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Hobson's Choice	By : ladyinkslinger Category: M through R > Magnificent Seven Views: 2277 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Magnificent Seven, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Hobson's Choice
- 1
Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Usual drill

Comments: This is a Working Girls AU-sort-of, where Wickes is
not dead, but survived. Some have described this story as "intense."
It features graphic, consensual and non-consensual sex, so consider yourself
warned. For the record, a Hobson's choice is defined in Webster's
Collegiate as "an apparently free choice when there is no real
alternative."

Hobson's Choice

Buck ambled down the sidewalk to the jailhouse, where Chris, Vin and JD
were sitting outside. He tossed an envelope at Chris. "Ya got a
letter." He pulled up a chair, grinning broadly. "Smells right purty,
too. Got yourself an admirer, do ya?"

Chris grinned as he opened the envelope.

"Might be from Ella Gaines," said Vin.

Chris frowned as he unfolded the paper. "It's from Lydia. It's her
writing."

Buck leaned forward in his chair. "How is she? For that matter, where
is she?"

"Says she's tryin' to start her own business." Chris's eyes
skimmed the page. "And she's havin' a little 'trouble' over in Two
Rivers."

"Ain't that the tiny town in the middle of nowhere?"

"'Nowhere'?" JD looked puzzled. "Don't it got two
rivers?"

Vin shook his head. "They all dried up. That's a 4-day ride."

Chris put the envelope away. "Five. Still...She's askin' for
help."

Buck looked surprised. "You're goin'? Just like that?"

Chris shrugged. "She's a friend, Buck."

Three days later, Chris had made it as far as the tiny town of Hobson's
Choice. It was just before nightfall. It was a wild sort of town, not unlike
Purgatorio, and not far from a cattle trail. Rumor had it the railroad might
pass through there but that was an old rumor that barely kept the tiny town
alive.

"Ya got three choices, Mister," said the hotel clerk.
"There's here and the boarding house. But they just had an outbreak of
pneumonia or somethin' so best avoid that."

"What's the third?"

The clerk suddenly lowered his voice. "Well, there's a brothel outside
o' town. Lotsa fellas go there. Hear it's quite a place. A man can probably
get most anything there."

"Thanks, I'll take a room."

The clerk shrugged.

The room was comfortable and reasonably clean, but Chris was almost too
tired to notice, as he dropped his saddlebags on the floor. He lit the lamp
and stripped to the waist, then poured some water into a basin and and
splashed it on his face. He had just settled onto the mercifully soft bed when
a knock sounded on the door.

"What?"

"Mister," called the desk clerk through the closed door.
"You overpaid me."

"Give it to me in the morning."

There was a pause.

"Can't. I don't work the mornings and the fella who does,
well..."

Chris cursed under his breath, got up, and opened the door. A handful of
large men surrounded the frightened-looking clerk. The clerk was shoved aside
as they stormed into Chris's room and caught him before he could use his gun.
He fought them all, until he felt a stabbing pain. His mucles seemed to grow
weaker and then everything went dark.

Chris groggily opened his eyes, then shut them as light stabbed into them.
His head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He slowly opened his eyes again
and looked around. Through hazy vision, he saw he was in a bed in a room. It
wasn't the hotel. This room was almost bare and had no windows. A room he
didn't recognize.

He pushed back the blankets and slowly it dawned on him that he was naked.
He squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus as he groped for his clothes, but
they were nowhere to be found. He tried to stand, but his body felt like it
was made of rubber and refused to cooperate. Even his tongue felt too big for
his mouth. The floor began to tilt wildly and he quickly sat down on the bed
again.

Where was he? When did he come here? Why did he come here? Thoughts
were spinning and colliding around in his head, a disconnected mosaic of men
and guns bursting into his room, but he felt too lethargic to sort the images
out into anything that would make sense.

Heavy footsteps were approaching, followed by a scraping of a key in a
lock. The door swung open. Despite his fuzzy head and blurred vision, he knew
who it was, and it was looking like a spectre from Hell.

Wickes.

"Mr. Larabee, you do look as if you've seen a ghost. Why, like
someone's walked over your grave." He laughed heartily.

Chris said nothing. His tongue still refused to work. Wickes didn't seem to
notice or care.

"You thought I was dead, I bet. I very nearly was. Yes, very near,
very near. But you know, them shamen, they got some secrets...And I paid good
for loyalty."

He sat in the only chair in the room and calmly lit a cigar.

"You cost me a lot of money, you did. Took my girls away. Some of them
brought in some good money. I've managed to rebuild since then. Welcome to my
establishment."

He stood and approached the bed. Chris felt helpless to do anything but
couldn't figure out why. His body, his mind, nothing seemed to work right.
Wickes's voice dropped dangerously low.

"Do you know how much you cost me? Everything I had. Do you know what
it's like to be scramblin' in the dirt?" He blew a puff of smoke into
Chris's face, then strolled to the door. "But you're gonna make it up to
me, Mr. Larabee. That you are. You're gonna make up every cent. And you know
how you're gonna do that?"

He grinned and paused in the doorway.

"Just like my girls."

Chris could hear his laughter fading down the hall even as he reluctantly
succumbed to an overwhelming urge to sleep.

Sounds of footsteps and voices woke him. His head was still groggy and his
body felt enormously heavy. He could hear Wickes talking to someone as the
door was opened, but didn't bother to look or even to roll onto his back as
the conversation floated past without meaning. Two blurry figures filled the
doorway.

"That's a lot of money," said a male voice.

"Well, o' course it is," said Wickes. "That's a dangerous
gunfighter right there. He's a famous legend 'round here."

"He looks drugged."

"Yeah, poor soul. Happens to 'em out here. That's why he ain't a
gunfighter no more. I took pity on him 'cause a man's still gotta earn himself
a living... But look at 'im: he's still in prime condition. Imagine bein' able
to have a man like that..."

There was a long pause followed by "All right."

"But look, son, why'nt you give the money to me to hold for 'im? He'll
just use it to buy more o' what he don't need...Oh, and by the way...he plays
hard-to-get, so you might have to be a little rough with 'im. But you said you
like it that way. If ya need anythin', holler."

Wickes chuckled and closed the door.

Chris heard the heavy footsteps fade away. He could just make out the
shadowy figure of the other man approaching the bed. There was the rustle of
clothing, then he heard it drop to the floor. The bed sagged as the man joined
him. A pair of large, strong, callused hands began tracing a path along his
ribs and over his buttocks. There was an intake of breath as strong hands
parted his thighs. Chris wanted to tell him to stop, to shout at him, to curse
at him, but he wasn't up to the effort. He felt a strange lethargy throughout his body that prevented him from doing what he wanted to do, what he needed to
do. He tried to fight it, but it was a feeling .

What was that somebody had said? Drugged? Maybe.

A hand now cupped his balls, while another felt underneath him, groping for
his penis. Chris cried out, an inarticulate cry of protest, as the hand at his
balls began to squeeze.

Despite his foggy mind, a part of his brain knew what was happening. Wickes
had sold him as a prostitute, to be used like a woman. He tried to fight but
his thrashings were aimless and lacked any power behind them to deter his
attacker.

"Like it rough, do ya?" Hot breath that reeked of cheap whiskey.
"I can do that."

Within moments, the man's full weight was on his back. Something warm,
thick and fleshy probed the cleft of Chris's buttocks. His thrashings became
more desperate but they only spurred the man on. Despite the drugs that slowed
his movements, Chris screamed at the sharp, burning pain of the sudden
penetration. He clutched the sheets with fists that had no strength as the man
began to pound into him relentlessly, steadily increasing his rhythm.

"You like that? You like that, huh? Is this what you want?"

Chris groaned in pain, which the man mistook for pleasure. The thrusts came
harder and deeper, till they were nearly rebounding the two men from the
mattress with every stoke. He felt like he'd been ripped in two as he prayed
for it to end. Finally, with a hoarse cry, the man froze. Chris could feel him
shudder, before he slowly disengaged himself from Chris's body.

Chris shut his eyes tightly and didn't move. Couldn't move. It felt like
his entire pelvis had been torn up and set on fire. He felt a sticky wetness
between his buttocks and thighs, and a part of his mind idly wondered about
it. The mattress shifted again as the man got up and dressed.

"He was right," he said casually. "You're a nice piece o'
tail all right. Let's do it again sometime."

And then he was gone.

Chris lay there, wanting nothing more than to just disappear. One thought
broke through the clouds that filled his skull: so this was what Wickes had in
store for him. He wondered for how long.

Chris didn't know how long it had been, maybe an hour, a day. Perhaps a
week. With no windows in his room, he couldn't tell. Some time while he was
asleep, someone had brought some tepid water, a hard, dry day-old slice of
bread, and some thin, cold soup. There was a sickly sweet taste to the water
and to the soup, but he was too hungry, thirsty, and confused to give it much
thought. He finished everything off quickly and gave in to the constant and
overwhelming desire to sleep.

As usual, sounds of voices brought him back to semi-consciousness.

"Clean him up good, ladies. You know what the customers like. And
Violet? Rosalie? No freebies. He's a whore just like you. Only give it up when
it's paid for--unless it's me." Wickes chuckled. "Now hurry it up. I
got a customer lined up for him this afternoon."

Hands helped him into a portable bathtub of steaming water.

"Darn it, he's all bruised and a mess," grumbled the larger woman
as she changed the bedsheets. "I got a gentleman calling on me in 20
minutes."

The other one began to gently scrub Chris's hair. "Violet, you go
then. I'll finish him up."

"You sure?" Then, without waiting for a reply, "Thanks,
Rosalie!"

Seconds later he was alone in the room with Rosalie.

The young woman leaned in close to him as she gently sponged over the
bruises on his ribs. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "He made me
write the letter."

She dipped the sponge in the water and began to bathe him all over. The hot
water stung as the dried blood and semen were sluiced away from his tender
anus. "I'm Lydia's sister. I was trying to catch up to her but,
unfortunately, I found...him."

Chris said nothing as the meaning of her words slowly sank in. No Lydia. It
had all been a trap. And he'd fallen into it.

She gently rinsed his hair and dried it with a towel. Cupping his chin in
one hand, she carefully combed his hair. He waited stoically as she carefully
shaved his face.

When she was done, Chris suddenly caught her wrist. Rosalie looked at him
in alarm at first. Her eyes darted from his eyes to the straight razor in her
hand.

"I can't," she said at last. "He's going to want it back
right away. If I don't give it to him, he might shoot you. And he'll hurt
me." Chris's grip didn't waver. "Please..." she begged. Finally
he released her wrist and closed his eyes.

"Come on," she urged, trying to help him stand. He slowly stepped
out of the tub. He tried to help Rosalie dry him off, but she pushed his hands
away. When she was done, he climbed back into bed, the smells of blood and of
sex replaced by the smells of soap and clean skin and hair.

He wanted to thank her for all she'd done, but it came out only as
inarticulate sounds. She seemed to understand anyway, as she leaned close to
him and stroked the back of her hand along his cheek.

"If you just let them, it doesn't hurt so much. You might even enjoy
it a little," she whispered helpfully. Then she kissed him gently on his
cheek and left the room. Moments later, someone came to remove the tub, but by
then, Chris was drifting off again.

There had to be a way out of this nightmare.

Chris awoke off and on as the hours passed. His mind was still too muddled
to form any coherent kind of escape plan, and his body still felt heavy and
clumsy. He had tried in vain to explore his room and, even though it was
nearly empty, his current condition had made the task take considerable time.
It was a utilitarian room, like rooms he'd seen in other brothels of its kind,
meant for one real purpose only. It had an iron bed with sheets but no
blanket, a small table beside the bed, a large rug, and one chair. There was
also a small, empty dresser with a cracked, dirty mirror, a mismatched pitcher
and basin, and a plain commode with a chamberpot inside.

The walls were bare, except for two provocative Parisian drawings in dusty,
broken frames over the bed. Both drawings showed two men together in sexual
poses. Chris had not looked at them long. Under his present circumstances,
they made his stomach churn.

His thoughts drifted to a face...a face surrounded by long brown
hair...with blue eyes...Vin. He could trust Vin, he knew, to look for him, to
move heaven and earth until he found him, and either rescue him if he was
still alive or avenge him if he wasn't. He was surprised to realize he found
comfort in thinking about his friend. But like a reflection on a pond, the
image was difficult to hold onto in his drugged brain.

He slitted his eyes open at the creak of the door opening. He hoped it was
Rosalie but, at the same time, he knew it wouldn't be. Whether it was the same
man as before he couldn't tell and didn't much care.

"If you let them," she'd said.

How could he? He knew what they wanted. And what he didn't want.

The man wasted little time. He opened his fly and approached the bed. He
stood there a long time, just staring down at Chris and stroking his own,
slowly-filling shaft. Chris stared back, waiting.

"I'd hoped you'd be younger," was all the man said before
kneeling on the bed, straddling Chris. "Suck me," he demanded,
pushing his hips towards Chris's face.

Chris looked at him. Despite the drugs, he felt a deep sense of rage and
hate.

...it won't hurt so much...

Was it worth the pain he was sure would follow?

...you might even enjoy it a little...

He doubted that very much. The demand came again, more insistent and
impatient this time.

"I've paid my money. Now suck me!"

Chris's eyes studied the fat, hard shaft in front of him.

The man turned, calling over his shoulder. "WICKES!!"

No. Whatever Wickes would do, it would be far worse, Chris was sure. He
shut his eyes, again trying to focus on thoughts of his friend. A mental
picture of the tracker, in all his buckskinned glory, filled his imagination.
Reluctantly, he opened his mouth, touching just the tip of the swollen penis
with his tongue, all the while clinging to that image of Vin.

Vin.

He pushed aside the reality of what was really happening to him as he
closed his mouth over the purplish head. The pace increased, as the man's
erection slid past his lips, down his throat, and then back again. His lips
became sore and puffy. The man placed both hands on the back of Chris's head,
pushing him into his groin. The fat cockhead stopped his breathing even as the
scratchy hairs touched his nose.

"Ah! Ah! AH! AHHHHHHH!"

The hands held his head tighter now to prevent Chris from pulling away as
the man sought his own release. Salty fluid rushed into Chris's mouth, and he
was forced to swallow to keep from choking. As the wilting penis was finally
withdrawn, Chris took in a gulp of air.

"Not bad," the man smiled as he got up and buttoned himself back
up. "Next time we'll make it last longer."

Chris heard the door close as the man left. He walked unsteadily to the
commode and heaved the contents of his stomach into the chamberpot. He took a
few sips of the sweet water as a sudden, fleeting image--of him sucking Vin--rose
unbidden into his mind. He found it strangely consoling as he climbed back
into bed. The effects of the drugged water carried him off to a dreamless
sleep before he could give it much more thought.

In the saloon, Vin dropped into a chair beside Buck. "Any word from
Chris?"

"Nope. 'Spect he's got things well under control. You know
Chris."

"Yeah."

Something in Vin's tone caused Buck to pause, his beer halfway to his
mouth. "You think somethin's wrong? You worry too much."

"Maybe so, but he didn't say what kinda trouble it was. Might need
backup."

"If he does, he'll let us know."

Vin stood up and headed out the door.

"If he can."

The days seemed to melt together into one for Chris. There was no morning
and no night. He only got one barely-palatable meal a day at different
intervals, so far as he could tell, so that was no indication. Sometimes he
could be reasonably sure it was day, because that's when Violet and Rosalie
bathed him and changed the sweat- and semen-stained bedsheets.

He began to despair of ever leaving this place. The men who came to him
were never his friends coming to rescue him, but a seemingly endless string of
"customers" who had paid for the use of his body. Occasionally, he
took Rosalie's advice. She had been right: sometimes just letting them do what
they wanted made it hurt less. But she was wrong about one thing: he never
enjoyed it, not even a little.

Now Chris's drugged brain was trying to corral his thoughts into something
that made sense. More and more since his ordeal began he thought of the
ex-bounty hunter, and not in a way he really understood. The images were
becoming less of a comfort and more disturbing to him, as he thought of Vin in
ways he'd never thought about a man before. While his body was being abused,
his mind was frequently finding solace in images of doing these same things
with Vin. And he wondered, just for an instant, if Vin ever thought of him
that way. In those thoughts, there was none of the pain or brutality that had
become so much of part of his world. Were all men always this rough?

Even now, he was clinging to another disturbing image of Vin as the client
straddling him was trying to suck him to a conclusion. He had always resisted
before but, when he did, they'd keep at it to try to get their money's worth
till his penis was sore and his balls were aching. Now he closed his eyes and
pictured Vin. It was the only way he could do what was wanted. In the end,
when he could hold back no longer, he cried out Vin's name as the client
swallowed eagerly but, to both of them, it sounded only like an incoherent
shout of pleasure.

Chris felt his whole body relax and he sighed with relief. The client,
satisfied that he'd done all he wanted to do, gave Chris one last lewd smile,
licked his lips and departed.

"What's with you, Vin?" Nathan adjusted his chair a little
farther from the tracker. "You been downright...fidgety."

"He's a worrier," said Buck. "Vin, it's a five-day ride. If
he took care o' things right away--and knowin' Chris, he did--then he should
be back tomorrow."

"Maybe Mr. Tanner's got a reason to worry."

The others looked up in surprise as Ezra entered the saloon.

"Gentlemen, to try to alleviate Vin's obvious concern, I took the
liberty of wiring the sheriff at Two Rivers, asking if he'd seen Chris Larabee
in his fair community." He tossed the paper onto the table. "Mr.
Larabee never arrived."

"'To alleviate just Vin's?'" Buck eyed him skeptically.

"But Ezra," said JD, "that doesn't mean nothin'. A sheriff
can't be everywhere all the time."

Vin was already headed for the door.

"Anyone wants to join me, meet me at the livery."

For once it wasn't a sound that woke Chris, but a smell. The smell of hot
food. His stomach rumbled and knotted painfully in response to the smell of
hot beef, potatoes, and gravy. He struggled to sit up. From where he sat in
bed, he thought he saw a tray of food on the small table across the room, but
in his current state, he couldn't be sure.

Wickes was leaning in the doorway, watching him.

"Go ahead. Eat. You've earned it. The customers tell me you been
satisfyin' 'em pretty well, so I thought I'd share a little of the profits
with you. Go ahead..." He turned to go, but paused to add "But don't
get used to it."

Chris waited until he couldn't hear Wickes's footsteps anymore before
scrambling out of bed. He nearly collapsed in the chair beside the table, then
hesitated only a moment before attacking the food in front of him. He scooped
it up in his hands and tore into it as if it might disappear if he didn't eat
it all at once.

He'd barely tasted the rich food when, too soon, his stomach felt painfully
full. Remembering Wickes's parting words, he took a roll from the tray and hid
it under his pillows for later. Already his stomach was starting to cramp,
nearly doubling him over as he headed back to the table. His path, however,
diverted suddenly to the commode and, to his disappointment, the first hot
meal he'd had in nearly two weeks was deposited in the chamberpot.

When he felt empty at last, he swallowed some more of the drugged water.
His tongue never stopped feeling dry and swollen, and now his legs felt
shakier than ever as he shuffled back to his bed, laid down, and closed his
eyes.

"Vin!" Josiah rode up to him at a gallop, pulling his horse up
short to stop the sharpshooter. "Ease up! We're all just as much in a
hurry to get to Two Rivers as you are."

Vin glared. "Five-day ride, Josiah. I'm figurin' t' make it in
four."

"You're ridin' like you're tryin' for three!"

"You got a problem with that?"

"You're gonna kill that horse," said JD hotly. "And
ours!"

Nathan shook his head. "You ain't gonna help Chris much if you're
walkin'. Gotta give them horses a rest."

"And my posterior," grumbled Ezra.

Vin looked mutinously at Nathan, then turned to look at Ezra, who merely
shrugged. Finally he relented, nodding.

"All right, all right." Vin stared unseeing at a spot on the
ground for a long moment. "Josiah? What if he's not there? The sheriff
said he ain't seem 'im."

Josiah could see the worry and even a hint of dread deeply etched in Vin's
face.

"He's there. And if he's not? Then we'll look elsewhere," he said
matter-of-factly. "What other choice is there?"

"There ain't one."

A hard slap on his ass woke Chris, followed by a round of loud, raucous
laughter.

"Surprise!"

Three drunken trail hands surrounded the bed. Two held bottles of whiskey
and all three were stinking drunk. The one who'd awakened him was skinny with
a Texas accent, the second was dark and swarthy-looking, and the third
appeared to be a Mexican.

"Howdy, sweetheart! We gonna have ourselves a little party!" The
swarthy one flashed a gap-toothed grin.

"But first," said Texas, "let's see what we paid for."
He yanked the sheet off Chris, and all three grinned lasciviously as they
assessed his body, like hungry wolves looking over a piece of raw meat.

The Mexican already had his thick, stubby cock poking out of his fly. He
cupped Chris's balls in a meaty hand. "Nice huevos. Muy bonito
and very firm." He gave them a squeeze and Chris squirmed in pain. The
men laughed.

"Not too hard, Manuel. You don't wanna crack them huevos,"
chided the dark one.

"At least not before we're done with 'em," added Texas.
"Give Mr. Larabee some whiskey, Slade."

The dark one peered into Chris's face. "Aww. Looks like he started the
party without us. Feelin' good, are ya? Well, if ya don't wanna drink with us,
ya can at least smell like us." The three laughed loudly as Slade poured
whiskey over Chris's head.

Chris didn't move. All he wanted was for them to leave so he could again
lose himself in thoughts of Vin.

"Time's a-wastin',"said Texas at last. The three men dragged
Chris roughly from the bed and dumped him onto the floor. The rug burned his
knees as each man demanded to be licked and sucked to erection.

Then they attacked him all at once and from all sides.

The Texan spat into his hand, quickly spread it over the tip of his hard-on
and plunged into Chris's ass. He held Chris's hips as the dark one grabbed
Chris's head and forced himself into Chris's mouth. The two men worked him as
the Mexican reached under him to roughly fondle his penis and balls.

The Texan came quickly and pulled out, gasping for breath.

"You done already?" Slade quipped.

"Been a long trail drive with no fuckin'. He's nice and tight, too.
Come see."

Slade released Chris's head, moved behind him and thrust the saliva-slicked
prick into him.

"Hey, you made him all squishy," he complained, then laughed
harshly.

At last, with a growl, Chris tried to fight back, to stop them, or at least
to make them go away and leave him alone.

His head swam as a fist slammed into his gut, forcing the air out of his
lungs, and dropping him to the floor. Before he could recover, a boot
connected sharply with his hip. In an instant, he was attacked by kicks and
punches, and once again cocks filled his mouth and ass repeatedly. At one
point, he thought he felt the neck of an empty whiskey bottle shoved into his
rectum, but he was in too much pain to be able to tell. Blackness danced at
the edges of his vision, threatening to overwhelm him.

The sounds of beatings and rape could be heard from Chris's room throughout
much of the night.

The room stank of a sickly combination of whiskey, blood, sweat, sex, and
urine. Chris lay on his side on the floor, knees drawn to his chest and his
hands balled into fists. One eye was swollen shut and his lower lip was
bleeding. There were large bruises and streaks of blood all over him.

Through a haze of agony, Chris could hear Wickes's voice, shaking with
fury.

"Look what they've done to my property! MY property! If they've
damaged him, they'll pay me for every day I can't use 'im! Get the girls to
clean up this mess. And find the ones who did this. They'll pay double--no,
triple--for last night, and if they don't have it in cash...take it any way
you can get it."

Chris heard Rosalie gasp as she and Violet hurried into the room. Rosalie
quickly set to cleaning Chris up and tending to his cuts and bruises. His skin
was sticky and caked with body fluids. Violet's feet stepped around him
repeatedly as she changed the bed linens.

He moaned a soft protest as he was lifted onto the bed. Everything on his
body screamed in pain. He was dizzy and felt like he was going to be sick.
Finally, for no reason he could remember, he screamed as loud as he could.

"VIN!"

For the first time since his ordeal began, his shout was clear and
unmistakable, even if his head still felt fuzzy. He wanted Vin. And that was
all he wanted. He wanted everything and everyone else to just go away so he
could be with Vin. He wasn't sure why he needed him so bad, only that he did.

And Vin wasn't there.

By now, Vin was getting angry and frustrated. The others had stopped trying
to persuade him to stop for rest or food for him, themselves, or for the
horses. When they tried, he'd only ignored them and spurred his horse on a
little faster. They shared his need to find Chris, but they wondered among
themselves how much help they would be if they were exhausted and hungry when
they were most needed.

If they were needed at all.

"Mr. Tanner, this has gone on long enough," Ezra announced.
"We're stopping here."

Vin spun around. His worry had brought his temper close to the breaking
point. But he wasn't the only one.

"We're resting the horses AND we're going to eat. And that means all
of us."

Vin looked at each them, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "Fine. You
can catch up to me later."

"That means you, too," said Josiah evenly, drawing his gun.
"Don't make me shoot you, Vin."

Vin eyed Josiah's gun warily. He knew Josiah wouldn't shoot to kill him,
but a well-placed bullet could slow him down or remove him from a potential
fight altogether. He muttered a curse under his breath.

"There's a town not far from here. Hobson's Choice. We'll stop
there."

"Maybe Chris might've passed through there, Vin," suggested JD.

Vin nodded grudgingly. For the first time, he noticed his stomach was
rumbling painfully and, deep down, he knew they were right to stop, but the
longer there was no Chris, the more worried he became.

Worried, hell. He was downright scared.

The six peacekeepers trudged wearily into one of the town's two saloons,
eager to rinse the trail dust from their throats. For a small town, the
watering hole was fairly crowded.

Ezra wandered through the crowd, trying to figure out which of the
inebriated cowboys still had enough of his pay left to be worth a game of
chance. Against a wall were a cowboy and a saloon girl, talking in low tones.
The woman seemed a little put-out with the cowboy and getting more impatient
by the moment. Mildly curious, Ezra moved closer, if only to see if the lady
might become a damsel in distress, in need of some assistance.

"If you don't like what I have to offer, Senor, I can suggest Wickes's
place, outside of town," she pouted.

Ezra stiffened. Wickes? He was still alive? A cold feeling of dread passed
through him and he shuddered as the woman continued.

"He has a famous gunfighter--a very dangerous hombre--you can have for
a night of fun...if you have enough dinero."

"Now, darlin', don't be like that..." drawled the cowboy
apologetically, as the couple moved further into the back of the saloon.

Ezra had heard enough. He started back towards the others, when Vin
suddenly came up to him and caught his arm in a vise-like grip.

"Mr. Tanner, I--"

"Just come back from the livery. Chris's black's in there. Nobody
seems to know how it got there, though."

"Then I have some very bad news for you, Mr. Tanner. Get the others
and meet me out back, where we can talk more...privately."

"Ezra--"

"Get the others."

"WHAT?!" Buck shouted in outrage. "NO! I don't believe
it!"

"You have to admit," Ezra pointed out, "it fits."

Buck walked up to Ezra until they were nose-to-nose.

"He coulda sold his horse! Or maybe he's somewhere else in town
and we ain't seen 'im yet, or any of a thousand other things except
THAT."

Ezra didn't flinch. "Then let's find out."

Nathan looked at all them. "We can't jus' go in there. Wickes knows
every one of us on sight."

"Up for a disguise, Ezra," said Vin.

"Certainly. But in pants this time..."

The dapper, white-haired man with the neatly-trimmed mustache stood in the
bordello's parlor. With his well-tailored suit and walking stick, he cut an
imposing figure. He looked around him, his green eyes clear and bright in a
face weathered by time but not by season. A man obviously used to privilege
and an easy lifestyle.

Wickes was nearly falling over himself to cater to the unusual gentleman.

"I have a fine selection of girls, Mr...?"

"I'd prefer not to give my name. We're a rather prominent family, at
least in Mississippi, and I would hate for word of any...indiscrete
behavior...to sully the family name."

"Of course, of course. We're very discrete here."

"I have very peculiar tastes, Mr. Wickes."

"Oh, that's fine, fine. Why, Violet in particular is game for most
anything you've a mind to do." He turned to holler up the stairs.
"Vi--!"

"--no, no. You don't understand. Peculiar and--where I come
from--illegal, regretfully. I've heard a rumor that your establishment can
offer some rare entertainment a man of my...unusual tastes...might
appreciate."

Ezra waited for Wickes to finally realize what he was getting at. He saw
the vapid smile and knew he'd have to be more direct.

"I understand you offer something beside ladies. And something
of a celebrity as well."

"Oh! Oh! Him! Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. He's an ex-gunfighter. A legend in
these parts."

"Does this 'celebrity' have a name?"

"Sure does! Chris Larabee."

Ezra felt his heart pounding but his face remained impassive.

"Indeed! I have heard of him in my travels, of course, but I didn't
think he was inclined that way."

Wickes shook his head sadly. "Terrible thing. Drug-addicted, you know.
Poor soul. I offered him the only way out of constant poverty by providing a
means to earn a living."

"Very magnanimous of you," said Ezra dryly. "He sounds
expensive. Will this cover it?"

At the sight of the bankroll, Wickes licked his lips, grinned, and with a
slight bow, directed his new 'client' up the stairs and down the hall.

"So what's a wealthy Southern gentleman like yourself doing all the
way out here?"

"I had to leave. It was a terrible tragedy when we lost our Louisiana
plantation. Too many memories."

"I thought you said you were from Mississippi."

"Louisiana," Ezra said smoothly as they stopped in front of a
door. "But the South shall rise again. Perhaps even tonight," he
added with a sly wink.

Wickes opened the door with a flourish.

"There he is. You can do whatever you like. He's very
accommodating."

Ezra swallowed to prevent the bile from rising in his throat. It was Chris
all right. He lay on his back, the sheets bunched around his thin hips. From
where he stood, Ezra could see cuts that were just beginning to heal and dark,
ugly bruises all over Chris's upper body. He appeared to be asleep but, from
Wickes had said, he was more likely drugged.

"He looks a little...used," he said at last. "I expect a
discount if I'm paying for damaged goods."

"He likes it rough and somebody got a little overexcited a few days
ago. He's still in 'is prime, though."

"Hmm...Yes, well...Thank you. You can leave us alone now."

"Holler if ya need anythin'," said Wickes as he closed the door
behind him.

'A cannon to shoot your head off with, you son-of-a-bitch,' thought Ezra.
He turned to look at the man in the bed. He looked awful.

"Chris?" He moved closer to the bed. "Chris?"

Ezra watched, transfixed, as without a word, Chris rolled over onto his
stomach, the sheet falling away from his naked body as he began to draw his
knees under him.

"No, Chris, no." Ezra realized with a shock that, in his drugged
state, Chris couldn't recognize him. He was reacting to Ezra as if he were
just another client. God, what had they done to him?

Chris crawled towards Ezra, reaching a hand out towards his fly.

"No, not that either. I don't want you to do anything. Do you know who
I am?"

Chris sat back on the bed, a look of confusion in his pale green eyes.

"Chris, it's Ezra."

"Ez--? Vin?" He grabbed Ezra's wrist with both hands.

"No, not Vin. Ezra." Ezra sighed. How was he going to get him out
of here in this condition? Chris wasn't going to get out under his own steam,
and an old gentleman carrying a naked man over his shoulder was sure to be
noticed.

He held Chris's chin in his free hand, trying to hold the drugged man's
attention. "Listen to me. I have to go. But I'll be back, do you
understand?"

Chris nodded. His gaze dropped to the floor. "Vin" was all he
said in a small, lost voice.

"Vin's not here. But he will be. I promise."

Ezra had rarely allowed himself to experience genuine heartbreak but the
profound sorrow in Chris's voice caused him to blink the sting away from his
eyes.

"Hang on," he said in a soft, urgent whisper. He looked at Chris
one more time before he left. "Please, Chris."

Ezra quickly joined the others, who were hidden not far from Wickes's
brothel.

"Well, where is he," demanded Buck.

"In his current state, I could hardly bring him out here unseen."

"Why the hell not? You left him there?!"

Josiah put a restraining hand on Buck's shoulder. "Easy. How is he,
Ezra? Did you see him?"

Ezra nodded. "It's as we feared." He took a deep breath.
"No. It's worse."

JD looked at each of them in disbelief. "Chris? As a male
prostitute...?"

"Is he hurt," asked Nathan, his voice edged with concern.

"He's been drugged, a lot, and he looks...pretty bad."

"I knew it!" Buck's rage had finally hit a breaking point.
"There's no way the Chris Larabee I know would do something like that!
There had to be an explanation!"

"The story Wickes is telling is that he's a drug-addicted gunfighter
who's turned to the oldest profession to survive."

Vin turned to go, checking his weapon one last time to make sure it was
loaded.

"Wait a minute!" Nathan took a step forward to stop him.
"Don't we need a plan?"

"I got one. I'm gonna kill the bastard..."

Wickes threw the bedroom door open, his face red, suffused with fury. Two
of his biggest men followed him.

"What the hell did you do?! He left without payin' me! Said you was
damaged goods, as I recall. Damaged, my ass!" He grabbed Chris by the
hair, as he spat his words in Chris's face. "That fella was rich, do you
hear me? Once again, you cost me, Chris Larabee..."

He roughly released Chris's hair and took a step back from the bed.

"Well, we'll just see," he sneered. "Tie 'im up, boys. You
know what I want." Wickes began to peel off his clothes. "Damaged,
eh? As a businessman, I make it my business to know all my merchandise.
Maybe it's time I checked you myself."

Chris felt a chill through his entire body as his wrists and ankles were
roughly tied to the four corners of the bed. Pillows were shoved under his
hips to raise his ass high in the air. At that moment, he wanted to die more
than anything. Anything to be spared this. The mattress sagged heavily, as
Wickes shifted his bulk onto the bed.

Chris closed his eyes tightly. Not even an image of Vin could spare him
from knowing what was happening to him. He felt what he'd felt so many times
before in recent weeks: a penis probing at his anus, demanding entry. He bit
his lip, tasting blood, as he waited for the pain that was inevitable.

The six charged into the brothel. One woman screamed as her client fled for
his life. Nathan picked off one of Wickes's henchman with a thrown knife as
the man was coming down the stairs, while Josiah quickly closed the gap
between him and the other henchman. After a short scuffle, the other man
sagged to the ground, unconscious.

Vin took the stairs two at a time.

"Must we make an entrance this way," muttered Ezra under his
breath, as he followed close on Vin's heels.

"End of the hall," he called to Vin.

Vin kicked open the door. It took him a fraction of an instant to take in
the scene before him.

Chris was naked and tied spread-eagled to the bed, his ass high from the
pillows under his hips. Wickes was kneeling on the bed, straddling him, naked
and fully erect.

"My god," whispered Buck.

Vin didn't hesitate another moment. Wickes was staring at them, mouth
agape, frozen with surprise at the intrusion, when Vin fired. The shot hit
Wickes in the forehead, killing him instantly. Wickes's features went slack
and his prick went soft as he tumbled from the bed onto the floor.

Josiah moved quickly to the bed, followed by JD. They sliced through the
ropes that held their friend in the degrading position. Vin moved closer to
the bed and sat down. Chris barely moved and Vin studied him with concern.

"Chris?"

Suddenly, at the sound of his name, Chris turned, clawing his way across
the bed. He lunged at Vin, wrapping his arms around him, curling into a ball
and burying his head against the leather coat like a frightened child. Vin
froze, looking at the others in shock and fear. Of all the reactions he could
have expected from Chris Larabee, this was not one of them and he was unsure
what to do.

"Some of that could be the drugs they been givin' him, Vin,"
Nathan reminded him softly.

Vin looked down at the thin, bruised and trembling body that clung tightly
to him. He looked up at the others again, then hesitantly put his arms around
the naked man, holding him.

"It's gonna be all right," he said at last in the gentlest voice
he could muster. "We're takin' you outta here."

"His clothes are nowhere in this room," Ezra pointed out.
"If you'll move Chris, Buck and I can remove the sheet to put on
him."

"Give us a minute, will ya, Ezra? He's shakin' like a leaf in a high
wind."

The others simply stared, trying to take in what they were seeing. This was
far worse than they'd expected to find. They were prepared to find Chris hurt,
maybe, even dead. This whole set-up and Chris's behavior, though, were
completely out-of-character for the man they knew and it affected each of them
deeply.

"Chris." Vin carefully freed himself from his friend's grasp.
"Come on, we gotta go now. Can you stand?"

Still dazed, Chris lurched to his feet. His body swayed, and whether it was
from lack of food or too many drugs, they couldn't tell. Vin and JD moved
quickly to flank him in case he fell while Ezra helped Buck pull the top sheet
from the bed and drape it around Chris.

Buck turned to Nathan. "Can he ride?"

"With all them drugs in 'im, I dunno. He ain't likely to feel it for
awhile. If he's injured, I hate to make it worse, but stayin' here ain't gonna
do him no good."

"Best move out now, then, just in case," said Josiah.

Buck nodded as they hustled Chris out of the room.

Rosalie met them in the hall, Chris's pants and boots in her hands.

"I found these. They're his."

Buck gave her a quick peck on the cheek as he took them from her.
"Thanks, Darlin'. C'mon, Chris."

Chris refused to budge. He was looking at Rosalie.

"Thank you," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Come with
us?"

"No. I think I'll keep heading west. Lydia's in San Francisco. She
became a reporter, you know. Something to do with a Mary Travis? I'll tell her
you said hello."

Chris nodded mutely, and allowed his friends to lead him downstairs. Once
outside, Buck and Vin helped Chris into his pants and boots.

"Vin, he'd best ride with you till we can pick up his horse in
town."

Josiah kicked his horse into motion. "Let's ride."

All during the three-day ride back to town from Hobson's Choice, Chris had
repeatedly refused Nathan's requests to examine his injuries, or even to touch
him at all. Chris was nearly blinded by the sunlight after so many days in the
windowless room. They stopped frequently so he could rest, and he stayed by
Vin's side most of that time. Nathan could see the anxiety increase in Chris
whenever Vin was out of sight, even for just a few minutes. Whatever Chris had
endured, it had to have been Hell twice over and somehow Vin was his
salvation.

Even at night, Chris's bedroll was close beside Vin's. Still shirtless,
Chris had accepted Vin's jacket for warmth and it didn't escape them that
Chris would cocoon himself into it, before finally falling sleep. Both nights,
though, he had awakened, screaming and thrashing, his torso beaded with sweat
and lungs heaving as he sucked in big gulps of air. Vin would awaken
instantly, and spend the next hour calming his friend down and reassuring him
that he could sleep unharmed.

Nathan was also concerned about the injuries he could see and the ones he
could only speculate on. But without Chris's cooperation, there was no way to
know how badly he was injured. Now Nathan watched Chris carefully, monitoring
what and how much he ate and how much he slept. It was obvious the man had
only been fed enough to stay alive all the time he was gone.

The drugs he'd been given were slowing leaving his system. He was still
shaky and focusing his attention was still difficult, but he was growing
increasingly lucid as they travelled. Even though Chris said little, Nathan
could see that Chris was feeling a lot of pain. Even Josiah and Vin had tried
to persuade Chris to let Nathan take a look at him, but Chris would not be
swayed. He stayed near Vin, allowing only the tracker to touch him at all.

They tried once more when they got to town, trying to get Chris to go to
Nathan's. Chris adamantly insisted on going to his shack in the hills. At last
they reached a compromise. Chris would stay at his room in town, and Vin would
tend his injuries, with thorough instructions from Nathan. Vin and Nathan
helped him up the stairs and into his room.

Vin watched as Chris stripped off his clothes and boots and slowly,
painfully climbed into his bed.

"Nathan, you got anythin' you can give him?"

"I kinda don't wanna give him anything. Them drugs gotta get
completely out of his system first, and by the looks of him, he could still do
with some food. I'll see if Inez can fix somethin' for 'im."

Vin watched him leave, then turned his attention back to Chris, who was now
laying on his stomach, the sheets and blanket gathered at his waist.

"Do you want me t' stay or go?"

No response. Vin wondered if Chris had heard him.

"I'll be goin', then. Let ya sleep."

"No!" Chris's arm was outstretched, reaching for him.

"Want me to stay then?"

Chris nodded, and swallowed before he said softly, "When I'd sleep...?
That's when they come."

"They?" Vin bit his lip at the look in Chris's eyes, wishing he
could take back the question as "they" suddenly became clear. Even
though Chris knew he was safe, he still wanted someone to make sure no one
came to his room while he slept.

Vin returned to the bedside, bringing with him the only chair in the room.
He sat there, looking at Chris. Dark, round bruises, like fingerprints, dotted
the long torso and smooth back. Almost unconsciously, Vin reached out,
exploring the marks gently with his fingertips. Chris started at the
unexpected touch.

"Sorry," murmured Vin. He shifted uncomfortably. "Ya got a
lot of bruises there." Chris didn't respond. Vin knew he needed to sleep,
but he sure didn't look he would. "Sure you don't want me t' go?"

The pleading in those green eyes was answer enough. Vin gently reached out
a hand again, and began to gently massage Chris's hard-muscled, lean back. He
could almost feel the bones from what was probably weeks of little food.

"My ma and my aunt used to give me backrubs when I was little and
couldn't sleep. I'll stop if ya want me to."

"No," came the muffled reply.

Vin turned to face him so he could use both hands, massaging more deeply
now, feeling the tight muscles move and shift under his hands and hoping it
was helping. Chris didn't look like he'd slept more than an hour or two at a
time in all this time.

When Vin awoke the next morning, Chris was still asleep. Vin was relieved
that he had made it through one night without nightmares. They would just have
to take it day by day. He shifted in the chair he'd slept in and Chris's eyes
snapped open.

"Easy," said Vin softly. "You're safe and it's just me here
with ya."

Chris looked at him with a thin, wan smile. Vin stood up and stretched. Now
was as good a time as any, he supposed.

"Chris...Nathan asked me to take a look at ya. Is that all right with
you?"

Chris sighed softly. "As long as it's you," he said at last. He
watched as Vin took the mirror from its uprights on the dresser and propped it
up at the head of the bed. "What are you doing?"

"This is so you can see it's me touching you and not anyone
else." Vin moved closer to Chris's hips and applied a lubricant to his
fingers that Nathan had given him. "You can watch me in the mirror. Tell
me if I'm hurting you and I'll stop."

Chris felt Vin's hands on his buttocks. At last...the images he'd held in
his mind all this time. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the tracker's
hands against his skin, parting his thighs. Suddenly his eyes snapped open in
a moment of panic as the image of Vin faded. He glanced in the mirror, saw his
panicked face and Vin behind him.

"Try to relax, Chris, and just concentrate on breathing."

Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With one finger, Vin
carefully, gently began to probe Chris's anus. The flesh was red and tender.
Whoever these men had been, they hadn't been gentle, that was for sure. Even
Chris's balls looked rubbed raw and his sac had long scratch marks on it that
had scabbed over. One wound looked like a bite mark. Geezus, what kind of
animals were these?

Vin felt Chris tighten around his finger. He put a reassuring hand on the
small of Chris's back and probed further.

"Relax," he said softly. "Look in the mirror... See? You're
safe and it's just me...Breathe...That's it...You're doin' good..."

He probed deeper. Nathan told him to look for tears and, as near as he
could tell, there was one that was almost healed. If this wasn't his best
friend, and as bad off as Chris was, Vin doubted he would have done this for
anyone under any circumstances. His finger brushed against Chris's prostate,
causing his friend to gasp and start to rear up.

"No, Chris. Stay down. I'm almost done...The mirror, remember?
Breathe..."

"No," gasped Chris. "It--it feels good. Whatever you
did--it--it feels real good."

Vin raised an eyebrow and tried again, stroking the walnut-sized lump in
his friend's body.

Chris began to moan, even as his limbs trembled. Blood rushed to his groin
as the gentle, persistent stroking continued. His penis began to leak gently
and his hands balled the sheets into his fists.

Vin was mesmerized at Chris's reaction to his touch. He had never
experienced this kind of...power...before. He watched in fascination and even
pride as Chris moaned and writhed in pleasure, just from the stimulation of
one finger. Something in him snapped. He wanted to see Chris come. He wanted
to bring him to a climax this way. He wanted the man to find his own pleasure
and release after so many days and weeks of everyone else taking theirs at his
expense. Vin could feel a stirring in his groin and the desire confused him as
Chris gave an especially loud gasp. He pushed his own sense of confusion and
wonder aside, as he concentrated on Chris.

Chris had lost all sense of time and place. His body was feeling something
he'd never experienced before and he knew he was close to coming. With a soft
cry, he climaxed into the sheets beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut,
waiting for his breathing and heartbeat to return to normal.

"Every time they touched me there, it's meant pain. I didn't know it
couldn't not hurt. I didn't know..." He stopped, burying his face in the
pillow.

Vin could hear what sounded like a muffled sob.

"Chris, please," he choked, unsure of his own emotions at that
moment. He sat down and pulled Chris to him, holding him like he had in the
brothel, tighter now, just trying to comfort him. And himself.

They sat like that for a long time. Something about it felt right, but
neither of them could quite figure out how or why, and for now it didn't seem
to matter.

Finally, Chris started to pull away. Suddenly the impulse came without
warning. Vin felt an unfamiliar desire to kiss Chris, to feel the silky blond
hair over Chris's forehead against his lips.

He turned away quickly and stood up. "Better get us both cleaned
up," he said shortly, walking over to the basin. "Yer outta water.
I'll be right back."

Chris looked at him sharply, panic in his eyes.

"I'll be right back. Promise." He smiled and winked.

Vin headed down the hall to where there was a small hand pump for use by
the residents and guests.

What had just happened back there? He was angry with himself for doing what
he'd just done. He was supposed to be following Nathan's instructions,
examining Chris for internal injuries. Hell, he was no better than the men
Chris had been with. How could he do that to a man who so obviously trusted
and needed him?

"Stupid," he muttered, pumping the handle more strenously than
necessary. As he walked back down the hall, he resolved to put those thoughts
of Chris out of his mind, for both their sakes. Without thinking, he quietly
opened the door and started into the room. There was a shot and the pitcher in
his hand shattered.

"HEY! Chris, it's me!!"

Chris was on the bed, propped up on one elbow, staring at him, his gun
still smoking. The fear in his eyes was slowly replaced by recognition.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Vin."

Vin dropped the pitcher handle he was still holding and calmly took Chris's
gun from his hand.

"You gonna greet everyone who visits you that way? Won't get many
repeat visitors."

"I--I--"

Vin sat beside him on the bed.

"I understand. Prob'ly done the same thing if I was you." He
looked at Chris with a serious expression. "They hurt ya bad, didn't
they." It was a statement, not a question. "It's not your fault,
Chris. It ain't like you let 'em."

"I did."

"What?"

Chris paused. He spoke slowly, hesitantly, staring into space. "You
can't believe how much it hurts--if you don't. And it doesn't stop hurting
once they're done and gone."

Vin rested his hand on Chris's shoulder. Almost as if of its own mind, his
hand traced a path slowly down Chris's chest, feeling the tight chest muscles,
pausing only momentarily at the small, pink nipples, before continuing down
over the flat ripples of his stomach. Chris watched wordlessly.

Vin shook his head to break his reverie. "Geezus, Chris, I'm sorry. I
don't know what I was thinkin'. After all you been through--"

"No! It's all right." He caught Vin's hand in his and gazed
deeply into Vin's eyes. He took a breath before continuing.

"I thought about you a lot."

In that moment, Vin knew exactly what Chris was trying to say. The words
echoed in his head.

I thought about you a lot.

Vin swallowed hard. What should he say? What should he do? His confused
thoughts and emotions tumbled around inside him. He pulled his hand from
Chris's grasp and got up. His cheeks felt hot as, without looking at Chris, he
knelt on the floor and quickly picked up the pieces of broken pottery.

"Look at this mess." He set them on the stand and picked up the
basin. "Guess I'll get some more water. I'll leave yer gun over here as
long as you don't shoot the basin, too. Or me."

Chris watched the door close behind him. His heart and stomach knotted
together in excruciating pain.

I thought about you a lot.

He shouldn't have told him. He should've known better. Willing or not, he'd
spent the past weeks as a male prostitute. He didn't even know if he'd been
with a lot of men a few times, or a few men a lot of times. He was well-used
by now, though, and no man wants a whore for a lover.

Damaged goods. Wickes had said that, that old guy who came to him had said
it, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought Ezra had said it, but he
couldn't remember for sure.

He hunkered down into his bed, his back to the door, as he pulled the quilt
tightly around him. He heard Vin's soft footsteps as the door opened and him
replacing the basin on the stand.

Without turning around, Chris said flatly "You don't have to
stay."

"You sure? Because--"

"No. Go on. G'night."

"'Night, then," Vin responded in a puzzled tone. The door closed
softly.

Barely able to hold back tears of pain, humiliation, and disappointment, he
drifted off into a troubled, exhausted sleep.

Ezra stepped out of the saloon and leaned against a post, his gaze
leisurely scanning the street. He had just pulled out some matches and
prepared to light a cheroot when JD interrupted him.

"Say, Ezra! You gonna see Chris anytime soon?"

"More than likely, JD. Why?"

"I found this in my pocket. Almost forgot about it." He handed
Ezra some folded bills.

Ezra looked at them curiously. "Where did you get that?"

"Chris's...um...Back at Wickes's place. It was in the room, so I
figure it's Chris's money. Would you give it to him?"

"No," said Ezra sharply. "And neither will you."

"Huh? Why not?"

"JD, don't you know what that is? That's blood money." Ezra
waited for JD to get it. Finally he sighed in exasperation. "It's a tip,
JD. For services rendered."

"Oh." JD looked at the money in his hand. No, Ezra was right, he
couldn't give it to Chris or anyone else, for that matter. "Well, I
sure don't want it!"

"Give it to me." Ezra snatched the money out of JD's fingers.

"But, Ezra, you just said--"

"Write this day down, JD. You may never see me do this with cold, hard
cash again." Ezra calmly lit the money and then used the burning paper to
light his cheroot. He continued to hold the money till it had burned down to
his fingers, then dropped the remnants into the dust.

"What're ya doin' here, Chris?" Buck straightened in his chair
outside the jailhouse. "Nobody expects you back on the job so soon."

"I know," said Chris as he lowered himself into the chair next to
him. " I just need to be outside for awhile."

Buck nodded in understanding. Weeks in that stinking, windowless room would
make any man crave the wide open spaces.

"How ya feelin'?"

Chris pondered that. How was he feeling? What were the words that
would describe it? He shrugged.

"I wanna thank you guys for comin' after me like that. Tell the others
for me, would you?"

"Sure. And you can tell them again yourself later, when you see 'em."
Buck looked out over the quiet street. "So I take it you ain't talked to
Nathan or Josiah."

"No."

"Sometimes a man needs to talk about his problems, Chris."

"Ain't got no problems."

"If you say so." He paused, then looked at his friend carefully.
"Seen Vin the past couple of days?"

Vin.

Chris merely shook his head even as he felt a stab of pain through his
chest. "I'm gonna go...get some rest."

Buck gave a nod of acknowledgement. Chris stood up slowly, feeling every
ache in his body, and headed down the sidewalk.

Vin quietly entered the tiny church. Josiah was near the front, fixing a
rickety pew.

"Vin, could you hold this end for me while I put in this last
nail?"

Vin grinned at him. "Tell ya what. Why don't you hold it and
I'll drive that nail?"

Josiah gave him a look, but agreed.

"Josiah..." Vin took the hammer and nail from him and held the
nail in place. "I don't know how to say this exactly..." He pounded
the nail in with a few quick strokes. "You know I ain't what I'd call
religious...but I've been havin' these..." The job finished, he stood up
and handed the hammer back. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I'd best be goin'
before I make a fool outta myself."

"Vin." Josiah's voice stopped him. "It's just you and me,
and you're my friend, ain't ya?"

Vin smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. That you are. A damn fine one,
too." The smile faded quickly as he went on. "But this is about a
friend of both of our'n."

"Chris."

"Right. Yeah. Ever since that night at the...the...bordello...I been
thinkin'...in ways...well...in ways a man ought not be thinkin'..."

"I see." Josiah sat down, pausing a moment to test the pew's
sturdiness. "Well, Vin, I could tell you what the Church's view on that
is, but that's not what you want to hear from me, is it?"

Vin shook his head.

"Didn't think so." Josiah got up and put an arm around Vin's
shoulder, as they walked to the church doors. "Then...the best thing I
can tell you is to do what you think is best for you and for him."

Vin nodded. "But what if what's best for me ain't best for him?"

"Then, my friend, you have to decide which is more important."

"Sounds so easy when you put it that way."

Josiah gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Sometimes it is. It's doing it
that's hard."

The next afternoon, Chris was sitting at a table in the saloon, eating,
unaware of Nathan by the bar. Nathan was sipping his beer and watching Chris
in the mirror behind the bar, his eyes shining with approval.

Vin paused at the doors and looked around the room. Finally he came in,
joined Nathan at the bar, and ordered a beer for himself.

"He's eatin'," said Nathan. "That's good. Looks like he
might start putting a little weight back on. How is he otherwise?"

Vin shrugged. "Okay. Still in some pain, I 'spect; he don't say. You
know how Chris is. I did what ya told me, but he seems to already be healin'.
Physically, that is."

Nathan frowned. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Nothin' time won't heal, I 'spose."

"'Spose not," Nathan agreed sadly. "Well, keep an eye on 'im
for me, woncha?"

Vin nodded, picked up his beer, and moved to join Chris at the table.

"This seat taken?"

Chris shrugged and kept eating.

"How's the food?"

Another shrug.

"Can we talk?"

Chris responded in a low voice, without looking up. "Not here. My
room. Later." He looked pointedly at Vin. "If you want to, that
is." He pushed aside the plate, his meal unfinished, and walked out.

When Vin arrived at Chris's room, Chris was straightening the room and
packing up his saddlebags.

"Goin' back to the shack?"

Without looking at him, Chris replied, "Yeah."

"What does Nathan think of that?"

Chris just looked at him, finished folding up a shirt, and shoved it into
the bag.

"Gonna feel safe there?"

"Look," Chris shouted. "I got along fine before you came
along, Vin Tanner, and I'll be fine long after you're gone!"

"You were doin' a great job of it over in Hobson's Choice," Vin
retorted.

Chris's anger boiled over. "Yeah? You think I'm not good enough for you--"

Vin felt like he'd been doused with icy water. "Is that what you
think--"

"--But let me tell you something! Men PAID for the chance to fuck my
ass!"

"I know, Chris," said Vin, his voice almost a whisper. "And
I'm sorry..."

Chris wiped a sleeve across his eyes and looked at him, as the rage drained
out of his body.

"What did you come to say?" His voice was hollow, almost tired.

"What did you mean by you're 'not good enough' for me? Was that
because of what you said? About thinking about me?"

Chris sat on the bed, studying his hands as he repeatedly clenched and
unclenched them.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't know what to say then. I do now." Vin
licked his lips. "I been thinkin' 'bout you, too. I didn't want to be
just another one o' them...johns...to you. Ever since that night I been
thinkin' 'bout...I dunno...holdin' you... an'... an'... this..."

He leaned down and kissed Chris--a long kiss full of feeling as he noted
the heat and softness of Chris's lips against his.

Reluctantly he pulled away. "Any of 'em ever kiss ya," he asked
in a hoarse whisper.

"No," said Chris, when he found his own voice again.
"Never."

Vin took Chris's hand in both of his and rubbed it between his fingers. He
watched Chris's face carefully, waiting.

Chris stared at the floor. He wasn't sure if he could look Vin in the
face--in those blue eyes--or not. He was ashamed for what had happened to him,
and yet now here was Vin, wanting whatever he could offer, regardless. He had
a chance now, for something that had occupied his heart and mind for what now
seemed like forever, and he didn't want to lose it. In a small way, he hated
to admit it but he was scared, down to the bone. More scared than he'd ever
been in his life.

"I know what I want, Chris. What do you want?"

There was only one answer.

Chris pulled him close and kissed him hard and deep, thrusting his tongue
into the sharpshooter's mouth. They melted together in the heat of their own
emotions, hanging on to each other in an unending embrace of passion as they
tasted each other.

At last Vin broke the kiss. "Chris? Can you...Do you want to...?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "I don't know if or when I'll
ever be able to..."

"Then we'll take it a day at a time." Vin straightened and Chris
looked up at him.

"I want to try now," he said in a barely-audible whisper.

"You sure?"

Chris pulled off his boots. As he tried to unbutton his shirt, his fingers
were shaking so bad, he couldn't manage the buttons.

Vin gently helped him, pushing it off his shoulders and down his back. He
leaned his head down and lightly teased each hardening nipple with his teeth
and tongue. He kissed them lightly as he felt Chris's hand tentatively
stroking his hair. A wet, silvery line followed his lips and tongue down the
length of the smooth, hard torso. With his mouth, he could feel the erratic in
and out of Chris's breathing. Never breaking contact, he moved up again till
he was level with Chris's face.

He brought his hands up and kneaded the taut shoulders. He brought his
mouth close to Chris's ear and licked it gently before whispering, "We
can stop any time you want to."

Chris didn't reply, but instead helped Vin out of his jacket and shirt. He
reached out a tentative hand and brushed his fingertips against Vin's chest.

Vin saw the look of uncertainty in Chris's eyes. He reached up, caught
Chris's hand in his and, without taking his eyes off Chris, he kissed his
fingertips. The fear was still there in Chris's eyes. Vin released his hand,
stood up, and finished undressing. As he lowered his pants, his erection
sprang up from a forest of thick curls. Now completely naked, he knelt in
front of Chris but didn't touch him this time. Instead he waited again for a
cue from Chris.

Without a word, Chris stood and took down his pants. Vin was gratified to
note that Chris was as aroused as he was. Chris reached for him and leaned
back, pulling Vin toward him, onto the bed. As he laid down beside Chris, Vin
began to feel a growing sense of fear himself. They had gotten this far, but
it was still so new to him, too. He had asked Chris what he wanted, but was
this really what he himself wanted? He was naked in bed with another man,
about to go down a road he could never come back from, and suddenly he felt
afraid.

Finally he broke the silence.

"So what do we do?"

"I ain't sure."

His nerves got the better of him. "Well, you've done this
before," he snapped.

Chris's erection immediately softened. "Yeah," he said bitterly
as he abruptly sat up. "And I don't wanna do it again now."

Vin was immediately contrite. "Aw, hell, Chris, I'm sorry! I didn't
mean--" He put a hand on Chris's shoulder but Chris pulled away.
"It's just that...well...I've never done this before... and I'm
scared."

"I'm scared, too," Chris said at last.

"Yeah?"

"I want it to be good. For both of us." He turned to look at Vin.
"Only I don't know how."

Vin let the words sink in. I don't know how. No, of course not, how could
he under the circumstances?

"Between us, we'll figure it out, Chris. We don't have to do this
right now if you don't want to. We don't have to do it all."

Vin got up to put on his clothes. As he started to pull on his pants, Chris
caught his wrist.

"No. Stay."

Vin hesitated.

"Please? For tonight?"

Vin tossed his clothes aside and climbed back into bed. He stretched out
next to Chris, feeling the warmth radiating from Chris's body. He moved closer
and kissed him, enjoying the heady musk that was pure Chris.

"'Night," he whispered.

"G'night, Vin."

The next morning Chris headed out to his shack. He wanted Vin to accompany
him but Vin had errands in town first.

Chris aired out the shack, changed the sheets, and made a pot of coffee. It
felt good to be home again. With Vin's help--with ALL their help--he was
starting to feel more and more like his old self.

Well, not quite. There was something new in his life now, and he felt a
sense of excitement at the realm of possibility before him. At the sound of
approaching hoofbeats, he rushed out onto the porch, eager with anticipation.

Vin rode up, silhouetted against the sun, the light gleaming off the long
tresses that waved from under his hat. He dismounted with the grace of a cat
and walked up to him.

Without a word, he pressed his palm against Chris's cheek. Their lips met
in a long, lingering kiss. Vin's tongue slipped into Chris's mouth.

Chris returned the kiss with the same hungry passion. He held Vin in his
arms, enjoying the feel of the compact, hard-muscled body close to him.

"You gonna invite me in?" Vin asked at last.

"That depends. Still scared?"

Vin nodded.

"Me, too," Chris said with a wan smile, as he led Vin inside.

"Is that coffee?"

"Help yourself."

Chris watched as Vin poured a cup for himself and one for Chris. He admired
the easy grace of the tracker as he moved around the shack, adding sugar,
looking for milk. To Chris, he looked so much at home here. So much at ease.
But Vin Tanner could look at home most anywhere, he was sure.

Vin shucked off his coat, then picked up both steaming cups and set them on
the table, before sliding into a chair.

An awkward silence hung in the air as they sipped their coffee. They both
knew why they were here and what they wanted but neither knew how to begin.

"Nathan was askin' 'bout how yer feelin'."

"What did you tell 'im?"

Vin shrugged. "Told him you was doin' fine." He took a long sip,
then gave Chris a sidelong glance. "Which you are. Far as I can
tell." He paused. "How are you doin', Chris, really?"

Chris stared at the swirls of steam rising from the hot coffee. He
struggled to put his thoughts into words. It had only been maybe a month but
it felt like years had passed. He wasn't the same man, anymore, he was sure of
that. Nothing was the same. Nothing looked the same. Nothing felt the same.
And ordinarily, he might've thought that was bad, if it weren't for one thing.

The man sitting across the table, drinking his coffee.

He watched him, grinning to himself at Vin's increasingly obvious
discomfort.

Vin looked up at him suddenly. "What are you grinning at?"

"Me? Oh, I'm just picturing you naked."

"Yeah?" Vin grinned back. "And what else?"

"Maybe it'd be better if I show you."

The grin widened. "I'm sure it would be."

Chris came to stand beside Vin, as he got to his feet. Chris kissed him,
the flavor of coffee and sugar lingering in Vin's hot mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, both men began to remove their clothes. Chris
reached for the waistband of Vin's pants, undoing them and pushing them down
over his hips. Feeling bolder now, he trailed his hand down Vin's stomach,
along the line of dark hair that led to the thick curls below. He wrapped his
hand firmly around the thick, warm hardness he found there, feeling it pulse
within his grip.

Chris grinned again as Vin opened Chris's pants and tugged them down over
the narrow hips with a grunt of frustration. Vin cupped Chris's balls in one
hand while lightly stroking his fingers against Chris's erect shaft. Chris
closed his eyes and sighed.

He released Vin for a moment and, completely naked, climbed onto the bed.
He stretched out like a cat lying in the sun, and smiled provocatively.

Vin paused, smiling to himself, as he drank in the scene with his eyes.

Chris pulled Vin onto the length of his body as Vin climbed onto the narrow
bed.

"I love you, Larabee," he said softly. It just seemed to fit.

Chris put his arms around him, suddenly holding him tightly to him. He
blinked back tears that stung his eyes.

Vin pulled away. "You okay?"

Chris nodded.

Vin smiled lazily as he moved lower. He hesitated over Chris's groin,
before licking the moisture at the tip of him. Chris gasped softly and
squirmed in anticipation. He gasped again and arched his back as he was
engulfed in Vin's hot mouth.

He closed his eyes and entwined his fingers through the long, silky hair,
as Vin sucked him. A groan of frustration issued from his throat when Vin
stopped.

"Not yet," he whispered, before nibbling gently at Chris's neck.
Chris reached down between them to gently massage Vin's warm, firm sac,
feeling each ball shift in the velvet pouch. Vin gasped and reared up on all
fours. Chris raised his head from the pillow to tongue each already hard and
swollen nipple.

With a soft growl, Vin kissed him again, his tongue sliding deep into
Chris's throat. Chris could feel the silvery drops of moisture from Vin's
hardened sex dripping onto his belly as Vin knelt over him. Chris accepted
Vin's tongue hungrily as he ran his hands over the tracker's smooth, muscular
buttocks.

Vin maneuvered himself around until the smooth, polished head of his penis
was over Chris's mouth. He gently lowered himself into Chris's open mouth as
he began to tongue and suck Chris's balls.

Chris sucked deeply, enjoying the salty taste and male smell that was all
Vin. He could've stayed like this forever but he wanted Vin deep inside him.
He wanted Vin's come to wash away the pain and bad memories as only he could.

He kissed the tip of Vin's penis and whispered "Vin? I want you."

Without a word, Vin shifted his body again, slowly backing up until he was
sitting on his haunches above Chris's head. He sat there, stroking Chris's
hair, as Chris reached over to the nightstand and picked up a small tube.

He had saved the lube Nathan had given Vin when Vin had checked him for
injuries, knowing instinctively it would be useful one day. He showed it to
Vin, who hesitated.

"This is what you want?"

"More than anything."

That was all the reassurance Vin needed. He started to reach for it when
Chris pulled back his hand.

"I'll do it," he said huskily. He squeezed some of the contents
onto his hand and applied it tenderly, lovingly along Vin's length.

He started to roll over onto his stomach, like he had so many times before,
when Vin stopped him. He looked at Vin puzzled, but he trusted him. He watched
as, soundlessly, Vin moved to kneel between his legs. Chris relaxed as Vin
lifted Chris's legs, positioning them over his shoulders.

His expression was deadly serious and Chris knew Vin was worried he might
panic or change his mind. Or that Vin himself would. Chris could feel the wet,
velvety smooth tip probing along his cleft.

"Still want this?"

"Do you?"

In reply, Vin reached down and pressed a finger into Chris's anus. The
tight muscle was already relaxing as it stretched to accommodate two, then
three fingers. Chris looked into his eyes gratefully, as Vin took his time. He
stretched Chris slowly and gently.

Chris felt an instant of panic but, with an effort, pushed it aside.
Nothing was going to ruin this moment. He wanted this and Vin wanted this and
it felt right. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before and he wanted
them both to enjoy it thoroughly. He bucked his hips in encouragement.

Vin glanced into his eyes for one last apprehensive moment. Seeing the
desire and determination there, he pressed forward, until the entire glans was
nestled within Chris's body.

Chris moaned softly and Vin's head snapped up. Chris stroked his face
reassuringly. His eyes half-closed in languid pleasure as he felt Vin's length
fill him completely. This was what he wanted. To feel Vin inside him. To feel
them joined together in this moment in time, bridging all the trust and need
and love and concern that they shared for each other.

Vin began to thrust, slowly and gently in short, shallow strokes at first
so they could both get used to these new sensations. Gradually he began to
thrust deeper until he stroked along Chris's prostate. Chris's eyes widened
and he gasped in the overwhelming feeling of begin fucked inside out. Nothing
had prepared him for how good this could feel. Vin grinned and began to thrust
faster.

Blindly, Vin reached for Chris's penis and began to stroke it in a matching
rhythm. It felt so hot, it nearly burned his hand as it throbbed in his grip.

The only sounds in the room now were the two men gasping in joy and
pleasure as together they neared a conclusion.

Chris felt his balls tighten as he moved closer and closer to his climax.
He could sense that Vin was almost there, too. The tracker's eyes were glazed
and he seemed to have lost all awareness of where he was, as he thrust into
him. Chris looked at him in wonder, reaching up to touch his face with his
fingertips.

Vin took Chris's finger into his mouth and sucked it, as his own orgasm
became imminent.

And then the room exploded in light and sound and sensation as both men
cried out in release. Chris pulled Vin to him and held him tightly as he felt
Vin's body shudder with each contraction. He held on as if Vin's body was the
only thing keeping him grounded to the earth, even as his own come pumped
between them.

Vin kissed him again, with a hunger that sealed their coupling. Whatever
had happened before was gone now, and true healing could begin.

Vin rolled onto his side and gazed with a languid, satiated expression into
his new lover's eyes. He wiped a tear from Chris's cheek.

"You all right?"

"It was never like that. Never."

"Forget it, Chris. It'll always be like that."

Chris gazed at him questioningly. "Not scared anymore?"

Vin grinned. "Told ya between us we'd figure it out."

THE END
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Hobson's Choice