Fic: Tides (Mag7:ATF/Riptide, NC-17, Chris/Vin, Nick/Cody/Murray) (Part 3 of 3)
Title: Tides, part 3
Author: Sara
For disclaimers and ratings and thanks to the village that helped raise this child, please see part one.
This is the end of the story.
Part one
Part two
A few minutes after they weighed anchor, Vin found Chris in the Riptide's salon. He slapped a first aid kit down on the table next to him and said, "Wetsuit off, cowboy. You may have hidden it from Nathan, but you can't hide from me."
Chris jumped slightly, raising his head from the hand that had been supporting it. "Hid what?" he said, his voice challenging, despite the paleness of his face and the lines of tension around his mouth, probably from pain.
Vin moved like he was going to slap Chris on the arm he held in his lap, the black neoprene of the wetsuit he'd been wearing torn almost invisibly just in the meaty part of his bicep. When Chris flinched away, paling visibly, Vin nodded toward his arm, "That. I saw you get shot. Know it's there." He closed his eyes on the vision that had tormented him of Chris falling into the darkness, the fear of what he'd find when he saw him again. When he opened them again, Chris was looking at him curiously, that small sweet smile he'd seen earlier on the corner of his mouth again.
After a moment, Chris stood and struggled with the wetsuit's shirt, wincing and grunting as it pulled on his injured arm. Vin stood and helped him, gently easing the clinging material down and off. A fat drop of blood was squeezed out of the spongy material as he worked, marking the carpet under their feet. Vin whistled when the wound was revealed, circular and angry and still seeping blood. He tilted his head and looked at the back of Chris's arm, saw the larger and more ragged hole there. "Through and through. Should've got Nate to look at it," he said, firmly, though even through his fears for Chris he could see that it wasn't too bad.
"If I was gonna bleed out, I'd've been dead by the time I got to him," Chris said with a forced chuckle, his voice tight with pain.
Pushing away the thought, hard, Vin said, "Ain't something to joke about." His voice only shook a little, which both surprised and pleased him, but Chris didn't seem to notice.
Vin helped Chris ease the wetsuit the rest of the way off, leaving him in a pair of trunks borrowed from Nick. He carried the wetsuit out to the deck and draped it over the chair next to Cody's. When he got back inside Chris was sitting again at the end of the bench seat, head propped up on his right hand, the injured arm held close to his side. Vin nudged him with his knee, "Scoot around to the other end, let me take a look. Then you can go downstairs and put your clothes back on."
When Chris did so, Vin opened the first aid kit and went to work cleaning the wounds. The bleeding stopped quickly when he applied pressure, which satisfied his remaining concerns about the severity of the wound. He put on the antibiotic goop, then gauze bandages front and back, holding them on with tape wrapped tight enough to provide some pressure, but not too tight, checking Chris's fingers carefully to make sure that circulation was good.
He drew the process out for as long as he could, reluctant to lose the privilege of touching Chris, tending to him and caring for him, but aside from some torn up knuckles from punching Farouk, which Vin applied goop and gauze to, he was fine. Eventually Vin was forced to rock back on his heels and say, with as much of a smile as he could muster, "You're right. You'll live until we get you to a hospital. Got some Tylenol here that'll take the edge off 'til you can get fixed up proper and they give you some better pain pills."
Vin knew he should get some water for Chris so he could take the medicine, but was held fast by Chris's eyes, watching him closely, his eyes deep and dark even in the lit room. Chris reached with his good hand toward Vin, fingers ghosting over Vin's temple then up to his hairline. Vin winced and flinched away when Chris found the place the gunman and Carasco had both hit him.
Chris looked at his fingers, stained red with blood, grimaced, then said, "You've got a cut there yourself, Tanner." Vin had just barely opened his mouth when Chris went on, "Don't even bother saying that it's nothing and you're fine. Just hand over the first aid kit and be still."
Seeing the expression on Chris's face, filled with tenderness and fear, Vin just nodded and pushed the kit toward him. Vin watched Chris while he worked, his face as gentle as his fingers. When he'd smoothed the last of the tape into place, Chris said, "Jesus Vin, I thought that bastard..." His hand slid from Vin's hair down to his shoulder as his voice died, and he gripped hard.
Vin wrapped his hand around Chris's forearm, holding him just as tightly, and said, "I know." He felt a shudder at the memory of Farouk's eyes on him, then another harder one when he again saw Chris whirl and fall out of sight in the boat. "I thought you was dead," he said, his voice faint and on the edge of breaking. "For a minute there, I was so scared I couldn't hardly breathe."
Chris winced at the words, a flash of pain passing over his features. Vin was sorry he'd said anything about it, until Chris leaned forward and kissed Vin's temple. His lips moved over the place where Farouk's gun had been pressed then he backed away just far enough that Vin could see his eyes, deep and pained and glittering in the dim light. "Know that feeling," Chris said.
Vin blinked, the feel of Chris's lips on his skin more real, more intense than the pain from the cuts and bruises he'd acquired. "Chris?" he asked, genuinely confused.
Their eyes met and locked and Vin felt again the shock of recognition, of pleasure, of love, that he'd felt the very first time he'd seen Chris. Felt it every time their eyes had met since, he realized, only he hadn't known what he was feeling or what it meant. Chris smiled softly, like he knew what Vin was realizing, like he'd been waiting for it. Vin's cheeks heated in a blush, as he said, "Reckon this is another one of them things we need to talk about back in Denver."
Chris tilted his head at an appraising angle. "Could talk about it, if you want. I was hoping for less talk, more this..." He leaned forward and brushed his lips across Vin's, his hand on Vin's neck holding firmly but not so firmly that Vin couldn't get away if he wanted to.
Vin might have laughed at the idea that he could ever want to get away from Chris, but focused his attention on Chris's lips, pressing his own more firmly against them, licking at the little dent in the full lower lip until they parted on a soft moan and his tongue met Chris's.
They kissed for several minutes, Vin wrapping his hands around Chris's shoulders, Chris's fingers twining deep into his hair, tongues exploring. Vin'd kissed plenty of men before, but never had a kiss that left him breathless the way this one did, his heart pounding and fluttering in his chest like it was about to take flight. He moaned as Chris pulled him around and then bore him backwards on the narrow bench.
Before he'd been entirely laid flat, though, Chris groaned, pain not pleasure, and backed off holding his wounded arm to his side. He looked at Vin with a smile both hungry and apologetic. "Shouldn't have put my weight on it."
Vin pushed himself back upright and pushed a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. "Damn, I'm sorry. Guess we got a little carried away..."
Chris stroked Vin's cheek with the fingertips of his good hand, then his hand trailed down Vin's chest, smoothing the folds out of the black cotton shirt, ending up with his fingers wrapped around the waistband of Vin's jeans. "Don't be sorry, Vin," he said, his eyes fixed on his hand. "I'm not."
"Me neither," Vin said. "But maybe not-talking'd better wait for Denver too. We ain't neither of us at our best right now."
Chris gave him a rueful smile. "And Murray and Cody are just upstairs in the wheelhouse. I don't know as I want an audience."
Vin slid out from behind the table and knelt on the floor next to Chris, one hand resting on Chris's bare stomach. "I don't mind waiting, but I'd hate like hell if you changed your mind."
The words were barely out of his mouth when Chris had pulled him into a deep, wet, kiss full of passion and a wanting that Vin could feel clear to his soul. He was still reeling from the depth of it when Chris eased back and said, "Ain't gonna happen, my mind's been made up a long time."
With a smile, Vin said, "Then we can wait until neither one of us is hurtin'."
Chris leaned back and closed his eyes, tension and pain still evident in the lines around them, but his voice was clear when he said, "We can wait for a real bed."
Vin laughed, "And privacy." He sobered a bit. "I'd kinda like for all this talkin' and not-talkin' to happen out at your ranch, Chris. I been picturing..."
Chris's eyes slitted open. "Best not tell me you've been fantasizing about us if we're going to wait, Vin." He slung out his arm and pulled Vin close. "Just sit here with me until we're back on land." His eyes closed again.
Vin slipped away. "Better idea, cowboy. I'll go get us some Tylenol and see if there's beer in that fridge, then I'll sit here with you."
Chris grunted and nodded, and Vin kissed his forehead once before he walked away. Just because he could.
***
Up in the wheelhouse, Murray paced, arms waving as he said, "What the hell were you doing going after Farouk in the Ebbtide?"
Cody, so calm that he made Murray want to scream even more, said, "I thought I was stopping the bad guy from getting away. Did I miss something?"
"You could have been shot," Murray shouted. "You could have been killed, or blown up, or taken away and sold to some potentate. Chris got shot," he waved toward the stairs to the salon, "you could have been shot too. And I was waiting off in the wings for news of whether or not you were okay, because you'd lost your wire so I had no way of knowing how you were. Your line went dead so fast I thought they'd killed you. And I couldn't do anything..." He stopped his pacing, wrapping his arms around Cody's chest from behind.
Cody flipped a switch on the console near the pilot wheel and turned to Murray. "Who told the rest of the team to move in?" he asked, putting his hands on Murray's shoulders, grounding him and holding him securely.
Murray shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, avoiding Cody's eyes. "I did. All three of you lost your signals at the same time. I figured something was wrong."
Cody nodded. "You saved our lives, Boz. You saved my life," Cody leaned forward and gave Murray a soft kiss, the prickle of his mustache warming Murray's lips.
Murray leaned into Cody, resting his head on his shoulder, allowing relief to flood through him. "Yeah. I guess I did. But you weren't supposed to be..."
Cody kissed him again, more firmly, then said, "You know Nick's going to rip strips out of me for going after Farouk when we get home. Do I have to listen to it twice?" The hint of humor in his voice calmed Murray's nerves even more.
Murray smiled faintly and said, "Okay, okay. He yells better than I do anyway." He pulled Cody close and held him tightly for a minute, taking comfort in his presence, his warmth, and his strength. After a minute, a thought struck him and he pulled away from Cody's arms as he said, "Shouldn't you be steering?"
Cody said, "Autopilot. It'll be okay for another few minutes until we approach the shipping lane." Murray settled against him again. After another minute or so, Cody asked, "How'd you know Chris was shot?"
Murray shrugged. "Vin's face when you guys came aboard. He looked like you do when Nick gets hurt, completely blank. It's your hospital face, so no one there sees anything to make them suspicious about us."
Cody turned back to the pilot wheel, one of Murray's hands held in his own. Murray allowed himself to be tugged right next to Cody so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. As he was reaching for the switch to turn off the autopilot, Cody asked, "You think there's something going on...?" He sounded almost incredulous.
Murray shook his head and rubbed Cody's shoulder. "I think that's not our business," he said, firmly, trying to convince himself more than Cody. Truth was, he was curious about Vin and Chris and what they were hiding from each other. Wanted to help. But he didn't think he could bring it up. He liked Vin, but there were some things he just couldn't see himself doing.
Cody put his arm around Murray's shoulder, distracting him from his thoughts. "You could offer them the use of our bedroom. Just so Larabee can lay down. Since he's injured and all. Then we'd know for sure."
Murray laughed. "It might even work," he said, then his next thought was lost in a huge yawn.
Cody gestured with his head toward the padded bench at the back of the wheelhouse. "Why don't you lie down for a while? I'll wake you when we get close to land," he said.
"You'll be okay on your own?" Murray asked, looking toward the seat with longing.
"Yeah," Cody said, "Nick and I took a nap while you and JD were on the computers. I'll be fine." With a quick arm around Murray's waist to pull him close, Cody kissed Murray, then said, "Just stay up here with me. You don't want to walk in on those guys, you know?"
Murray laughed again and, with a final kiss, flopped down on the seat, asleep almost as soon as he rested his head on his arm.
***
On their way into King Harbor, Cody and Murray dropped Chris and Vin off at the Coast Guard station, since Chris they needed to take part in processing the prisoners and questioning Farouk and Carasco. They radioed the Mimi to let Nick know when they were just a few minutes out, so he was waiting for them at their slip when they arrived and helped them to tie up both of the boats.
By the time they were done, the Ebbtide II secured and covered in the slip next to the Riptide, it was well after dawn and the harbor was starting to bustle. Murray put his arms over his lovers shoulders when they were finally all standing together on the pier, then led them toward the privacy of their home. They all needed sleep, he knew, needed it as much as they needed to make love and reassure themselves and each other that no one was hurt.
As they walked, Nick asked, his voice deceptively calm, "So Cody, what were you doing going after the Bluefin?"
Murray laughed out loud and Cody said, "Murray's already yelled at me. You don't need to do it..." He stepped over the railing onto the Riptide, and offered Murray an assisting hand.
Taking the offered hand, as he always did, Murray said, "Hey, now. You got me to stop yelling at you because Nick was going to. You've got to listen to at least one of us."
Nick held open the door to the salon for them, and once they entered he said, "I thought that was Tanner in the Ebbtide with Larabee, Cody. Buck had to tell me I was wrong when we were on our way back to shore. What the hell were you doing there? Didn't we agree to leave Farouk to the ATF guys?"
With an uncomfortable looking shrug, Cody said, "He was getting away and no one else was in a position to get to the boat and go after him. The Coast Guard boat sure as hell wasn't going to be able to catch him." He looked up at Nick, his face worried, and asked, "How are you? A lot of folks were shooting at the Mimi too."
"Fine. Buck's shoulder got creased, and the Mimi's got a bunch of holes, but nothing came near me," Nick said, running his hands over Cody's arms and back. Reassuring himself that Cody was okay, Murray knew and he understood the impulse. He was fighting his own inclination to make sure that Nick was unhurt.
Without any one of them seeming to initiate it, they all gravitated to each other, winding up in a tight hug in the middle of the room. Nick and Cody were kissing each other while Murray marked each of their necks in turn, before they turned to kiss him. Nick kissed him first, hard and deep, while Cody ran his hands down Murray's sides, tucking two fingers into Murray's jean's pocket and stroking Murray's hip through them. Murray moaned and turned away from Nick, seeking Cody's mouth with his own, eyes closed.
It was a passionate ritual of reassurance and claiming, possession and love, one that they'd enacted hundreds of times over the years, though it was different and new every time. As they descended the stairs to their cabin, Murray figured that sleeping could wait. They needed to renew their connection with each other a whole lot more than they needed mere rest.
***
The next evening, the ten of them took over the outside deck at Straightaway's, drinking and laughing and sharing stories of their various adventures the night before. Most of them sat around three big tables that had been pulled together, sharing pitchers of beer that were drained almost as quickly as they were served, at least at first. Waitresses had already brought them several trays full of nachos, potato skins, and buffalo wings.
Vin leaned on the wall in the shadow of a large bush, watching as JD talked with Josiah, moving one hand across the other like he was trying to convey how fast the Ebbtide could move. Josiah was nodding and smiling with a mixture of indulgence and interest, his usual reaction to JD's speed junkie tendencies, as was Ezra, listening to JD and Nick, on his other side, at the same time.
Buck flirted with a pretty waitress wearing a bikini top and a sarong skirt. She was cooing sympathetically over his sling and a bandage he'd applied to his forehead. Vin knew for certain that there was no cut there, but Buck figured that an obvious bandage like that would work better with the ladies than something hidden by his shirt. Nathan walked by, said something to Buck that made him splutter, and the girl walked away in a mock huff, shaking her hips in her tight skirt. Buck was practically drooling as he watched her walk away. Vin chuckled to himself. Good ol' Buck.
Chris and Cody were smoking cigars and talking quietly at their own small table a few feet away, clearly enjoying themselves but not quite part of the festivities. As Vin himself wasn't.
Vin pushed away from the wall and sat down at the table with Cody and Chris. Cody moved his chair a little bit away, making room, but Chris didn't, so Vin found himself with his leg pressed against Chris's under the table, reassurance and distraction at the same time. They hadn't talked again, hadn't even touched, since their conversation on the Riptide, and Vin wasn't entirely certain he knew where they stood. Though he had a pretty good idea, he reckoned.
After a moment of greetings, the conversation Cody and Chris'd been having before he arrived resumed, Cody saying, "I wanted to train for the Rangers, maybe even go into Special Ops, but Nick didn't. He liked being an MP, liked the police work. Just the right mix of danger and boredom, he said. I wanted to prove myself."
Chris tilted his head, considering that for a moment before he asked, "To who?"
Cody laughed. "I don't know. My parents, maybe. All the folks who'd dismissed me as a rich pretty-boy my whole life."
Chris said, "It's an awful lot of work to go through, a lot of pain, just to rub some shitty little bastard's nose in it." He laughed, then went on, "Though I can tell you it was damned satisfying to show Tim Aikers my SEAL tattoo." He pushed up the sleeve of his black t-shirt and showed Cody the tattoo on his bicep. "I was the captain of the basketball team and he was the captain of the football team. Total prick. Last time I went back to Bloomington, though, I was a SEAL and he was an insurance agent. I liked that."
Vin smiled inwardly, thinking of leaving the two of them to their conversation, when Cody turned to him and asked, "What about you, Vin? Murray says you were in the Army. Did you ever think of joining the Rangers?"
Vin shrugged and said, "Nah. I was lined up to be a sniper about ten minutes after they put a rifle in my hands, and nobody ever let me think about anything different. I didn't have no one back home I wanted to show off to anyhow." He smiled faintly and caught Cody's eyes, noticing for the first time the depths they contained, maybe not the depths of loss that Chris carried, but he sure went way deeper than his surface of charm and good looks. Vin smiled at him more broadly, winning a surprised smile in return.
Chris shifted in his seat, pressing their legs more firmly together. Vin turned to look at him and Cody, handsome as he was, faded from his thoughts entirely. Chris's hair caught the sunlight and glowed like an improbable halo and the light brought out the green in his eyes. Chris smiled, his eyes dancing over Vin's face. Vin ducked his head, breaking their eye contact before they showed Cody, showed all of them, more than they ought.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention," Ezra said suddenly, standing and tapping on his wine glass with a knife. "I'd like to propose a toast to the very successful collaboration of the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives with the Riptide Detective Agency. If only we could get along so well with all local agencies."
Buck turned away from the pretty waitress, who was now pressing an ice pack to the fake bandage on his forehead and said, "Hear, hear!" Laughter rippled around the table.
Before Ezra could start talking again, Chris stood up and said, "Standish, I'm the leader of this team and if any toasts are going to be made, I'll make them, damn it."
Ezra tipped an invisible hat and sat down with a warm smile as Nathan said, "With Chris speakin', we'll get back to drinking faster."
Buck gave another hearty, "Hear, hear!", sparking a new round of laughter.
Picking up his beer mug, Chris said, "All right, short and sweet it is. l just want to thank Cody, Nick and Murray for their assistance, for their boats, and for their computers." JD chirped soggily and raised his nearly empty mug and Vin wondered how much he'd had to drink already. "If I hear about you boys planting another illegal bug though, I'll have your asses."
Nick and Murray looked at each other uncomfortably while the others laughed. Vin caught Murray's eye and smiled at him until he realized Chris was joking and relaxed. Murray leaned over and whispered something to Nick, who leaned back in his chair with a big smile.
Chris went on, "And finally, if you ever need any help from the ATF, you'd best look us up. We believe in taking care of our friends." He raised his glass high then offered it to Vin and Cody, who were nearest him to clink their own against. Vin touched his glass to both of theirs, letting his eyes linger on Chris's for a bit.
This time it was Josiah who said, "Hear, hear", followed by a flurry of raised glasses, handshakes and congratulations. When that passed, the party resumed in high spirits and the laughter and bragging continued until the owner herself had to shoo them all out in the wee hours of the morning.
*** Epilogue: Denver ***
Vin took a deep breath and rubbed his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, before ringing the doorbell of Chris's ranch. Maybe at another time, on another day, he'd have just walked in, Chris left the door unlocked if he was expecting someone, but this wasn't any other day.
They'd gotten back to Denver late on Wednesday, the operation having gone down on Monday night, and the remainder of their week, and even the weekend, had been spent with processing and paperwork. The inevitable internal investigations because of the fatalities, one of them from Vin's gun, had taken up a lot of time and energy, as would the mandatory visits with the psychiatrist in the coming weeks. The days had been long and Vin'd had no time to speak to Chris at all about anything that didn't directly pertain to the case.
They'd finally gotten to the point where the whole team could take a couple of days off, even though it was the middle of the week. Vin'd found a terse note on his desk when he was getting ready to head home. It was short and to the point. "Time for that talk. -- Chris"
Vin'd taken a half hour to stop by his apartment, change out of the slacks and shirt he was forced to wear to the Federal Building and into a pair of worn jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. If the talk included a reprimand, as he still fretted it might, he wanted to be comfortable. If it was going to be more of the not-talking that they had started on the Riptide, well, he'd been told that he looked good in those jeans, and that couldn't hurt either.
He was about to ring the doorbell again, when Chris answered, a nervous scowl on his face. The scowl faded, though the nervous look didn't, when he saw Vin and he said, "What the hell're you ringing the bell for? Come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wide to let Vin through.
Vin nodded and stepped in, handing Chris the six-pack of beer he'd brought. Chris looked at it curiously, a hint of a smile in his eyes, and Vin said, embarrassed, "My favorite Mexican beer, found it in the mercado near my place. Can't get it much around here and I thought you might like it. If you don't want it, I'll take it with me when I go."
Handing two of the bottles to Vin, Chris said, "Go on into the den. I'll stick these in the fridge."
Vin took the bottles and walked into the comfortable den. The whole room glowed with an orange sunset that was playing behind the mountains and Vin sank into the corner of the leather sofa so he could watch it. He set one of the beers down on the coffee table and popped the other one, drinking deeply.
Chris came in while he was drinking and sat down on the chair next to the sofa, picking up his beer as he passed. They were so close their knees could touch, but far enough apart that Vin's heart sank a little. Apparently, not-talking was not in the plan.
After taking a long swig of his beer, Chris looked appraisingly at the label and said, "That is good. Bohemia, huh?"
Vin nodded. "Yeah, Benito just started stocking it. I've been after him for it for years." He picked at the label of his beer for just a second then said, "What'd you want to talk about, Chris?"
Chris tilted his head and a worry creased his forehead. "Well, we started a couple of interesting conversations back there on the Riptide and I was hoping we could finish at least one, maybe both, this evening." He set his beer on the floor on the far side of his chair and reached out and rested his hand on Vin's knee.
Vin swallowed hard and moved his leg closer to Chris, making the gap easier to bridge, and put his own hand on Chris's. "I was kind of hopin' for that too." He tilted his head and studied Chris's face for a moment, then said, "You ain't changed your mind about..." He fought to keep his voice neutral, like he didn't have his heart riding on Chris's answer.
Interrupting him with a squeeze on his knee, Chris said, "Hell, no. I've wanted you for months, Vin. Just took you talking to Bozinsky about quitting for me to do anything about it." When he finished speaking he looked away, toward the sunset, and Vin could see clearly the embarrassment he felt at having been so open.
Relief flooded Vin as he held more tightly to Chris's hand, asking, "How's your arm?" He set his beer down on the side table.
Chris turned to him, eyes narrowed, and said, "Fine, why?"
"Just checkin'," Vin said, spreading his legs even more widely and sliding Chris's hand up his thigh a few inches. "Ain't neither one of us hurtin' now. And this here sofa's near as good as a bed." With his free hand he patted the soft leather at his side.
Chris smiled, finally, and twisted out of the chair to kneel between Vin's spread legs, pushing the coffee table out of the way. "And there's no one around but us for a mile in any direction."
Licking his lips, Vin nodded and wrapped his hand around Chris's head, letting the silky strands of hair twine around his fingers. "I call that privacy," he said, leaning forward.
Chris moved into the kiss at the same time Vin did, so their lips met with more force than Vin'd intended. Even so, as soon as their lips touched, both of them pressed harder into it, mouths open, tongues twining around each other. Chris tasted of beer, smoke, and a dark spiciness that was all his own and Vin couldn't get enough of that flavor.
From the way Chris was holding onto him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand gripping Vin's upper arm tightly, holding him close, Chris liked what he was tasting too and that thought made Vin groan. He slid his hips forward and wrapped his legs around Chris's thighs, locking his ankles together. Chris leaned even further into him and the change in position brought their groins together. At the contact, Chris groaned and backed away from the kiss, making a little space between their bodies.
Vin fought him, his legs holding Chris prisoner, until one of Chris's hands stroked down Vin's belly and cupped the hard cock in his jeans, shaping it through the fabric, hardening it with his touch. Vin's put his hand over Chris's, just so he could know that it was really, finally, Chris's hand on him and not just another dream. Even through the denim, Chris's grip was perfect, his thumb rubbing over the head adding the perfect extra beat of pleasure.
Chris's eyes were fixed on his hand, on the bulge in Vin's jeans, and his eyes glittered darkly. "Christ, Vin," he said, voice rough, then his words ended in a swallow as Vin's cock jumped in his hand.
Vin waited for a bit, to see if he would say more, but instead of words, Chris took his hand off Vin's cock, drawing disappointed groans from both of them, then Chris started fumbling with Vin's belt, all of his normal grace lost in haste and desperation. Vin yanked off his own shirt, dropping it on the floor next to Chris's knees, before leaning forward and working on the buttons of Chris's shirt, suddenly desperate to touch and feel that soft, velveteen skin. Vin was vaguely aware of a thunk as Chris dropped his belt, more aware of Chris's fingers brushing his belly, nudging his covered cock, as he fumbled with the button fly on his jeans.
Vin had only gotten one button of Chris's shirt undone before Chris leaned back, out of reach, and, without a word, pulled his shirt and undershirt off over his head, buttons ignored. Throwing it aside, Chris leaned in for another kiss, hard and hot and far too brief, pressing Vin into the back of the sofa, the soft leather warm against his bare skin.
Pulling away from the kiss, Chris said, "Now, stay there and let me do this," as his hands went again to the buttons at Vin's fly. Every touch, every movement of his fingers was a caress that had Vin panting, moaning, with the desire for more. When the second button finally gave way, Chris pulled back the fabric of jeans and briefs, then groaned and leaned in, open mouthed. His tongue was on the head of Vin's cock, tracing the flared edge of it, licking pre-come out of the little slit, and Vin's moans gave way to whimpers as he wrapped his hands around Chris's head. Chris was making his own noises, pleased sighs and wet sounds as he went after Vin's cock, his hands fumbling at the rest of the buttons.
Lord God as many times as he'd dreamed about his, wished for it, he'd never let himself think that he might actually have Chris Larabee on his knees in front of him, going after his cock like it was a prize he'd been waiting for. Vin shuddered and groaned, wrapping his hands around Chris's head, holding him in place, unable to resist the heat of Chris's mouth. Half his length was still trapped in his jeans, but he rocked his hips, rubbing the head against Chris's lips until just that bit of friction was almost enough to bring him off. When the last button finally gave way, Chris backed off with a long last lick up the length of Vin's cock that made Vin whimper.
Chris slid Vin's jeans and underwear off and stroked his stomach, a soothing touch that electrified Vin's skin, and said, "What do you want, Vin? You said you've been picturing..." Chris's lips were moist with spit and pre-come and his eyes black with desire and Vin knew he'd never in his life seen anything sexier than that.
Vin swallowed hard, and said, his voice rough from moaning and panting, "You was doing just fine, damn it. Didn't need to stop."
A slow smile spread across Chris's face, sparkling in his eyes, and he said, "Okay, then," and, without breaking their eye contact, licked across the head of Vin's cock, then sucked it into his mouth, wrapping one fist around the base of it. Vin moaned and arched against the back of the sofa, trying to drive himself more deeply into Chris's mouth. Chris did something amazing with his tongue and the edge of his teeth that made Vin howl, and that made Chris's eyes darken. He did it again and with a shout Vin was spilling into his mouth, their eyes still locked as he came.
Chris gentled him through the orgasm, one hand stroking Vin's belly, the other on his thigh. When the world stopped spinning around him and his heart steadied, Vin reached out for Chris, pulling him close, suddenly desperate to taste his own seed in Chris's mouth. They tangled in a clash of tongues and teeth, Vin licking deeply into Chris's mouth until he felt drunk on the flavor of himself and Chris.
His hands roved down Chris's back taking in the feel of his skin, like the softest leather, and the way it twitched under his fingers, muscles rippling and back arching to deepen the contact. They both groaned in frustration when Vin hit the waistband of Chris's jeans and his heavy belt. Vin pulled out of the kiss, resting his forehead on Chris's shoulder so he could see what he was doing as he fumbled open Chris's pants, drawing his cock out.
The sight of it, thick, plum-colored with blood, head shining with precome and the stretch of skin, was almost more than he could bear and he slithered down between Chris's legs pushing the other man to stand, until he was kneeling at Chris's feet. He needed to taste it, to feel that perfectly defined head against his lips and his tongue, to feel it filling his mouth, needed it more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. He hadn't ever really let himself imagine Chris going down on him, but he'd pictured this plenty of times, imagining Chris's moans, the taste of his come, the feel of his skin.
When he took Chris's cock into his mouth, moistening his lips with the salty fluid at the tip, letting the slick-smooth skin slide over his tongue, feeling the crown against the roof of his mouth, the reality was so much better than he'd imagined that he groaned, and pulled Chris in deeper. He needed more, needed to feel Chris all the way through him.
Above him Chris moaned, his hands wrapped around Vin's head, holding him gently and carefully in place. Vin suckled at him, clawing his pants and briefs the rest of the way off until he could feel the butter soft skin of Chris's ass under his palms. He was only vaguely aware of a change in the noises Chris was making, his attention entirely focused on the cock in his mouth when Chris pulled him firmly away from his cock. "Not like this, Vin. Not this time," he said, and his voice was rough and tender.
Heart lifting with the promise of other, future, times with Chris, Vin shifted back, so that he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, and Chris twisted him further around until he was lying on the sofa with Chris on top of him, their cocks lined up and rubbing together. Vin's cock, which he'd thought spent for at least a while, hardened fast under the new stimulation.
They rubbed together like that, precome slicking the slide and increasing the feel until Chris was panting over him, grunting, and Vin could feel his belly muscles tightening and coiling with his pending release. Chris backed away just far enough to slide his hand in and take both of their cocks in one hard grip. His thumb, work roughened, rubbed the head of Vin's cock, and that additional stimulation made Vin gasp and pull Chris's hips down into his, spreading his legs as wide as possible to increase the contact between them.
Chris groaned and thrust harder and faster for just a few more strokes until he came with a loud cry and a shudder that rocked through both of them. The surge of heat and slickness between them triggered Vin's orgasm and he clutched at Chris's shoulders as it rolled over him in a slow, sweet swell like warmed honey.
Chris sagged as the tide of his orgasm ebbed and Vin held him close, arms wrapped around Chris's shoulders, and let them both rock on the aftershocks. Chris felt good in his arms, solid and substantial, real in a way that the other people he'd been with didn't. He was, for the first time in his life, truly comfortable all the way down to his bones, to his soul, despite Chris's weight on him and the awkward lay of his right leg.
When they roused some time later, the orange had faded out of the sky, leaving only deep blue darkness. Chris rolled off Vin, easing himself to sit on the floor by the sofa but twisted so his arm lay across Vin's thighs. Vin reached down to the floor, fumbling around until he found his t-shirt, which he used to wipe the come off his belly before handing it to Chris, without a word.
As he wiped himself off, Chris gave a rueful smile, almost embarrassed, and said, "Damn, Tanner, you're something else. That wasn't quite what I pictured." While Vin was taking a deep breath to keep the disappointment, the hurt, that threatened him at bay, Chris went on, "I wanted to take you slow and sweet, in the bedroom maybe. Or for you to take me. I didn't mean to go humping at you like a horny dog."
Letting out his breath, Vin said, hope fluttering around him like a flock of orange butterflies, "We'll get to that other stuff. I got more I wanted to do too." He licked his lips looking for Chris's flavor on them, finding only a hint of it that made him want more. "Anyway, I liked you going at me like that, cowboy, felt real, real good."
Chris dropped his head and kissed the point of Vin's hipbone. "We've got plenty of time for everything we both want," he said, eyes finding Vin's. He rose to his feet, lithe and graceful and even in the gloom, his skin seemed to glow like he was attracting all the light in the room. Vin took the hand Chris offered him and stood. When he reached for his clothes, Chris stopped him, saying, "I've got the hot tub all heated up and ready to go. Soak?"
Vin grinned. "You know I ain't gonna say no to that." He grabbed his beer off the side table. It had warmed to near room temperature. "Pity about the beer though. This stuff ain't no good warm."
"You go on outside, I'll grab fresh ones," Chris said, taking Vin's beer and picking his own up off the floor by the armchair.
Outside, Chris had prepared the area around the hot tub well. There was a table with towels and bathrobes for them next to the tub and a lawn torch provided light. The water foamed and bubbled and Vin climbed in, settling into a corner so he could watch for Chris to walk out and still look at the mountains silhouetted against the night sky.
Chris stepped through the glass door, naked, sculpted, and perfect, his skin golden where the torchlight touched it. Damn, Vin thought, his mouth going dry and his cock twitching at the sight.
Chris looked up at him and smiled, wolfish and cocky, like he'd seen Vin's reaction written all over his face. He handed a beer to Vin as he climbed into the tub, taking a seat next to him and putting one arm around Vin's shoulders. Chris took a long drink then said without any warning or preamble, "So, do you want to give up sharpshooting, Vin?"
Vin choked on his beer, then, when he'd coughed his lungs clear, said, "Damn, Larabee. You don't beat around the bush do you?" He pushed a little away, so the water bubbled between them like a fragile barrier, and said, "I don't. Not really."
"So what was that conversation with Bozinsky about?"
"Like I said then what-ifs is all," Vin said, hoping to end the conversation there. But Chris just looked at him, serious and intent and unblinking until he went on. "I got trained up as a sniper 'bout as soon as I went into the army and they sent me to Somalia pretty much straight off after that." He took a deep breath. "I guess the details don't much matter, what matters is that on my third assignment, I was sent in to take out an insurgent leader. We'd been told his place was booby-trapped all to Hell, so they wanted a sniper to get him. And I did, perfect shot, clean through his skull right between his eyes." He pointed to the place on his own forehead. "Turned out he was just a kid, maybe 16, innocent as any boy who had to fight for his life every day could be. Our intel was completely wrong, but I'd still shot him, pretty as you please. Just like I was taught." He took a drink of his beer, gathering his thoughts.
In the silence, Chris said, "What happened?"
"Army covered it up," Vin said with half-smile. "Kid didn't have no family, so it weren't too hard for them. I told my commander that I wanted a transfer, maybe into the infantry or communications. That nearly got me a reprimand. Killing the kid was fine, but telling them I didn't want to do it no more would have stayed in my permanent record. So I backed down."
Chris leaned forward and put his hand on Vin's shoulder. "Do you want to stop now?" His voice was kind and warm. Sympathetic, maybe.
Vin shrugged and shook his head no. "I'm good at what I do, I know that, and I wouldn't trust you or anyone on the team to any ol' shooter. Most of the time I don't even question it. I got a God-given talent and I'm using it as best I can. Can't no one do more than that." He scooted closer to Chris, taking back the space he'd made between them. "I just...," he took a deep breath, "I just didn't never plan on being a killer. Sometimes I wonder how I got here."
Chris put his arm back around Vin's shoulders and Vin molded himself more closely to Chris's body, twining their legs together and resting his head in the crook of Chris's neck. Chris said, "I don't think of you as a killer, Vin. Your rifle's saved my life dozens of times. Saved all of us." Chris kissed Vin's head. "That's how I think of you."
"Thanks," Vin said, softly, letting the words sink in for a minute. He set his empty beer bottle on the edge of the tub and moved around so that he was straddling Chris's thighs, hands on his lean shoulders. He took Chris's mouth in a deep, hot kiss, a tide of passion rising between them and then rocking back onto his haunches, so he could look into Chris's eyes. "So are we done with this talk now?"
Chris slid his hands down Vin's chest, lingering just a moment at Vin's nipples, smiling wolfishly when Vin shuddered in response to that touch. When he reached the tops of Vin's hip-bones he stopped, and said, "Almost. Want you to remember that if you change your mind, if you don't want to do it any more, I'll be right there beside you the whole way."
Vin ducked his head, saying, "I appreciate that."
Chris lifted his head up with a gentle hand. "You've got a place at my side, Vin, no matter what you're doing. If you took up making baskets for a living, I'd still want you right here with me."
Their eyes met and Vin could read the truth there in the torch-sparked depths of them. His face must have showed some of the wonder he was feeling at that declaration, that promise, because Chris smiled at him sweetly and said, "Now we're done with talking."
The kiss that followed was filled with promise and tenderness and love that hadn't yet been spoken of but would be someday. Or not, some things didn't need to be talked about at all.
*** The End ***
All of my Magnificent Seven stories are linked here.
Author: Sara
For disclaimers and ratings and thanks to the village that helped raise this child, please see part one.
This is the end of the story.
Part one
Part two
A few minutes after they weighed anchor, Vin found Chris in the Riptide's salon. He slapped a first aid kit down on the table next to him and said, "Wetsuit off, cowboy. You may have hidden it from Nathan, but you can't hide from me."
Chris jumped slightly, raising his head from the hand that had been supporting it. "Hid what?" he said, his voice challenging, despite the paleness of his face and the lines of tension around his mouth, probably from pain.
Vin moved like he was going to slap Chris on the arm he held in his lap, the black neoprene of the wetsuit he'd been wearing torn almost invisibly just in the meaty part of his bicep. When Chris flinched away, paling visibly, Vin nodded toward his arm, "That. I saw you get shot. Know it's there." He closed his eyes on the vision that had tormented him of Chris falling into the darkness, the fear of what he'd find when he saw him again. When he opened them again, Chris was looking at him curiously, that small sweet smile he'd seen earlier on the corner of his mouth again.
After a moment, Chris stood and struggled with the wetsuit's shirt, wincing and grunting as it pulled on his injured arm. Vin stood and helped him, gently easing the clinging material down and off. A fat drop of blood was squeezed out of the spongy material as he worked, marking the carpet under their feet. Vin whistled when the wound was revealed, circular and angry and still seeping blood. He tilted his head and looked at the back of Chris's arm, saw the larger and more ragged hole there. "Through and through. Should've got Nate to look at it," he said, firmly, though even through his fears for Chris he could see that it wasn't too bad.
"If I was gonna bleed out, I'd've been dead by the time I got to him," Chris said with a forced chuckle, his voice tight with pain.
Pushing away the thought, hard, Vin said, "Ain't something to joke about." His voice only shook a little, which both surprised and pleased him, but Chris didn't seem to notice.
Vin helped Chris ease the wetsuit the rest of the way off, leaving him in a pair of trunks borrowed from Nick. He carried the wetsuit out to the deck and draped it over the chair next to Cody's. When he got back inside Chris was sitting again at the end of the bench seat, head propped up on his right hand, the injured arm held close to his side. Vin nudged him with his knee, "Scoot around to the other end, let me take a look. Then you can go downstairs and put your clothes back on."
When Chris did so, Vin opened the first aid kit and went to work cleaning the wounds. The bleeding stopped quickly when he applied pressure, which satisfied his remaining concerns about the severity of the wound. He put on the antibiotic goop, then gauze bandages front and back, holding them on with tape wrapped tight enough to provide some pressure, but not too tight, checking Chris's fingers carefully to make sure that circulation was good.
He drew the process out for as long as he could, reluctant to lose the privilege of touching Chris, tending to him and caring for him, but aside from some torn up knuckles from punching Farouk, which Vin applied goop and gauze to, he was fine. Eventually Vin was forced to rock back on his heels and say, with as much of a smile as he could muster, "You're right. You'll live until we get you to a hospital. Got some Tylenol here that'll take the edge off 'til you can get fixed up proper and they give you some better pain pills."
Vin knew he should get some water for Chris so he could take the medicine, but was held fast by Chris's eyes, watching him closely, his eyes deep and dark even in the lit room. Chris reached with his good hand toward Vin, fingers ghosting over Vin's temple then up to his hairline. Vin winced and flinched away when Chris found the place the gunman and Carasco had both hit him.
Chris looked at his fingers, stained red with blood, grimaced, then said, "You've got a cut there yourself, Tanner." Vin had just barely opened his mouth when Chris went on, "Don't even bother saying that it's nothing and you're fine. Just hand over the first aid kit and be still."
Seeing the expression on Chris's face, filled with tenderness and fear, Vin just nodded and pushed the kit toward him. Vin watched Chris while he worked, his face as gentle as his fingers. When he'd smoothed the last of the tape into place, Chris said, "Jesus Vin, I thought that bastard..." His hand slid from Vin's hair down to his shoulder as his voice died, and he gripped hard.
Vin wrapped his hand around Chris's forearm, holding him just as tightly, and said, "I know." He felt a shudder at the memory of Farouk's eyes on him, then another harder one when he again saw Chris whirl and fall out of sight in the boat. "I thought you was dead," he said, his voice faint and on the edge of breaking. "For a minute there, I was so scared I couldn't hardly breathe."
Chris winced at the words, a flash of pain passing over his features. Vin was sorry he'd said anything about it, until Chris leaned forward and kissed Vin's temple. His lips moved over the place where Farouk's gun had been pressed then he backed away just far enough that Vin could see his eyes, deep and pained and glittering in the dim light. "Know that feeling," Chris said.
Vin blinked, the feel of Chris's lips on his skin more real, more intense than the pain from the cuts and bruises he'd acquired. "Chris?" he asked, genuinely confused.
Their eyes met and locked and Vin felt again the shock of recognition, of pleasure, of love, that he'd felt the very first time he'd seen Chris. Felt it every time their eyes had met since, he realized, only he hadn't known what he was feeling or what it meant. Chris smiled softly, like he knew what Vin was realizing, like he'd been waiting for it. Vin's cheeks heated in a blush, as he said, "Reckon this is another one of them things we need to talk about back in Denver."
Chris tilted his head at an appraising angle. "Could talk about it, if you want. I was hoping for less talk, more this..." He leaned forward and brushed his lips across Vin's, his hand on Vin's neck holding firmly but not so firmly that Vin couldn't get away if he wanted to.
Vin might have laughed at the idea that he could ever want to get away from Chris, but focused his attention on Chris's lips, pressing his own more firmly against them, licking at the little dent in the full lower lip until they parted on a soft moan and his tongue met Chris's.
They kissed for several minutes, Vin wrapping his hands around Chris's shoulders, Chris's fingers twining deep into his hair, tongues exploring. Vin'd kissed plenty of men before, but never had a kiss that left him breathless the way this one did, his heart pounding and fluttering in his chest like it was about to take flight. He moaned as Chris pulled him around and then bore him backwards on the narrow bench.
Before he'd been entirely laid flat, though, Chris groaned, pain not pleasure, and backed off holding his wounded arm to his side. He looked at Vin with a smile both hungry and apologetic. "Shouldn't have put my weight on it."
Vin pushed himself back upright and pushed a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. "Damn, I'm sorry. Guess we got a little carried away..."
Chris stroked Vin's cheek with the fingertips of his good hand, then his hand trailed down Vin's chest, smoothing the folds out of the black cotton shirt, ending up with his fingers wrapped around the waistband of Vin's jeans. "Don't be sorry, Vin," he said, his eyes fixed on his hand. "I'm not."
"Me neither," Vin said. "But maybe not-talking'd better wait for Denver too. We ain't neither of us at our best right now."
Chris gave him a rueful smile. "And Murray and Cody are just upstairs in the wheelhouse. I don't know as I want an audience."
Vin slid out from behind the table and knelt on the floor next to Chris, one hand resting on Chris's bare stomach. "I don't mind waiting, but I'd hate like hell if you changed your mind."
The words were barely out of his mouth when Chris had pulled him into a deep, wet, kiss full of passion and a wanting that Vin could feel clear to his soul. He was still reeling from the depth of it when Chris eased back and said, "Ain't gonna happen, my mind's been made up a long time."
With a smile, Vin said, "Then we can wait until neither one of us is hurtin'."
Chris leaned back and closed his eyes, tension and pain still evident in the lines around them, but his voice was clear when he said, "We can wait for a real bed."
Vin laughed, "And privacy." He sobered a bit. "I'd kinda like for all this talkin' and not-talkin' to happen out at your ranch, Chris. I been picturing..."
Chris's eyes slitted open. "Best not tell me you've been fantasizing about us if we're going to wait, Vin." He slung out his arm and pulled Vin close. "Just sit here with me until we're back on land." His eyes closed again.
Vin slipped away. "Better idea, cowboy. I'll go get us some Tylenol and see if there's beer in that fridge, then I'll sit here with you."
Chris grunted and nodded, and Vin kissed his forehead once before he walked away. Just because he could.
***
Up in the wheelhouse, Murray paced, arms waving as he said, "What the hell were you doing going after Farouk in the Ebbtide?"
Cody, so calm that he made Murray want to scream even more, said, "I thought I was stopping the bad guy from getting away. Did I miss something?"
"You could have been shot," Murray shouted. "You could have been killed, or blown up, or taken away and sold to some potentate. Chris got shot," he waved toward the stairs to the salon, "you could have been shot too. And I was waiting off in the wings for news of whether or not you were okay, because you'd lost your wire so I had no way of knowing how you were. Your line went dead so fast I thought they'd killed you. And I couldn't do anything..." He stopped his pacing, wrapping his arms around Cody's chest from behind.
Cody flipped a switch on the console near the pilot wheel and turned to Murray. "Who told the rest of the team to move in?" he asked, putting his hands on Murray's shoulders, grounding him and holding him securely.
Murray shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, avoiding Cody's eyes. "I did. All three of you lost your signals at the same time. I figured something was wrong."
Cody nodded. "You saved our lives, Boz. You saved my life," Cody leaned forward and gave Murray a soft kiss, the prickle of his mustache warming Murray's lips.
Murray leaned into Cody, resting his head on his shoulder, allowing relief to flood through him. "Yeah. I guess I did. But you weren't supposed to be..."
Cody kissed him again, more firmly, then said, "You know Nick's going to rip strips out of me for going after Farouk when we get home. Do I have to listen to it twice?" The hint of humor in his voice calmed Murray's nerves even more.
Murray smiled faintly and said, "Okay, okay. He yells better than I do anyway." He pulled Cody close and held him tightly for a minute, taking comfort in his presence, his warmth, and his strength. After a minute, a thought struck him and he pulled away from Cody's arms as he said, "Shouldn't you be steering?"
Cody said, "Autopilot. It'll be okay for another few minutes until we approach the shipping lane." Murray settled against him again. After another minute or so, Cody asked, "How'd you know Chris was shot?"
Murray shrugged. "Vin's face when you guys came aboard. He looked like you do when Nick gets hurt, completely blank. It's your hospital face, so no one there sees anything to make them suspicious about us."
Cody turned back to the pilot wheel, one of Murray's hands held in his own. Murray allowed himself to be tugged right next to Cody so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. As he was reaching for the switch to turn off the autopilot, Cody asked, "You think there's something going on...?" He sounded almost incredulous.
Murray shook his head and rubbed Cody's shoulder. "I think that's not our business," he said, firmly, trying to convince himself more than Cody. Truth was, he was curious about Vin and Chris and what they were hiding from each other. Wanted to help. But he didn't think he could bring it up. He liked Vin, but there were some things he just couldn't see himself doing.
Cody put his arm around Murray's shoulder, distracting him from his thoughts. "You could offer them the use of our bedroom. Just so Larabee can lay down. Since he's injured and all. Then we'd know for sure."
Murray laughed. "It might even work," he said, then his next thought was lost in a huge yawn.
Cody gestured with his head toward the padded bench at the back of the wheelhouse. "Why don't you lie down for a while? I'll wake you when we get close to land," he said.
"You'll be okay on your own?" Murray asked, looking toward the seat with longing.
"Yeah," Cody said, "Nick and I took a nap while you and JD were on the computers. I'll be fine." With a quick arm around Murray's waist to pull him close, Cody kissed Murray, then said, "Just stay up here with me. You don't want to walk in on those guys, you know?"
Murray laughed again and, with a final kiss, flopped down on the seat, asleep almost as soon as he rested his head on his arm.
***
On their way into King Harbor, Cody and Murray dropped Chris and Vin off at the Coast Guard station, since Chris they needed to take part in processing the prisoners and questioning Farouk and Carasco. They radioed the Mimi to let Nick know when they were just a few minutes out, so he was waiting for them at their slip when they arrived and helped them to tie up both of the boats.
By the time they were done, the Ebbtide II secured and covered in the slip next to the Riptide, it was well after dawn and the harbor was starting to bustle. Murray put his arms over his lovers shoulders when they were finally all standing together on the pier, then led them toward the privacy of their home. They all needed sleep, he knew, needed it as much as they needed to make love and reassure themselves and each other that no one was hurt.
As they walked, Nick asked, his voice deceptively calm, "So Cody, what were you doing going after the Bluefin?"
Murray laughed out loud and Cody said, "Murray's already yelled at me. You don't need to do it..." He stepped over the railing onto the Riptide, and offered Murray an assisting hand.
Taking the offered hand, as he always did, Murray said, "Hey, now. You got me to stop yelling at you because Nick was going to. You've got to listen to at least one of us."
Nick held open the door to the salon for them, and once they entered he said, "I thought that was Tanner in the Ebbtide with Larabee, Cody. Buck had to tell me I was wrong when we were on our way back to shore. What the hell were you doing there? Didn't we agree to leave Farouk to the ATF guys?"
With an uncomfortable looking shrug, Cody said, "He was getting away and no one else was in a position to get to the boat and go after him. The Coast Guard boat sure as hell wasn't going to be able to catch him." He looked up at Nick, his face worried, and asked, "How are you? A lot of folks were shooting at the Mimi too."
"Fine. Buck's shoulder got creased, and the Mimi's got a bunch of holes, but nothing came near me," Nick said, running his hands over Cody's arms and back. Reassuring himself that Cody was okay, Murray knew and he understood the impulse. He was fighting his own inclination to make sure that Nick was unhurt.
Without any one of them seeming to initiate it, they all gravitated to each other, winding up in a tight hug in the middle of the room. Nick and Cody were kissing each other while Murray marked each of their necks in turn, before they turned to kiss him. Nick kissed him first, hard and deep, while Cody ran his hands down Murray's sides, tucking two fingers into Murray's jean's pocket and stroking Murray's hip through them. Murray moaned and turned away from Nick, seeking Cody's mouth with his own, eyes closed.
It was a passionate ritual of reassurance and claiming, possession and love, one that they'd enacted hundreds of times over the years, though it was different and new every time. As they descended the stairs to their cabin, Murray figured that sleeping could wait. They needed to renew their connection with each other a whole lot more than they needed mere rest.
***
The next evening, the ten of them took over the outside deck at Straightaway's, drinking and laughing and sharing stories of their various adventures the night before. Most of them sat around three big tables that had been pulled together, sharing pitchers of beer that were drained almost as quickly as they were served, at least at first. Waitresses had already brought them several trays full of nachos, potato skins, and buffalo wings.
Vin leaned on the wall in the shadow of a large bush, watching as JD talked with Josiah, moving one hand across the other like he was trying to convey how fast the Ebbtide could move. Josiah was nodding and smiling with a mixture of indulgence and interest, his usual reaction to JD's speed junkie tendencies, as was Ezra, listening to JD and Nick, on his other side, at the same time.
Buck flirted with a pretty waitress wearing a bikini top and a sarong skirt. She was cooing sympathetically over his sling and a bandage he'd applied to his forehead. Vin knew for certain that there was no cut there, but Buck figured that an obvious bandage like that would work better with the ladies than something hidden by his shirt. Nathan walked by, said something to Buck that made him splutter, and the girl walked away in a mock huff, shaking her hips in her tight skirt. Buck was practically drooling as he watched her walk away. Vin chuckled to himself. Good ol' Buck.
Chris and Cody were smoking cigars and talking quietly at their own small table a few feet away, clearly enjoying themselves but not quite part of the festivities. As Vin himself wasn't.
Vin pushed away from the wall and sat down at the table with Cody and Chris. Cody moved his chair a little bit away, making room, but Chris didn't, so Vin found himself with his leg pressed against Chris's under the table, reassurance and distraction at the same time. They hadn't talked again, hadn't even touched, since their conversation on the Riptide, and Vin wasn't entirely certain he knew where they stood. Though he had a pretty good idea, he reckoned.
After a moment of greetings, the conversation Cody and Chris'd been having before he arrived resumed, Cody saying, "I wanted to train for the Rangers, maybe even go into Special Ops, but Nick didn't. He liked being an MP, liked the police work. Just the right mix of danger and boredom, he said. I wanted to prove myself."
Chris tilted his head, considering that for a moment before he asked, "To who?"
Cody laughed. "I don't know. My parents, maybe. All the folks who'd dismissed me as a rich pretty-boy my whole life."
Chris said, "It's an awful lot of work to go through, a lot of pain, just to rub some shitty little bastard's nose in it." He laughed, then went on, "Though I can tell you it was damned satisfying to show Tim Aikers my SEAL tattoo." He pushed up the sleeve of his black t-shirt and showed Cody the tattoo on his bicep. "I was the captain of the basketball team and he was the captain of the football team. Total prick. Last time I went back to Bloomington, though, I was a SEAL and he was an insurance agent. I liked that."
Vin smiled inwardly, thinking of leaving the two of them to their conversation, when Cody turned to him and asked, "What about you, Vin? Murray says you were in the Army. Did you ever think of joining the Rangers?"
Vin shrugged and said, "Nah. I was lined up to be a sniper about ten minutes after they put a rifle in my hands, and nobody ever let me think about anything different. I didn't have no one back home I wanted to show off to anyhow." He smiled faintly and caught Cody's eyes, noticing for the first time the depths they contained, maybe not the depths of loss that Chris carried, but he sure went way deeper than his surface of charm and good looks. Vin smiled at him more broadly, winning a surprised smile in return.
Chris shifted in his seat, pressing their legs more firmly together. Vin turned to look at him and Cody, handsome as he was, faded from his thoughts entirely. Chris's hair caught the sunlight and glowed like an improbable halo and the light brought out the green in his eyes. Chris smiled, his eyes dancing over Vin's face. Vin ducked his head, breaking their eye contact before they showed Cody, showed all of them, more than they ought.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention," Ezra said suddenly, standing and tapping on his wine glass with a knife. "I'd like to propose a toast to the very successful collaboration of the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives with the Riptide Detective Agency. If only we could get along so well with all local agencies."
Buck turned away from the pretty waitress, who was now pressing an ice pack to the fake bandage on his forehead and said, "Hear, hear!" Laughter rippled around the table.
Before Ezra could start talking again, Chris stood up and said, "Standish, I'm the leader of this team and if any toasts are going to be made, I'll make them, damn it."
Ezra tipped an invisible hat and sat down with a warm smile as Nathan said, "With Chris speakin', we'll get back to drinking faster."
Buck gave another hearty, "Hear, hear!", sparking a new round of laughter.
Picking up his beer mug, Chris said, "All right, short and sweet it is. l just want to thank Cody, Nick and Murray for their assistance, for their boats, and for their computers." JD chirped soggily and raised his nearly empty mug and Vin wondered how much he'd had to drink already. "If I hear about you boys planting another illegal bug though, I'll have your asses."
Nick and Murray looked at each other uncomfortably while the others laughed. Vin caught Murray's eye and smiled at him until he realized Chris was joking and relaxed. Murray leaned over and whispered something to Nick, who leaned back in his chair with a big smile.
Chris went on, "And finally, if you ever need any help from the ATF, you'd best look us up. We believe in taking care of our friends." He raised his glass high then offered it to Vin and Cody, who were nearest him to clink their own against. Vin touched his glass to both of theirs, letting his eyes linger on Chris's for a bit.
This time it was Josiah who said, "Hear, hear", followed by a flurry of raised glasses, handshakes and congratulations. When that passed, the party resumed in high spirits and the laughter and bragging continued until the owner herself had to shoo them all out in the wee hours of the morning.
*** Epilogue: Denver ***
Vin took a deep breath and rubbed his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, before ringing the doorbell of Chris's ranch. Maybe at another time, on another day, he'd have just walked in, Chris left the door unlocked if he was expecting someone, but this wasn't any other day.
They'd gotten back to Denver late on Wednesday, the operation having gone down on Monday night, and the remainder of their week, and even the weekend, had been spent with processing and paperwork. The inevitable internal investigations because of the fatalities, one of them from Vin's gun, had taken up a lot of time and energy, as would the mandatory visits with the psychiatrist in the coming weeks. The days had been long and Vin'd had no time to speak to Chris at all about anything that didn't directly pertain to the case.
They'd finally gotten to the point where the whole team could take a couple of days off, even though it was the middle of the week. Vin'd found a terse note on his desk when he was getting ready to head home. It was short and to the point. "Time for that talk. -- Chris"
Vin'd taken a half hour to stop by his apartment, change out of the slacks and shirt he was forced to wear to the Federal Building and into a pair of worn jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. If the talk included a reprimand, as he still fretted it might, he wanted to be comfortable. If it was going to be more of the not-talking that they had started on the Riptide, well, he'd been told that he looked good in those jeans, and that couldn't hurt either.
He was about to ring the doorbell again, when Chris answered, a nervous scowl on his face. The scowl faded, though the nervous look didn't, when he saw Vin and he said, "What the hell're you ringing the bell for? Come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wide to let Vin through.
Vin nodded and stepped in, handing Chris the six-pack of beer he'd brought. Chris looked at it curiously, a hint of a smile in his eyes, and Vin said, embarrassed, "My favorite Mexican beer, found it in the mercado near my place. Can't get it much around here and I thought you might like it. If you don't want it, I'll take it with me when I go."
Handing two of the bottles to Vin, Chris said, "Go on into the den. I'll stick these in the fridge."
Vin took the bottles and walked into the comfortable den. The whole room glowed with an orange sunset that was playing behind the mountains and Vin sank into the corner of the leather sofa so he could watch it. He set one of the beers down on the coffee table and popped the other one, drinking deeply.
Chris came in while he was drinking and sat down on the chair next to the sofa, picking up his beer as he passed. They were so close their knees could touch, but far enough apart that Vin's heart sank a little. Apparently, not-talking was not in the plan.
After taking a long swig of his beer, Chris looked appraisingly at the label and said, "That is good. Bohemia, huh?"
Vin nodded. "Yeah, Benito just started stocking it. I've been after him for it for years." He picked at the label of his beer for just a second then said, "What'd you want to talk about, Chris?"
Chris tilted his head and a worry creased his forehead. "Well, we started a couple of interesting conversations back there on the Riptide and I was hoping we could finish at least one, maybe both, this evening." He set his beer on the floor on the far side of his chair and reached out and rested his hand on Vin's knee.
Vin swallowed hard and moved his leg closer to Chris, making the gap easier to bridge, and put his own hand on Chris's. "I was kind of hopin' for that too." He tilted his head and studied Chris's face for a moment, then said, "You ain't changed your mind about..." He fought to keep his voice neutral, like he didn't have his heart riding on Chris's answer.
Interrupting him with a squeeze on his knee, Chris said, "Hell, no. I've wanted you for months, Vin. Just took you talking to Bozinsky about quitting for me to do anything about it." When he finished speaking he looked away, toward the sunset, and Vin could see clearly the embarrassment he felt at having been so open.
Relief flooded Vin as he held more tightly to Chris's hand, asking, "How's your arm?" He set his beer down on the side table.
Chris turned to him, eyes narrowed, and said, "Fine, why?"
"Just checkin'," Vin said, spreading his legs even more widely and sliding Chris's hand up his thigh a few inches. "Ain't neither one of us hurtin' now. And this here sofa's near as good as a bed." With his free hand he patted the soft leather at his side.
Chris smiled, finally, and twisted out of the chair to kneel between Vin's spread legs, pushing the coffee table out of the way. "And there's no one around but us for a mile in any direction."
Licking his lips, Vin nodded and wrapped his hand around Chris's head, letting the silky strands of hair twine around his fingers. "I call that privacy," he said, leaning forward.
Chris moved into the kiss at the same time Vin did, so their lips met with more force than Vin'd intended. Even so, as soon as their lips touched, both of them pressed harder into it, mouths open, tongues twining around each other. Chris tasted of beer, smoke, and a dark spiciness that was all his own and Vin couldn't get enough of that flavor.
From the way Chris was holding onto him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand gripping Vin's upper arm tightly, holding him close, Chris liked what he was tasting too and that thought made Vin groan. He slid his hips forward and wrapped his legs around Chris's thighs, locking his ankles together. Chris leaned even further into him and the change in position brought their groins together. At the contact, Chris groaned and backed away from the kiss, making a little space between their bodies.
Vin fought him, his legs holding Chris prisoner, until one of Chris's hands stroked down Vin's belly and cupped the hard cock in his jeans, shaping it through the fabric, hardening it with his touch. Vin's put his hand over Chris's, just so he could know that it was really, finally, Chris's hand on him and not just another dream. Even through the denim, Chris's grip was perfect, his thumb rubbing over the head adding the perfect extra beat of pleasure.
Chris's eyes were fixed on his hand, on the bulge in Vin's jeans, and his eyes glittered darkly. "Christ, Vin," he said, voice rough, then his words ended in a swallow as Vin's cock jumped in his hand.
Vin waited for a bit, to see if he would say more, but instead of words, Chris took his hand off Vin's cock, drawing disappointed groans from both of them, then Chris started fumbling with Vin's belt, all of his normal grace lost in haste and desperation. Vin yanked off his own shirt, dropping it on the floor next to Chris's knees, before leaning forward and working on the buttons of Chris's shirt, suddenly desperate to touch and feel that soft, velveteen skin. Vin was vaguely aware of a thunk as Chris dropped his belt, more aware of Chris's fingers brushing his belly, nudging his covered cock, as he fumbled with the button fly on his jeans.
Vin had only gotten one button of Chris's shirt undone before Chris leaned back, out of reach, and, without a word, pulled his shirt and undershirt off over his head, buttons ignored. Throwing it aside, Chris leaned in for another kiss, hard and hot and far too brief, pressing Vin into the back of the sofa, the soft leather warm against his bare skin.
Pulling away from the kiss, Chris said, "Now, stay there and let me do this," as his hands went again to the buttons at Vin's fly. Every touch, every movement of his fingers was a caress that had Vin panting, moaning, with the desire for more. When the second button finally gave way, Chris pulled back the fabric of jeans and briefs, then groaned and leaned in, open mouthed. His tongue was on the head of Vin's cock, tracing the flared edge of it, licking pre-come out of the little slit, and Vin's moans gave way to whimpers as he wrapped his hands around Chris's head. Chris was making his own noises, pleased sighs and wet sounds as he went after Vin's cock, his hands fumbling at the rest of the buttons.
Lord God as many times as he'd dreamed about his, wished for it, he'd never let himself think that he might actually have Chris Larabee on his knees in front of him, going after his cock like it was a prize he'd been waiting for. Vin shuddered and groaned, wrapping his hands around Chris's head, holding him in place, unable to resist the heat of Chris's mouth. Half his length was still trapped in his jeans, but he rocked his hips, rubbing the head against Chris's lips until just that bit of friction was almost enough to bring him off. When the last button finally gave way, Chris backed off with a long last lick up the length of Vin's cock that made Vin whimper.
Chris slid Vin's jeans and underwear off and stroked his stomach, a soothing touch that electrified Vin's skin, and said, "What do you want, Vin? You said you've been picturing..." Chris's lips were moist with spit and pre-come and his eyes black with desire and Vin knew he'd never in his life seen anything sexier than that.
Vin swallowed hard, and said, his voice rough from moaning and panting, "You was doing just fine, damn it. Didn't need to stop."
A slow smile spread across Chris's face, sparkling in his eyes, and he said, "Okay, then," and, without breaking their eye contact, licked across the head of Vin's cock, then sucked it into his mouth, wrapping one fist around the base of it. Vin moaned and arched against the back of the sofa, trying to drive himself more deeply into Chris's mouth. Chris did something amazing with his tongue and the edge of his teeth that made Vin howl, and that made Chris's eyes darken. He did it again and with a shout Vin was spilling into his mouth, their eyes still locked as he came.
Chris gentled him through the orgasm, one hand stroking Vin's belly, the other on his thigh. When the world stopped spinning around him and his heart steadied, Vin reached out for Chris, pulling him close, suddenly desperate to taste his own seed in Chris's mouth. They tangled in a clash of tongues and teeth, Vin licking deeply into Chris's mouth until he felt drunk on the flavor of himself and Chris.
His hands roved down Chris's back taking in the feel of his skin, like the softest leather, and the way it twitched under his fingers, muscles rippling and back arching to deepen the contact. They both groaned in frustration when Vin hit the waistband of Chris's jeans and his heavy belt. Vin pulled out of the kiss, resting his forehead on Chris's shoulder so he could see what he was doing as he fumbled open Chris's pants, drawing his cock out.
The sight of it, thick, plum-colored with blood, head shining with precome and the stretch of skin, was almost more than he could bear and he slithered down between Chris's legs pushing the other man to stand, until he was kneeling at Chris's feet. He needed to taste it, to feel that perfectly defined head against his lips and his tongue, to feel it filling his mouth, needed it more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. He hadn't ever really let himself imagine Chris going down on him, but he'd pictured this plenty of times, imagining Chris's moans, the taste of his come, the feel of his skin.
When he took Chris's cock into his mouth, moistening his lips with the salty fluid at the tip, letting the slick-smooth skin slide over his tongue, feeling the crown against the roof of his mouth, the reality was so much better than he'd imagined that he groaned, and pulled Chris in deeper. He needed more, needed to feel Chris all the way through him.
Above him Chris moaned, his hands wrapped around Vin's head, holding him gently and carefully in place. Vin suckled at him, clawing his pants and briefs the rest of the way off until he could feel the butter soft skin of Chris's ass under his palms. He was only vaguely aware of a change in the noises Chris was making, his attention entirely focused on the cock in his mouth when Chris pulled him firmly away from his cock. "Not like this, Vin. Not this time," he said, and his voice was rough and tender.
Heart lifting with the promise of other, future, times with Chris, Vin shifted back, so that he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, and Chris twisted him further around until he was lying on the sofa with Chris on top of him, their cocks lined up and rubbing together. Vin's cock, which he'd thought spent for at least a while, hardened fast under the new stimulation.
They rubbed together like that, precome slicking the slide and increasing the feel until Chris was panting over him, grunting, and Vin could feel his belly muscles tightening and coiling with his pending release. Chris backed away just far enough to slide his hand in and take both of their cocks in one hard grip. His thumb, work roughened, rubbed the head of Vin's cock, and that additional stimulation made Vin gasp and pull Chris's hips down into his, spreading his legs as wide as possible to increase the contact between them.
Chris groaned and thrust harder and faster for just a few more strokes until he came with a loud cry and a shudder that rocked through both of them. The surge of heat and slickness between them triggered Vin's orgasm and he clutched at Chris's shoulders as it rolled over him in a slow, sweet swell like warmed honey.
Chris sagged as the tide of his orgasm ebbed and Vin held him close, arms wrapped around Chris's shoulders, and let them both rock on the aftershocks. Chris felt good in his arms, solid and substantial, real in a way that the other people he'd been with didn't. He was, for the first time in his life, truly comfortable all the way down to his bones, to his soul, despite Chris's weight on him and the awkward lay of his right leg.
When they roused some time later, the orange had faded out of the sky, leaving only deep blue darkness. Chris rolled off Vin, easing himself to sit on the floor by the sofa but twisted so his arm lay across Vin's thighs. Vin reached down to the floor, fumbling around until he found his t-shirt, which he used to wipe the come off his belly before handing it to Chris, without a word.
As he wiped himself off, Chris gave a rueful smile, almost embarrassed, and said, "Damn, Tanner, you're something else. That wasn't quite what I pictured." While Vin was taking a deep breath to keep the disappointment, the hurt, that threatened him at bay, Chris went on, "I wanted to take you slow and sweet, in the bedroom maybe. Or for you to take me. I didn't mean to go humping at you like a horny dog."
Letting out his breath, Vin said, hope fluttering around him like a flock of orange butterflies, "We'll get to that other stuff. I got more I wanted to do too." He licked his lips looking for Chris's flavor on them, finding only a hint of it that made him want more. "Anyway, I liked you going at me like that, cowboy, felt real, real good."
Chris dropped his head and kissed the point of Vin's hipbone. "We've got plenty of time for everything we both want," he said, eyes finding Vin's. He rose to his feet, lithe and graceful and even in the gloom, his skin seemed to glow like he was attracting all the light in the room. Vin took the hand Chris offered him and stood. When he reached for his clothes, Chris stopped him, saying, "I've got the hot tub all heated up and ready to go. Soak?"
Vin grinned. "You know I ain't gonna say no to that." He grabbed his beer off the side table. It had warmed to near room temperature. "Pity about the beer though. This stuff ain't no good warm."
"You go on outside, I'll grab fresh ones," Chris said, taking Vin's beer and picking his own up off the floor by the armchair.
Outside, Chris had prepared the area around the hot tub well. There was a table with towels and bathrobes for them next to the tub and a lawn torch provided light. The water foamed and bubbled and Vin climbed in, settling into a corner so he could watch for Chris to walk out and still look at the mountains silhouetted against the night sky.
Chris stepped through the glass door, naked, sculpted, and perfect, his skin golden where the torchlight touched it. Damn, Vin thought, his mouth going dry and his cock twitching at the sight.
Chris looked up at him and smiled, wolfish and cocky, like he'd seen Vin's reaction written all over his face. He handed a beer to Vin as he climbed into the tub, taking a seat next to him and putting one arm around Vin's shoulders. Chris took a long drink then said without any warning or preamble, "So, do you want to give up sharpshooting, Vin?"
Vin choked on his beer, then, when he'd coughed his lungs clear, said, "Damn, Larabee. You don't beat around the bush do you?" He pushed a little away, so the water bubbled between them like a fragile barrier, and said, "I don't. Not really."
"So what was that conversation with Bozinsky about?"
"Like I said then what-ifs is all," Vin said, hoping to end the conversation there. But Chris just looked at him, serious and intent and unblinking until he went on. "I got trained up as a sniper 'bout as soon as I went into the army and they sent me to Somalia pretty much straight off after that." He took a deep breath. "I guess the details don't much matter, what matters is that on my third assignment, I was sent in to take out an insurgent leader. We'd been told his place was booby-trapped all to Hell, so they wanted a sniper to get him. And I did, perfect shot, clean through his skull right between his eyes." He pointed to the place on his own forehead. "Turned out he was just a kid, maybe 16, innocent as any boy who had to fight for his life every day could be. Our intel was completely wrong, but I'd still shot him, pretty as you please. Just like I was taught." He took a drink of his beer, gathering his thoughts.
In the silence, Chris said, "What happened?"
"Army covered it up," Vin said with half-smile. "Kid didn't have no family, so it weren't too hard for them. I told my commander that I wanted a transfer, maybe into the infantry or communications. That nearly got me a reprimand. Killing the kid was fine, but telling them I didn't want to do it no more would have stayed in my permanent record. So I backed down."
Chris leaned forward and put his hand on Vin's shoulder. "Do you want to stop now?" His voice was kind and warm. Sympathetic, maybe.
Vin shrugged and shook his head no. "I'm good at what I do, I know that, and I wouldn't trust you or anyone on the team to any ol' shooter. Most of the time I don't even question it. I got a God-given talent and I'm using it as best I can. Can't no one do more than that." He scooted closer to Chris, taking back the space he'd made between them. "I just...," he took a deep breath, "I just didn't never plan on being a killer. Sometimes I wonder how I got here."
Chris put his arm back around Vin's shoulders and Vin molded himself more closely to Chris's body, twining their legs together and resting his head in the crook of Chris's neck. Chris said, "I don't think of you as a killer, Vin. Your rifle's saved my life dozens of times. Saved all of us." Chris kissed Vin's head. "That's how I think of you."
"Thanks," Vin said, softly, letting the words sink in for a minute. He set his empty beer bottle on the edge of the tub and moved around so that he was straddling Chris's thighs, hands on his lean shoulders. He took Chris's mouth in a deep, hot kiss, a tide of passion rising between them and then rocking back onto his haunches, so he could look into Chris's eyes. "So are we done with this talk now?"
Chris slid his hands down Vin's chest, lingering just a moment at Vin's nipples, smiling wolfishly when Vin shuddered in response to that touch. When he reached the tops of Vin's hip-bones he stopped, and said, "Almost. Want you to remember that if you change your mind, if you don't want to do it any more, I'll be right there beside you the whole way."
Vin ducked his head, saying, "I appreciate that."
Chris lifted his head up with a gentle hand. "You've got a place at my side, Vin, no matter what you're doing. If you took up making baskets for a living, I'd still want you right here with me."
Their eyes met and Vin could read the truth there in the torch-sparked depths of them. His face must have showed some of the wonder he was feeling at that declaration, that promise, because Chris smiled at him sweetly and said, "Now we're done with talking."
The kiss that followed was filled with promise and tenderness and love that hadn't yet been spoken of but would be someday. Or not, some things didn't need to be talked about at all.
*** The End ***
All of my Magnificent Seven stories are linked here.