Chris wielded a lantern flashlight in one hand and a broom in the other as he prowled through his attic, sidestepping stacks of boxes and sweeping aside cobwebs, and wondering yet again just what the hell a "cob" was. Why couldn’t people just say "big-ass spider" and be done with it?

God, now he had big-ass spiders and mice!

And dust. It hung in the still air like a fine silt and clung to him as he moved through it, getting in his hair and clothes and sticking to his sweat-slick skin. Soon his nose was itching like a sonuvabitch and a series of violent sneezes erupted from him.

Big-ass spiders, mice and dust. Could this day get any worse?

From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of movement, and he turned his head and the lantern to investigate. A small form raced across a two-by-four that formed part of the frame of the far wall and Chris lunged forward with a snarl, raising the broom over his head like a weapon. He brought it down against the two-by-four with all the strength he could muster one-handed, but cursed as his prey just escaped. The mouse skittered away and Chris rushed after him, cursing and swinging the broom with a vengeance. But he couldn’t get all the power he wanted with one hand and so dropped the flashlight, gripping the broom with both hands and lunging once more after the small, shadowy body, raining down blows that surely would have been mortal had they connected.

Where the hell was Tanner with a rifle and a night-scope when he really needed him?

Another tiny form darted through the shadows to his left and he turned, preparing to shift his assault in that direction. But his left foot came down on something yielding, a pained, shrill squeal rang out, and, off-balance and startled, Chris fell back onto his butt, landing hard and sending up yet another cloud of dust. A small shape scuttled across the box at the level of his right shoulder, and little clawed feet scampered across the back of his left hand.

Oh, shit, they were everywhere!

He flung the trespasser aside with a violent snap of his hand, rewarded by the soft "thump" of a body colliding with a wall. Breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, he shot to his feet and looked around, hearing the unnerving sounds of feet scratching and scurrying in various directions. At last understanding the magnitude of the problem, he gathered his fallen broom and flashlight and backed out the way he had come in, wondering how it had gotten to this stage without him ever suspecting.

Shit, he didn’t just have mice, he was fuckin’ infested with them!

7~7~7~7

Vin again tested the steadiness of the extension ladder, then, fairly confident that it wouldn’t slip, leaned to his right and inspected the wood under the eaves at this junction of wall and roof. Balancing and twisting his lithe body like a cat, he stretched and peered under the gutter, easily able to see where the wood had been chewed away. It was the fourth point of entry he’d found and, like the others, was near the drainage pipe that ran from the gutter to the ground. The little bastards were climbing the pipes and gnawing through the walls. Holding on to the gutter for support, he leaned further in to get a closer look…

And cried out sharply as the ladder slipped and fell to the left, catching his legs around the ankles for just a moment and then dropping away completely, leaving him hanging a good six feet above the ground. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on the gutter and, with a sickening lurch of his stomach, felt it pulling away from its anchors.

Oh, shit…

"Vin!" Chris heard the harsh, wordless cry and came tearing around the corner of the house just in time to see his lover plummeting to earth as the gutter gave way. Tanner hit the ground rolling but didn’t get up, and Chris rushed to him and dropped to his knees at his side. "Jesus, Vin, are you okay?" he gasped around the heart that seemed lodged in his throat.

The Texan lay curled on his side, his face completely hidden beneath the spill of his long hair. Chris leaned over him and gently brushed some of the hair aside, seeing one closed eyes and a tightly clenched jaw. "Vin?" he called hoarsely, stroking Tanner’s head with a shaking hand. "C’mon, pard, talk to me. Are you all right?"

"Little fuckers," Vin whispered harshly. "Gonna kill ’em all ’n mount their ugly little heads on the wall!"

Chris exhaled sharply and sat back as a wrenching wave of relief swept through him. If Tanner was plotting revenge, he was all right. Still he continued to stroke Vin’s head, using the contact to ease his fear and slow his racing heart.

Goddamn it, Tanner was gonna be the death of him yet!

Vin rolled over onto his side and drew a slow, deep breath, trying to decide where, if anywhere, he hurt. Oh, yeah, he did. His right hip and shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact, and both now throbbed accusingly. He tried to move his right arm, but stopped immediately with a sharp hiss as pain streaked all the way down it to his fingers and seemed to shoot through their tips.

"Aw, hell!" he groaned.

"All right," Chris sighed, knowing that particular groan all too well, "what’d you do to yourself this time?"

Vin wrenched open his left eye and squinted up at Larabee. "Ain’t nothin’ broke, so don’t be takin’ that tone with me."

"What tone?"

Tanner opened his right eye and glowered up at his lover. "That ‘if he needs stitches or a cast I’m gonna kill ’im’ tone," he said. "The one that’s jist a shade less pissed than the ‘if that’s a bullet hole I’m seein’ I’m gonna kill ’im’ tone."

Chris stared down at him in amazement. "I have different tones for different injuries?"

"Oh, shit, yeah." Gathering his resolve, Tanner sat up slowly, groaning thickly as the movement drove spikes of pain from his hip into his back and thigh. He leaned forward and to his left to take some of his weight off it and reached absently across his chest to massage his right shoulder with his left hand. "Ya got a tone fer nearly ever’thing," he rasped. "I c’n almost always tell how or where I’m hurt jist by listenin’ ta yer voice."

"Unless you’re unconscious," Chris quipped.

Vin threw him a sly side glance and grinned. "C’n hear ya even then." He winked. "Only yer shoutin’ inside my head instead’a my ear."

Chris arched a golden brow and smiled thinly. "Nice ta know somethin’ goes on inside your head, even if it’s only when you’re unconscious."

"Aw, now, Chris," Vin protested mournfully, blue eyes wide and wounded, "is that any way ta talk ta me when I’m hurt?"

Chris’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened in one corner as he studied the Texan. "I thought you said you were all right?"

"No, I said nothin’ was broke. Hell, fer all I know I could be busted up bad inside, have internal bleedin’ ’n all. Coulda broke my neck or my back–"

"You just said you didn’t break anything," Chris reminded him pointedly. "Make up your mind, will ya?"

Vin scowled at his lover’s utter lack of sympathy. "Well, if you ain’t Mr. Lovin’ Concern!" he snapped. "I hit the ground hard, y’know. And it ain’t like you plant nothin’ around here but dirt ’n rocks! Why the hell can’t ya grow grass like normal folks so’s I could have somethin’ soft ta land on?"

Chris regarded the sharpshooter with gleaming green eyes. "Plan on makin’ a habit of fallin’ off my roof, do ya? Maybe I should just line the house with trampolines. Save the wear and tear on my dirt and rocks."

"Yer a regular comedian, ain’tcha?" Vin sneered. "I damn near busted my butt and yer laughin’ at me. ’At’s jist low, Larabee, even fer you."

Chris arched a brow again and held up his swollen and darkly bruised index finger. "‘One ’a them li’l critters set it out baited with whiskey ’n a cigar?’" he asked, mimicking his partner’s Texas drawl.

Vin had the grace to blush and bow his head. "Oh. Well…" He raised his head and stared defiantly at Larabee. "Wasn’t like it was yer butt, though." He winced and shifted his weight again off his throbbing hip. "Think you could muster up some sympathy fer that!"

Chris grinned slightly and his eyes darkened a shade. "Oh, I can muster up all kinds of things for your butt, Tanner," he breathed, reaching out to slide a thumb along his lover’s jaw and down his long, slim throat. "Think maybe we should go examine it?"

Vin’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard as that thumb stroked slowly up and down his throat. "Likely it does need… some lookin’ at," he whispered hoarsely. "C’d prob’ly use a real thorough goin’ over."

Chris frowned thoughtfully and rubbed slow circles over the pulse in Tanner’s throat with his thumb. "Oh, you know me," he breathed in a low, warm voice. "I’m known for my thoroughness. What is it you say? That I’m a ‘regular devil fer the de-tails’?"

Vin shivered and licked suddenly dry lips as that voice and that touch sent tendrils of warmth curling through his belly. "Always did admire yer eye fer such," he gasped.

Chris smiled and pulled his hand away, then chuckled at Vin’s soft moan of protest. "C’mon, pard," he purred, uncoiling his long, lean frame and rising to his feet in a single, graceful motion, "let’s take this inside. Unless," he grinned down at Vin and winked, "you prefer the dirt and the rocks."

Vin stared up at him through eyes shimmering with heat and hunger. "Don’t care," he rasped. "I’ll take ya anywheres I c’n git ya."

Chris laughed softly and shook his head. "I love it when you play hard to get." He held down a hand invitingly.

Vin started to reach for him with his right hand, but sucked in a sharp breath when the movement jarred his shoulder. Clenching his jaws against the pain he knew was coming, he gripped Chris’s hand with his left one and let Larabee pull him to his feet. As predicted, the nerves and muscles in his hip protested the movement, and he bit back a sound of hurt. Immediately, though, Chris released his hand and twined strong arms about him, pulling him close, and all thoughts of pain were driven from his mind as firm lips claimed his in a slow, deep kiss. He slipped his hands under Chris’s arms and around to his back, digging long fingers into the taut muscles there and pressing himself close, thrilling to the feel of the man’s warmth and hardness against him.

Nope, he didn’t hurt one damn bit.

Chris fed hungrily on Vin’s mouth, his tongue laving the warm, wet lips, then thrusting past the straight teeth to seek out and dance with the Texan’s tongue, the two meeting, twirling, stroking, each exploring the other with a wondrously intimate thoroughness. And still deeper Chris dove, burying his mouth in Vin, devouring him, feasting greedily, frantically, upon the man whose taste and scent acted like a powerful drug upon his system.

Vin’s lips burned and throbbed beneath Chris’s onslaught, but it was a pain he could not live without. Wanting more of the delicious torment, he reached up and thrust his hands into Larabee’s hair to pull that golden head closer and pressed his taut and straining body more tightly still against his lover’s.

Hell, if this was what it got him, he’d fall off that goddamn ladder more often.

At last Chris pulled out of the kiss, then chuckled as he had to push Vin back when the younger man would have pursued him. "Hang on there, pard," he laughed, still restraining his eager lover. "Maybe the dirt and rocks won’t bother you, but I got somethin’ a bit softer in mind. Besides," he slid a careful hand to Vin’s right shoulder, then trailed it down to his hip, "I wanta make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell."

"Aw, hell, Chris, I’m fine," Vin sighed. "I been thrown from enough horses ta know how ta take a fall–"

"Yeah, and I’ve seen what you look like after some of those spills." He brushed his hand slowly over Tanner’s hip and down his tight ass. "Could be," he breathed, smiling as Vin’s eyes widened and darkened, "you’ll need some way of workin’ the stiffness outta those muscles."

Vin swallowed hard and licked his lips as Larabee’s touch worked its usual magic upon him. At the moment, it wasn’t the stiffness of his muscles that needed working out.

"C’mon, Tanner," Chris ordered, taking his partner’s hand and pulling him back toward the house, "let’s go see what you’ve done ta yourself."

"Wh… what about… the mice?" asked breathlessly, only now remembering what he’d been doing on that ladder in the first place.

"Hell," Chris grinned and winked, "let ’em watch. Maybe they’ll learn somethin’."

7~7~7~7

Chris knelt on the bed at his lover’s side and shook his head slowly at the sight of the large bruises already darkening the flesh at Vin’s right shoulder and hip. "Those are gonna hurt like hell come mornin’," he sighed.

"Doin’ a fair bit a’ that now," Vin admitted. He lay on his stomach, naked, his forehead resting on his folded arms. "That’un down there feels like it goes all the way ta the bone."

Chris looked, and figured it probably did. The bruise started at Tanner’s hip bone and spanned his entire side, reaching around even to his butt. "That’s what ya get for not havin’ more paddin’," he quipped, reaching out to run his fingers lightly over the mottled flesh. "Always did say you’ve got a scrawny ass."

Vin turned his head on his arms just enough to scowl at Larabee. "Ain’t ever seemed ta bother ya b’fore," he growled.

Chris chuckled quietly and leaned down low over the Texan, brushing his lips against the ear peeking through a veil of long hair. "I wouldn’t say that," he breathed into that ear, flicking a tongue against its shell. "Your ass is a constant ‘bother’ to me."

"’S ’at so?" Vin breathed unsteadily as Larabee nibbled at his earlobe. "’N here I always thought ya loved me fer m’ mind."

"I do," Chris murmured, trailing his mouth from Tanner’s ear to the tender skin just beneath it. "But I kinda like the package it comes wrapped in, too."

"Thought y’ jist said… I’s scrawny."

"Yeah, well," Chris licked and kissed his way down Vin’s neck to his shoulder, "I guess I got a thing for scrawny."

Vin tried to come up with some suitable retort, but the mouth now sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder was quickly robbing him of the ability to think. Then Larabee slid atop him, covering him with that long, hard body, and he promptly gave up trying to think at all.

"Oh, Lord!" he moaned as heat shot straight to his groin.

Chris heard the moan and lifted his head, frowning worriedly down at his lover. "You all right?" he asked, afraid that he’d jarred Tanner’s injured shoulder or hip despite his care.

Vin swallowed hard. "Don’t think so," he rasped. Chris slipped off of him immediately and sat up, and Vin rolled over onto his back. "Seems I got this pain…"

Chris looked down and smiled slowly at the sight of his lover’s hardening cock. "My, my," he breathed, his voice low with mock-concern, "that does look painful. Swollen like that, and flushed… Could be serious."

Vin narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Well?" he demanded. "Ya gonna do somethin’ about it, or jist sit there ’n stare?"

"Me?" Chris asked innocently. "What can I do? I’m no doctor." He thought a moment, then shook his head. "And I’m not even sure I’m up to date on my first aid certification."

"Asshole!" Vin snapped. "This is the thanks I git! I damn near kill myself fallin’ off a ladder lookin’ fer yer mice–"

"They’re not ‘my’ mice!"

"They’re in yer house, ain’t they?"

"Only because you’ve turned this place into a damn junk food paradise–"

"There ya go again, blamin’ me!" Vin said hotly. He sat up and stared belligerently at Larabee, his blue eyes sparking. "I got news fer ya, cowboy, them mice were here long ’fore I ever was! I found four places along yer roof that’s been chewed through, ’n ain’t none of ’em recent. ’Sides, ya got a barn, don’t ya? Ya know as well as I do anybody that’s got a barn has got mice. I reckon they jist got tired of Peso stompin’ the hell out of ’em ’n moved over here where it’s safe."

Chris had to admit, if only to himself, that the last part was probably true. Barns were notorious for attracting mice, and the cats that shared the barn with the horses could only be counted on to keep the rodent population down, not eradicate it altogether.

As for the mice relocating to the house to avoid Peso… Well, hell, that was probably true, too. The cantankerous gelding hated having his stall space invaded by anything, and any number of mice, as well as two possums, a few snakes and one skunk, had died ugly deaths beneath those savage hooves.

Shit, he’d thought he’d never get rid of the smell of that skunk. Peso had very nearly gone on the auction block for that one.

"You and your goddamn horse," he sighed, unable to stop the smile that curved slowly about his lips. "The two of you just love ta complicate my life, don’t you?"

Vin saw the smile, and his own anger faded with it. Leaning forward, he reached out and slid a forefinger slowly down his lover’s chest, which was as naked as his own. "Well," he smirked, "some lives jist need complicatin’." He winked. "Cain’t have ya gittin’ soft now, can we?"

Chris growled and grabbed the Texan’s upper arms, then shoved him back roughly against the bed. Even as Vin tensed instinctively against the suddenness and roughness of the move and arched upward in preparation to fight, Chris slid astride him and held him down, changing his grip to Vin’s forearms and imprisoning them against the bed above his head.

"I’ll show you ‘soft,’" he warned, leaning low over Vin and gazing into wide, startled eyes. He felt the fine tremor run through the long length of Tanner’s body and leaned closer still, pressing his mouth to Vin’s with a tenderness that contrasted with the firmness of his hold. "Easy," he whispered against Vin’s lips. "I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, you know that."

That voice went through Vin like a soft summer wind, settled deep into his soul, and he relaxed at once, trusting this man as he would no other. He could feel the strength, the raw power, in Chris’s body, but knew he need not fear them, knew without a doubt they would never be used against him.

Chris sensed that immediate, unwavering trust and, in that moment, knew how it felt to have a wolf consent to be petted. "You still got that pain?" he asked softly, showering slow, tender kisses to his lover’s forehead, his eyes, his nose, his cheekbones, his chin. When he nodded, Chris returned his mouth to Vin’s. "Well, then," he breathed, nibbling at Vin’s lower lip, "I guess I should do somethin’ about it."

"’Kay," Vin managed to whisper.

In truth, though, Chris only made that pain worse. The man’s mouth and hands were everywhere, kissing, stroking, tasting, teasing, driving Vin into a mindless frenzy. He sucked at the notch in Tanner’s clavicle, rolled and pinched his nipples into marble-hardness, kissed the tender flesh at the inner bend of one elbow, skimmed callused hands down his sides and over his flat belly. Sliding down Vin’s body, he lightly stroked the smooth flesh between the sharpshooter’s navel and pubic hair, licked along the crease between thigh and groin, dragged a thumbnail up and down the hard length of Tanner’s swollen cock. He nibbled at the base of the shaft and blew gently over his balls, then trailed his mouth over the crease between them to the hole behind them and rimmed it with his tongue.

Vin arched his back and clutched frantically at Chris, at the bedding, at whatever he could reach as Larabee’s mouth and hands played havoc with his body. Thick, wordless moans tore from him as the man lapped at the cum leaking from his cock, and he very nearly sobbed from his utter, aching want.

Chris heard the ragged sounds of torment, felt the desperate writhing of his lover’s body, and knew Tanner was on the edge. As was he. The taste of Vin’s seed and the pungent, musky scent of his sex had his own shaft hard as a rock, and, as he again tongued the tight, puckered entrance behind Vin’s balls, he very nearly came at the thought of what awaited him inside.

It was time to put them both out of their misery.

He pushed himself away from Vin and leaned over him to reach the nightstand, yanking open the top drawer and pulling out the lube. Rising to his knees, he uncapped the lube and squeezed a generous amount into a palm, then closed the tube and tossed it back toward the drawer, little caring where it landed. His breath coming fast and hard, he coated his stiff and throbbing cock with shaking hands.

Vin watched him through hazy, unfocused eyes, licking his lips hungrily and absently stroking his own cock as he followed the movements of Larabee’s hands. Harsh and heavy gasps tore from him and he thrust into his hand, desperately in need of relief.

"Oh, no ya don’t," Chris growled, reaching down to snatch Tanner’s hand away from himself. "That’s my job now, remember?"

"Then do it!" Vin pleaded, rolling his hips, frantically seeking anything to thrust against.

"I will, I promise." Chris leaned over him and kissed him tenderly. "I promise, pard. Don’t I always take good care of you?" Vin only moaned wretchedly and Chris straightened once more. "Gonna take care of us both right now." He settled Vin’s legs over his thighs and pulled a pillow under Tanner’s butt. Then, exhaling unsteadily, he trailed a lube-slicked hand down the Texan’s rigid cock and over his heavy balls to his anus. He slid his forefinger around the tight, flushed entrance, then slipped it inside.

"Jesus!" Vin gasped hoarsely, his whole body jerking as that finger pressed inside him. It was soon joined by a second, and a third, and he moaned and pushed desperately down against them as their movements inside him drove him ever nearer the edge.

Chris worked the tight muscle ring until he felt it relax and withdrew his fingers. Shuddering from the force of his own hunger, he positioned his swollen head at that dark, inviting opening and pressed inside. Vin stiffened and gasped sharply at the familiar pain of penetration, but Chris stroked his left hip and spoke soothingly to him, urging him to relax. He did and the pain quickly subsided, leaving only the intensely pleasurable feel of Larabee’s hard heat inside him.

"Move!" he croaked at last.

And Chris did, sliding in and pulling back with long, measured strokes, burying himself to the root in his lover and then withdrawing, delighting in the ragged, wordless sounds his slowness wrung from Vin. But it couldn’t last. Tanner’s body was too tight and too hot, his living warmth and the pulsing of his blood too much for Larabee to resist. He quickly abandoned all restraint and loosed the full force of his need upon his lover. Vin wrapped his legs tightly around Chris and thrust down frantically against him, trying to take the man still further into him. Deep, guttural cries of raw, primal pleasure and the sounds of flesh slapping filled the room as the two men came together in an increasingly urgent rhythm.

Driving furiously into Tanner’s body, Chris reached at last for the Texan’s swollen cock, stroking and pumping Vin as he impaled him, his hand as hard and ruthless as his demanding flesh. Worked inside and out with the same intensity, Vin nearly screamed aloud at the shattering pleasure of it. Again and again Chris drove through him, pumped him, and it was too much for his overwrought body. Larabee shifted inside him, hit his gland, and Vin came in an explosive burst.

Chris was right behind him. The hot wave swept through him and he thrust hard into his lover, erupting into orgasm. He emptied himself into Vin and then carefully withdrew, collapsing with a shuddering breath onto the bed at Tanner’s side.

God, this was turning into a helluva day!

Vin wanted to move closer to Chris, but wasn’t sure he could move at all. His mind couldn’t form the commands to his body, and his limbs just wouldn’t work. Right now, even breathing was almost more than he could manage.

"You all right, partner?" Chris asked shakily, his voice little more than a whisper. He wanted to reach for Vin, but knew it would have to wait until strength and feeling returned to his body.

"Ain’t sure," Vin whispered hoarsely. "I think mebbe ya finally killed me."

"Well," Chris sighed, "that’s what ya get for givin’ me mice."

"Aw, hell, don’t start that again!" Vin groaned, turning his head to Larabee and mustering a weak scowl. "Ain’t my fault ya got mice! I told ya, they been here a good long while. You’re the one that’s let ’em get so outta hand. Hell, if you’da been payin’ attention sooner, ya coulda stopped ’em with a few traps, mebbe some poison. Now it’s gonna take a few canisters of CS–"

"You are not gassin’ my house!" Larabee growled, rolling onto his side and glaring at his lover. "I have ta live here, y’know. And you pretty much do, too."

"’S jist a thought."

"Your thoughts are dangerous," Chris grumbled, flopping again onto his back.

Vin arched a brow at the man. "I ain’t the one got my finger caught in a trap."

"No," Larabee turned his head and returned that pointed stare, "you’re the one who fell off the ladder."

"I didn’t fall off the ladder," Vin protested sharply. "It fell long before I ever did."

"Oh, yeah, that’s right." Chris smirked. "You fell off the roof. And brought down part of my gutter."

"Could be," Vin allowed, one corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. "But only because I was lookin’ fer yer mice."

Larabee shot upright. "They are not my mice, goddamn it!" he bellowed, slamming a fist onto the bed.

Vin’s smile widened as he folded an arm beneath his head. "They’re in yer house, eatin’ yer food and shittin’ in yer cabinets." He winked. "In my book, that makes ’em yer mice."

Chris leaned over Vin and opened his mouth to make a furious retort, but thought better of it. A thin, evil smile curved about his full mouth and he straightened up, arching a golden brow and crossing his arms against his chest. "Ain’t just my food they’re eatin’, pard," he said coolly. "You know those six boxes of Girl Scout cookies you bought from Mrs. Potter’s little girl?" His smile blossomed into a sneer. "I had ta throw ’em all away."

"No!" Vin cried, the word emerging as a strangled squeak. He sat up abruptly, his eyes wide, his face flooding with horror. "Yer lyin’! Ya wouldn’t throw away my Thin Mints–"

"Had to. Sorry."

Vin stared suspiciously at his lover. "Ya don’t sound sorry. Or look it, either. Hell," he narrowed his eyes dangerously, "I bet ya enjoyed it!"

"Oh, yeah," Chris groaned, rolling his eyes, "I just love watchin’ you go through sugar withdrawal. Ranks right up there with root canal as my favorite pastimes."

"Y’know," Vin said sullenly, "you were a lot nicer before ya got mice."

Chris sighed heavily and bowed his head, closing his eyes and counting slowly to ten. When he had done that – twice – he opened his eyes and raised his head, settling a marginally less irritated gaze on Tanner. "All right," he said, "I’m sorry I threw away the cookies. But I didn’t have a choice. The little bastards had gotten into every box. However," a knowing light gleamed in his eyes, "I’m fairly sure you have a secondary stash back in your apartment, right? How many women at the office have daughters who are Girl Scouts?"

Vin scowled and looked away. "I’m jist doin’ my civic duty–"

"Voting is a civic duty," Chris pointed out. "Buying up the world’s supply of Thin Mints is just gluttony." Unable to help himself, he swept his gaze over his lover’s naked body. "I just wish to hell I knew how you can eat all those things and not weigh two hundred pounds!"

Vin turned his eyes back to Larabee and a wicked glint shone in them. "Got me a helluva workout program," he drawled.

Chris had to laugh. "Yeah, I guess you do at that." He leaned forward and kissed Vin, then pulled back. "Okay, I’m gonna get cleaned up, get dressed, start callin’ exterminators. With any luck, maybe I’ll find one who works weekends. Then I’ll see if I can salvage us somethin’ for supper."

"What about me?" Vin asked suspiciously, wondering what tight, dark corner or inaccessible height he’d be dispatched to next.

Chris smiled, knowing what was going through Tanner’s mind. "You need ta soak your hip and shoulder in a hot bath. Especially your hip. The way it looks, you’re gonna have hell’s own time with it."

Vin reached out and brushed a hand over Larabee’s knee. "Reckon a nice, deep massage’d be better’n any bath," he said in a low, husky voice.

Chris moved that hand from his knee to the bed. "Don’t make me shoot you, Tanner. I’m too tired ta hide your body."

Vin snorted sharply and shook his head in disgust. "Ya got no stamina."

"And you need a hobby!"

Vin gave a wolfish grin and licked his lips. "Thought I had one."

Chris sighed and got off the bed. "I’m gonna go get cleaned up."

"I can help," Vin offered.

Chris turned and leveled a forefinger at him. "You stay where you are. If you come in that bathroom before I’m through, I’ll have ta hurt you. And you can turn those off now," he added as the blue eyes widened into a wounded look. "They’re not gonna work on me."

"Ya got no heart, Larabee."

"Nope." Chris smiled and winked. "Not since I gave it ta you." He turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

And missing the broad, bright smile lighting his lover’s face and eyes.

7~7~7~7

Vin sank as deeply into the tub as he could, allowing the heat of the water to seep through him and ease some of the soreness from his hip and shoulder. As he did, he breathed a fervent thanks to Chris for insisting that he do this. He’d hit the ground harder than he realized and, as Larabee had so pointedly noted, he didn’t carry a lot of padding on his bones to cushion them from such falls. He’d gotten an idea of just how much his hip was going to hurt as he’d made the short trip from the bedroom to the big bathroom down the hall.

But as good as this felt, he was still convinced that a massage would’ve felt even better. He’d definitely have to work on getting Larabee to agree after supper.

Contemplating how he might bring the man around to his way of thinking, he closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma of the bath salts he’d poured into the water. It was a combination of sea salts, cedar oil and sage he’d gotten from Nathan’s lover Rain. Drawing on her African and Native American heritage, she’d opened a small shop several years ago specializing in herbal remedies and supplements and other nature-based products. She’d been so successful that she now had three such "boutiques," as Ezra called them, in Denver and took orders from across the country on the internet site JD had helped her build. Her success also benefitted her people, as she bought many of her herbs from a small co-op owned by some of the women on the reservation where she’d been born and raised. In addition, her shops provided outlets for her people’s artisans to display and sell their wares, allowing many of them to take the first steps toward breaking free of the poverty so rampant on the reservations.

Vin breathed ever deeper of the rich, soothing fragrance that always spoke to him of the desert and decided that if Nathan didn’t hurry up and marry Rain, he was just plumb stupid. Any woman that could turn a bath into something damn near a religious experience was a prize not to be let go.

And then there were her massage oils, which he really hoped to be trying out later on tonight…

7~7~7~7

Chris replaced the phone’s handset on its base and dropped his head onto the bar, banging it slowly against the polished oak surface. He didn’t want to make this next call, had prayed he wouldn’t have to, but simply didn’t have a choice. None of the exterminator services he’d called had been willing to send anyone out on a Sunday on such short notice, even when he’d offered to pay overtime. Frustrated and sure the mice he could hear in the ceiling were mocking his desperation, he raised his head and once more grabbed the phone, gritted his teeth, sucked up his pride, and punched in the number.

Buck Wilmington’s number.

The gregarious man had contacts everywhere, either through his long years in law enforcement or his social life, which Larabee thought should merit a special on The Discovery Channel. Or Animal Planet. And Chris seemed to recall Buck mentioning that he knew an exterminator, though he couldn’t quite remember in what context. But it was that lack of context that bothered him. He’d long since learned to block out the less than savory details of his old friend’s life, and the fact that he couldn’t recall a single detail about Wilmington’s encounter with the exterminator set off all kinds of warning bells in his mind.

But it was either this or turn Vin loose, and he really didn’t want to see his home demolished…

"Hello?"

Chris had expected either JD or the machine to answer, but was surprised when Buck’s voice came on the line. What the hell was Wilmington doing home on a Saturday evening?

"Buck, that you?" he asked, wincing at the stupidity of the question. Christ, he was losing it!

"In the flesh, stud," the big man crooned. "And I do mean," the leer was audible, "in the flesh."

Chris closed his eyes against the image that conjured, then rubbed his forehead hard with the fingers of his free hand when it wouldn’t go away. Yep, this call had definitely been a bad idea.

"You all right there, pard?" Buck asked in concern; he could swear he heard the sound of teeth grinding over the phone.

"Well," Chris sighed, dropping his hand from his forehead and unconsciously clenching it into a fist, "I do have a little problem, and I was hopin’ you could help me out."

There was a long silence at the other of the phone, and Chris’s fist curled tighter still. Then Buck’s voice came back, pitched low and filled with sympathy. "Aw, hell, ol’ son, I was afraid this would happen, you keepin’ yourself outta practice for so long. Y’know, a man’s gotta keep the equipment oiled and pumpin’ or it’ll just grind to a halt. But don’t you worry, ol’ Buck’s got some things here that’ll perk you right back up…"

All at once, Chris realized what Buck was rattling on about and almost choked on his horror. "That is not what I meant!" he protested hoarsely, his face flooding with heat. "Jesus, Buck, do you always think below the belt?"

"’Least I got somethin’ goin’ on down there, pard," the man answered gently. "And you would, too, if ya didn’t live like a goddamn monk."

Chris closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaws; by now, his fingernails were digging ruts into his palm. "I do not live like a monk," he grated harshly. "And keepin’ my ‘equipment’ oiled is not a problem–" He broke off abruptly before the words with Vin around came tumbling out. "I got mice," he spat.

Again that silence stretched. Then, after what seemed an eternity, Buck said carefully, "I just ain’t sure I wanta know what one’s got ta do with the other."

Chris exhaled heavily and hung his head. "Buck," he said in a low, tight voice, "try thinkin’ with your other head and work with me here! The house, my house, is overrun with mice and I need an exterminator ta get rid of the fuckin’ things! I’ve called just about every one in the book, and not one of ’em can come out tomorrow. But I thought, though God alone knows why, that you might be able to help me out. Now," out of sheer force of habit, he glared murderously at the phone base, "do you know someone who can help me or not?"

"You wanta turn down them eyes a notch, stud?" Buck asked calmly. "You’re gonna burn out the phone lines."

Chris dropped his head back down onto the bar.

"But you were right ta call me," Buck went on blithely, unscathed as ever by his old friend’s temper. "I just happen ta know the best damn exterminatin’ service in Denver. Wouldn’t think of usin’ anybody else. Lemme find the number…"

"I need ’em ta come out tomorrow," Chris stressed, straightening again. "Damn mice are drivin’ me crazy. Hell, they’re everywhere! Cabinets, attic, walls… I want ’em gone, and I want ’em gone now!"

"You could always get Junior out there ta help ya," Buck suggested. "I bet he’d know a few ways ta get rid of ’em. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "ya might have ta do a little rebuildin’ after he’s done. Once that boy gets somethin’ in his sights, he don’t let much get in his way."

"I like my house," Chris said slowly, deciding it was just as well that Buck not know how much "help" Vin had already been. "I’m trying to avoid a full-scale armed assault."

"All right," Buck said, his shrug carrying plainly in his tone, "but you know how much he enjoys a good hunt. Here we go!" he crowed triumphantly. "You ready?"

"Yes," Chris sighed, reaching for the pen and note pad he kept by the phone. God, he needed a drink!

"I’m gonna give ya several numbers, includin’ a home phone. When ya call, ask for Kerry."

"Kerry," Chris repeated dully, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Your exterminator’s a woman."

"Nope," Buck answered gleefully, "my exterminator is two women. They’re twins, Kerry and Katy. They do everything together. And I do mean everything!" Again, the leer came through plainly. "Tell ’em you’re a friend of mine and that I’d consider this a personal favor. Hell, they’ll be over tonight if you want."

Chris swallowed hard, realizing he should have seen this coming. Of course Buck would have female exterminators. "No," he rasped, "tomorrow’s fine."

"Suit yourself, pard. Here’s the numbers…"

Chris duly wrote as Buck dictated, wondering exactly when he’d been reduced to this. "Why aren’t they listed in the book?" he asked, certain he hadn’t seen any of these numbers among the ones he’d called.

"Well, they’re sort of a… private service," Buck said hesitantly. "But don’t you worry, they’re licensed and everything. They just prefer a smaller pool of customers."

"Buck–"

"I swear ta God, Chris, they’re legit!" Wilmington insisted. "Even registered with the Better Business Bureau."

"Then their business has a name?"

"Well, of course it does, pard," Buck said, sounding hurt. "Ya make it sound like some sleazy, fly-by-night outfit. These girls are professionals; they run a tight ship."

"All right," Chris breathed, again rubbing his forehead. "What is this tight ship called?"

"Terminatrix."

Chris’s mouth fell open and his eyes glazed over.

There was just nothing he could say to that.

7~7~7~7

Vin finally summoned up the energy to get out of the tub and stepped carefully out onto the thick floor mat, relieved to find that the long, hot soak had eased much of the stiffness and soreness from his hip. And what the bath hadn’t taken away, he figured Larabee’s long, talented fingers would. Wanting to see how he should play this, he turned and stood with his right side toward the full-length mirror on the bathroom door – no doubt one of Sarah’s touches – and surveyed the large, dark bruises mottling his hip and shoulder with a conniving eye. All he had to do was exaggerate a limp, make a few pained sounds here and there, maybe grimace or bite his lip when it seemed he didn’t think Chris was looking and, sure as shootin’, he’d have his massage, and who knew what else, before the night was done.

There had to be some benefits to fallin’ off a ladder.

Satisfied with the plan, he turned and pulled a towel from the rack, drying the water from his body and his hair and whistling tunelessly as he tried to decide whether he wanted the massage in the bed or in front of the fireplace. Not that it mattered. Hell, he’d take Chris in the laundry room if it came to that. He replaced the towel on the rack and reached for the sweatpants folded on the counter, foregoing his briefs; he’d just tell Chris the waistband cut into the bruise. He pulled up the pants and tied them so that they hung loosely on his hips, then donned a Dallas Cowboys muscle shirt that showcased the corresponding, and spectacular in its own right, bruise at his shoulder. Still whistling, he combed the tangles from his long hair, then ran his fingers through it so it would dry into the loose, disorderly waves that Chris couldn’t seem to resist stroking. He glanced at himself in the mirror and, satisfied that he looked suitably in need of some tender care, left the bathroom and went in search of Chris.

Maybe Larabee had a point when he called him "easy"…

He stepped into the den and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Chris was slumped over the bar, the telephone clutched tightly in his hand, and was banging his head against the solid oak surface with a series of audible thumps. Vin immediately, instinctively searched his mind for whatever he might have done, then realized he’d been in the tub too long to be responsible for this.

Whatever this was.

"Uh, cowboy?" he called softly, walking slowly toward the bar. "Ya keep that up, yer gonna get splinters in yer forehead."

Chris ceased banging his head, let it rest on the bar top a moment, then slowly raised it and fixed bewildered green eyes on Vin. "You’re all in it together, aren’t you?" he rasped. "Why?" He stared pleadingly at Vin. "Tell me what I did ta deserve this."

Vin frowned in confusion, tilting his head slightly to one side and sliding his tongue slowly over his lower lip. He folded his arms across his chest and settled his weight on his right hip, then winced and shifted it to his left as bruised muscles protested. All the while he stared at Chris.

"We-e-ell," he drawled at last, eyes narrowed, "I ain’t jist real sure what ‘this’ is. I been in the tub fer a while, ’n I don’t recollect doin’ nothin’ to ya while I’s soakin’. Ya wanta mebbe gimme a hint?"

"Buck," Chris croaked.

Vin narrowed his eyes further, licked his lips, thought, and shook his head slowly. "Nope, he wasn’t in there. ’N it ain’t that big a tub, so I think I’da noticed. Ol’ Buck’s jist too big ta miss in that tight a space."

Chris shot a glare at the Texan that had its usual effect, which was none at all, then exhaled sharply and turned away. Slamming the phone onto its base, he knelt down and retrieved his best bottle of bourbon from its hiding place, which every member of his team knew about, and straightened again. Setting the bottle on the bar, he turned and reached up onto the shelf behind him, pulling down a glass. He turned again, stared at Tanner, and slammed the glass onto the bar.

Vin arched a brow at that look and one corner of his mouth curled upward in a slight smile. "Ain’t good ta drink alone," he said easily. Dropping his arms to his sides, he ambled to the bar, remembering to limp, and lifted his head in a quick nod. "’Keep, one gut-warmer."

Scowling at the insult to Kentucky’s finest, Chris nonetheless took down a second glass, put two cubes of ice in each and filled them both, then slid one to Vin. As Vin took it, their fingertips brushed and Chris swallowed hard as the familiar heat flared through him.

Vin noted the widening and thawing of those green eyes, saw the working of Chris’s Adam’s apple, and again let his forefinger brush against Larabee’s hand, which had not yet pulled back. "Wanta tell me what’s got ya in so many knots?" he asked in a low, throaty voice, his gaze holding Chris’s.

Unable to resist the power of those eyes and that voice, and doing nothing to escape the finger lightly stroking across his knuckles, Chris swallowed again and said, "I called every exterminator in the book. Nobody could come out tomorrow. So I called Buck."

Vin opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no idea what Buck had to do with exterminators and closed it again. He thought over Larabee’s words for long moments, raised the glass to his lips and sipped from it as he pondered further. Finally, not being able to put the two concepts together in any way that made sense, he set the glass down, leaned on the bar and frowned at Chris.

"Okay," he drawled slowly. "Ya couldn’t get an exterminator out. I get that. But… why’d ya call Buck? I mean," his frown deepened, "are the mice all female?"

Chris stared at Vin as he had at Buck, or as he’d stared through the phone line at Buck, utterly bewildered by the speed with which their minds leapt to thoughts of men doing unnatural things with mice. Did everything with these two have to be about sex?

"Yer lookin’ at me funny," Vin said uneasily.

"I’m just tryin’ ta figure out," Chris said slowly, doing his best to ignore the disturbing mental images that kept pushing into his brain, "what the hell you think Buck would be doin’ with the mice."

"Well, hell, I don’t know!" Vin answered sharply, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Yer the one said ya couldn’t get an exterminator so ya called him. What the hell does that mean? He gonna come sweet-talk ’em outta here? Or’s he got some kinda secret mouse-killin’ weapon that only you know about? I mean, shit," he ran a hand through his hair, "I can think of a lotta things I’d call Bucklin fer, but I don’t know that gettin’ ridda mice is one of ’em!"

Chris heaved a deep sigh and raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I thought I remembered," he said through clenched teeth and with a strained patience, "that he mentioned knowing an exterminator. So I thought I’d call–"

"Oh, no," Vin groaned as cold dread started a slow crawl down his spine.

"And get the number–"

"Tell me ya didn’t," Vin pleaded, fixing wide blue eyes on Chris and shaking his head slowly. "Please, Chris, tell me ya didn’t!"

"Yes, I did, damn it!" Chris snapped, slamming his hand to the bar with a solid thump and staring at his lover through glittering green eyes. "And if you knew better, you shoulda warned me–"

"Me?" Vin squeaked indignantly. "Hell, how was I ta know you was gonna call ’n ask him about the Bug Babes? If you’da said somethin’, then mebbe–"

"‘The Bug Babes’?" Chris repeated slowly and with great precision, his eyes threatening to burn a hole through Tanner’s skull. "The Bug Babes?"

"Well…" Vin swallowed hard, then raised his glass to his lips and drank deeply of the bourbon to fortify himself; it didn’t help. "That’s what JD calls ’em," he rasped, his voice broken into little more than a whisper by the liquor. He took another quick drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "I mean, I ain’t ever seen ’em – well, ’cept fer that poster in Buck’s locker, but that cain’t really be true – but I heard the kid talk about ’em. He says they’re English, ’n both of ’em’s big, tall, strappin’ gals… said they make Xena look like Ally McBeal… Honest ta God, Chris, I think he’s scared of ’em!"

Chris stared at Vin and felt sick horror washing slowly through him when he realized that his lover was not teasing him. Oh, God, God, what had he done?

Vin saw the stricken expression in Chris’s eyes and sought immediately for some way to reassure him. "It’s all right, though," he soothed, reaching out to lay a hand over Larabee’s tightly clenched fist. "Jist ’cause ya got their number from Buck don’t mean ya gotta call–"

"I already did," Chris said woodenly. "Made an appointment. They’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten." He shivered. "Said any friend of Buck’s is a f… friend… of theirs."

"Oh… Lord," Vin whispered, remembering only too clearly the fear in JD’s eyes when he’d spoken of the Bug Babes. "Uh… I… Aw, hell!" he said brightly, snapping his fingers. "Shit, I jist remembered, I promised Domingo I’d help him fix the boiler in the buildin’–"

"That boiler’s dead and gone and you know it," Chris said coldly. "And Domingo got shipped back to Mexico last week; you said so yourself." He grabbed Vin’s arm and pulled him over the bar, scowling deeply into startled blue eyes. "You’re not thinkin’ of runnin’ out on me, are ya?"

Vin swallowed hard and blinked, for the first time cowed by his lover’s glare. "’Course not," he answered meekly. "I’d never do that." He gave a slight, pained grimace; the arm Chris had a death-grip on was his right one. "Uh, say, cowboy, ya wanta let go? That’s my hurt shoulder yer dislocatin’ there."

Chris released him immediately. "Sorry!" he breathed, his face flooding with contrition. Then all at once he laughed and shook his head. "God, we’re a pair, aren’t we? Big bad ATF agents scared of a couple of women! I mean, really, how bad can they be?"

Vin straightened and arched a brow as he rubbed his sore shoulder. "These’re two of Buck’s women, pard," he reminded Chris. "And JD says–"

"Shut up. And stop listenin’ ta JD; you know he exaggerates. Besides," he gave a slight, thin smile, "we have guns."

Vin tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. He hated the thought of shooting two of Buck’s girlfriends, even to save his own life. It just didn’t seem like something the big man would take too well.

"All right, enough of this," Chris said firmly, banishing all thought of "the Bug Babes" from his mind. "I’ve got some steaks marinating, the grill is set, and I found some potatoes the damn mice hadn’t got to yet. Why don’t we have a quiet, relaxing supper and see if we can’t just forget about this day?"

Vin smiled slowly, remembering his plan. "Sounds real good ta me, cowboy," he breathed, fixing deep, dark blue eyes on Larabee’s face. He purposely shifted his weight to his right hip, then had to shift it back to his left as the expected pain twinged. His fleeting grimace was not entirely unfeigned. "I reckon there’s a couple ’a things I’d like ta forget."

Chris noted the quick shift and saw the grimace. "You hurtin’?"

Vin snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Hell, I’ve had worse."

Chris arched a golden brow at the evasive answer. "That’s not what I asked."

Vin shrugged and winced again as the movement pulled at his bruised shoulder. "Reckon I’m a mite sore," he allowed. "But it’s nothin’ I cain’t live with. That hot soak loosened me up a fair bit."

"Yeah," Chris sighed, frowning worriedly, "but you’re gonna stiffen up again while we’re sittin’ down." He studied the large, dark bruise coloring Vin’s shoulder and remembered its mate at his hip. "I’ll have ta do somethin’ about that."

Vin gave a small, careful shrug and ran his tongue slowly over his lower lip, noting Chris’s gaze tracking it. "Ya got a heatin’ pad," he breathed. "Reckon I could make do with that."

Chris’s eyes went once more to the bruised shoulder revealed by the muscle shirt, and, without knowing quite how it happened, he found his gaze sliding down his lover’s slim but well defined torso. With an effort, he raised his gaze back to Vin’s face and smiled slowly. "We’ll see," he said in a low voice. "But you might need… more… than what a heating pad can do."

Vin felt a thrill of triumph and let a slow, crooked grin spread over his face. "Well," he drawled, "I reckon I could use a little… unstiffenin’." He winked. "I hear tell ya give a real nice massage."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. He’d been had, he was certain of it.

And he didn’t mind one damn bit.

7~7~7~7

Vin groaned and shuddered in pleasure as long, strong fingers bit deeply into his tight trapezius muscles and kneaded at the knots that had formed there. Oil-slick hands slid slowly over his naked flesh, creating deep pools of warmth wherever they touched, while the mingled scents of juniper, ginger, rosemary, sweet almond and others rose about him and teased his senses into an odd state of heightened but detached awareness.

Or maybe he was just gettin’ drunk on Chris…

He was lying on his stomach on a pile of comforters spread before the fireplace, his head pillowed on his folded arms, his muscle shirt and sweatpants long gone. Chris was sitting astride his thighs, as naked as he, and the feel of his lover’s warmth and weight against him as well as the play of those magic hands over him was doing far more to keep the evening chill at bay than the low fire burning in the hearth ever could.

Lord, this had to be what heaven was like!

Chris smiled as he felt the lean body beneath him relaxing, as he heard the deep sighs and soft moans his hands wrung from his lover. As he’d expected, and despite the long soak in the hot tub, Vin’s abused muscles had stiffened up considerably until, by the end of supper, he’d strongly resembled a human question mark. And once the pain and tightness had reached into his always touchy lower back, Larabee had known that the massage had gone from being a luxury to a necessity.

Though Vin’s insistence that they both shed their clothes seemed to suggest that he had more than strictly therapeutic expectations…

"Just how long have you been plannin’ this, anyway?" he asked in a low, warm voice.

"How long’ve I known ya now?" Vin drawled lazily. "Oh, Lord, ya got magic hands, cowboy!" he groaned as yet another knot released.

Chris chuckled quietly and continued to work his way across Vin’s shoulders. When he reached the bruise covering the right one, however, he lifted his hand and retrieved the bottle he’d set on the hearth, upended it and dribbled a bit more of the fire-warmed oil onto the discolored flesh. Then, with the lightest of touches, he began rubbing the herbal balm into the bruise.

Despite Chris’s care and gentleness, pain drove through Vin and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Shit!" he hissed.

"Easy," Chris soothed, stroking Vin’s back with his left hand as he tended the bruise with his right. "I know it hurts, and I’m sorry, but this stuff is supposed to help it heal. Or that’s what it says on the label."

"Don’t reckon… Rain’d lie," Vin whispered through clenched jaws, his eyes tightly closed.

"That should do it," Chris said and withdrew his hand, not wanting to cause his lover any more pain than necessary. "Now let’s see what we can do about your back."

"’Kay," Vin breathed, willing himself to relax again.

Then Chris took care of the rest. His strong hands moved slowly down Vin’s back, pressing deep into hard muscles and kneading oiled, supple flesh, wringing soft, breathless moans of pleasure from the young man beneath him. Vin was writhing against him in near cat-like ecstasy, and those movements brought his own body to an aching awareness of his lover’s. Vin’s strong, sinewy shoulders, his long, slender back and narrow waist, the tight ass and the steel-hard thighs between his own soon had torrents of heat sweeping through him and his cock surging to hard and hungry life.

Vin felt that hardness brushing against one ass cheek and allowed himself a slow smile. "Ya growin’ a third hand there, Larabee?"

Chris scowled. "Nobody likes a smart ass."

Vin turned his head and cast a wicked grin and a wink over his shoulder. "Ain’t what that third hand’s tellin’ me."

"You just can’t do it, can ya?" Larabee sighed dramatically. "You can’t just lie still and behave."

"Me?" Vin yelped defensively. "What the hell have I done?"

"You’re just… bein’ you," Chris snapped in mock frustration.

"Well," Vin drawled, shifting and urging Chris to raise up enough so that he could roll over onto his back beneath him, "I’s under the impression you kinda liked that." He trailed a hand down Larabee’s hard-muscled thigh and twirled a finger through the fine golden hair that gleamed against the pale skin. "Me bein’ me, I mean."

Chris growled deep in his throat and grabbed Vin’s wrist, catching it in an iron grip. Fire ignited in his green eyes and a thin, wolfish smile curved about his mouth. "You’re a goddamn tease," he snarled.

Vin blinked and schooled his features into an expression of seraphic innocence. "Me?" he breathed in the low, husky voice that scraped like sandpaper against Chris’s raw nerves and brought every one to screaming life. "Surely not." He laid his other hand on Chris’s knee and began stroking slowly up toward the man’s groin. "Teasin’ you’d be like pokin’ a rattler with a sharp stick." He shook his head slowly, wide blue eyes fixed on Larabee’s face, that hand now brushing down the tender crease between Chris’s thigh and groin. "I got better sense’n that." He swept his middle finger along the underside of Larabee’s thick cock.

And with a low growl deep in his throat, Chris struck. He snatched Vin’s maddening hands away from his body before his lover could react and pinned them to the comforters on either side of Tanner’s head before covering Vin’s body with his own. Vin gave a startled cry, but it was smothered in a heartbeat as Chris’s mouth descended and claimed his in a deep and devastating kiss. Chris’s lips moved hard and hungrily against Vin’s, his tongue demanded entry and Tanner gave it willingly. With another growl, Chris buried his mouth in Vin’s.

The speed of Larabee’s attack and the savagery of his kiss awakened an answering wildness in Vin, set free the untamed creature that lurked just beneath a thin layer of cool reserve. Uttering a low, guttural sound of his own, he tore his wrists free from their imprisonment and twined his arms about his lover, digging his nails into Chris’s shoulder and dragging them down his back. Larabee shuddered violently and Vin wrapped his legs around him like bands of steel, then thrust upward with his hips and drove his hardening cock against Larabee’s.

"Jesus!" Chris gasped, tearing his mouth from Vin’s and raising his head just enough to locate the oil. He reached out and grabbed it, somehow pulled out of Vin’s confining arms and legs and sat back on his haunches, staring down at Tanner through glittering eyes and pouring a generous amount of fragrant oil into one hand. "Think it’s time the rattler poked back!" he ground out, his voice harsh and breathless.

Vin watched in rapt fascination as Chris coated his hands and thick, rigid cock, forgetting all about bruised joints and pulled muscles. Licking his lips hungrily, his eyes wide and unblinking, he slid a hand to his own cock and began stroking himself, his breath coming in quick, short gasps.

"Oh, no, ya don’t," Chris breathed, pushing Vin’s hand away from his stiff flesh. "You started this, but I get ta finish it!"

"’Kay," Vin whispered brokenly, more than willing to let Chris do whatever the hell he wanted, just so long as he did it to him.

Chris set the oil aside and snagged a thick pillow, then urged Vin to lift his hips and slid it under them. Never taking his gaze from Tanner’s, he settled himself beneath the long, slim legs and scooted closer, then reached out and slid an oiled finger slowly up and down his lover’s twitching cock. Vin gasped and arched his hips as that finger tormented him, as his blood turned to fire in his veins.

Chris loosed a slow, hissing breath and dragged that finger over Vin’s balls to the hole behind them. He traced slow circles over it, pressing lightly against it, and smiled when Vin whimpered in need. "See what happens when ya tease, pard?" he chastised in a rough and ragged voice.

"I w… wasn’t… teasin’!" Vin gasped as that finger sent currents of white heat shooting through him. "Please… Chris!"

Larabee frowned thoughtfully and pressed his finger a bit harder against that darkly flushed opening. "Please, what?" he asked. "Whatta ya want, Vin?"

"I want you, goddamn it!" Tanner snarled viciously, thrusting down against that finger. "Now, fuck me or gimme a gun so’s I can shoot ya!"

"Always the poet," Chris quipped.

"Gonna think poetry when I– Oh, Jesus God!" he groaned as that finger finally pushed into him.

"Easy, pard," Chris breathed, placing a hand to Vin’s uninjured hip to hold him still while he loosened the tight ring of muscle. As soon as he felt it give, he withdrew his finger and replaced it with his thick cock, pushing himself slowly into Vin’s body and shuddering as that moist, inviting heat closed about him. "Oh, God, ya feel so good!" he breathed unsteadily.

Vin couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but bite his lip and arch his back as first pain and then pleasure overwhelmed him. Chris was so hard and so hot inside him, the long, thick flesh filling and completing him as no other had ever done. But he wanted, needed, still more and thrust down desperately to drive Chris even further into him.

Even as familiar as it was, their passion lost none of its elemental ferocity, and they were as lost in its power now as they had been the first time. They moved in instinctive unison, bodies rising and meeting in perfect rhythm, two men breathing as one, two hearts beating as one, shared heat suffusing them both. Even their cries were twined as closely as their bodies.

Chris drove into Vin and worked his cock, staking his claim on Tanner even as he lost himself in the man. Vin thrust down against that relentless flesh, then up into that merciless hand, no longer knowing where he ended and Chris began. Then, as was always the way with them, there were no such distinctions, no such divisions. In the convulsive moment of mutual climax, every barrier between them was shattered and, for either an instant or an eternity, they were truly and completely one, joined together in so many ways they would never, could never, be separate again.

Chris carefully withdrew from Vin and collapsed to the comforters beside him. Not yet willing to surrender the feel of his lover’s warmth, Vin rolled toward him and was immediately taken into Larabee’s embrace, their bodies pressing close together, their arms and legs intertwining, the smell of their sex heavy on the air and on their slick bodies. For long, long moments the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

Vin sighed and closed his eyes as a heavy lassitude pulled at his body. Chris’s heart was beating against his ear, Chris’s fingers were combing through his hair. For now, his whole world existed in Chris Larabee, and he was more than content that it should be so.

"You’re lookin’ mighty pleased with yourself," Chris breathed, smiling at the look of blissful satisfaction that had settled over his lover’s features. "There somethin’ you care ta share?"

Vin lifted his head and rested his chin on Chris’s chest, blinking and smiling sleepily. "Thought I jist did," he rasped.

Chris chuckled and pulled him closer still. "I’ve always said you’re a generous man."

"Yeah, well," Vin sighed, laying his head back down against Larabee’s chest and letting his eyes close again, "them that gives, gets. ’N I jist cain’t get enough ’a you."

"A-ha, an ulterior motive."

"Nope," Vin said around a huge yawn. "Ain’t nothin’ ulterior about my motives. I love ya ’n I want ya whenever I can have ya. ’S jist as simple as that."

Chris folded one arm beneath his head, smiling softly. It might seem simple to Vin, but to him it was the most profound mystery he’d ever known. Everything he’d lost and had been certain he’d never find again was right here with him now, wrapped in the unlikeliest package he could ever imagine but which had become dearer to him than his own soul.

Hell, Vin was his soul.

He felt Tanner shiver and snuggle closer, and gave a soft chuff of laughter. "Damn thin-blooded Texan," he chided gently. With his free hand, he flipped one side of a comforter over their bodies, then slid his hand beneath the cover and tenderly stroked Vin’s back. Tanner shifted once, settled more closely still against Chris, and drifted off to sleep.

Chris held him, continued to stroke him, lay there watching him, and decided this was about the best damn way he could think of to spend an evening.

7~7~7~7

The next morning dawned clear and bright and beautiful, cool in the early hours but with a promise of warmth to come in the brilliant sun and cloudless, shining sky. The air was crisp and clean, and carried not a hint of the spring storms that could sweep down from the mountains. It was as placid a Sunday morning as anyone could ever hope to see.

Except inside the ranch house, where storm warnings were already out in full force.

Vin felt it in the air as soon as he managed to drag his stiff and aching body from the big bed he shared with Chris. Or had shared. The place where his lover should have lain was already cold, bringing a resigned sigh from Tanner. He’d hoped Chris might have a few ideas about unstiffening him; Lord knew he had some. But Chris wasn’t there, and Vin sighed again, realizing he’d have to limber up the old fashioned way.

Well, hell.

So he slowly, slowly pulled himself from the bed, cursing and hissing as he did, feeling every ache in every muscle and joint he’d hit in his fall yesterday. And conscious of a few twinges of soreness in a few places that had gotten thoroughly worked over last night…

As he hobbled toward the bathroom, he had ample time to notice the room about him and felt a distinct uneasiness come over him. It was neat. Not only had Chris risen early, he’d also tidied up the bedroom, picking up clothes that last night had been strewn across the floor, righting the chair that had somehow gotten knocked over, even straightening the cluttered top of the wide mahogany dresser. Vin stopped, stared at the immaculate dresser and chewed his lower lip worriedly. Chris had straightened up early on a Sunday morning while Vin had lain right there, warm, asleep, yes, but available. Chris had ignored him to clean up the dresser.

Chris was on a tangent.

Chris on a tangent was not a good thing.

Vin turned slowly, lifted his head and, wolf-like, sniffed the air. Coffee. He could smell coffee. He was in the bedroom, the door was closed, the coffee was in the kitchen, beyond the den, past the dining room… and he could smell it.

Oh, God.

He swallowed hard, turned back to the bathroom and started toward it once more, suddenly desperate for a hot shower that would both loosen his tight, pained body and clear his head. Larabee was on a cleaning tangent and brewing coffee that would wake the dead. The Bug Babes were coming at ten, it was only a little after eight, and Larabee was already clearing the field and fortifying himself for a fight.

Vin Tanner had never been more scared in his life.

7~7~7~7

Chris turned off the Hoover Floor-Mate and gazed about him, eyeing his handiwork with grim satisfaction. Hell, the damn kitchen nearly sparkled! He’d scrubbed out the cabinets and put everything that hadn’t been ruined back in them, cleaned the counter and stove, vacuumed and electric-mopped the floor, and the last load of pots and pans was finishing in the dishwasher.

He dared Buck’s Bug Babes to find any sign of a mouse infestation now.

From the laundry room came the buzz of the dryer, and he glanced at his watch and nodded. The comforters from last night were clean, too. At this rate, he’d have time to wash and dry the sheets on the bed.

Provided Vin ever got out of them, of course…

"Ya plannin’ on hosin’ down the walls, too?"

Larabee jumped and spun around at the soft and thickly drawled words behind him, then scowled deeply at his lover. "How many times have I told ya not ta sneak up on me?" he growled, willing his heart to stop banging against his ribs.

"Or what?" Vin challenged, flicking a bleary blue gaze over the Hoover. "Ya gonna vacuum ’n mop me, too?"

Chris stiffened and narrowed his eyes, feeling suddenly defensive. "Place was a mess, you know that. I just cleaned up a little–"

"A little?" Vin pushed past him through the doorway and looked around the kitchen, arching a brow and whistling under his breath. "Shit, Chris, all’s ya need is one ’a them strips they put across the toilets in hotels. ‘Sanitized fer yer protection.’" He turned back to Larabee. "Ya want I should put on gloves ’fore I touch anything?"

"Very funny." He jerked his chin toward the counter. "Coffee’s made."

"Thought I smelled somethin’." Vin limped toward the pot, staring suspiciously at it. "Jist wasn’t sure if it was coffee or roofin’ tar."

Chris snorted sharply. "You’re one ta talk about strong coffee." He saw Vin squint dubiously up at the cabinet where the coffee mugs were and sighed, going forward immediately. "Here, let me." He opened the cabinet, drew out a mug and set it on the counter. "Sore this mornin’, are ya?"

"Jist a mite," Vin rasped, trying to figure out where he didn’t hurt so he could lean with something approaching comfort. He poured some of the stout brew into his cup, dosed it liberally with the sugar Chris also had gotten down for him, and threw a sidelong gaze at his lover as he stirred the potent mix. "Don’t s’pose I could get another back-rub? Sure could use some loosenin’ up."

"Sorry, pard, no time," Chris answered, glancing again at his watch. "I gotta go take care of the horses."

Vin took a sip of coffee, nearly gagged at its strength and bitterness, and put the cup down and pushed it away before it could do him real harm. "I’ll give y’ a hand–"

"Yeah, right," Chris chortled. "Peso’d take one look at the shape you’re in and stomp you ta pieces just for the hell of it. You stay in here, eat somethin’, then take some ibuprofin. Maybe that’ll help."

Vin turned and set his left elbow on the counter, leaning against it, then reached out with his right hand and trailed his forefinger lightly down Larabee’s chest, cocking his head to one side and frowning slightly. "Rather have you help me," he breathed.

Chris swallowed hard and shuddered, then reached out quickly and grabbed Vin’s wrist, pushing that troublesome hand away. "You don’t stop, do ya?" he ground out through clenched teeth.

Vin tipped his head further still to one side, regarded his lover through wide, dark blue eyes and slid his tongue slowly over his lower lip. "Y’know me," he drawled softly, maneuvering the hand in Larabee’s grasp to twine his long fingers about the older man’s wrist, "I’m like a hound on a scent. ’N I surely do love yer scent."

Chris stared at Vin in utter disbelief. The sharpshooter was so sore and stiff he could barely move, but was doing his damnedest to seduce him. And was coming dangerously near succeeding.

"You," Larabee said thickly, desperately unwinding that hand from his and stepping back, "need professional help. Now," he cleared his throat and ran a quick, nervous hand through his hair, "I’m gonna go see to the horses. You stay here. And if you come out to the barn, I’m gonna let Peso have ya."

Vin gave a sly grin and winked. "I’d rather Peso let you have me."

"Don’t make me shoot ya, Tanner," Chris warned, trying to ignore the tingle that grin and wink sent down his spine. "I just cleaned the floor."

Vin sighed and frowned in disgust. "Yer no fun."

Chris arched a golden brow and smirked. "That ain’t whatcha said last night, pard. Not," he winked, "that you were capable of sayin’ much at all."

Vin scowled and narrowed his eyes, thoroughly irritated that the man should wink at him like that without any intention of following through. "Ya got a mean streak in ya, Larabee," he growled. "Anybody ever told ya that?"

"Just about everybody I know at least once a day. Now," he stared compellingly at Tanner, "you gonna be good?"

"Ya don’t leave a feller much choice," Vin grumbled.

"Believe me," Chris sighed, again running a hand through his hair, "it’s sheer self-preservation. Whatta ya want ta eat?"

Vin heaved a sigh, realizing the subject of sex was closed, and shrugged. "Reckon I’ll jist have cereal, seein’s I don’t need ta build up my strength fer anything."

Chris ignored the jibe and frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, there’s still a couple of boxes left. Some bran flakes, the granola clusters, a box of Wheaties. Should be enough."

"Enough fer what?" Vin yelped in horror, his eyes wide, his face draining of color. "What happened t’ the frosted flakes? The Coco-Puffs? My Reese’s peanut butter puffs? That was a brand new box!"

"‘Was’ being the operative word here," Chris said calmly. "But don’t worry, I’m sure the mice enjoyed it."

"Bastards!" Vin spat venomously, his blue eyes ablaze with outrage. "Ate all the good stuff ’n left the sticks ’n leaves. Hell, it’s startin’ ta sound like Nathan sent them mice here!"

Chris eyed the younger man as if seeing him for the first time. "You don’t do well without sugar in the morning, do you?"

"Hell, I’m doin’ without ever’ damn thing this mornin’!" Vin snarled. "Coffee ain’t drinkable, my cereal’s gone, ’n I fer damn sure ain’t gettin’ no help from you! I might as well go back ta bed."

"Nope, can’t do that," Chris informed him. "I’m gonna wash the sheets when I get done with the horses. Then we’re gonna clean the den."

Vin shot him a hard stare. "Y’ain’t foolin’ anybody, y’know. You can clean up all ya want, but yer still gonna have mice. And yer still gonna have ta have the Bug Babes out here. All the cleanin’ in the world ain’t gonna change that one damn bit."

Chris drew himself up to his full height and glared at Tanner, who only glared back. "That is not why I’m doin’ this," he declared stiffly.

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Is so!" Vin folded his arms across his chest and regarded his lover through knowing eyes. "Ya cain’t stand not bein’ in control of somethin’, and ya done got yerself convinced that if ya can jist git things back ta the way you like ’em that the mice’ll disappear ’n ya won’t need Buck’s critter-killers!" He arched a brow and said coolly, "Yer a man in denial, Larabee."

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, then scowled menacingly at the sharpshooter. "And you need ta stop watchin’ those goddamn daytime TV talk shows when you’re on sick leave!" he seethed. "Now, if you’re through psychoanalyzin’ me, I’m gonna go out to the barn. I got chores."

"Go right ahead. I ain’t stoppin’ ya." His mouth twisted into a grimace of disgust. "But I ain’t eatin’ no bran flakes or Wheaties, either. I don’t care how many mice Nathan sics on me."

Chris heaved a deep, slow, long-suffering sigh and hung his head, wondering just how in the hell he got trapped in these bizarre conversations with a man who was so rational with everyone but him. Either he or Vin had had one concussion too many. He rubbed the bridge of his nose – which he figured by now ought to have his fingerprints imbedded in it – then slowly raised his head and fixed slightly bewildered eyes on his lover.

"Which one of us here is crazy?" he asked.

"Well," Vin breathed, dropping his arms and stepping closer to Larabee before the man could move away, "I ain’t the one who’s passed up a couple ’a real good chances ta work off some stress." He frowned thoughtfully and reached out, idly toying with the collar of Chris’s t-shirt. "Seems ta me that one of us here has got his priorities a mite… confused."

Chris swallowed hard as that hand played lightly at his throat and those blue eyes wrought havoc with his thoughts. Confused. Christ, that wasn’t the half of it.

"Ya still goin’ out t’ the barn?" Vin asked softly.

"B… barn?" Chris croaked as the familiar warmth curled through his belly.

"Yeah, barn. Big buildin’ outside, got horses ’n hay in it. Cain’t miss it." Vin cocked his head to one side and licked his lips. "Said ya had chores there."

"Chores," Chris repeated hoarsely, watching that tongue slide across those lips. "In the barn."

"So ya said."

Chris exhaled unsteadily and shook his head to clear it, then again caught Vin’s hand in his and held it firmly away from his body. Too bad he couldn’t do the same with those eyes or that tongue. Or that voice or…

"You are an evil demon sent ta lure me inta hell," he rasped, acutely aware of Tanner’s nearness.

"Could be," Vin drawled softly. "But ya gotta admit," he reached out abruptly with his other hand and knotted his long fingers in Larabee’s shirt, "I make the trip real entertainin’." And before Chris could move away, Vin pulled the man to him and claimed his lips with his own.

Chris stiffened and briefly considered resisting, then groaned in surrender and melted into that kiss. He slipped an arm about Tanner’s narrow back and held him close, deciding the horses could wait a few minutes more.

One day, though, one day, he was gonna win this fight…

7~7~7~7

Vin leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded loosely against his chest, and watched as Chris stripped the sheets off the bed in the guest bedroom. "Seems a waste," he sighed, his gaze riveted to Larabee’s ass as the man leaned over to pull the sheets from the far side of the bed.

"What?" Chris asked without turning around, not really certain he wanted to hear the answer. Tanner was like a dog with a bone.

Or a dog wanting a bone he couldn’t have…

"Takin’ off sheets that ain’t been used yet." He winced and shook his head as Larabee wadded up the sheets and threw them aside. "If yer so set on washin’ ’em, seems we should at least dirty ’em up proper first."

Chris exhaled slowly and leaned on the bed, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He would’ve counted to ten, but he’d learned long ago that he could count all damn day and it still wouldn’t help. Einstein couldn’t have come up with a number high enough to counter the Tanner Effect.

"Don’t you have somethin’ ta do?" he asked quietly.

Vin smiled slightly, still admiring the spectacle of snug denim showcasing Larabee’s firm, shapely ass and long, strong legs. "Kinda like what I’m doin’ now. ’Sides, y’ already done ever’thing but paint the house and rearrange the gravel in the driveway."

Still not looking at Vin, figuring temptation was easier avoided than resisted, Chris straightened and went to the closet, opened the door and took clean linens down from the top shelf. "What time is it?"

Vin rolled his eyes. "’Bout five minutes later than the last time ya asked." He arched a brow. "What’sa matter, ya done stared the numbers off yer own watch?"

Chris slammed the door and turned to glare at the sharpshooter. "Very f…" The words died in his throat as he suddenly saw Tanner. "What the hell are you wearin’?" he asked sharply, staring in shock at the younger man.

Vin looked as if he were about to be deployed somewhere. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of his old Army fatigue pants tucked into combat boots, and he’d rolled and knotted a dark blue bandanna around his head to hold his hair away from his face. All he needed was the familiar ponytail and his ATF cap worn backwards, and he’d be ready for sniper duty.

Tanner grinned at finally having gotten Larabee’s undivided attention. "Figgered ya might want me ta git my rifle ’n take up a position on the roof," he drawled, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Y’ know, so’s I can take out the Bug Babes ’fore they hurt ya."

Chris drew himself to his full height and tried to set his hands on his hips in his patented "don’t fuck with me" posture, but found that holding bedsheets under one arm drastically weakened the effect. And Tanner’s snicker assured him that his failure had not gone unnoticed.

"Tell me again why you’re here?" he growled.

Vin arched a brow. "Moral support?"

"That would imply you actually have morals."

The maddening grin only widened. "A mite testy, ain’t ya, cowboy?" he rasped. He unfolded his arms and straightened from his lean, his eyes darkening as he swept them slowly over Larabee’s long and obviously tense but thoroughly appealing form. "Shame y’ain’t in the mood fer some loosenin’ up."

Chris instinctively tightened his hold on the sheets as the blatant desire in the sharpshooter’s brilliant blue eyes and low, smoky voice wore at his defenses like sand eroding soft stone. He used to wonder if Vin knew of the power he had over him, but not anymore. He had no doubt that Tanner was completely aware of that power, and had absolutely no scruples about wielding it.

Damn dog was gonna get that bone yet.

"They’re g… they’re gonna be here soon," he rasped, mouth and throat going dry, blood running just a little hotter than he would have liked. "Why don’t you go out and… and keep watch or somethin’ while I finish here?"

Vin fixed wide eyes on Larabee and asked innocently, "Sure ya don’t want me ta lend a hand?"

Chris dropped the sheets as a shudder rocked him, then scowled and flung an outstretched arm toward the door. "Out!" he spat through clenched teeth. "Now!"

Vin shrugged easily. "Whatever ya say, boss." He turned away, took a step forward and then stopped. Without ever turning back, he added, "I’ll jist leave ya alone now. With all them clean sheets."

Then walked away with a satisfied smile when he heard Chris fall to his knees behind him.