Part 2

“Vin!”

Larabee rushed forward, his heart in his throat, as Tanner slumped to the ground and lay motionless by the fire. Throwing himself to his knees, he gathered the unconscious man into his arms and cradled him close, terrified by his pallor.

“Jesus, Vin, don’t do this to me!” he spat, clutching the younger man tightly and running shaking fingers through his long, sweat-damp hair. “C’mon, pard, wake up! Lemme see those blue eyes!”

Vin moaned softly, but did not awaken. Terrified, Chris shoved a hand to his throat and exhaled sharply in relief at the feel of his pulse. Faster than it should have been, but strong. His skin was cool, clammy with sweat, and Larabee swallowed hard past the knot that had formed in his throat.

Likely he was just exhausted. And probably hadn’t eaten or had nearly enough to drink, either …

“Jesus, Tanner,” he rasped, his voice strained and unsteady, “you’re gonna be the death of me yet!”

He lay Vin back down gently, then struggled to his feet, his legs still shaking, and made his way to where he’d left Pony. Off-loading and untacking the gelding quickly, he apologized for not taking the time to rub him down, then grabbed his bedroll. Retrieving Vin’s as well, he picked a spot far enough away from the fire that they would not be breathing the smoke and spread the blankets together.

“Goddamn sage,” he groused as he made a passable bed, easily recognizing the fragrance that hung heavily in the air. “It’s no wonder you passed out!”

With that done, he went back to Vin and managed to get the unconscious man upright, half-dragging and half-carrying him to the blankets. Once there, he carefully lowered Vin down upon them, again noticing his terrible pallor and struck again by that almost sickening fear.

God, what if he hadn’t come after all?

He shook his head sharply to clear it, refusing to think along those lines. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

He went back to his gear, got his canteen and saddlebags, then returned to Vin. Settling himself once more beside him, he opened his saddlebag and dug in it for the strips of bandages Nathan always insisted they carry. Pulling out one, he wet it with water from the canteen and gently bathed Vin’s face and throat.

“C’mon, pard,” he urged quietly, “come back to me. I need to know you’re all right.”

After several minutes, Vin’s head began moving slowly against the blanket, and his eyelids flickered. A soft, breathless moan escaped him and he lifted his right hand slightly.

“That’s it,” Chris encouraged. “Come back to me, Vin. Lemme see your eyes.”

Slowly, slowly, the eyelids pulled back, revealing two hazy slits of blue. Vin’s head turned, the slits of blue found the face looming above him, and a slight frown pulled downward at the corners of his mouth. He lifted his hand again, and immediately it was taken in a strong, warm grip that brought a soft sigh from him.

“Chris,” he breathed, his eyes closing again.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Larabee growled, squeezing hard at Vin’s hand. “You come back here. Damn it, Tanner, look at me!”

Vin forced his eyes open and stared up in confusion, not understanding Chris’s apparent anger; in fact, not understanding what the man was doing up here at all. “You followin’ me?” he whispered.

“Yeah. And a damn good thing I did, too,” Chris snapped. “Hell, Vin, you passed out! What if you’d fallen in the fire? You could’ve–” His throat tightened abruptly, choking off the words, and he had to try again. “You could’ve been killed,” he finished hoarsely.

Vin frowned more deeply still, trying to make his sluggish mind work, then sat up slowly. A sudden wave of vertigo hit him and he reeled dizzily, but was immediately caught in a strong embrace. As Chris’s arms closed about him and cradled him to the man’s lean, warm body, a faint smile curved about his mouth.

“Reckon I shoulda known you’d come,” he sighed, resting easily in that embrace.

“Reckon you shoulda,” Chris murmured, closing his eyes and resting a cheek against the tracker’s long hair. “I’ll always come after you, Tanner. Thought you’da figured that out by now.”

Vin’s smile faded and he pulled out of Larabee’s arms, but reached for and held tightly to his hand. “Guess I jist ain’t thinkin’ real clear,” he sighed. “Been so caught up in thinkin’ on what I lost that I done lost sight of what I got.” He winced and bowed his head, running an unsteady hand through his tangled hair. “Reckon ol’ Eli Joe’s got me twisted up somethin’ good.” He shook his head slowly. “Even dead, the sonuvabitch is still messin’ up my life.”

Chris reached out and cupped gentle fingers about Vin’s chin, lifting his head until their eyes met. “I know you don’t wanta hear this,” he said quietly, his green eyes dark with feeling, “but I’m sorry I had to kill him. Not sorry I did it, because I did it to save you and I could never be sorry for that, but I am sorry I had to. If there’d been any other way–”

“But there weren’t,” Vin sighed. “Hell, Chris, I know that. It’s jist …” He swallowed hard and looked away from Larabee, staring into the distance. “Y’ know why I came up here?” he asked softly.

Chris could think of a number of reasons, but instinctively knew that none of them applied this time. “Tell me.”

Vin sighed heavily and scooted around on the blanket until he was facing east. “Texas is thataway,” he breathed, his blue eyes fixed intently on the horizon. “Figgered if I could jist find a place high enough, mebbe I could see it.” Unbearable sorrow darkened his face and he abruptly bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly. “Likely it’s the only way I’m gonna see it from now on,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Shit,” Chris breathed, only now starting to realize the true depth of Tanner’s loss. Not just his name, but his home, the place where he’d been born and grew up, the place that had shaped him into the man he was now. “God, Vin, I’m sorry.”

“Ya keep sayin’ that,” Tanner said with mild irritation.

Larabee arched a golden brow. “I keep sayin’ it because I mean it,” he answered harshly.

Vin sighed and bowed his head, again feeling his weariness like a leaden weight within him. “Naw, that ain’t … I mean … Aw, hell!” he rasped in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Forget it.”

“No.” Chris moved to face Vin, positioning himself right in front of the tracker. “Talk to me, pard,” he urged softly, leaning forward and reaching out to take Vin’s hand in his. “I don’t care how long it takes. But I need to know what you’re thinkin’, what you’re feelin’. It’s the only way I can help you through this.”

Vin didn’t want to talk, but knew he didn’t have a choice. Larabee was every bit as stubborn as he was and would sit here until hell froze if he had to. Once more, he ran a hand through his hair, searching his mind for the words that fit his feelings.

“I jist,” he began haltingly, his voice thick and unsteady, “I jist don’t know … how I got … so far away.”

Chris waited for more, knowing patience was the first requirement for any conversation with Vin. But when it seemed no more was coming, he asked quietly, “Far away from where?”

Vin exhaled sharply and waved his free hand in a gesture of helplessness. “From … from where … Hell, from where I’s s’posed ta be! I mean … shit … I’m a tracker!” he said suddenly, sharply, anger flaring within him. “So how the hell did I miss my own trail? I tried, Lord God, how I tried! But I cain’t …” He turned his eyes back to the horizon and searched it intently, frowning and shaking his head in pain and confusion when no answer presented itself. “Why the hell cain’t I find where I went so wrong?”

Chris tried to follow the disjointed words, but only grew more confused. He and Vin had always had an innate understanding of each other, but, at the moment, it completely eluded him. “I don’t understand,” he finally admitted. “Vin,” he leaned forward, trying to catch that wild, unsettled gaze, “look at me, pard, and talk to me.” He reached out and laid a hand against Tanner’s cheek, gently turning the tracker’s face back to him. “Look at me,” he said again. “Now, tell me, what makes you think you’ve gone wrong?”

Anger, blind and unreasoning, ripped through Vin at that and he shot to his feet and walked away, then turned and stared down at Chris through blue eyes glittering with fury. “How the hell can you ask that?” he shouted, his lean frame trembling from the force of his emotion. “Goddamn it, Larabee, I got men huntin’ me fer money! I got a town waitin’ ta string me up, got my face on wanted posters all over the fuckin’ territory, and you ask me what makes me think I gone wrong? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Chris, where the hell have I gone right?”

Chris stood up slowly, carefully, not wanting to startled Vin in his present mood. “First off,” he said in a low, even voice, keeping his body and stance relaxed, “none of that is your fault. You’re innocent–”

“I took in a dead man fer a bounty–”

“But you didn’t kill him–”

“But I might as well have!” Vin cried harshly. “Eli Joe killed him ta set me up, killed him ta get me off his trail. An innocent man is dead because of me! Now tell me that ain’t my fault!”

“That ain’t your fault,” Chris said obligingly, as calm as Vin was agitated. “You got no control over what others do. Eli Joe is … was … a murderin’ bastard who killed just for the sport of killin’.” Green eyes bored into Tanner’s distressed blue ones. “You wanta take responsibility for Jess Kincaid? Fine. Are you also gonna take responsibility for all the folks Eli killed after he set you up and got you off his trail? Because if you’re guilty of one, you’re guilty of all. You really wanta take all that blood onto your soul?”

Vin stared at him in shocked disbelief, then, his exhaustion again winning out, sank slowly back to the ground, crossing his legs and burying his face in his hands. “Lord, no,” he whispered miserably. “Reckon I got enough there as it is.”

Chris went to him and sat down across from him again, his knees just touching Vin’s. “What does that mean?” he asked, determined to lance the wound festering inside his lover and release the poison. “What blood have you got on your soul?”

Vin exhaled unsteadily and lifted his head, raising a pale face heavenward. “Lord, what blood ain’t I got on my soul?” he groaned in torment. “I turned ta killin’ fer money, Chris. I always been good at huntin’ and trackin’, but I never … I only used t’ do it ta stay alive, or ta help folks … But then th’ Army an’ the railroads … they was offerin’ good money fer buff meat, and, Lord, I was tired of bein’ hungry! Part a’ me knew why they wanted the buffs dead, what it’d do ta the tribes … But another part said there’s so many that it couldn’t do no real harm … Only … only …” His voice broke and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Only there ain’t so many no more,” he whispered. “And the tribes are givin’ up their freedom and goin’ on reservations ’cause they’re hungry …” He wiped at the tear impatiently and scowled bitterly at Chris. “But I reckon that’s all right, ain’t it?” he snarled. “I mean, so long as I ain’t hungry no more, then don’t nothin’ else matter!”

Chris tried to think of an answer, but couldn’t. He had no idea what it was like to be so hungry that he had to weigh a people’s survival against his own, had no idea what it was like to know such hardship that slaughtering buffalo seemed like an attractive alternative. And, God, to be as young as Vin had to have been then and be forced to make such choices …

There couldn’t possibly be anyone in the world who had an answer for that.

“Then, when I saw how thin the herds was gettin’,” Vin went on, unable to spare himself any pain, “I turned ta huntin’ men. Fer money. Didn’t know whether they was guilty or innocent, didn’t care. All’s I knew was there was a poster on ’em and money waitin’ fer me when I took ’em back. Buffalo are big, but they’re stupid,” he said calmly, staring at Chris through eyes dull with regret and exhaustion. “Ain’t no real challenge huntin’ ’em, ’cept not bein’ killed by Comanches. If ya want a hunt that’s got some challenge to it, y’ oughtta try huntin’ men. Ain’t no creature trickier or more dangerous when he’s cornered. But I’ve always been real good at what I do.”

Chris shivered at the tone that had crept into Vin’s voice – soft, but infinitely deadly – and found it difficult to reconcile the cold-blooded hunter with the tired and hurting young man before him. He realized then that a lifetime would not be long enough for him to spend in getting to know all of Vin Tanner.

“Reckon mebbe that’s where I went wrong,” Vin sighed, wiping a hand over his eyes and then running it through his hair. “Huntin’ and killin’ fer money … Reckon it was only a matter of time b’fore the Spirits turned it back on me. Man I was huntin’ set the hunters on me. Fine line ’tween hunter and hunted, ’n I done stepped across it.”

“You didn’t step,” Chris contradicted softly. “You were pushed. By a piece of trash only lookin’ to save his own skin.” He sighed heavily and shrugged helplessly. “I can’t tell you that what you’ve done is right or wrong, Vin,” he breathed. “Hell, I got a hard enough time tryin’ to balance my own scales without takin’ on yours, as well. I’m no preacher, and I for damn sure ain’t God. I can’t absolve you, but I can’t condemn you, either. I won’t even try to judge you. But I will tell you this.”

He reached for Vin’s hand again and turned it palm-up in his own, running a long forefinger lightly, lovingly against the broad, dirt-stained palm. “This isn’t a killer’s hand. Oh,” he added quickly as Vin started to protest, “I know you’ve killed. Hell, I’ve seen you do it. And you’re damn good at it. But you don’t do it just to do it, and you don’t take joy in it. I’ve seen this hand and the other do too much good for me to ever think they belong to a killer.” He raised his gaze to Vin’s and searched it intently. “We’ve all got our ghosts,” he said softly. “We’ve all got sins and regrets on our souls. I’m not sure you can get through life without ’em. But havin’ ’em on your soul doesn’t mean you have to let ’em become a stone around your neck. You don’t deserve what’s happenin’ to you, Vin,” he breathed. “You don’t deserve bein’ wanted, you don’t deserve bein’ hunted, and you sure as hell don’t deserve bein’ hanged. And I promise you, pard, I promise you, I will die myself before I ever let that happen!”

Vin stared at him for long, long moments in silence, searching his eyes, his face, and seeing only the truth – and the love – written there. Then he remembered his dream, his vision, the golden eagle marked with thunder appearing out of nowhere to help him, and knew the Spirits had spoken to him. He licked his lips slowly and reached out, tracing the strong, beautiful features of the man before him with trembling, worshipful fingers.

“I know ya would,” he whispered softly, unsteadily, his blue eyes wide and dark. “’N I reckon that’s what scares me sometimes. Ain’t ever had this in my life before, Chris. Ain’t ever had somebody who considered my life worth as much as his own.”

“More,” Chris breathed, capturing that caressing hand in his and pressing it to his cheek. “I got no life without you, Vin. You are my life. How in the hell could I just stand by and let somebody take my life from me?” He swallowed and gripped Vin’s hand harder. “And that’s why I had to kill Eli Joe,” he rasped. “Maybe we’ll find a way to clear your name, maybe we won’t, I don’t know. But I know we’ll keep tryin’. And I know that, even if we don’t, I’ll still have you in my life, and that, pard, is really all that matters to me.”

“I cain’t go home, Chris,” Vin whispered, another tear sliding down his face. “My ma and pa, my grandpa, they’re buried back home, on this li’l piece of land that used ta be ours. Out back of the house, there’s this field plumb full’a bluebonnets. Lord, it goes on forever! Blue as far as the eye c’n see, so blue it hurts …” More tears fell, and he made no effort to stop them. His voice shook and splintered, and he never tried to control it. “I used ta go back ever’ chance I got. I’d kneel at their graves, put my hand in the dirt, and know that we was all one again. But I cain’t go back. I ain’t seen a bluebonnet since I don’t know when. I ain’t seen my ma’s grave … I’m losin’ ’em, Chris,” he breathed in torment, his eyes filled with unspeakable pain. “I done let myself get too far away.”

“Ssh, no, no!” Chris breathed, drawing the tracker into his arms and holding him close. Vin’s body shook, but again there was no sound, and that anguished silence broke his heart. “God, Vin, you haven’t lost ’em!” he said, holding Tanner close and tenderly stroking his hair, his back, and brushing loving kisses against his wet face. “They’re still with you, Vin, they’re part of you, and you’ll never get so far away that you’ll lose what they’ve given you. You don’t have to be able to touch their graves to have ’em with you. Believe me, pard, I know that for a fact. I haven’t been back to Sarah and Adam’s graves since we all went lookin’ for Fowler. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel ’em inside me every single day.”

“But you could go back if ya wanted to,” Vin said, slowly relaxing in Chris’s embrace. The strong arms about him brought him a comfort he’d thought he was beyond feeling, eased the hideous ache that had taken up residence in his soul. “I cain’t. And I want to. So much it hurts–”

“Then we’ll go,” Chris said firmly, still running his fingers through Vin’s hair. “I promise. We’ll figure out how and we’ll go. I’ll watch your back while you kneel at their graves and put your hand in the dirt. And you can show me your blue field.”

Vin raised his head from Chris’s shoulder and frowned at him. “You’d do that?” he whispered. “Fer me? Go all the way ta Texas?”

Larabee chuckled quietly. “I’d go to hell for you.” He winked. “I figure Texas couldn’t be too much worse.” For once, Tanner didn’t rise to the teasing, and Chris pulled his head back to his shoulder. “I’d go anywhere for you, Vin,” he sighed. “And do anything. I thought you knew that by now.”

“Y’ came after me,” Vin said, working it out for himself in his own mind. “Y’ thought Yates was a real federal marshal, but y’ still came after me.”

“Yeah, I did. And I’d do it again.”

“What if he had been real?”

Chris narrowed his eyes and his mouth tightened, but Vin didn’t see it. “Then I still would’ve taken you from him,” he said in a low voice. “I would’ve found a way, Vin, because I wouldn’t have stopped until I did.”

“Coulda made a mess of yer life.”

Chris smiled slightly. “I figure you’re worth a mess or two.”

A faint, crooked smile ghosted about Vin’s pale mouth. “Ain’t ever had anybody feel that way before.”

“You got it now, pard,” Chris said. “Best get used to it.”

Again Vin lifted his head from Chris’s shoulder and gazed at him in loving wonder. “Ain’t sure I ever will,” he breathed. “But I reckon … I won’t mind tryin’.”

Chris slipped a hand behind Tanner’s head and pulled it to him, seeking the tracker’s lips with his own. “Then what’s say,” he whispered against Vin’s mouth, “we start tryin’ now?”

Vin shivered and moaned as that soft, tender kiss swept through him with all the heat of a desert wind. He needed Chris, he realized suddenly, needed the man in every part of him, not just for his passion, but for all the love that lay behind it.

“Oh, God, cowboy,” he whispered unsteadily, “please, don’t let me go!”

Tears stung Larabee’s eyes at that plea and he crushed Vin to him. “Never!” he promised fiercely. Remembering yet again just how close he had come to losing this, to losing Vin, he clutched more tightly still at him and heard his sharply in-drawn hiss of pain. “Vin?” he asked sharply, immediately loosing his grip.

Tanner pulled back and gave a strained smile. “Reckon ya found one of the places Yates hit me.” His smile turned wry. “Mebbe we should take it a bit more careful.”

Chris shook his head. “Look, we don’t have to do this at all–”

“Yeah, we do,” Vin interrupted, his smile fading, his eyes dark. “I need ya, Chris. I need ta know … Hell, I don’t know! But Eli Joe’s already took so much from me … Please,” he whispered hoarsely, laying a trembling hand against Larabee’s heart. “Please, cowboy, don’t let him take this, too!”

Chris pushed the hair back from Vin’s pale, tired face with loving fingers and lightly stroked one high, hard cheekbone with a callused thumb. “Okay,” he agreed quietly, searching Vin’s eyes for any sign that he truly wasn’t up to this. “But you let me take care of you. I don’t wanta hurt you, Vin. I don’t ever wanta hurt you!”

Vin smiled slightly. “Reckon there’s times we’re gonna hurt each other,” he said pragmatically. “Thing is, though, we jist gotta work extra hard at takin’ that hurt away. And, Lord knows, Chris, there ain’t anybody any better at takin’ my pain away than you.”

“Then lemme do that now.” Larabee rose to his feet and extended an arm down to Vin in invitation. “Lemme take it all away.”

Warmed by the fire that blazed in those green eyes, Vin reached up and clasped his hand firmly about Chris’s forearm, and let the gunman pull him to his feet. More tired than ever, and feeling every ache from Yates’s beating, he leaned into Chris, and smiled as Larabee led him to the blankets he’d spread together earlier.

“Reckon I got some powerful hurts fer ya ta ease, cowboy,” he sighed, feeling almost light-headed.

“Well, then,” Chris said in a low, warm voice, “I guess I’d best get to work.”

And he did. With every bit of gentleness he possessed, he undressed his lover, easing him out of his shirt and undershirt. Tossing them aside, he leaned forward and showered a series of exquisitely tender kisses over every bruise he had uncovered.

Vin shivered and moaned and very nearly sank to his knees as Chris took his time stripping him, as he seduced and made love to him with his every touch. His head dropped helplessly to Larabee’s shoulder as the man stripped him of his gunbelt with agonizing slowness, as long, sure fingers skimmed and danced over his sides, belly and groin, as firm hands cupped and caressed his ass. All but blinded by desire, weak in the knees and lightheaded, he had no choice but to let Chris lay him down upon the blankets, couldn’t have resisted the man if he’d wanted to.

And, Lord God, he surely didn’t want to!

Chris tugged off Vin’s boots, his pants and drawers, then quickly stripped himself. Fire swept through him at the sight of the tracker’s naked beauty, and his cock surged to aching, impatient fullness. But he knew there could be no haste, none of the familiar wildness, between them this time. Vin was hurting, was still reeling from the ordeal he’d suffered, and simply was not up to their customary ferocity.

Besides, Chris told himself, after all they’d been through, this was a time for loving, not just fucking.

Vin gazed up at his lover, saw the tenderness in that proud, strong face, and held up a hand in invitation. “C’mere, cowboy,” he called softly, “lemme start gettin’ used to ya.”

And Chris did. Craving Vin in every part of himself, he went to and lost himself in the tracker, releasing all the pent-up fear of the past few days in a sweet storm of love and passion. With slow hands and searching mouth, he explored every part of Vin’s body, kissing scars, licking and stroking the hard ridge of bone and firm sweep of muscle, tonguing every crease and sucking every protrusion. He kissed the tops of Vin’s feet, licked and kneaded his way up the long, slim legs, nipped lightly at and blew gently over the tender flesh of his inner thighs. He swirled his fingers through the thatch of dark curls at Vin’s crotch, slid tongue and fingers over every inch of his swollen, weeping cock, fondled and sucked his heavy balls and laved his tongue with agonizing slowness against the dark puckered hole behind them.

Vin was a writhing, moaning, shuddering wreck, his mind gone, his reason shattered, his over-wrought body assailed by more sensations than he could name. He clutched at Chris with frantic hands, arched against him and whimpered for him, awash in so much pain and pleasure he thought he might die.

But, Lord, he couldn’t imagine a sweeter death!

Chris returned his attention to Vin’s cock, kissing, licking and lapping away the pearly liquid leaking from its dark-flushed head. His own thick staff ached for attention as Vin’s taste and scent swept through him in waves, but that, he knew, would come later. For now, Tanner was all that mattered.

“Chrissss … please!” Vin hissed, knotting his fingers in the blankets and arching his hips in frantic need. “Hurts … GOD!” he shrieked as a hot, wet mouth engulfed his tortured flesh.

Chris took him deep, holding his hips to still his thrashing and sucked at him with a ravenous hunger. Then, knowing how very near the edge Vin was, he began to hum.

“Oh … Jesus … CHRISSS!” Vin howled as the vibrations ran up and down his length. White heat ripped through him, igniting a boiling at the base of his spine, in his belly, in his balls, and he screamed as it exploded through him, as he erupted into shattering orgasm.

Chris caught the hot stream as it jetted forth, drinking and swallowing greedily, and sucking at Vin for still more. He drained Tanner’s cock of every drop, milked his balls, slipped a finger into his hole and stroked his gland. And only when he was certain there was no more, when Vin was shivering and moaning in exhaustion, did he let the empty, softened flesh slip from his mouth and slide his body alongside Tanner’s, enfolding the shaking man in his warm embrace.

Vin pressed himself as close against Chris as he could, nestled deeply into that embrace and let the man’s warmth and strength seep into his own drained body. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could barely breathe. But Chris was all around him and he knew he was safe. The cold, black terror that had held him fast ever since the moment Yates had appeared outside his wagon was gone without a trace.

“You feelin’ better now, pard?” Chris asked softly, lightly stroking Tanner’s back.

Vin nodded and smiled, pressing a tender kiss to Larabee’s chest. “Yeah,” he breathed contentedly. “Feel like I can breathe again. Seems like I ain’t done that in days.” He lifted a hand and brushed a shock of golden hair back from Chris’s forehead. “Ain’t thanked ya yet fer savin’ my life,” he said.

Chris winced at that and bowed his head, knowing only too well the price at which Vin’s life had come. “I just wish–”

“Ssh.” He laid a finger over Chris’s lips to silence him. “Ain’t no sense wishin’ fer what cain’t be,” he said. “I learned that a long time ago. What’s done is done ’n cain’t be undone. All’s we can do is learn ta live with it. And as long as we’re livin’, then I reckon we got a purty good chance.”

“Vin–”

“I mean it, Chris,” he said firmly, catching and holding Larabee’s gaze with his. “I am grateful. I ain’t stupid enough ta believe that he was gonna let me live. He couldn’t. Ya did what ya had to. Like you said – mebbe we’ll clear my name, mebbe we won’t. But we stand a helluva lot better chance if I’m alive.” He let his hand wander down Chris’s body, delighting in the feel of the taut muscles beneath the warm, smooth flesh, in the latent power of the beautiful man he loved. He ran fingers through the golden hair between the firm pectorals, then brushed them slowly down and over the flat belly, feeling the muscles there rippling in response. “Jist wanta show ya how grateful I am to ya fer keepin’ me that way.”

Chris gasped and shuddered as Vin trailed his fingers down from his belly, through the patch of dark gold hair to the thick staff of flesh that stiffened and twitched at his touch. Fire shot along his every nerve at that touch and Tanner’s name escaped him in a strangled growl.

“Like that, do ya?” Vin asked in a low, husky drawl. He continued stroking Larabee’s shaft, feeling it grow harder still. “I’m real grateful to ya, cowboy,” he whispered, shimmering blue eyes locked upon smoldering green. “Reckon it’s time I showed ya how much.”

Chris sucked in a slow, hissing breath through clenched teeth as Tanner’s long, nimble fingers danced with a devastating lightness up and down his burning cock, as the tracker fondled its length and scraped a fingernail across its head. “Vin–”

“Ssh,” Tanner breathed, bowing his head to Chris’s chest. “Now it’s time fer me ta take care of you.” And he latched onto a dusky nipple, closing his mouth hard about the taut brown bud and sucking slowly. The hand at Larabee’s cock began pumping in that same deliberate rhythm, mouth and fingers working in concert to shatter the blond gunman’s composure.

And it worked. Chris cried out harshly and thrust helplessly into that maddening hand, his whole existence coalescing into a swirling firestorm of need. The tracker’s hot, greedy mouth was moving back and forth between his nipples, licking, sucking, biting, and, as raging heat pounded through his blood, as his whole body began to throb and burn from mounting desire, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Vin!” he called hoarsely, reaching down to still the hand at his cock. “Vin … please!”

The tracker raised his head from Larabee’s chest, his blue eyes glazed and hot, his face flushed with renewed hunger. “What?”

Chris took Vin’s hand and held it, trying to concentrate on something other than the hideous throbbing of his cock. “I wanta … be inside ya,” he rasped. “You think … you’re up to that?”

Vin nodded and smiled, reaching out to run his fingers through Larabee’s sweat-sodden hair. “I thought ya’d never ask.”

Chris sat up slowly and gazed intently at his lover, studying him carefully. “I mean it, partner,” he said softly, seriously. “If you ain’t up to it, I wanta know. I want ya, Vin, want ya so much I can taste it, but not if it means hurtin’ ya. I’d rather die than do that.”

Vin leaned forward and kissed Chris deeply. “Don’t want either of us t’ die, cowboy,” he growled against that beautiful mouth. “We still got too much livin’ ta do.”

Chris returned the kiss hungrily and bore Vin carefully down onto the blankets. As tongues, arms and legs joined and knotted in an intimate embrace, Chris reached out with one hand and felt for the tin of oil he’d pulled out of his saddlebag earlier in his search for the bandage strips. Pulling it toward him, he kissed Vin one last time and then rose to his knees, staring ardently down at the younger man.

“You sure, pard?” he asked hoarsely.

Vin smiled and nodded. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.” He drank in the sight of the man kneeling above him. “Like I said before, I been thinkin’ too much on what I’ve lost. Reckon it’s time fer me ta start seein’ all that I still got.”

That was all Chris had to hear. He wrenched the top off the tin and scooped out some of the thick, fragrant oil, then coated his hands and cock liberally. When he was done, he set the tin aside and turned his full attention to Vin.

God, he was beautiful! He pulled Tanner’s legs up over him, stroking and kneading his way up the long, slender limbs, all the while gazing raptly into two wide and heat-filled blue eyes. His hands roamed slowly up Vin’s legs to the tender creases at the junction of thigh and groin, and he licked his lips in hungry anticipation as the tracker’s cock hardened and twitched at his touch. He stroked Vin’s length lovingly, then slid his hand with agonizing slowness over his full balls, cupping and caressing the heavy sacs and tearing a thick, wordless moan from the Texan. Next he trailed his fingers to the dark, tight hole behind Tanner’s balls, lightly stroking around the rim before inserting a single finger.

Vin gasped and bucked as that finger entered him and began to play inside him. He closed his eyes and arched his back, thrusting himself down upon that tormenting digit, needing this, needing Chris, as he’d never needed anything in his life.

Chris slipped in another finger and worked the tight ring of muscle, his own breath coming in harsh pants through clenched teeth. Vin never failed to bring him to this point, love and lust colliding into one raging, rising tide of need that he was powerless to control. He’d come so close to losing this, and couldn’t imagine how he ever would have lived without it.

A third finger went in, and Vin howled as lightning jolted his every nerve. He writhed and thrashed wildly on the blankets, clutching at whatever he could reach and near sobbing in pain and pleasure.

“Jesus … Chris … please!” he begged.

Larabee withdrew his hand, gritted his teeth, and pressed his cock to Vin’s hole. Grabbing Tanner’s hips to still him, he pressed himself inside, at last entering the body he knew better than his own. Wet heat engulfed him, welcomed him, sent his senses spiralling out of control.

Vin stiffened and cried out thickly as the familiar pain of penetration assailed him, but he forced himself to ride it out as his body adjusted to Chris’s presence in it. Then the pain faded, replaced immediately by urgent, overwhelming need.

“Move, goddamn it!” he snarled.

Chris did; slid slowly, slowly in, forcing restraint upon himself, sheathing himself in his lover. Then he withdrew just as slowly, until only his head remained, and pushed once more forward. Time and again he slid in and out, gradually increasing the strength and speed of his strokes, until he was driving into Vin with a furious force, impaling his lover upon his hard and hungry flesh.

Vin thrust just as fiercely onto Chris, and their bodies fell into a familiar, frantic rhythm. Then Chris’s hands closed about his cock, stroking and pumping in that same rhythm, and Vin came undone from the ruthless assault on his overwrought senses. Worked inside and out by his lover, consumed in the living fire that was Chris Larabee, he abandoned all restraint, all control, and surrendered to the primal pleasure of being claimed body and soul by this man. Chris hit his gland again and again, and he shrieked and bucked wildly as intense, unbearable pleasure exploded through him, then screamed again as he burst into shattering release.

The ferocity of his partner’s climax triggered Chris’s own. Vin’s body clenched tight about him, Vin’s slick seed covered his hand, the pungent scent of it overwhelmed his senses, and he threw back his head, every muscle straining as he drove harder, deeper still into his lover. The heat engulfing him fed his own, and all at once he could feel it coming, the hard, boiling tide that nothing could stop. He loosed a harsh, wordless cry and thrust furiously into Vin, emptying himself into the deep cavern of the Texan’s body.

“Jesus!” he gasped, collapsing onto Tanner, shaking and drained of strength.

For long, long moments the two lay together in exhausted immobility, their rapid, ragged breathing the only sounds coming from them. They always treasured this time of closeness, when the union of their bodies had broken the only barrier that still separated them. Still joined together, their arms and legs entwined, sweat and seed mixed and mingled, Chris’s flesh yet cradled in Vin, they were as much one as they could possibly be, and neither was in any hurry for it to end.

Yet end it must, even for them. Slowly, carefully, Chris withdrew from Vin, but immediately gathered the other man into his arms, Tanner’s back to his chest, and held him close. Vin, in turn, fitted himself easily against Chris, slipping one leg between Larabee’s two and pillowing his head against the gunman’s broad shoulder. A peace he’d thought gone forever settled upon him, seeped through him, and he relaxed into it, releasing, at last, the darkness and sorrow of the past two days.

“You mean what ya said before,” he finally rasped, his voice heavy with coming sleep, “’bout us goin’ ta Texas?”

Chris nestled his face against the damp mass of Vin’s hair, breathing deeply, contentedly, the man’s earthy scent. “I never say things I don’t mean,” he breathed. “Thought you knew that by now.”

Vin smiled drowsily. “Reckon I do. Jist … wanted ta be sure.”

“We’ll go. I promise.”

“Good,” Vin sighed, his eyes drifting closed. “Wanta show you my mama’s grave. Then I wanta take ya out behind the house and make love to ya in a field of blue.”

THE END