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Vin hadn't known what it would be like the first time he was here, in their room with Chris. The first time he and Chris were alone like this. Every time it had been in Vin's room, mostly with all of them together and a few times just with Buck--the man really could fuck long and hard, and never seemed to tire of it. Buck was keeping up with both Chris and Vin and in hog heaven, as far as Vin could tell.
It felt right though, and a little frightening, to be here, with just Chris, now. In some ways this was easier with Buck, not so... profound. He knew that wasn't fair because he'd already figured out how he felt about both of them, strange as it was, but Buck's approach to sex could be very friendly, casual in a good way, not so weighted with meaning. Chris always seemed more aware of what was going on beneath the surface, and it forced Vin to think about it too when he'd rather have just concentrated safely on the sex.
Chris needed his home turf, Vin thought, to take on something like this. Chris had copped days before to Buck being his only man, and that fact had shocked the shit out of Vin. That Chris had been married, Vin learned before. That Chris and Buck were lovers and partners, he had learned the day he met them. But he never would have guessed, not from the smirking grins at Buck's flirtations, not from the easy grabbing of asses and kisses that passed between the two of them, definitely not from the noise they made when they went at it together in this very room. And the way Chris had handled that first time with all three of them, well, he'd had a hell of a lot more cool than Vin had.
"You been in here before?" Chris asked, casually pulling his sweatshirt over his head; his hair stuck up oddly for a second until he dropped the shirt in a chair and slid his fingers through it, smoothing it out.
"Just fetching shampoo," he admitted. He'd wanted to pry more than once, but they'd already given him a room in their house, and now they were giving him so much more.
Chris looked over at him and froze, just for a minute, before the softest of smiles touched his mouth and he walked forward, slow, easy, until their chests were barely a foot apart. Chris licked his lips. Vin licked his own, wondering what had happened to all the air in here.
The smile widened. "Seems like I should be the nervous one. Way Buck tells it, you're plenty expert one-on-one."
Vin grimaced. "Yeah, remind me to thank him for that." It embarrassed him that Buck had talked to Chris, and the embarrassment made him angry at himself. Of course Buck would talk to Chris; Buck loved talking about sex, and the fact he hadn't talked to anyone else about all of this meant... Vin didn't know, didn't want to analyze it, but he knew Buck was okay with what was happening between them all so far. Buck was in the living room right this minute, watching a movie and drinking a beer, stretched on the sofa last time Vin had seen him. Was this alone time Buck's idea? Chris'? Nobody's? "Seems like neither one of us should be nervous," he said, letting out a long breath. "Just so you know—"
"I know," Chris cut him off, and Vin understood that the man really did know what he'd been about to say. Vin grinned, wry. They'd saved each other's lives, the three of them, and fucked each other's brains out in plenty of different ways; Chris knew Vin felt for them both, and obviously what Vin felt for them. And didn't want to hear it. Vin could respect that. It still scared him when he looked too closely.
Hands at his sides startled and thrilled, as Chris pulled his Henley up and over his head, letting fingernails graze along his ribcage and up under his armpits. He shivered and shook his hair loose, and their bare chests bumped. Vin took a step closer until he could nudge a friendly leg in between Chris' own, just to bump his thigh against the bulge in Chris' jeans. Just a polite hello, before things got real impolite, real fast. Chris' full ripe mouth opened on a slow breath.
That was pretty much all the time Vin had for thinking, because Chris' hands, calloused and rough, slid up over his neck and fingers carded into his hair, and Chris' mouth came down on his and everything was about sensation then. Feeling the smooth planes of the man's back, and the coarse denim waistband of his jeans. Feeling more denim, and the tight mounds of a neat little ass that tightened and jutted back against his gripping hands. Energy rose up in him, expanding from inside like it was pushing out on his ribs as he acknowledged in the privacy of his own head how different this was from the anonymous blowjobs and back room fucks he had sought out, from the friendly sex with a few guys over the years that would never have gone further.
The hands in his hair tightened and their tongues wrestled and played as they slid mouth over mouth, a constant movement, this coming together an alive thing that was a part of them and bigger, too.
Chris felt a little shocked at how easy this was, how natural. He'd have bet his and Buck's entire reward check that he couldn't comfortably fuck another man, but Vin Tanner wasn't just any man, and Chris was beginning to accept that he'd recognized that almost from the start. He hadn't thought this would be so easy, so welcome. He didn't know why; he'd wanted to kiss Vin once, before anybody had done anything, before Vin had gotten pissed and Buck had gotten apologetic and then all of them had gotten laid. Maybe it was because Buck was the kind of man he was, unwittingly anxious but so horny for the intimacy they'd found with Vin that he was willing to overlook his discomforts. Hell, the only fallout from this so far had been Buck's increased horniness, not just for sex that seemed to be getting better by the hour, but for timeless periods of just holding each other, like Buck was so goddamn grateful Chris had given him this... given them this. Something they hadn't needed, but that they both cherished just the same.
He slid his hands over the compact muscle and smooth skin of shoulders and neck, then into Vin's hair, tangling his hands in it and touching their mouths together, so soft and sweet it cut something inside Chris, freed him from his fear of looking like a fool, reminded him that he'd done everything it was possible to do with one man, and told him how much he wanted to do some of it with this one.
With Buck out of the picture, the differences were stark and strange; his upper lip itched, looking for the familiar tickle of mustache. He was the taller, by all of an inch, and his hipbones bumped just above Vin's.
The similarities couldn't be ignored either: the tenderness, the care Vin seemed to be taking of him, like the man was drinking every moment in, like he had nothing else on his mind. The tactile preoccupation with his butt. The sheer intimacy of a moment like this that reminded Chris every time why he would never, ever do this with a man he didn't--whoa, too deep, Larabee, kick to the surface. He broke the kiss, gulping in a lungful of air, and smiled again.
"What?" Vin asked, eyes so blue and clear.
Chris just shook his head. It was too much, too soon, too big to even contemplate here, now. Instead he looked down, following the shadow between Vin's pecs, eyeing the dent of his navel and charting the line of hair that disappeared into his 501s. He reached a hand, slow, and popped the first button.
Vin's belly tightened, and the space that opened between fabric and flesh was as erotic and alluring as any pornographic image he'd ever seen.
He popped the second button and the third, pressing his knuckles against the bulge beneath the denim, then the fourth, and Vin's cock rolled against cotton briefs. Chris smiled and looked up, sharing without words what he knew was between them, between them all. Vin's eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned up just a little before they both drew away to shuck off the rest of their clothes. When they came back to each other, Vin hesitated, holding him at arm's length.
"You sure, Chris?"
Chris laughed a little and shook his head. "No."
"We don't have to--"
"I know," he reassured. "Buck knows. Him and me, we're all right," he promised, sure of himself without the first idea how. This was uncharted territory, off the map, three men who cared for each other, two in a binding relationship with love and commitment, mortgages and business licenses and combined tax returns--one a freer spirit, more inclined to move, to roam but, Chris guessed, one who would always want to come back.
They'd make it work. "Come here and quit stalling," he said, but gently.
Vin just stepped closer until they were pressed tight together, and whispered, "I need you to fuck me."
That worked for Chris.
They found themselves on the bed, Vin splayed atop the covers, his hands clutching the headboard as his body undulated with pleasure. Chris, nestled between his thighs, pumped hard and deep, watching Vin watching him, sharing all of it.
It was scary as hell... and beautiful, and wanted, and somehow it would work out. "Come on," he whispered, corkscrewing his hips to hit that spot inside Vin that would make him fly, bending to nip at his neck and chin, sliding his hands underneath that tight ass and tugging at it, pulling the cheeks that bit further apart, pushing that bit deeper in.
Vin shouted out his climax, his body frozen in a rictus of pleasure, hips shoved so hard up against Chris that he was lifted half-off the bed. Chris pulled back a little, balancing on knees and palms to watch Vin's come, seeing that thick pretty cock spit and jump and quiver. Again. Again.
Damn, Vin was beautiful. Chris kept thrusting, hard and deep, until Vin's quivering slowed and his body eased, boneless, back to the bed. The need for a rubber was new, and annoying, and Chris peeled it off before his dick softened, then flopped back down. "Damn," Vin said, his eyes shining with unnamed emotion.
"Yeah." When he figured Vin was ready he picked up his pace again, longer strokes now, slower, drawing it out, watching Vin watch him, loving the feel of strong hands kneading his shoulders and back until the lightning gathered up in his groin and found its ground, and his vision of Vin faded a little as pleasure hazed his brain. Deep, hard, tight, sweet... love. No use hiding behind euphemisms.
Love.
Chris dropped heavily onto Vin, pressing him deep into the mattress, and just like Buck, Vin wrapped everything around him--arms, legs, fingers, toes. Chris still didn't know how, but this was going to work. He wanted it too much, and it added something for him and Buck that he hadn't quite figured out yet. Not that anything had been missing, but still, what had been so good was somehow better, when Vin was a part of them.
Vin murmured something and Chris eased out of him and off him, pressing lazily up against his side. He almost felt sorry for Buck—the chuckle bubbled up, a tiny puff of air that expanded and grew to full-fledged laughter.
"Not the reaction I usually get," Vin mock-groused, pushing up onto his elbows and straightening his legs with a tiny grimace.
"Buck," Chris said, meeting Vin's eyes head-on. "Poor bastard, he's been getting everything from both of us, he's probably felt like a kid in a candy store. Now you and I are gonna want to slip off now and again, and he's gonna miss out."
Vin appeared to think about it and after a second, grinned too. "I reckon we can keep him happy enough not to mind overmuch."
"We sure as hell have so far. I don't think he's seen this much action since..." he trailed off, old pains still having the power to sting, but this was Vin and it was time to let the man in. "Since my wife died," he added quietly.
And just like Buck often did, Vin's brows drew down in empathy and he gathered Chris close. "I don't get it," he said though. "Thought you two didn't—"
"We didn't," he said into the hollow of Vin's throat. "Not for a long while. But everybody handles grief in their own way, Vin, and Buck handled it by burying himself in women."
Fingers in his hair tugged his head up and back. "You for real?"
Chris nodded. "Not that he knew he was doing it…" Buck hadn't. Chris hadn't either until he'd been able to look back on it from a distance, but then it had been obvious, Buck's trawling going above and beyond the call or even Buck's regular habits. Buck's women softer, usually older, and Buck more tender with each and every one. "He had me to put up with, too. It—" he stopped. It must've been hard was such an understatement it didn't even deserve saying, not that Buck had ever said a word about it. Not that Buck had even seen it that way, probably.
"He loves you, Chris," Vin chided.
Chris nodded. "I know."
"I l—" Vin reddened a little, and cleared his throat. "Me too."
Chris smiled. "I know."
Vin tugged painfully on his hair, just making a point, and then let go, let Chris settle back down against him. "Asshole," Vin muttered against his ear, but Chris could hear the smile in it.
* *
In the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and having shamelessly listened in for the last little bit, Buck Wilmington adjusted himself in his pants, and smiled.
Still, a few minutes later he was surprised when quiet footsteps shushed along the rug in the hall, and he looked up to find Chris standing naked and tousled in the kitchen doorway.
"Chris?"
"Buck. Vin's asleep, dead to the world." Chris smiled, a little tired around the edges himself, a lot happy. Buck had to wonder for a second if it took two loves to wear Larabee down enough that the habitual tension just wasn't there to be seen. Then he had to wonder if maybe Vin had done something Buck didn't—
"Oh quit it," Chris said, and ruined the glare with a yawn.
"Quit what?" Buck asked, but he knew he'd been caught. He didn't have to give in easily though.
"Quit all of it. It's fine. "We're fine. Better than fine." He ambled over, dropped an arm around Buck's shoulder and withstood the sudden, obvious sniffing.
"You smell like Vin," Buck said with a grin. He slipped an arm around Chris's waist, anchoring him where he stood.
"You like that," Chris shot back.
Buck had to admit he did. He really, really did. "Maybe," he said anyway, just to be ornery.
"What're you doin' up?"
"Me? Nothin'."
"Then come to bed." He watched Buck's eyes dance away, and tried not to get annoyed at what he suspected was coming.
"Thought maybe I'd bunk in Vin's room tonight…"
"Then you thought wrong."
"Chris—"
"Buck," he shot back, meaning as little as Buck had. "Come to bed."
"I just thought…"
"Well," Chris said with a smile, "thinking's never been your strong suit. Best not start now."
"Ha hah."
"If I'm gonna get through this without going crazy, you'd damned well better. I'm counting on you, Buck," he said, meaning it.
"I'm all right. I am," he asserted, so Chris guessed he must look doubtful.
"I know you are," he said, bending to drop a quick kiss on Buck's head. "Better than all right. Fantastic."
"You say the sweetest things, Larabee."
"Shut up." Chris tightened his hold. "Shut up and come to bed."
"Not so little," he teased, flirting because Buck liked it. Buck growled a little, but smiled too. "You were listening in?"
"I knew you wouldn't mind."
Chris didn't. Not Buck, who was as likely to demand the play by play next time they were alone together anyway, prying about not just the sex but the feelings Buck knew they all shared. And that none of them but Buck was ready to admit to easily. He shrugged and reached, stroking a fingertip down Buck's dick. "I think I can take care of that for ya."
"I think you're about wiped out, Chris," Buck said.
It was true, mostly. He was sated and sleepy, limbs heavy with satisfaction, and what he wanted to see most in the world was the insides of his eyelids. "Spousal duty," he said anyway, grinning. "I reckon I can stay awake for three minutes."
Buck stood up and Chris let himself be manhandled into a close embrace, even while Buck's dick tried to drill a hole through his hip. "I'll give you three minutes," Buck growled, and Chris felt a shift in Buck, something relaxing that maybe Chris should have realized was wound up, but hadn't.
He'd been too worried about his own head to think much about Buck being anxious, and he could see it now for the mistake it was. Maybe Buck could only take them so far in this crazy mess, and Chris would have to take them both the rest of the way. He could shoulder a little of Buck's uncertainty right alongside his own, until this thing between the three of them shook out how it would.
One thing he knew was that when Buck's brain was in his dick, it didn't bother anybody—especially not Buck. Chris dropped to the floor, the wood cold and hard on his knees, and tugged at his partner's sweatpants, peeling the elastic gently down before letting it snap with more force than needed against Buck's thighs. Buck's dick pointed right at him, big and red, the crown so smooth and wide, the veins prominent along the shaft. "Time it," he challenged. If Buck had been listening in on them and sitting here with a hard-on, Chris could probably do it. He sucked enthusiastically, happier to be sucking Buck off in the kitchen than he thought he ought to be and paying special attention to all the little erogenous zones unique to his partner. It took real effort to swallow most of him down, but Chris had years of practice now, years of feeling that soft smooth cockhead pushing at the back of his throat. Years of those needy sounds Buck made easing the tension in his throat and his jaw. Years of loving the guy so much it hurt sometimes.
By the time Buck groaned and shuddered his orgasm, spilling thick into Chris's mouth, Chris was pretty sure he'd lost the bet, but equally sure that Buck had lost track of time and couldn't call him on it. He filed it away to tease Buck with later, and rose to his feet, ignoring the creaks of his joints. He expected the arms that looped around him, expected the tight press of Buck's mouth and the panting breath in his hair. "Love you, pard. Love you."
"Love you too," he said, hands sliding on sex-warmed skin, chest rocking with Buck's heavy breaths. "Come to bed."
Buck didn't resist this time, so Chris counted it a success.
The bedroom was dim, just the light from the hall spilling in through the open door, and Chris had to smile when he realized he'd left the door open on purpose, not so Buck would eavesdrop but as an open invitation in case Buck thought a little extra supervision was called for. Or in case he found he didn't like being out there alone after all.
Vin had scooted almost to the edge of the bed—Chris's edge, he noticed, annoyed—one arm hanging off the mattress, fingers almost touching the floor. "Looks like you get the middle," Buck whispered.
"Think again," Chris shot back. He'd bake like a turkey between those two heat machines.
Buck just grinned as he stripped, teeth flashing white in the dimness, then flopped into the middle of the bed atop the covers. Chris slid under the sheets, curling onto his side, bent arm under his head so he was facing the two other men.
Buck had eased up against Vin, not too obviously but close enough to reach a hand over Vin's back. After some thought Chris scooted over too, wasting a whole lot of the king-sized mattress so he could lift an arm, trace his fingers over the indentation of Buck's naked hip. They all breathed easily, peacefully, lulling Chris with the quiet rhythms.
"You forgot to turn out the kitchen light," Vin muttered, just when Chris was starting to drift off.
"Yeah, he did," Buck mumbled. "Chris. Go turn out the lights."
"Go to hell," Chris shot back.
"Last one in," Buck pointed out sleepily, and damned if he didn't inch away from Chris.
Chris rolled onto his back, too tired to fume and too sated to care. He could tense his thighs and remind himself of why he felt so boneless and lax, feel the heaviness in his belly and his groin and remember how good it had been—not just the sex. Sex was sex and often as not he could do without it, but the connections they were all building together made it a lot more than pushing and panting. He could swirl his tongue around his mouth, work up spit and the sharp-bitter taste of Buck's semen, happy that spousal duty so rarely meant anything more than acknowledging their care of each other. Damn it, he'd done his work for the night and he'd lie here and stare at the ceiling all night before he'd let these two bully him into getting up to turn off the goddamned kitchen lights.
After a couple of minutes of emanating stubborn silence toward both of his bedmates, he realized that Buck had dropped off into sleep, and if Vin's quiet snuffles were any indication, he had too.
Chris stared at the ceiling a while longer, listening to his partners sleep the sleep of the innocent that was completely undeserved, staring at the dim arcs the kitchen lights cut through the shadowed room. He could just go to sleep, bitch at them tomorrow for being so lazy.
He could. But even as he thought it he was rolling out of bed and heading for the kitchen.
He stumbled back into the bedroom in the dark and purposely crawled over both men to get back to Buck's side of the bed, careful with knees and elbows to jostle them as much as possible. If he woke Vin, the man didn't show it. Buck just grumbled and rolled over, half-pinning him to the mattress and manhandling him until Buck was comfortable and Chris was trapped with him atop the covers. He wanted to fume; there were rules, damn it. Whoever turned on the lights was supposed to turn them off. Whoever complained about something should be the one to set it right. But the rules had changed, were changing, evidenced by the fact that he was on the wrong damned side of his own bed and his left side was cold when usually it was tucked into Buck.
He could fume. He could complain.
But listening to the very beginnings of Vin's quiet snores, feeling Buck pressed against him from chest to toe, he admitted that there was nothing—nothing at all—to complain about.
Except that Buck might smother him in his sleep… and that was maybe the best thing ever.