he wanted Vin to see, and had put off for so long that it had nearly been too late.
He reined Pony to a standstill in the cool light of the full moon, waiting for Vin and Peso to catch up to him. The gelding had decided that he was going to take his own sweet time getting there, and Vin wasn’t disinclined to let him. Chris watched their approach; Vin slim and easy as he rode, Peso jittery as always, but held in check by Tanner’s skill. Chris loved to watch Vin ride. He had always considered himself a good horseman, but he’d had to work at it, while Vin looked as if he had been born to the saddle.
Vin slowed Peso, leaned on his saddle horn, and fixed Chris with brilliant eyes. "We there yet?"
"Gettin’ impatient?"
"Gettin’ mighty curious is all."
"It’s not far now." Chris took the bandanna off his neck. "You trust me?"
"You have ta ask?"
"For this, yes. Lean forward." Vin did so without hesitation, and Chris held out the bandanna. "Will you let me blindfold you?"
Vin’s eyes opened wide at that, but he didn’t say a word, and he didn’t draw back. Chris tied the blindfold over Vin’s eyes, careful not to catch his hair in the loose knot. He took Peso’s reins from Vin, and with Vin controlling Peso with pressure from thighs and knees,.urged Pony forward.
As much as he trusted Chris, Vin felt his stomach tighten and clench with nerves as they moved up the trail. He could not help recalling the days spent in the dark without knowing if he would see again. Chris had been guiding him then, as he was now. And Vin chose to follow.
They halted, Chris clearly taking him to a specific position. Vin could swear he felt the weight of the moonlight on his face, cool and silvery as running water. Chris’s fingers were untying the knot. "Close your eyes," he whispered. The bandanna was whisked away. "Now."
Vin opened his eyes.
The moonlight washed over the landscape spread before him; a glittering silver ribbon of a stream wound its way through a sea of green and gilt grasses stirring in the light, and the whole setting cradled in the dark arms of the mountains. Overhead, the stars were spread like a jewelled net cast across the midnight sky.
Vin gasped, his eyes drinking in that beauty. It was as if it existed only for him and Chris, and then he realized that Chris had planned this gift for him, knowing that his thirsty soul would drink in the sight, and be refreshed.
If Vin was transfixed, Chris was held spellbound by his lover’s reaction. Vin’s lips were slightly parted in wonder, and he was so still, as if he were afraid to move lest the view ripple and disappear like a reflection in water. His eyes were wide, mirroring the light and color of the sky and stars. Chris backed Pony away from Peso, dismounted and left Vin to marvel in peace. He pulled a blanket from the back of his saddle, spread it, and sat against a tree trunk
Vin and Peso seemed to be carved out of ebony; but for the swish of the gelding’s tail and the drift of Vin’s hair in the breeze. Chris lighted a cheroot and settled in to wait for Vin to look his fill. It took a while, but he didn’t mind. He let some of the peace soak into his own soul, felt it ease the ache and worry he’d been carrying around. Vin’s eyes had healed, his sight was restored to better than perfect acuity. Chris had watched him shoot on the range the other day and had been relieved and awed by his skill. And though Vin had absolved him of any guilt, it had been slow to let go until he was certain no permanent damage had been inflicted.
Sitting on Peso, dazzled by the scene before him, and slaking his thirst for nature’s beauty, the time passed Vin unawares until Peso grew weary of this game and tossed his head, breaking the fragile spell. Vin fondled the gelding’s ears, pulled out a piece of molasses cookie from his pocket and slid from the saddle. Peso swung his head around, nuzzling for the treat that he could smell, and Vin laughed, finally offering it to him. Still smiling, he walked Peso over to the tree where Pony was tethered before he sank down on the ground next to Chris. He half reclined, looking up at Larabee, and wishing he had a gift for the spoken word. He went for simple. "Thanks, Chris," he said and fell silent. He didn’t know what else to say.
"You’re welcome," Chris replied. His eyes were dreamy in the moonlight, dark pupils and pale jade irises slightly blurred with emotion. "I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect time to show you this ... and tonight, it finally happened."
Vin sighed. "It’s perfect, all right. I c’n only think of one thing t’make it better."
"What?"
"This --" Vin reached up and pulled Chris down next to him. He brought his lips to Larabee’s. His tongue swept along Chris’s lower lip, teased the inner curl, then plunged deep; the tang of tobacco and the taste of Chris mingling in an intoxicating blend. He broke away and opened his eyes. There was always a pause -- that moment before either of them committed to lovemaking; blue eyes locked into green, reading every nuance and every emotion -- when Vin felt like he was in a long free fall. Then Chris touched him, and he soared.
The night air was the temperature of warm milk on his skin, and he couldn’t object when Chris unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. Larabee’s hands were warmer than the air, his breath warmer than his hands, and the play of his lips across Vin’s body was like the touch of fire. He teased nipples into taut buds, suckled on them, and the fire spread through Vin’s body.
He started to reach for Chris, but his wrists were caught and held immobile by strong but gentle fingers. Vin’s eyes flew open, met Chris’s intense green gaze. Larabee shook his head. "This is all mine, partner."
"Yeah?"
"Don’t argue." And then forestalled any attempt by claiming Vin’s mouth with a deep kiss.
Vin shivered as Chris turned his attention to his outstretched arms, raining soft kisses along the tender flesh of his inner arm, then crying out softly as teeth nipped and cooling breath soothed the small bites. Then those maddening lips were whispering along his collarbone and up his throat to the square angle of his jaw, pausing at the pulse of the big veins before moving downwards past the notch of his clavicle, his breastbone, the hard flesh of his belly. Chris released one wrist and flipped the button on Tanner’s jeans. He slowly pulled the zipper down over his hardening erection, opened the fly of his boxers, and swirled his tongue around the moist head of his cock.
"Cain’t breathe," Vin groaned. "Cain’t think."
"Don’t want you t’think," Chris whispered thickly. "Keep breathin’, though."
"Fuck you," Vin gasped and writhed as Chris’s tongue made another pass over his flesh.
"Uh-uh. I’m fucking you."
The rough promise in that voice made Vin reach down to hold Larabee close. "Do it," he said.
Chris smiled and turned all his attention to pleasuring his lover.
Vin thought he might die of it, but he’d die a happy man. Kisses, soft and tender, hard and hot. Fingers caressing, warm breath blowing across his skin, the start of sweat, Chris’s brilliant eyes watching him. The sweetness of being taken into his mouth, the length of him laved and suckled, swallowed. And then fingers slick with semen entered him, stroking his gland until he shivered and shook, finally letting himself be carried away. He cried out, his spine arched, and he filled Chris’s mouth with the salty richness of his cum.
Chris drank him down until he was empty and soft, then kissed his way back up to Vin’s mouth. "Still breathing?" he asked.
"Hell, yer lucky I’m still alive, Larabee," Vin drawled. His voice was hoarse, trembling a bit. "But y’ain’t fucked me yet."
Chris laughed, a low, throaty rasp of a chuckle. "Not yet," and he felt Vin shiver as he began his second assault.
He stripped Tanner, then himself. The air was just cooling faintly, and he stretched out over Vin, long and warm and hard. He worked his hips, rubbing his cock against Vin’s, the sensual movement bringing Vin to hardness again, quickly, and sending shocks of pain and pleasure ripping through his own flesh. Vin’s hands were on his ass, holding him tight. Chris’s cock was hard and full, throbbing and leaking.
Vin worked his fingers between their bodies and closed them around Chris’s shaft. He stroked and milked, bringing Chris near to climax, and when his fingers were moistened, he slid them between Chris’s ass cheeks, found the ring of muscle, and massaged it, felt it relax and yield to his fingers. Sweat gathered and slid down the lean plane of Chris’s face, dropped glittering on Vin’s throat. When his fingers penetrated Chris and brushed over his prostate, Larabee stilled, the shock of pleasure darkening his eyes. He shuddered, but didn’t come; felt the muscles in his thighs and back tighten and throb with mounting pleasure.
"Stop," he said. He lowered his head, his lips just brushing Vin’s. "I want to be inside of you, a part of you."
Vin withdrew his fingers, raised his hips and spread his legs, waiting; open and trusting. Chris moistened his fingers with the mingled cum from their cocks, slid them carefully into Vin’s hole and stretched the muscle. It didn’t take much to loosen him, and he was thrusting against Chris’s fingers, his mouth working in a soundless plea. Chris paused, his breath taken by the sight of Vin in the moonlight, his skin glistening with sweat, the swales and hollows of his body shadowed by the cool illumination and by the leaves shifting overhead.
"Chris ..."
He touched Vin’s cheek, and those blue, blue eyes entreated him for release. He pushed inside Vin’s body, and cried out as the sweet, hot flesh closed around him, tight and throbbing. He withdrew slightly, leaving the head of his shaft embedded in that channel, then slid back in. He stroked in, establishing a strong rhythm, feeling Vin rise to meet him, flesh against flesh, harder and faster. Chris took hold of Vin’s sex, pumped him, his cock raking against Vin’s pleasure spot. It was all instinct now ... hearts and minds swept away on a tide of blood, heartbeat, passion, and love.
The wave broke. Vin went rigid, and then climaxed, his seed pouring out over Chris’s hand and belly. Chris shot hot and fast, deep into Vin in an orgasm so intense that it overwhelmed him, and he wept.
He wasn’t aware of the tears until he tasted them on his lips. His head was resting on Vin’s abdomen; the skin cool beneath his cheek, the breath of him slowing, but steady. The beat of his heart pulsing gently. His fingers were moving idly through Chris’s hair. Chris sighed and pushed himself up to bring his head level with Tanner’s.
Vin was watching him with faint amusement and the warmth of love. "Y’all right, old man?"
Chris snorted. "This old man had ya yowling not five minutes ago."
Vin laughed. "I ain’t complainin’." A sigh left his lips. "Lord, Chris. Times are, I think I’m gonna die in yer arms."
"Then I reckon I’m gonna die right along with you." Chris stroked his knuckles down Vin’s cheek.
Vin turned to that caress, caught Chris’s fingers and brought them to his lips. "When I’s blind, I was most afraid of never seein’ you again. It was so dark ... dark and empty and cold. But then you were there, and I wasn’t afraid. Was like ya’d lit a candle, and even though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was burnin’... could see that flame, feel the warmth, and I knew I wasn’t alone. No matter how long the night was, you would stay right there and hold it back fer me."
Chris swallowed against the ache in his throat. "You remember that, partner."
"S’long as you keep remindin’ me." A quick, tender kiss before he sat up, reached for his jeans, and shoved Chris’s clothes towards him. The clear night was bringing cooler air, and the goose flesh was rising on his arms. He wondered if he could convince Chris to light a fire when they got back to the ranch.
They dressed, collected Peso and Pony, and rode slowly back home. As they reined in at the barn, Vin looked up at the moon and the stars. He’d every right to fear the night, knew too well the monsters that haunted it. But he also knew that no matter how dark it was, the stars were always overhead, even when you couldn’t see ‘em through the clouds. That was Chris. And his nights would never be so dark again.
The End