Dangerous Liaisons

 

Author: NA50

Fandom: Magnificent 7

Pairing(s): Chris/Vin, Chris/OFC, Vin/OFC

Warnings: rape

Spoilers: none

Summary: The characters of Magnificent 7 are recast as modern-day escorts.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Slave!Fic: TV & Movies - Slash,

Most Angst: TV & Movies,

Most Intense Scene: Acted TV & Movies - Slash

&

Best Extreme Fic: TV & Movies - Slash

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Author's Premise For This Universe The Cruise: Boarding Passes, Please The Cruise: Old Friends The Cruise: Promenade The Cruise: The Bet The Cruise: Below Decks The Cruise: Single File Drill The Cruise: Questions The Cruise: Desperate Measures The Cruise: Truth or Dare The Cruise: Negotiations The Cruise: Answers The Ranch: North Range

Author's Premise For This Universe

 

My Premise for this universe:

 

While in the Navy, Chris Larabee was legitimately asked on occasion to escort the wives of senior officers who were at sea or otherwise engaged to escort wives and daughters to official if social functions. There was no impropriety. However, at one such soiree, he met Ella Gaines, a professional "hostess" who was taken with Chris and he with her. She found opportunities for Chris to meet people of influence and make a little cash on the side and Chris got Buck involved in their little side deals...all of it expressed as "gifts" from their "dates".

 

On leaving the Navy (and there was a certain scandal to it. Chris was discharged honorably but forcibly,) he worked with Ella for a few years, playing hard and loose and getting a taste for the good life. Then he met Sarah, fell in love and changed his ways. Ella was furious and tried to persuade him otherwise. I see a nasty parting of the ways.

 

Chris sets his sites on making it through the police academy and Buck joins him (also put out with Ella.) They make it through and work as cops for a couple of years until Sarah and Adam are killed. Chris and Buck both think it was some criminal they locked up. But it was, in fact Ella, thinking she could get Chris back if she eliminated the reasons he left in the first place.

 

At this point, I'm thinking Chris is only about 25 or 26 years old when he marries Sarah (setting it younger than the original series, I think.)

 

After their deaths, Chris does dive off the deep end, and resigns from the police force before they can fire him. He reenters the world as a kind of hard going gigolo, determined not to let emotion touch him ever again. Ella tries to regain his interest but he doesn't even want her.

 

Eventually it eases some with Buck joining him, also kind of disgusted with the whole police and ineffectual thing...

 

Ten years later Chris is working a specially booked cruise ship with Buck (think Exit to Eden by Anne Rice's alter ego) where he ends up meeting what will eventually be his stable...

 

Nathan: who was supporting himself as a male escort/companion while in medical school but got caught at it and was kicked out, with little or no chance of getting back into Med school.

 

Ezra: who has been working as a gigolo for a good many years, conning widows out of their money.

 

Josiah: currently the gentlemanly escort to an elderly widow.

 

Vin: current trophy boy prize to Guy Royal, who is very much an out of control sadist, who keeps a short leash on Vin because he has evidence (falsified) that will tie Vin to a murder.

 

JD: who works for the cruise line as a steward but who gets drawn into the entire upper class, wealthy, ennui looking for something to entertain or titillate them, scene

 

Proposed first story is "Dangerous Liaisons: The Cruise" where the seven meet.

 

---

The Cruise: Boarding Passes, Please

 

Day One - Portside, Florida

 

The sharp hot glare of the Florida sun cut through even the dark protection of Chris Larabee's very expensive sunglasses, forcing him to squint as the cab pulled up to the curb on the road leading to the Port Terminal. He checked his ticket once more: Berth 42, "The Atlantic Angel". He chuckled at that as the cabby pulled his bags out. He paid him and picked up his valise, slinging the suit-carrier over his shoulder.

 

He still wasn't entirely convinced this was a good idea. Angela Redding was an old friend and a better client, but this really wasn't quite his thing. He liked knowing where and when and how, and most of all who -- and with a hundred plus people joining Angela on her little Fantasy Island Love Boat cruise, Chris was thinking that seven days with a bunch of total strangers might just manage to crack the thin veneer of charm he was so noted for possessing.

 

A very thin veneer, he thought, staring over the docks to where the ships were lined up like oversized piglets in a wallow.

 

But Angela had begged, cajoled, threatened, pouted and pretty much cut loose her entire arsenal of persuasions to get him to agree -- and she was no slouch in the dirty fighting arena.

 

Except she hadn't really fought that dirty. He wouldn't have to do anything but play her escort unless he chose, maybe do a favor for a couple of her friends -- who he would know. Mostly he would be the person Angela needed to vent to; to be teased and comforted by in the face of her biggest "social" arrangement of the year. And in truth, there wasn't much Chris could object to at having a week on the Gulf, every luxury laid out for him as if he were a paying guests, and nice little bonus as well. Maybe a last look at the life he was getting ready to leave behind.

 

And see if he had any regrets.

 

Should it get to be too much, he doubted Angela would mind finding him in her bed most of the trip. And that, more than anything had decided him. Angela Redding was one of the good ones: good hearted, a shrewd business woman, tough as nails and tender as any woman could ever claim or hope to be. In another age, she'd have been a courtesan in her own right, with a matchmaking business on the side and a seriously well-equipped dungeon in the basement. She liked her pleasures, liked people and she'd been a good friend to him when he was hell bent on driving every friend he had away.

 

He hadn't quite managed it and he grinned at himself, waiting for the traffic to ease so he could cross the avenue to the terminal building. Buck would be here too, had been on every cruise he could wangle an invite too, even once managed to scrape together the ten grand it cost to make this cruise. The first time. But only once. Chris suspected Angela would pay his fare herself if she couldn't talk one of her guests into it first.

 

Chris had yet to meet Buck's current banker. He claimed she was blonde, long legged, big-breasted, and open handed with her money. Chances were, she was short, dark and had him pegged from the moment they met. Not that it would have mattered. Buck Wilmington knew more about this business than any man living, probably. Had been in it one way or another from the first breath he took. And the women loved him -- with good reason.

 

And not a few men, he thought, crossing the street. Yeah, Buck would be escorting the ladies and not picking up the check when he was ninety.

 

Chris shifted his grip on the valise as he walked along the sidewalk, next to a service garage. Not the best looking part of the town, especially next to the gaudily decorated port with it's balloons and flags and a big Mickey Mouse blimp floating overhead. Buses and cabs made the run for the front of the building and Chris was half wishing he'd had the cabby get closer, but there was a long line of vehicles and he'd get there and out of the humid heat faster walking. He was glad he'd dressed light, though: silk and linen keeping him cool, although the strap of his bag was making his shoulder sweat.

 

There were other people walking as well, faces elated or tired, excited and annoyed, too. A colorful spatter of humanity in holiday dress teased his eyes: men in summer shirts and Hawaiian prints, women in skirts or pedal pushers, kids yelling excitedly as they caught glimpses of the big ships waiting for them.

 

He was a little early: the regular boarding for the cruise not starting until later in the afternoon but Angela wanted time to get settled. Time to get her personal staff sorted and in place before her guests arrived, and although he wasn't technically working the cruise, Chris had volunteered to come early. Angela had been bright-eyed grateful for it.

 

A group of jostling young men took up most of the sidewalk ahead of him and Chris took a second to assess them, meeting the eyes of one of them, who stared arrogantly back at him then smiled -- nothing pleasant in the expression aat all. Five of them and they slowed. Chris didn't, meeting the eyes of each one of them, looking them straight in the face, until he passed them. Then he slowed and turned around to watch them. Street tough and looking for trouble, he figured. A gang or trying to be. His eyes narrowed as he saw the unmistakable bulge of a gun in the waistband of the tallest of them.

 

Beyond them was another man: tall, ebon-skinned and dressed nicely if causally in a brilliant blue shirt and pale slacks. The boys slowed again, and the man kept walking but they circled him. Chris tensed, watching them and then glanced around, look for a security guard, port cop, anyone. When he looked back, the five boys were tugging and shoving the man into the garage.

 

"Fuck," Chris said softly and looked around. An upright garbage can with a door was close enough to shove his bags into and then he was running, back along the sidewalk. Another figure moved toward him from across the street and he stopped, just for a heartbeat's length of time. Blue eyes met his under a dark cascade of curls, long, lean form encased in leather pants and a red silk tank, sunglasses around his neck on a keeper cord.

 

The blue eyes darted toward the garage and back toward Chris, the stranger cocking his head. He'd seen it too, Chris knew. Planned to go in. Chris answered the question with a nod before he even realized there was one in the air. They both moved; no more than a second or two passing during the whole exchange.

 

He didn't have time to really think about it. Entering the sultry heat and darkness of the garage with the blue-eyed stranger beside him, the first thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the equally obvious sound of a man giving up muffled cries of pain. Chris pulled his sunglasses off and headed left, around a parked cargo loader and found them, the other man right at his elbow.

 

"Hey! Take five of you to be this stupid?" the man beside him yelled, voice low and rough with a discernible Texas accent. It was enough to break the group up for just a second.

 

"Ain't none of your business, man," the tallest one said and Chris' eyes narrowed, remembering the gun. Two of the boys held their victim while the other two had gone at him with hard-curled fists.

 

"We're making it ours," Chris said flatly. "Let him go and you can walk."

 

"And if we don't?" the tallest asked, lifting his chin.

 

"Then maybe you won't be walking when we get done with you," the Texan said with a grin, standing hip shot, arms folded over his chest.

 

"Maybe you won't be breathing," the taller one said, turning and reaching behind him.

 

Chris dived for him, barely aware that his companion moved as well and unable to think of anything or do anything but go for the kid's wrist and his arm, keep him from pulling the gun, or if he pulled it, not let him fire it. Training from years ago held up to the passage of time as he caught the kid's arm and jabbed an elbow into his throat. The gun was half out and Chris slammed the kid's arm across his knee hearing a howl of pain as the mugger dropped the weapon. Shoving him back, Chris grabbed it up and checked it, all without thinking, and turned.

 

One kid was down, trying to clutch both his stomach and a bloody nose. The Texan had two others closely engaged, legs and arms flying in precisely controlled patterns, martial arts training obvious and a little barroom brawl style as well as he used a kick and feint to get one kid to drop his guard and followed it with a pretty impressive right hook.

 

Just beyond him, the gang's would be victim was getting some of his own back, bloodied and bruised but obviously not out and the kid had no chance all by himself.

 

A glint of light and Chris turned back, closing in, hearing the Texan hiss and the tear of cloth, the last boy standing producing a lethal-looking knife.

 

"Drop it!" Chris barked, and didn't hesitate to cock the gun, the click of the chamber rolling over echoing and compelling in the cavernous space.

 

The boy stared at Chris then at his opponent, weighing the odds. He was smarter than he looked. He held the knife out carefully, letting it drop and clatter on the concrete floor. Then he lunged forward, shoving the Texan aside as he headed for the door. Chris let him go, eyed the others until they scrambled to their feet to follow. The one with the bloodied nose paused only long enough to help his staggering leader out as well.

 

The three men stood there, breathing a little heavily, until the footsteps faded.

 

"Well," the Texan said finally, body relaxing in fractions. "Whole lot cooler in here than outside, don't'cha' think?" he asked.

 

It took a moment before the black man started laughing. "Yeah...lots cooler."

 

Chris grinned at both of them and then popped the chamber of the gun, dumping the bullets into his hand, then taking the open chamber and slamming it forcefully against the steel side of the cargo loader. The chamber popped and rolled, the gun useless.

 

"I want to thank you fellas," the black man said. "They were after my wallet -- got a bit disappointed by the contents. Nathan Jackson," he said holding out his hand to Chris first, who took it, giving it a firm shake.

 

"Chris Larabee. You all right?"

 

"Will be. Bruised. Nothing that won't heal."

 

"Vin Tanner," the Texan said with a smile, shaking Nathan's hand as well. "Glad I could help," he said and turned to Chris to offer his hand to him as well. "That gun could have made things a mite more interesting," he said.

 

"If it didn't blow up in his face," Chris said, looking at the ruined bit of metal. "Saturday night specials aren't really known for their reliability."

 

"Just as glad he didn't get to test it out," Nathan said with a chuckle but it faded and he moved toward Vin. "You're bleeding," he said and Chris' grip on Vin's hand slid up to catch his forearm as Nathan lifted Vin's other arm to look at the cut.

 

Vin gripped Chris' arm briefly but then pulled away. "Just a scratch," he said, as Nathan pulled at the torn cloth of his shirt.

 

"Don't look too bad...need to clean it though. Lord knows what that boy used that knife for," Nathan said and Chris looked as well. The smooth tanned skin under Vin's ribs was marked and bleeding but it was shallow: slightly deeper than the scratch Vin claimed it to be, but it didn't look to have dug into the muscle. It was bleeding nicely though and Chris offered Nathan his handkerchief to press to the wound. "I got some bandages in my kit," Nathan said, not taking the handkerchief but guiding Chris' hand to press the folded cloth to the wound. "Give me just a second," he said and found his bags, pulling a satchel up onto a crate.

 

Chris stepped in so he could press his whole hand over the wound. "Nice moves."

 

"Had a few of your own, I seem to recall," Vin said, tensing a little when Chris pressed on the cut, but he didn't move much.

 

"I get by," Chris said, a smile escaping him when Tanner met his gaze. The square jaw came up a notch, humor in the blue eyes.

 

"I bet you do, cowboy," Vin said, voice low and soft and Chris felt the shock of that raspy voice and the suggestion beneath it, down to his toes and back up where it lodged about midway and settled.

 

"You call me a cowboy?"

 

"If the horse needs to be ridden," Vin said, laughter on his lips and Chris felt his pulse quicken.

 

"Here, let me see that," Nathan said, interrupting them without seeming to notice anything. He washed the wound then dried it, covering the cut with an antibiotic cream, and then a long square of gauze. "Hold that there, Chris," he said and pressed Chris' hand back on the wound again. "Don't mind, do you?" he asked and Chris glanced sharply at him. Nathan was grinning like an idiot.

 

Maybe he had noticed something.

 

"No, I don't mind," Chris said, glancing back at Vin. "You a doctor, Nathan?"

 

"No," Nathan said, hesitating a little but then he was back with the tape to hold the gauze in place. "Know some about it, but I'm not a doctor," he said quietly.

 

"Close enough for me," Vin said when the gauze was in place and then he moved away, rolling his shirt down. "Sure you don't need to see one?" he asked, pulling a clean gauze pad to press it to a small cut over Nathan's eye. It hadn't bled much but was starting to trickle down the side of his dark face.

 

Chris watched Vin, fascinated by the long slender fingers, seeing calluses there, but a sure, steady touch.

 

"Naw. I'm all right. Won't be doing sit ups any time soon, but I'll be okay," Nathan said, rubbing his stomach but he smiled and started packing his things up. "Feel like I should buy you fellas a beer or something."

 

Chris helped him gather up his jacket and the smaller bag he'd been carrying while Vin bent down to pick up Nathan's wallet and hand it back to him.

 

"Next time," Vin said with a grin and glanced at his watch. "Thanks for the patch job, Doc. Ya'll take care," he said, shaking Nathan's hand and then Chris' again. His eyes lingered, mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something, but then he only smiled. "Watch your back, cowboy," he said softy and squeezed Chris' hand briefly before dropping his hand and backing away before Chris could say any one of the dozens of things that he wanted to.

 

Chris waited, helping Nathan with his bag as they walked back out into the sunshine. He looked but he couldn't see Vin or even a glimpse of the red shirt anywhere around. He put his sunglasses back on and walked with Nathan back toward the terminal. "You need me to get you a cab or anything? Call the police?" Chris asked, stopping back at the trash can to find his bags where he'd left them, undisturbed. His suits might be a little wrinkled but he'd survive. He wiped off the gun and dropped it the trash can.

 

"No, thanks, Chris," Nathan said. "Got a boat to catch. I'll get myself a nice soak. You knew he had that, didn't you? The gun?"

 

"Saw him. Passed him before he got to you."

 

'"And you still...." Nathan took a deeper breath. "Brave thing for a stranger. You a cop?"

 

Chris gave him a tight smile. "Was. A long time ago. Not anymore."

 

Nathan nodded. "Thank you. Not sure I can say that enough."

 

"You have," Chris said and patted his shoulder as they crossed the street into the terminal building. They both scanned the departure boards and Chris realized they were heading the same way.

 

Chris pulled his ticket and eyed Nathan, who reached into his bag and pulled his own, then broke into a broad grin. "I guess I might get to buy you that beer after all."

 

"I think I'll let you," Chris said with a chuckle.

 

They walked a few more feet and Nathan stopped, laying a hand on Chris' arm. "Larabee...Chris...Mrs. Redding's Chris?" he asked.

 

Chris hesitated, wondering what, if anything, Nathan knew about his relationship with Angela. "Sometimes, she thinks so," he said cautiously.

 

Nathan was quiet for a moment but another smile emerged, this one more wry. "Yeah. She does. She's real excited about you being here. I work for her..." he said and then ducked his head. "Not quite like you do," he added more quietly but he was still smiling, no hint of judgement or condemnation on his face. "And I know she thinks of you as a friend more than anything."

 

Chris relaxed a little. "We go back a lot of years. What...?" he gestured at Nathan's bag.

 

"Ah, I'm kind of a therapist for her, without a license yet," he said a shadow crossing his dark face. "Got some med school under my belt, some EMT training..."

 

"She wanted to make sure she had someone on hand in case someone got a little over enthusiastic on this little pleasure cruise," Chris guessed and Nathan nodded. "Kind of hard to call in the paramedics when you're dealing with big names and rope burns," he said with a low laugh and Nathan chuckled too.

 

"Yeah, something like that. There's a doctor on board but he's...one of her guests," Nathan said as they stepped up to present their tickets. They got their passes and surrendered their luggage and were directed along a corridor toward the docks.

 

"Probably a good idea. Hear these things can get a little wild."

 

Nathan glanced at him and grinned. "If they only get a little wild, she'll think it's a total failure," he said and they headed for the dock and the gangplank.

 

The only thing Chris knew he was, if the rest of the cruise were anything like the start of it, he wasn't likely to get bored.

 

---

The Cruise: Old Friends

It didn't take long to get checked in; Chris glancing at Nathan with masked concern to make sure the man stayed on his feet. He seemed to be all right, but the hot sun couldn't be helping. The cut over his eye had stopped bleeding, but there was a slightly swollen place on his jaw that could probably use an ice pack.

 

"Mrs. Redding said she'd be in the ballroom," Nathan said after a steward offered to take their carry on luggage. For Chris it was all he had, but Nathan apparently had more, already being handled.

 

"Nathan, why don't you go find your room, grab a shower and some ice? I'll let her know you're on board," Chris offered and smiled at the flash of gratitude in the man's eyes.

 

"I could use a shower," Nathan admitted, working his shoulder. "I'd appreciate it, Chris. Tell her I won't be long."

 

"Consider it done," Chris said.

 

"I still owe you a beer."

 

Chris chuckled at that. "I won't let you forget. I'll see you in awhile," he said and Nathan grinned then headed for the elevators to find his room.

 

Chris tucked his sunglasses into his pocket and hazarded a glance in the mirrored facade of the large foyer. At least that's what he supposed they called it. Glass and brass and chrome and steel, polished to within an inch of its life. There were a few people moving about not in uniform, but all moving with a purpose which meant they could still be crew, or members of Angela's staff.

 

He had the ship's guide in hand but a quick question to a passing crewman got him headed to the ballroom, one level down and over toward the port side. He paused in the door, leaning on the frame, watching the activity inside that reminded him of nothing so much as a hive of bees and in the center, the queen herself.

 

Angela Hartman Redding was very possibly twenty years Chris' senior -- she looked ten years younger. He wasn't entirely sure how old she was and he'd never asked. His inclination was to think she was she was a good deal older -- if only by experience -- because it was unlikely she'd let her form give anything damning away. Dark hair, near black, was currently coiled and curled and upswept over a pixieish face and a long neck that seemed designed for the varieties of lacework-like necklaces she favored. She was small and round and curved, Reubinesque to the point of being a cliché, with delicate hands and trim ankles, buxom and fully-curved at hips and tummy. Plump without being hennish, graceful without being mincing or overly-coquettish. Every bit a woman, although, as she claimed, rarely a lady. Dark eyes could be alternately shrewd and seductive and her cupid's bow mouth could bring a man off skillfully enough to make him think he was in heaven, or cut him to shreds with a few well-placed words. In her own element, she was both courtesan and commander-in-chief. In the larger world she was considered a pleasant, if slightly flaky, twice-over widow, who seemed to know more people of influence than any single person should have time to have meet in a lifetime.

 

She'd been a swinger before it was trendy, tapping into the over-checked libido of high-pocketed American nouveau riche while Timothy Leary was getting stoned in his upstate opium den and she'd been throwing parties for disillusioned politicians while Nixon was eavesdropping on their counterparts. She was part Madam and part matchmaker and more than one successful familial alliance had been engineered with Angela's small hands guiding the reins of fate.

 

Chris actually hadn't ever wanted to know more than that, or how far or wide her influence was spread. She thought Heidi Fleiss and Sidney Barrows were idiots and fools for being discovered and she was more cautious than that, while being blithely obvious about certain things. She never thought of herself as above prosecution, but Chris doubted anyone would ever be able to trace her wealth to anything illegal or marginally ethically questionable. There was no little black book, no paper trail, no easy way to trace Angela Redding's hobbies and interests to the highly volatile and risky end of the pleasure industry. There were no bored housewives serving the needs of her friends, and no one she dealt with that had less to lose than herself, should the house of cards she played in come tumbling down. She wielded social influence like a sword, with herself as primary adjudicator. No one ever paid Angela Redding for her services or her coterie of personnel who possessed *special* skills. Not directly. And when working for her, Chris never woke to find cash or a cashier's check in his name waiting on the bed stand.

 

She ran a series of elite social clubs, and entertainments, all of which came with certain privileges and perks, the higher up the membership ladder you climbed. For Chris it meant covering any number of roles from concierge to riding instructor to undercover security.

 

Somewhere, on paper, he even had a title.

 

He was free, of course, to pick up his own clients on the side, and had, some of which he might even continue to see, not so much for the meal ticket they provided but for the sense of history and companionship they'd instilled.

 

Not in general hire though, and Chris knew it was what he did, what he was, even if Angela Redding pursed her pink lips and scowled at him for saying so.

 

She was scowling now, scanning a rip sheet with a very nervous looking executive chef beside her.

 

"Madame, we do not have time to replace these items before we sail," the chef said as she marked through item after item. "The menu will have to be rewritten!"

 

"Then you, Monsieur Dervais, had best to get to work," she said, finishing her cutwork on his lists. "Michael," she called over an immaculately dressed young man, half Chris' age, with hair so blonde it was nearly white and a sharp-face look to him that reminded Chris of nothing so much as a switchblade. "Be a darling and call Estevan's and Marquell's and Coastal Atlantic. I believe Coastal can have replacement items here just before we leave if Anthony would be so kind as to use that lovely little two-seater he has and fly it up here. Monsieur Dervais, if you would be so kind as to make sure you add on any of the extra accompaniments need to accommodate the change in menu, I'm certain Michael can fit them onto his grocery list." She smiled sweetly at him. "And if you really feel you can't make the adjustments...just let me know. I have a wonderful friend who is a chef in Tampa. I think he'd be delighted with the opportunity for a challenge like this."

 

Dervais looked outraged, Michael looked gleefully amused at his employer's tactics, and Chris could only chuckle.

 

Michael had his cell phone out in a flash, moving away, lifting one pale eyebrow at the chef to encourage him to follow while Angela turned her attention to other things. The conference was over.

 

Chris took the opportunity the momentary lull offered and sauntered in, approaching Angela as she spoke to her assistant, Amanda.

 

"Scaring off the hired help already?" he asked her.

 

She didn't jerk or startle: not Angela's style. Quiet and quick as Chris knew he could move, he'd rarely been able to catch her off guard.

 

"Not the best help. You're here aren't you?" she said, turning around as if she had known he was there all along and just waiting for him to make his move. It was possible she had. Before he could think on it further, though, she was getting to her feet in a smooth glide and rustle of washed silk and ribbons. "Oh, Christopher! I'm so glad you decide to come along," she said open-armed and smiling, dark eyes bright with undisguised amusement and affection.

 

Chris didn't hesitate to complete the offered embrace and a little more as Angela fit all her soft curves against the lean planes and hollows of his body like they'd been carved there just for her. She barely came to his shoulder, but even flexing to adjust to that, she was one of the most comfortable women he'd ever been privileged to hold in so intimate a fashion -- and it was intimate. If they'd been naked, their bodies would have been tangled together a whole lot more invasively. As it was, he had Angela's mouth open under his within a heartbeat and with only a flick of his tongue.

 

She tasted of mint and chocolate, smelled of rosewater and talc, and stroked his sides and back with her fingers with all the knowledge and sanction only accorded to long-time lovers. Her arms crept around his neck as she pulled her head back and he held onto her for the pleasure of it. "Told you I'd be here. Have I ever lied to you?"

 

"Frequently and with great finesse, darling boy. It's one of your great gifts to make those sweet lies mean more than the truth ever could." She wrinkled her nose at him and played with the fringes of his hair at his collar. "I'd have forgiven you this too, but I'm so glad that instead, I get the opportunity to show you how truly grateful I am that you're here. Have you been to your cabin yet?"

 

"Nope. Came to find you first," he said which got him another smile and a delighted laugh. "I did run into your medic, though. He's here, checking into his cabin."

 

"Nathan? Oh, good. I wanted him to come with me but he said he needed to get some supplies. Isn't he lovely? Very, very smart. Wonderful hands," she added with a slight look and Chris laughed.

 

"You do have a weakness for the jacks of all trades."

 

She pulled his hair playfully and withdrew her arms, gripping his biceps instead as they separated a little. "Why hire four people when one will do? Where did you meet him?"

 

"On the way to the terminal building. He ran into a little trouble--" Chris said, and shook his head at her sudden expression of concern. "He says he's fine. Kids. Muggers. Nasty kids. He's a little bruised." Angela's hand suddenly stroked over his arms, along his chest, searching his face. "I'm fine too," he assured her. "Not even a scratch. He walked here though. Seemed fine, just sore."

 

"Stepped in to help, didn't you?" she asked and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. He's very dear to me."

 

"Had some help myself," Chris said as Angela relaxed a little so she was merely holding his hands. "Another man saw it too."

 

"Oh, I hope I get a chance to thank him. Worked for the port? Passenger?"

 

Chris shook his head. "Don't think he worked for the port. Could be a passenger somewhere. Young. Nice moves."

 

One careful plucked eyebrow rose. "Oh, yes? Fighting off muggers and you're watching this young mystery man move? Must have been some moves," she teased. "Or really boring muggers."

 

Chris' grin got a little wider. "They were. Nice moves, that is," he said. "Name is Vin Tanner, but I wouldn't have a clue as to how to track him down."

 

Angela smiled and stepped back, tucking her arm through his. "I'll see what I can do. No good deed should ever go unrewarded. Now, I think we should get you to your cabin, get you settled. In a few hours I'm not going to have two seconds to myself, and I'm claiming my prerogative as your hostess right now. Amanda, dear," she said turning to her assistant. "Please make sure the event coordinator knows that if I see a mariache band anywhere on deck before we get Cozumel, I will personally sponsor her in her first Gulf crossing swimming event. Richard and Elise seemed all right with the equipment set up in the playroom but I want to make sure the extra equipment isn't shoved into the larger gym. Some people will want to exercise other things than their libidos. Make sure the head steward has it moved out. They can store it on the lower decks if they like. We won't be using them."

 

"I'll take care of it, Mrs. Redding. What about the dancers? We shifted and gave them most of the port berthing on deck three and the meeting room, but Cilla wanted to be sure the lounge would be clear for them to set up the salle."

 

"Then she damn well should have been here at nine with the rest of the staff," Angela said. "She has all those lovely young hard bodies working for her. They can set up their own equipment. Put her in touch with the maintenance chief if she needs them. She's not getting paid by the hour. I'll be in my cabin and then on the forward deck at boarding time, should you need me."

 

Amanda nodded, making notes on her clipboard and smiling at Chris as she moved off, pulling her headset back on. Angela wouldn't wear one, or a cellphone. If they wanted her, they'd have to come get her.

 

"Problems already?" he asked as they headed toward the elevators, chuckling again when Angela lifted the ankle length drape of her burgundy skirt as they mounted the three steps up, to reveal a pair of teal high-top sneakers on her small feet.

 

"No more than annoyances, although that chef..." Angela made a small growling noise that reminded Chris of a mother bear scolding her cubs. "I am not prepared to deal with the fallout from my guests discovering we're serving Chilean sea-bass or any other endangered creature when monkfish will do just as well. Or lobster. Or tofu for that matter. Although I swear, if I do this again, I'm making it a vegetarian cruise. I so rarely have people in my face about the future of endangered tomatoes."

 

"Then you'd just piss off those very rich cattle ranchers," Chris said as they gained the elevator.

 

"Probably. Or the Chicken ranchers..." Angela tapped the button for her floor, their floor, and snuggled up close to Chris. "Tell me trout aren't endangered anything..."

 

He kissed the top of her head, setting his fingers to a soothing rub across her lower back. "Nope. Farm raised. Catfish too. Ostrich? Frogs..."

 

He teased her and by the time they stepped off, Angela was laughing and smiling again, flirting and ready to concentrate on all the things that were going right.

 

It was easy enough to do. She had a well-developed sense of humor and it was the rare few individuals that she allowed to watch that cool demeanor crack. Anger she'd show anyone, if she were motivated enough, but frustration or even doubt, were carefully hidden.

 

The rooms were more luxurious than even the high end ones offered to her guests: half the ship would remain dark save for staffing and crew. But the luxury accommodations were in full use and she hadn't stinted on Chris' rooms either, which were the mirror of her own and connected by a shared salon.

 

"Much nicer than last year's ship, which had a certain charm," Angela said as they entered and she showed him the connecting rooms. His luggage was already there, what little of it there was, his suits hung up with a note from the steward that he'd be by at Mr. Larabee's convenience to see them pressed.

 

"I only needed the bed, Angel," Chris said after checking it out and returning to Angela's quarters.

 

"Good lord, I hope you do something better with that bed than sleep in it," Angela teased and waved a languid hand toward the wet bar. "I'm parched, darling."

 

It would have seemed imperious had Angela not flopped across her bed like a disgruntled teenager and toed off the high-tops. Chris got her a whiskey and soda iced and straight shot for himself. He passed the drinks over as Angela sat up and tucked her legs under her. Pulling off his jacket, he followed suit, pulling off his boots to lay down gratefully on the cool cotton duvet cover of Angela's own down comforter. Like a security blanket she took it nearly everywhere, the well fluffed covering smelling of her and softer than even the well sprung mattress.

 

"So, is there anyone you like coming on this cruise?" he asked her, rolling to his side to sip his drink and watch her slowly unwind. His free hand slipped under her skirt to rub along her calf.

 

She batted at him. "Yes," she said, feigning annoyance. "Although there's a great many more of them I simply don't *hate* just yet. But yes. I don't think I could do this if I didn't have some friends about me. Other than you. Or Buck," she said with a giggle. "Oh, I do want you to meet Isabelle. I think he's smitten. It's terribly funny to watch. Have you met her?"

 

Chris shook his head, enjoying the feel of smooth, supple skin and Angel stretched the leg out, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Not yet. Heard about her, though. He does like to brag."

 

That got more laughter. "Well, he should. Isabelle has been on my lists for years. She's smart but easily bored. Couldn't match her brains long enough to get her out of the house for more than a night or so. Buck's had her out and about nearly every weekend."

 

"He's good for fun."

 

"Yes, He is, among other things. She's a widow, did you know?" she asked and then glided past it before Chris could answer. "And she needs a man in her life...she knows it. Too busy looking for another man like her husband."

 

"Got candidates?"

 

"I did. But now I'm thinking I was looking in the wrong places. Still, you'll like her. She plays a mean game of billiards," she warned. "Don't bet against her until you see her play. Buck's going to owe *her* before they're done."

 

"Let me guess, he took her bowling, didn't he?" Chris asked and grinned when Angela laughed and nodded, hiccuping at the thought of it. "Yes!! I nearly died. She's Harvard grad, theoretical something or other in business...applied...I have no idea. I always thought she was a tad too reserved, even when she was married. But...second chances. Everyone deserves one," she said, taking a quick glance at Chris.

 

He ignored her, concentrating instead on his blind exploration of her upper thigh. Angela stretched a little, letting him take his time. "You aren't on the clock, you know," she said on a throaty purr.

 

"No, but you are," he teased back. "You'll have to be doing the meet and greet in a few hours. I'd hate for you to be tense." He grinned at her as she finished her drink in a swallow when his finger crept up along her hip. "Why Mrs. Redding, you don't have any panties on," he said in mock affront.

 

"It was horribly hot," she pointed out, then grinned at him, before leaning over to give him another kiss, much more lingering and soft, than her enthusiastic greeting in the ballroom. "I'm really glad you said yes to this," she said, nuzzling his hairline and the angle of his jaw.

 

"Did you really think I wouldn't show?" he asked her, letting his arm push the silky folds of her skirt up to expose the creamy-pale thighs.

 

"It occurred to me. And I would have been disappointed but not angry. This really isn't your thing, darling, and I know it, but I do think you'll have fun if you give it half a chance."

 

"I feel like I'm being recruited," he growled, bending his head to kiss her thigh and along the curve of her knee. She smelled and tasted of flowers, and a little salt, Chris lapping at the backside of her knee joint like a cat, smiling when he felt the shiver run through her.

 

"You'd be good at this...even without the bedroom expertise," she said, reaching across to stroke across his crotch, teasing the silk and humming softly when she felt the rise of his cock through his slacks.

 

"But would it be any fun?" he asked, not really worried about the answer. He could smell her now, the rich woman-scent of her soaking gently into the silk as he moved his mouth up her leg.

 

"Well, since you're planning on giving that all up anyway, does it matter?" she asked and Chris sighed and rested his forehead on her thigh.

 

Angela sighed too and deftly undid his slacks. "Sorry, darling. Nothing too serious...I shouldn't bitch. *I'm* not losing you," she said and then softer. "I'm not, am I?"

 

Disagreement or not, his body didn't much care as her small, soft and surprisingly clever hands touched and stroked him, and he nudged her to her side toward him, hiking her skirt up higher. Dark eyes regarded him seriously, concern and affection there, but not love. He swore not, and so would she. Sweetly. She was a better liar than he was.

 

"Angela. Beautiful, clever, Angela. I thought you'd put a spell on me. From the first. Don't you have to turn into a frog or something to break it?"

 

She smiled, then laughed, her fingers curling around him and she gave him a gentle tug and squeeze, chuckling softly when he grunted in pleasure at her deft touch. "Crone, dear. I have to turn into a crone and if you wait long enough you'll see it. What are you going to do?" she asked, pushing at his slacks, baring skin so she could touch and tugging at his shirt.

 

"Well, I had planned on fucking you until you wipe that expression off your face and get back to work instead of worrying over my future." He shifted enough to pull his shirt off and let the silk slacks slide off his legs before rolling her to her back and pushing her skirt up above her waist.

 

"Ooh, a man with a plan," she said and then took a sharp little breath and arched her hips as Chris pressed his lips to the crest of her hip, taking a slow arc along the underside of her rounded tummy.

 

"A man with a goal," he said, blowing air across the tightly curled hair on her pubis, before taking the first taste of her. Salty-sweet and silky on his tongue and Angel squirmed, lifted, and dug her fingers into his hair, tugging at him.

 

"It's a big bed, lover. Swing that lovely ass of yours up here," she teased. "Momma Angela has a taste for something of a little more substance."

 

Chris smiled and then pressed his open mouth to her clit, laughing which made her squirm more and let loose a breathless laugh of her own. A lick and soft suckle and he moved, groaning against her when they were curled together with Angela's dark curls resting on his thigh as she stroked him and then opened that perfect, small mouth to take him in.

 

Angela made it easy to forget who was working for who, or even that there was anyone working for anyone or anything but mutual pleasure. She'd made it her life's work to pursue it, managing to keep the people in the equation, and still never surrender that idea that life was short and you got out of it what you put into it. Chris believed it as well, had started too, but there was a darker edge to his own trust in that philosophy.

 

Or just a darker edge to his soul. He could never quite decide.

 

Angela did her best to make him forget. It was favor he could never really repay, but he tried, playing what he knew of her body, of her likes. Nipping sharply at the inside of her thighs and lapping hungrily at the sensitive nub of her clitoris until she was moaning around him, legs moving restlessly, the tell tale flutter of her belly and the short gasps for air indicating he had her close. Nearly close she had him.

 

He shifted again, rolling to his back and catching her hair to pull her head up, pleased at the nearly black eyes, the brown mere shimmers at the edges. No condoms or barriers, Angela far past the point of children and both of them sure of one another, and far more cautious with other companions. She was wet and slick for him as helped her slide over his body, settling on him with an abruptness than wrenched cries from both of them.

 

The silk of her skirt fell around them, tickling his chest and teasing his nipples. Wet silk inside her as she closed around him, muscles tightening as he pushed up and fingered her at the same time. Beneath his other hand, her breasts were molded and squeezed, nipples high and the flush of her painting the creamy skin a delicate pink.

 

Whatever her age, Angela was limber and flexible, and probably would be when she was a hundred. He felt her clench and gasp, swear as she ground down on him, smiling when she felt the sudden upthrust of his hips, need driving Chris deep for his own pleasure. She outpaced him, slicking him further, leaning forward as she was seized and shaken, smiling at him when it passed but shaking still as she continued to move on him. "That's it, my beautiful man," she murmured, fingers stroking over the strained tendons at his throat, nails scratching at is nipples to bring them to small tight peaks.

 

It was a lightning strike of sensation when his orgasm hit, and Angela rode him like the pro she was, then painted his lips with the barest dregs of her drink on her fingers before kissing him. She folded up against him and curled within his arms, once more humming to herself as Chris stroked across her back, pressing a kiss to her temple.

 

"I have the perfect career, for you," she said a little sleepily but probably not really tired. Her mind never stopped working.

 

"And what would that be?" he asked, smiling to himself since Angela couldn't see his face. Sated, he was still curious to know what outrageous thing she would come up with.

 

"I think you should pen self-help books for brutish men without a clue but with some trace of obligation...A whole series of How to Please a Woman," she said on a chuckle. "I have interest in a publishing house, you know."

 

"Shouldn't that be you?" he asked on a chuckle.

 

"No, dear. I write the ones on how to best please a man," she said.

 

"You would be an expert on that. Shouldn't it be an expose? I was a male whore?" Chris asked and heard and felt Angela's laughter rise up again.

 

"Christopher, if that's all you were, we wouldn't be talking about your career."

 

Chris sighed again and hugged her. "Angela, would you stop worrying about it? It's not like I need to work. You've helped see to that. Don't you ever think about retiring?"

 

She pushed up, staring down at him and traced his face from temple to the cleft in his chin. "When they bury me and not a day before, my dear. Life is for living."

 

"I live fine."

 

"Mm...mmm," she said, eyeing him skeptically. "You live from job to job," she said and Chris set his teeth. She knew him too well and sometimes it was a pain in the ass.

 

"Maybe I'll get bored in year."

 

"I think you'll be bored by next week," she said but bent to kiss him again before climbing off him and heading for the bathroom. "You've been drifting for years, Chris. I have a vested interest in not seeing you drift away."

 

"I'm not going to disappear."

 

"You've already started," she said and closed the door.

 

Chris let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his eyes. His body ached pleasantly, the rush from the fight had been eased by sex, and his mind was whirring as actively as Angela's. He could almost be angry.

 

Almost. Because part of him knew she was right. And all of him knew they'd be having this conversation the entire cruise, as they had been on and off since he'd announced his decision.

 

It had almost kept him from coming on the cruise -- which he suspected Angela knew, or guessed.

 

Too many years, he thought, rolling to his stomach. Almost ten years now, ten years of answering to the quick calls of other people. It wasn't a bitter thought. Those people, his clients, were by and large both generous and selfish. Generous with their money, selfish in their needs. Since he didn't care much one way or the other about the latter for himself, the selfishness of others had been easy to meet. And he'd been lucky: lucky in meeting Angela, lucky that most of his choices had turned out well. There had been a few, a very few, dicey situations. Things to make him cautious -- or smarter. He gotten a thrill at being able to meet the needs of clients with special interests, special desires.

 

He'd learned a lot about himself -- not all of it very pretty. It had been far easier than he'd thought to separate emotion from need...or business.

 

He shouldn't bitch. He'd had his chance at something different and it had been snatched away from him. He had no desire to re-learn or revisit that pain. But now, he also no longer wanted it to be someone else that guided his life, planned it, gave purpose to his days and nights. Even knowing he could refuse, deny...he kept coming back to it. His reasons were really clear to him on why it was time to give it up. He just didn't quite have a handle on what was left to replace it with.

 

It was time to find out if there was anything left but this illusion of a life he lead, and if not, whether the illusion would be enough to sustain him for another twenty or thirty years.

 

Somehow, he didn't think so.

 

---

The Cruise: Promenade

Angela didn't bring the topic back up once she emerged from the bathroom freshened up and smiling. She waited for Chris to shower and dress before changing into a linen pantsuit of turquoise and a pair of decidedly spiky heels. She spent some time on the room phone with Amanda to make sure things were well in hand before letting her know they would heading for the observation deck and lounge. She called Nathan as well, Chris listening to her as the other man reassured her of his health and agreed to meet her in the lounge in a little bit.

 

They had it almost entirely to themselves, although the crew and staff were in evidence, Angela requesting some kind of frothy blue thing and Chris settling for a cold beer. They took seats near the window, able to see the boarding ramp and the open area just beyond it.

 

"Not going to greet each guest individually?" Chris teased her.

 

Angela gave an unladylike snort. "Hardly. They'll be enough of that at the reception before dinner. The last thing most of these people want is some kind of formalized reception line like a state dinner. But... I will be having a more private soiree later -- those friends you asked about. Mostly people you know," she said, sipping at her drink and then scooting her chair closer to Both Chris and the window.

 

Chris glanced down as well, seeing a multi-passenger tram pulling up.

 

"Let the games begin," Angela chuckled.

 

"Feeling like Caesar?" Chris asked her as the passengers sorted themselves out. No more than a half dozen but he could see another tram pulling away from the doors of the terminal.

 

Angela snickered. "More like Caligula, preferably without too much bloodshed. Care to visit my playroom, little boy?" she said, running fingers along his jaw.

 

"Only if you're the one wielding the whip." He caught her hand and kissed it, giving her a devilish grin. Angela in a playful mood was to be prized above all else.

 

"Ooooh, you're evil, Mr. Larabee, getting a girl's hopes up." She winked at him but then her attention was dragged back to the window. "There...the one in blue with the amazingly ugly hat. Patricia Forsythe."

 

Chris looked, eyes narrowed against the glare. As usual, he was a little surprised at the variations in age and at times, reputations of the people who sought out Angela's services, or her favors. The passengers ranged in age from late twenties to well-advanced in years. He focused in on the gaudy hat. "Forsythe Labs," he said, recalling the name from a news broadcast and other parties Angela had held. The woman was tall and spare, probably late fifties, early sixties, and the hat was amazingly ugly.

 

"Exactly so. I'm a little surprised she accepted the invitation. She's not really a player at all, although I wouldn't be surprised to find she has a secret taste for young men instead of her usual companions..."

 

"Which are?"

 

"There beside her, in the Panama hat. Josiah Sanchez. Seminarian. Philosopher. Something of a humanist, or maybe that would be humanitarian. Also an odd one but not quite as academically inclined as that Ph.D. after his name would indicate." Angela said. "He's actually very interesting, practical and metaphysical all at once. Pat says he's a dream in bed."

 

Chris laughed. "And you think it's odd she's here?"

 

"Oh, not for that!" she said. "They've been seeing each other casually for about six months, but I know he's talked her into donating some ungodly amount of money into some charity or other. Enough to make me blink," she said and Chris studied the man once more. Above average tall and well built. Grizzled in a not unappealing way. Had a smile like overly ambitious horse but it fit him. Everything about him seemed larger than life. Watching him with Patricia Forsythe, Chris was caught by the ease that he assisted her, offering a hand or arm, always bending to listen to her, proper but affectionate.

 

Until he caught Sanchez resting one large hand on Mrs. Forsythe's spare posterior. She blushed but didn't push him away. "She maybe up for more playing than you realize," he commented.

 

"Late bloomer, then," she said, tapping her brightly painted nails on the table top. "I could see Pat coming if only to talk to Isabelle although they're both better in the boardroom. Still..." she tapped a few more times and then called a waiter over for a phone.

 

Chris stared out the window while Angela put in a call to her office, setting another of her people to work on finding out what they could on one Josiah Sanchez, Ph.D. He glanced at her when she hung up. "Patricia is a very good friend," she said primly. Chris only smiled.

 

And listened some more as she described the other guests. There wasn't anyone she didn't know something about -- she couldn't afford to take that risk, given the nature of the cruise and being in international waters would only protect her, or her guests, while they were at sea. Luckily, or more likely by design, people likely to take risks with their reputations or hers didn't receive the very special invitations. Chris catalogued what he could. Angela wouldn't be describing them without reason, as much fishing for anything he might have heard in his slightly different circles as to make him acquainted with their fellow travelers.

 

"There! There!" she squeaked a half hour later. "*That's* Isabelle!"

 

He knew Buck, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his oldest friend. Buck never changed and part of Chris was glad of it, recognizing the storm anchor Buck Wilmington was even if he rarely bothered to let his friend know it was so. He looked good: tanned and fit, dressed out in the most casual of garbs but still knowing how to make an impression even in tight jeans and a bowling shirt. They talked more frequently than they saw each other -- Buck wasn't much for the black tie dinners or parties, when he could be romancing in a more intimate fashion. He tended to run out his clients for weeks and months, bed hopping between them but keeping them satisfied on a schedule the airlines would envy. He liked the romance part more than Chris did, would rather have a client every night than spend his evenings alone.

 

This latest enhancement to his bank account, if not his long line of partners, paid or unpaid, had proved more permanent than most. Isabelle Windham, Chris recalled from both Buck and Angela. Surprise of all, she was tall, long-legged and while not as buxom as Angela, very nicely put together. Not quite model-pretty but blonde and smiling at her escort.

 

Even watching them from a distance, he could see the honest affection there -- Buck would offer no less and there were few women he'd ever met he didn't like. They were as playful as siblings, Isabelle only laughing when Buck flirted with a pretty crew woman and then flushed red with laughter when Buck pointed toward the ass of a retreating crewman.

 

"I swear that boy could light up a moonless desert night," Angela said, affection in her voice as well.

 

"He's always known how to grab for the bright and shiny things," Chris agreed. "Surprised you haven't tried to bring him closer into the fold. You two are a lot alike."

 

Angela smiled and inclined her head. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Larabee. I don't know that Buck could ever settle enough for it. He *likes* being in the field. The bigger the field the better. Easily distracted."

 

"Give him something to focus on and he'd do all right," Chris said, looking out again. A moment later he realized Angela was watching him with a gently amused expression on her face. "What?"

 

"Nothing! You're a handsome man, Chris. I just like looking."

 

"You're a fraud," he said but smiled to ease the barb and was rewarded by Angela's laughter again.

 

The stream of passengers was increasing slightly, although it would never be a crowd like Chris had seen gathering for the commercial cruises. Here, the staff and crew almost outnumbered the guests, might actually do so if he counted in all the entertainers. Some guests brought their own little entourages -- not one member of whom hadn't been cleared by Angela as well -- but it wasn't common. There were no discounted fares for this cruise.

 

"This should be interesting," Angela murmured, another dozen people in and described, and Chris looked.

 

"Problem?" he asked watching an older woman and a younger man come close to facing off. The woman was lovely in that overly coifed way: bright blonde hair that long should have turned to silver was swept up in an immaculate bun, a dove gray traveling suit showed off perfect skin and a still appealing figure. She was escorted by a man probably ten years her junior: Dark haired and sober looking but the linen suit he wore wasn't off the rack.

 

"Not really," she said with a faint smile. "I'm actually curious to see how this plays. The woman is Maude...Standish, something, something, Davenport. That's her husband, Richard. The other gentleman," she inclined her head toward the younger man with auburn hair and a decided flare to his dress and appearance. "Is Ezra Standish -- Maude's son by her first marriage."

 

"A little familial dispute?" Chris asked.

 

"Not...entirely. Maude isn't a stranger to the business. She just prefers to marry her marks rather than play mistress on call. I actually sent the invitation to Richard before they got married. He considers himself quite the swinger -- in the old sense, although I find it difficult to believe Maude would do the same thing. Indulging him, perhaps. Ezra has quite adeptly followed in his mother's footsteps, but he isn't interested in marrying well and he spends more time in Europe than here. Very successfully, I might add. I'm almost as surprised Ezra showed, as I was you. But I think he has a target or two in mind and far be it for me to interfere in his games. Poker or otherwise." She said softly. "I tried to ...recruit, as you say, Ezra a few years ago. His preference is for men, although I don't hear any of his ladies complaining and that's a rare find. Not everyone is as versatile as you and Buck."

 

"He's nice looking," Chris admitted, although he was thinking more along the lines of damn nice looking, and recalling Angela's comment about the need to use his bed for something other than sleeping. Maybe he would at that. He watched the man watch his mother and her husband precede him. Standish hesitated, glancing at the ramp and for a moment, Chris thought he might actually get off the ship. He seemed to square his shoulders though and gave a white-toothed smile to the purser before checking in and being lost to Chris' sight.

 

He let his gaze shift outward again and sat up a little, eyes sweeping over the couple coming up the gangplank. The man he didn't know: tall and bronze, broad shouldered and white haired although he didn't look that old. He walked with the rolling gait of a man used to riding horses, if the Stetson he wore weren't clue enough. On his arm, delicate features alight with laughter under the full, rich fall of her hair was a face he did know. The eyes would be blue-grey, the laughter like the ring of crystal and heady as wine. She was built all over like a woman most people thought existed only in fashion magazines: Full breasted and full hipped with trim waist and a flat stomach, soft curves at her buttocks. Chris smiled wryly to himself. "Isn't Ella a rival of sorts?" he asked.

 

Angela flashed him a smile that was more perfunctory than amused. "Hardly. Brazen is what she is but Guy has lately taken a shine to her and it's not like I actually think she'll do me harm."

 

"The man?"

 

"Guy Royal, gentleman rancher. Newly invested in the oil industry," she said on a healthier chuckle. "He's a braggart and a poser, but he is also someone to know. He can be very charming, and he does have interesting appetites."

 

"Like Ella?"

 

Angela laughed in genuine amusement. "Oh, I suppose she's interesting enough for him and she looks good with him. But she's more his meat and potatoes and I can't fault her for knowing how to be a hostess to a man like Royal. Not that I need to extol Ella Gaines' charms to you, I recall."

 

Chris gave her a brief grin. "No. Not really. You should thank her, Angel. She's the one that gave me a taste for this. I was always surprised she never landed herself a fleet commander."

 

"Not for lack of trying. Too impatient though and while I can admire her skills, I wouldn't trust her to handle more than her own affairs. But, Guy doesn't mind sharing and she's more than willing to play his games -- which means I don't have to. Hmmph," she said and sat back to laugh. "Lord, for that alone I may have to send her a bottle of champagne and something sparkly to wear."

 

"If you don't like him--"

 

Angela shrugged. "It's not a matter of dislike. He was a struggling rancher a few years ago -- cattle. Beef. One of those who would get in my face if I didn't offer good American beef on my menus. Influential because of the size of his operation, more than the size of his bank account. A couple of years ago he struck oil. Literally. Instant player. He went from back rooms to ballrooms that fast. Now the esteemed senator for the Sovereign State of Texas relies heavily on his advice, if not his campaign contributions."

 

"With interesting appetites."

 

"Rumor has it that the esteemed senator has similar appetites," Angela said and Chris glanced at Royal again only to have his eyes catch on a flash of red and black and dark hair. He had the sunglasses on, not that Chris could have seen the color of his eyes from this distance, but he didn't need to. They'd be blue as the Florida skies overhead. He had his hair pulled back at this time, a thick ponytail falling just above his shoulders. His gaze seemed to rake over the ship, the gangplank, scanning the area slowly but leaning against the rail casually.

 

It was Tanner, hanging back a bit as Royal and Ella spoke to the purser. "That's the guy that helped Nathan," he said and looked at Angela. She'd have known his name at the very least.

 

"I suspected it. He does move nicely," she said, watching Vin as well, a smile on her lips. "I'll have to tell Guy about his boy's heroic tendencies," she said and glanced over at Chris. "I wasn't entirely sure. I've never met him. But Guy paid for his passage and Ella's and one other. Man named Tyrone Halsey. Bodyguard."

 

"He need one?"

 

Angela shrugged. "Guy thinks so, or maybe he likes having the extra muscle. He's pissed a few people off. No one on board that I know of, though."

 

"And Tanner?"

 

Angela took a sip of her drink and met Chris' gaze. "Latest and longest lasting trophy stud. Works for him regularly as well. As much a cowboy as Royal is and probably a good idea that he's got a patron like Royal. That's back country and someone of Tanner's preferences, if not Royal's, would need to watch his back for more than rattlesnakes. Interested?" she asked, smiling and Chris glared at her a little which made her laugh. "Darling, he's lovely. And Guy can be generous. I have no doubt he keeps his boy busy -- he's very much an...observer...of the human condition -- although not quite the way Mr. Sanchez is."

 

"Likes to watch?"

 

"Very much so and I can't blame him. I'm guessing that's at least part of his fascination with Ella...who has *never* been shy about showing off her goods. And speaking of Mr. Tanner, where is Nathan?" Angela asked, sounding more concerned than put out.

 

The phone was brought again and Angela called.

 

Chris stared at the top of the gangplank. Tanner was gone, but he kept looking, turning over Angela's information in his mind. He'd never have thought it. Not that Tanner hadn't given off plenty of signals of interest, but he hadn't struck Chris as a man for hire. Not that Chris thought he did either, but among his own set, there was usually something to clue him in.

 

Or maybe he'd been too distracted by those blue eyes and that coarse voice to notice anything but how very nice Tanner had fit into the leather pants he was wearing.

 

Angela hung up the phone. "One of Cilla's dancers took a tumble and Nathan's been taping his ankle. You'd think they'd be more graceful. So, I'm going to make sure Amanda has it all under control and make sure Nathan isn't over taxing himself. Care to join me at the rail in an hour to throw food to the fishes?"

 

"Wouldn't miss it. You want me to tag along. Or I could check on Nathan for you?"

 

"Would you? He's in 312 and that would be one less thing and you wouldn't have to deal with the confusion downstairs," she said and Chris rose first, offering his hand to her to help her up.

 

"Angela, I can deal with crowds," he said kissing her cheek.

 

"I know but you're here -- no matter that I'm going to take shameless advantage of you -- on vacation, as my guest, and I really did want you along to enjoy yourself. Relax. Give yourself some time to think and maybe to play. And I mean play, dear. You really could use some lessons in that."

 

"I can't think of a better teacher," he said, walking her out.

 

"Flatterer. Go check on Nathan and then and I'll see you in an hour or so," she said kissing him lightly.

 

Chris watched her go and then chose the stairs over the elevator to make his way down, finding Nathan's room with no trouble.

 

Nathan opened the door and seemed surprised to see him, then smiled. "Mrs. Redding sent you didn't she?"

 

"I volunteered. She's afraid you're working too hard."

 

"Naw. Easy stuff. I was heading out to find her."

 

"She'll be at the rail in an hour," Chris said and then stepped into the room when Nathan opened the door wider. It was smaller than the room Angela had given to Chris but still comfortable enough, there was a tray on the desk where Nathan had apparently found time to grab a meal and Chris realized he was hungry.

 

"They've got a cold buffet up in the staff dining room," Nathan said, seeing him eyeing the tray. "Appetizers and things for the guests in the main, but I wanted more than canapés and cucumber sandwiches. Early, but how about I buy you that beer?"

 

Chris didn't mention that he'd already had two. "Sounds like an offer too good to refuse," he said and Nathan led the way, through corridors Chris tried to keep track of, and then gave up.

 

The staff dining room was set up casually, but still had a full bar. Nathan grabbed two beers while Chris fixed a plate and they found a table near the back of the room. Nathan tapped his bottle to Chris'. "Not quite buying but thank you anyway."

 

"You're welcome," Chris said easily. "Vin Tanner is on board too."

 

Nathan gave him a wide-eyed look. "As a guest? I know he's not on the staff roster."

 

"Guest of a guest," Chris said taking a healthy bite of a loaded roast-beef sandwich. "Works for Guy Royal." Nathan settled back with a less than thrilled expression and Chris chewed and swallowed. "Know him?"

 

"Royal? Yeah. Met him a couple of times."

 

"And not impressed."

 

Nathan tapped the side of his beer bottle. "Not from my side of things, no. For a man who apparently built what he has from dirt, he doesn't seem to care much for the working class, if you know what I mean."

 

Chris nodded, and wiped his mouth. "I do, but...Nathan...you know what this business is like," he said quietly. "You need to be careful what you say--"

 

"And who I say it too?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Chris, you and Tanner saved my ass back there. I think the truth is the least I owe you. Unless you're a friend of Royal's in which case...well, it's still the truth, as I see it."

 

"Don't know him, except what Angela said -- and now you."

 

Nathan nodded. "Well, maybe he'll ease into being regular folk here instead of trying to impress Mrs. Redding's other friends. At least I'll get a chance to buy Vin that beer."

 

"Could be. So, you going to get down time?"

 

Nathan nodded. "I think so. I usually do. No extreme sports on this cruise...well, hopefully not the kind that end in broken bones," he grinned. "Broken hearts are Angela's specialty."

 

"When she isn't breaking them herself," Chris said with a quick smile.

 

"True enough," Nathan said with a laugh. "Don't know anyone quite like her. Owe her a lot."

 

"Me too," Chris said quietly. "How long have you known her?"

 

"Little over a year," Nathan said, smile fading a bit. "Got kicked out of medical school and she...kind of helped me put it back together."

 

"Should I ask?" Chris said.

 

Nathan shrugged and took a deeper breath. "Got caught doing....well, what you do. Only I didn't have Mrs. Redding's safety net at the time."

 

Chris took that in without changing his expression. Nathan didn't quite strike him as the type either -- but he'd been wrong about Vin. Or maybe he was losing his edge. Another good reason to get out of this business and figure something else out.

 

"Didn't have the money to try to get in anywhere else, even if I could have gotten accepted. Angela...she helped me get my EMT certificate and license then hired me. A few years.. I may try again."

 

"Were you close?"

 

"A year and my internships." Nathan took a sip of his beer. "Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't meant to be."

 

"That's kind of a lot to read into a little bad luck."

 

Nathan nodded but looked unconvinced. "Can I ask you?"

 

Chris smiled again. "How I got into this? Drifted, mostly," he said, hearing the echo of his conversation with Angela. "Easy money, no real commitments. Suited me at the time."

 

"But not anymore?"

 

"I'm not sure about that yet," Chris said. "Maybe."

 

"Any idea what you'll do?"

 

The annoyance flashed through Chris again and he scowled. "Seems to be a real interesting topic for a lot of people."

 

Nathan held up a hand in a placating gesture. "I'm more curious than anything. I know you've done security for Angela."

 

Chris forced himself to calm a little, sipping his beer and taking another bite of his sandwich. Nathan was just talking, and while it was possible he had an ulterior motive, Chris didn't think so, and didn't think his sense of people would fail him so badly.

 

But he'd missed on Vin.

 

He didn't know why it bothered him so. He'd met the man once for all of fifteen minutes. "I used to be a cop," Chris said, answering Nathan's cautious question. "Navy before that. Little old to roll back into a local PD and not really good enough for a private firm."

 

"Angela would tell you it's not what you know, but who."

 

"Might be true. It's a recent decision. I haven't sorted it all out yet, although I'm thinking Angela is going to keep at me."

 

"Interesting pillow-talk," Nathan said on a chuckle.

 

Chris joined him on a huff of laughter. "Yeah. Not much one for hearts and flowers. We talk more about her business plans than anything."

 

"She trusts your judgment. That should tell you something," Nathan pointed out.

 

"Think so, do you?"

 

Nathan grinned and finished his beer. "You check out your rooms. No one else close. Room next to Angela's is for her private parties. One next to yours is where she's keeping her special party favors. You've got Michael and Amanda across the hall and not another guest in that section of cabins. And standing orders that no one gets up there without a pass or an invitation. I'd say, yeah. She trusts you."

 

"Maybe she wants her privacy," Chris said, feinting, but a little surprised even so. She really had managed to give him a retreat of sorts if he wanted it. Or for herself, although he doubted it. Nathan confirmed his opinion.

 

"This is Angela Redding we're talking about, right? Privacy is something she schedules. Not something she needs."

 

True enough, Chris thought, finishing his sandwich. Whereas he valued his privacy almost more than anything else. He didn't dislike people but he had little patience for fools -- unless they were paying him for his tolerance.

 

Laying his napkin on his plate he finished his own beer. "Probably ought to go try and find her. Thanks for the beer," he said with a flash of a smile at Nathan.

 

Nathan laughed and got up. "You're welcome. Give me a chance when we reach Cozumel and I'll buy you one for real."

 

"I might take you up on that," Chris said and they walked out together, but parted near the deck entrance.

 

There actually wasn't much of a crowd gathered, or it just seemed sparser because the number of passengers was only a fraction of what the ship could carry. Angela would be someplace dockside and Chris walked it, eyes alert for her but he slowed when he found Tanner instead.

 

Same clothes, hair down and loose once more. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. Chris stood for a moment, finding his first impression unchanged. Long legs were cocked against the railing, one booted foot braced on the lowest, Tanner resting his forearms on the upper rail. The breeze off the water had tangled his hair, the heat tacking his tank top to his skin damply. Everything about him stirred Chris to the familiar flash of desire and arousal.

 

It was a pleasant shock to see the same thing reflected back at him from blue eyes when Tanner turned his head to look at him, like he knew he was being watched. That gaze raked over Chris from head to toe and back again with no attempt to hide the fact that Tanner was sizing him up, checking him out and pretty much seemed to like what he was seeing. A smile quirked the corner of his lips and he shifted, leaning against the rail on his side, hip shot and resting his unencumbered hand on the waist band of the leather pants. He found space enough to dig his thumb into the low slung leather when Chris would have sworn there wasn't room between the leather and Tanner's skin to get a drop of sweat through.

 

Chris walked closer, settling against the rail as well and grinned. "You disappeared pretty fast. Glad you resurfaced."

 

"Me too, now," Tanner said, no shyness, but it wasn't exactly a blatant invitation either, which Chris found interesting. "The Doc here too?"

 

Chris nodded. "Yeah, just left him."

 

"He doing all right?" Vin asked, concern real.

 

"Seems to be. Up and around. Little stiff. How about you?"

 

Vin shrugged. "Doing fine. So, you just wandering?"

 

"Saw you come on board."

 

"And came looking?"

 

"Not exactly. Figured I'd run into you eventually. Kind of glad it wasn't with your boss."

 

Tanner's smile slipped just a little. "He's getting his lady settled."

 

"Ella. Know her too."

 

"You know a lot."

 

Chris nodded, resting an elbow on the rail and lacing his fingers together at his waist. "Angela Redding, who put this cruise together, is a friend."

 

"Like Ella is a friend of Guy's?" Tanner asked, he was still smiling but there was something under it now -- a wariness maybe.

 

"Kind of. More the reverse. I'm...more like Ella," he said, waiting to see how that hit Tanner.

 

It relaxed him a little, surprisingly enough. "Man should have friends," he said easily.

 

Chris nodded. "Should be an interesting cruise," he said. "You on call all the time?"

 

Vin met his gaze then turned to look out over the dock again. "Mostly, but I should have time to myself. Want to occupy it?" he asked looking back at Chris, that smile firmly in place again

 

It was brazen and brassy and the humor and lust in his eyes was enough to make Chris laugh out loud as well and nod. "I think I'd like that. You don't dance much do you?"

 

"I dance well enough," Vin said and the low huskiness of his voice just added to the appeal of the package. "Life's short."

 

"It is that. So, want to set a time and place...I'm on my own time."

 

Vin smiled again. "That must be nice. All kinds of stuff on the schedule, but after the reception tonight. Boss will be busy rubbing elbows."

 

Chris grinned again. "I'll get you a pass for upstairs."

 

One darkly feather eyebrow lifted. "A pass? Got some status there, Larabee?"

 

"Friends in high places," Chris grinned.

 

Vin nodded. "That can be nice."

 

Chris moved in brushing arms with him, mimicking Vin's stance against the rail. He could feel the heat of him, not confusing it with the sun overhead, and smiled to himself when Vin shifted a little, but let them continue to touch. A dropped gaze showed the leather straining at Vin's crotch. "Pants a little tight?" he teased.

 

Vin chuckled. "A bit." He looked over at Chris' looser slacks shaking his head. "Smart man. Maybe we oughtn't to wait for tonight."

 

Chris glanced back and around, seeing more people gathering and hearing a band playing somewhere. He should be meeting Angela soon and checked his watch.

 

"If you've got somewhere to be, I'll hold," Vin said quietly.

 

"Sort of, although...I might could manage it but..." Chris lifted a hand, finally fulfilling the desire to at least touch. He used two fingers to lift Tanner's hair from his neck, sliding his fingers through it. Thick, soft, curling around his fingers, Vin stretched his neck just that much in a movement so natural and so subtly sexual, Chris' felt that his loose slacks weren't actually sufficient to keep his building erection contained. "I think I'd like to have more time."

 

"It is a seven day cruise," Vin reminded him, turning to face him again, closer than he had been, hip brushing against Chris'. Chris had the dizzying impression that Tanner might very well be ready to find a barely hidden alcove. He knew he was close to it. Desire wasn't anything new to him, and he could pretty much summon it at will, but this was entirely different. This was lust and desire and need all wrapped up in a blinding flash that left him a little breathless. Watching Vin's face, seeing the faint flush there, he didn't think he was alone. He couldn't recall feeling this way in a decade or more: reckless and dangerous, caution something other people had to worry about.

 

Then just as suddenly Vin stepped back, the expression on his face gone just as quickly. It took a moment for Chris to realize it wasn't him, had nothing to do with him.

 

"Tanner. Been looking for you,"

 

Chris turned to see Guy Royal approaching, then he barely had time to acknowledge the man before Ella was sweeping forward.

 

"Chris! I didn't know you were here!" She said, that throaty voice and the wide smile pulling a response from him without him realizing it. But then, Ella always had. He didn't even think twice about finding her in his arms, her mouth pressed to his, her tongue seeking entry without hesitation. Lipstick and perfume, heady and near overwhelming and he hugged her, aroused already from his encounter with Vin and it just carried over.

 

Ella wriggled against him, laughing. "Happy to see me?" she said, taking his arousal as her due and Chris didn't try to dissuade her.

 

"Always. You look beautiful, Ella," he said and she did. She always had been beauty, mixed ancestry giving her an exotic look without placing her into any kind of ethnic arena. Dark hair with hints of red, cream-gold skin and full lips and the blatant flash of all things feminine and aware of their power made her a difficult force to resist.

 

"Thank you, sir," she said and glanced up, smiling over his shoulder. "My manners. Chris Larabee, this is Guy Royal."

 

Royal was watching her indulgently, standing behind Vin with one arm slung in front of and across Vin's shoulders. He topped Tanner by a few inches, body both broader and more muscular than Tanner's. The face was weathered but still handsome, well bronzed from the Texas sun and the large hands were callused. Not a stranger to physical work, then. The smile he offered to Chris seemed warm enough but Chris was quick to note it didn't really extend to the pale blue of his eyes.

 

"A pleasure, Mr. Larabee," Royal said and held out his hand without releasing his hold on Vin. Chris shook it, measuring the strength of it. "I take it you and Ella are old friends. Friend of Vin's too?" he asked, giving Vin what looked like a quick hard hug.

 

"Met today. He helped me keep some kids from mugging someone," Chris said, eyes flickering to Vin's face. There was a neutral expression there. Vin still held onto the rail, beer bottle in hand, other arm loose at his side, but his fingers were flexing. It was the only sign of tension in his body, but it was there.

 

"A hero!" Ella said, slipping her arm through Chris'. "We wondered where you got off to," she said to Vin, reaching out to trace a finger along his jaw.

 

"Just can't keep you out of trouble, can we, boy?" Royal said giving him a little shake.

 

"Wrong place, right time," Vin said.

 

Chris watched Royal, feeling himself bridle a little at the possessive way he seemed to hold Vin. Marking his territory, Chris knew, and Vin allowed it. Then again, Royal was wealthy, not bad -looking. Tanner could do worse for a meal-ticket. Ella wasn't likely to tolerate a man who was truly abusive -- at least as long as it wasn't aimed at her. Tanner seemed more tolerant than anything and obviously not feeling any kind of serious loyalty to Royal -- or maybe he was freer to play a bit while Royal was occupied with Ella. "Good timing," Chris said. "Man we helped works for Angela."

 

Royal looked pleased at that. Chris thought he might. "Then you deserve a reward, Vin. Maybe a little special attention." His other hand slid across Vin's hip to just above his crotch, Royal's mouth near his ear.

 

It was so blatant to be almost ridiculous. There were enough people around to notice the open fondling, Chris catching smiles and laughter on their faces.

 

"So what'll it be, Vin?" Royal asked, groping becoming more obvious as he cupped Vin's erection, pulling him slightly against him.

 

For half a second Chris almost wished he'd been that bold, able to press his cock against the decidedly tight curve of Tanner's ass. They were still in port though, and while this was more or less the point of the cruise: to let the guests indulge in their fantasies in an atmosphere with few restrictions, Royal was demonstrating a certain lack of discretion.

 

"I could use another beer," Vin said, holding up his empty and Chris couldn't stop the laughter from escaping him. Vin's timing, the slow drawl, the lack of involvement in Royal's touches or his suggestions, verbal or physical, was too perfect.

 

Ella snickered as well, but Vin didn't laugh and Royal didn't either although he smiled, and withdrew his wandering hand. "Well, then why don't we just go take care of that?" he suggested but wasn't about to have Vin refuse. "Ella, why don't you visit with your friend and Vin and I will get some refreshment. Anything you want, darlin'? Mr. Larabee?"

 

"They'll be serving champagne as we pull out," Chris said, still smiling but something in the way Royal shifted the lay of his arm to Vin's upper shoulders made him wonder if Vin might not pay for his little joke.

 

"Little uppity for me," Royal said smoothly. "For Vin too, I think. We'll be back in a bit. I'll find you here, Ella?"

 

"I won't move, lover," she said with a sweet smile and her pet name put a little more humor in Royal's eyes as he drew Vin away and back toward the lobby. Ella watched them, waving at Royal when he looked back. "Vin needs to learn to watch what he says," she said when they were gone, turning back to Chris.

 

"Smarts off?" Chris asked and leaned on the rail again, back to the dock.

 

Ella closed the distance, pressing close and laying a hand on his chest. "Sometimes. Sometimes Guy finds it funny."

 

"Not this time, though."

 

"He doesn't know you. Guy doesn't like to be at a disadvantage." Her arms crept around his chest. "Angela still got you tied to her apron strings?"

 

Chris smiled down at her, pushing her hair back. Thick and soft like Vin's but there was a far less pleasant texture to it from gel and spray. "We're still friends," he said, tracing one carefully arched eyebrow. "Aren't you working?"

 

Ella smiled at him, pressing more of her body to his. He could feel the ripe fullness of her breast on his chest, the smooth muscles of her thighs beneath the tight, short skirt. "I did warn him I might run into friends. Paying me doesn't mean he owns me. You know that, Chris."

 

"Seems to think he owns Tanner," Chris said, tracing her lips with his thumb and giving her a narrow eyed grin when she bit the pad of his finger gently.

 

"Vin's more entertainment than companion," she said and bit her lower lip, bring the flush of blood to its fullness. "I could drop a suggestion in Guy's ear. He can be pretty generous with his toys. I'd want something in return, though."

 

Chris chuckled again and kissed her. "Let me see if I could possibly guess. I think it might be arranged."

 

"Get Angela to untie a string?"

 

"Don't have to ask," he said. "I'm not working this cruise."

 

"I'd heard you might not be working at all..." Ella said.

 

Chris sighed. "I should have taken out an ad."

 

"Small circles, sweetie. You know that. So...take me to dinner some night."

 

"We could skip dinner and head straight for bed."

 

"You've lost all romance, Chris," she pouted. Very prettily he noted. He'd forgotten that.

 

"I don't need food to romance, Ella." He kissed her again, not really in the mood to play with her. He'd rather be exchanging comments with Vin, or something more physical. "I need to find Angela."

 

"I thought you weren't working?"

 

"I'm not, but I am her guest," he said and leaned forward, forcing Ella to step back. "And I'm sure your host would rather occupy your attention than mine. I'll see you later, Ella. You really do look beautiful," he said and kissed her again but didn't give her time to speak or cling.

 

And she was clingy. He'd forgotten that too. Royal might actually like that.

 

He headed back toward the lobby, hunting for Angela and paused, seeing Guy and Vin. Royal had the other man against the wall, not touching him but obviously involved in an intense conversation. Vin had his beer. The bottle dangled from a two fingered grip as he listened to Royal. Royal looked serious but not actually angry -- chastising his favored boy, no doubt.

 

Chris turned away. He really, seriously needed a drink, but the best whiskey he knew was in his room. He suddenly wasn't in the mood for much company.

 

It changed in a heartbeat, though when he turned toward the elevators to see two hundred pounds of jean clad enthusiasm heading toward him.

 

"Chris! Stuuuuuud!" Buck Wilmington bellowed, his pretty blonde following and beside her Angela.

 

A bear hug later, Chris was introduced, willingly submitting to the Wilmington version of a shoulder massage. He'd probably have bruises but he didn't care.

 

"Prettiest thing, ain't she?" Buck said of Isabelle.

 

"You've outdone yourself, Buck," Chris said taking Isabelle's hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "If he gets on your nerves, you call me," he said and grinned, squeezing her hand. Isabelle laughed and blushed.

 

"I'll keep it in mind, Mr. Larabee," she said extracting her hand. "I'm glad I finally got to meet you. You seem to figure prominently in Buck's tales of a misspent youth."

 

"Only as a steadying influence, I hope," he said.

 

The ship's horn sounded and Angela caught Isabelle's hand and Chris' arm. "Time to bid farewell to the port, children," she said, giving Buck time to sidle up to Isabelle and slip an arm around her shoulder.

 

Most of the passengers had gathered, the gangplank being drawn away and the tugs already straining to pull the big ship from the dock. It wasn't quite as boisterous as some embarkations, but the champagne flowed and the confetti fell and the band played. Cilla's dancers came out to get the crowd moving until there was a party going on deck and there were shouts and waves from other ships as the liner moved along the channel. He caught a glimpse of Vin and Royal and Ella again then Ella caught Royal's hand to pull him into the dancing mass.

 

Beside him Angela hugged his arm and watched her guests begin enjoying themselves. "I do love a good time," she said, pleased by the enthusiasm.

 

Vin raised his beer in a salute but then found himself drawn in among the dancers by one of Cilla's troupe.

 

"And you do throw a good party," Chris said, kissing her temple but his eyes sought Tanner's and found the other man looking back. "A little something for everyone."

 

---

The Cruise: The Bet

Angela had not exaggerated. Isabelle was a hell of a pool player. Chris shook his head with a wry smile as she sank the fifth perfect shot.

 

"I think I should just quit the field. Leave some part of my ego intact," he commented as she set up another shot.

 

"We could play three out of five?" Isabelle suggested. They had a little crowd of their own going, Chris watching money change hands as his opponent chalked up again.

 

"I'd like to be able to put something up to risk, other than just getting my ass whipped," he said.

 

"When you put money into it, it takes out all the fun," she said and sank another ball.

 

He smiled at her comment, hearing it differently than she meant it but only took another sip of his drink. He was well on his way to being buzzed, which wasn't improving his game, but Isabelle had been steadily drinking Vodka Collinses and it hadn't seemed to do anything but improve her game. And he was enjoying himself even if he was losing badly. Isabelle was intelligent and dryly funny, all traces of the reported boardroom bulldog dropping away to reveal a woman approaching her middle years with the first indication that there was more to life than her work or her sorrow. He saw her more often in jeans and shorts than skirts, she and Buck taking full advantage of the entertainment facilities of the liner -- right up to the shuffleboard courts.

 

Which was good as she talked to other people, spent more time away from Buck, Chris watching the signs and wondered how much longer Buck would have this filly to run. Not long if Chris were any judge and Buck would let it end as easily for Isabelle as he could, Angela presenting other opportunities for Isabelle to meet people, meet men. Find someone else to fill her nights and days if that's what Isabelle wanted. Sometimes the business had rewards other than money, and sometimes the rewards cost a little extra.

 

Buck was resilient though, and not overly ambitious. He'd be all right. He always was and Chris dismissed the thoughts as they started to spiral out of control. It wasn't like him to worry about Buck overly much and plus he had a lovely companion to occupy his time at the moment. Even if she was beating the pants off of him.

 

Even losing, he was pretty impressed and Isabelle was grinning happily. It didn't matter much -- his competitive edge had come up in the first couple of games but now he was just settling back into enjoying her obvious skill.

 

Then it was over and Chris held up both hands in defeat. "I can only take so much," he said, but leaned in to kiss her check. "Best game I've played in years. You might be able to give up the boardroom for the pool hall."

 

She laughed. "Too much fun to make it full-time."

 

"If you're prepared for a little more, perhaps I can take up the challenge?" Josiah Sanchez's deep voice caught them both and Isabelle smiled.

 

"I don't want Pat to think I'm stealing her beau," she said.

 

Patricia Forsythe only laughed and shook her head. "No! Play. I can't play at all and Josiah is a sporting man." She found a seat when Isabelle agreed and Chris lingered only long enough to watch the start of the game, laughing to himself when Sanchez gave Isabelle the lady's advantage and the break. He'd be keeping Patricia more company than he realized.

 

He wandered the casino a bit, the small scale Vegas bringing up pleasant memories and then heard Angela shriek with laughter from the back corner where the gaming tables were set up and he made his way there, wanting to see what had her so amused.

 

They had a smaller table set up, players all looking foolishly pleased with themselves. Ezra Standish was dealing and he looked like a cat who'd found the source of the cream. Sitting on the arm of his chair, Carla Cortiz, one of Angela's more popular women of leisure, was offering encouragement, although Chris didn't think her presence was what had Standish looking so smug. Angela was seated too, as well as Guy Royal, Ella leaning across his shoulders. The fourth player was Buck, which seemed a little odd. From what he'd seen, neither Standish nor Royal played for anything less than high stakes. While Buck might be comfortable, he'd have to feel the pinch of even a hundred dollar opening bid and the chips were at least that high, although Buck seemed to have a decent pile in front of him.

 

But while there were cards on the table, no one seemed that interested in picking them up, heads bent together and Ezra making notes on a bar napkin. Chris moved closer.

 

"Independent adjudication," Ezra was saying. "Since I'm not actually part of the bet -- I'll keep the time. And the opening bid is five thousand that Mr. Tanner will be unable to resist Miss Gaines' charms for more than thirty minutes."

 

Chris almost stopped right there and turned around but it was too late: Angela saw him, biting on her lip with laughter. Royal looked pleased, but a bit too confident and Chris wasn't sure he wanted to know why. There was a slightly dark edge to Royal's speculative eyes when they turned toward him and Ella looked like she'd been handed cake and the crown jewels.

 

"Chris!" Too late when Ella saw him, beckoning him over. "You'll love this!" she said, an equal amount of speculation in her eyes.

 

"Do I even want to know?" he asked, settling on the arm of Angela's chair.

 

"Just a little healthy competition," Angela said, slipping her arm around Chris' waist. "Guy has put his young man's staying power in bed up against anyone who wants to challenge. Five thousand says Mr. Tanner can stay the distance for thirty minutes with Ella."

 

"I'd say that's fair," Royal said on a chuckle, pulling Ella across his lap. "And just to make it truly fair, I'll give Ella the same five if she manages to bring him off early. Give her a little incentive to employ *all* her tricks," he said.

 

Either way, Royal would be out five grand, Chris realized. The bet meant nothing -- the display did. And he had to wonder why, since he wasn't part of the bet, both Ella and Royal were eyeing him as if he had some stake in the whole thing.

 

"Judges?" Ezra asked, meeting Chris' eyes. "Mr. Larabee. You have no investment in the outcome. Care to adjudicate? Mr. Wilmington?" he asked and then leaned back to hold Carla Cortiz's hand to his lips. "My dear? You would be an expert judge."

 

Carla gave a throaty laugh, eyes sparkling. "I'd love to see this. Shouldn't we be talking to Mr. Tanner as well?"

 

"He'll be fine with it," Royal said dismissively. "So, takers?"

 

"I'm in," Angela said with a laugh, "But I get to judge for myself. I think anyone who does should get to watch," she said tossing the challenge back in Royal's lap.

 

He only smiled. "As long as the accommodations can take the gallery. Ella won't mind, will you, darlin'? And Vin won't."

 

He was very sure, something that bothered Chris if only because Tanner wasn't here to ask. Even so, he couldn't deny the idea sent heat to his loins. Watching had its own pleasures. "Sure. Why not?" he said and Buck chuckled.

 

"Could put you up against, Tanner, stud...I might even find the money for that one," he said, with a broad wink and Chris grinned at him.

 

"Awful free with money you don't have, Buck," he said.

 

"Just sure of you," Buck said which got more laughter. "So, this little wager is gonna happen where?"

 

"Spa Deck," Angela said. "Open suite and ...secluded," she added. "Mr. Standish, are you in?"

 

"I wouldn't miss it, madam," he said with charming smile. "Mr. Royal, you stand to gain, or lose, a good deal of money."

 

"But it will be a good time," Royal said with a chuckle. "I laid the bet, Angela has provided the space so, Mr. Standish, I believe you should set the time."

 

"Will an hour be sufficient to prepare?" Standish asked.

 

"I think so," Angela said. "I'll need to arrange for passes to the upper deck. Chris?" she said as he got up. "Cabin 704, in an hour, ladies and gents. Ella, anything you require besides soft sheets?"

 

"I think I can manage," Ella said with a sweet smile.

 

"I'll bet," Angela snickered as she and Chris headed out.

 

"You bored?" Chris teased her.

 

"Not really," she said with a bright smile as she stopped at guest relations to arrange passes. Done, she caught Chris' hand to pull him toward the elevator. "Guy's been chomping at the bit for some private fun and you can't tell me you aren't a little curious. I think he's been getting coaching from Ella. Shared passion, as it were."

 

"You do like spectator sports," Chris said on a chuckle, as the door opened and she punched in and swiped her card for the Spa Deck.

 

"As do you," she said purringly. "Something you don't get to do enough of, so what better time, or subject? You've been undressing him since you first saw him."

 

"You're enjoying this way too much," he warned her but had to grin at the idea. He had been, and he was more than willing to play mock-judge to Vin Tanner's skills. As long as Tanner was willing, he thought and frowned a little at the niggling doubt.

 

"I just haven't seen you on the hunt in too long a time. It's a pretty appealing side of you, Chris," Angela said frankly as the elevator pinged to let them off. "I've seen you at the other end of it...and you do make pretty prey, pet," she teased. "Although more like a tamed lion looking for a treat. Well, consider this my treat."

 

"Five grand is a little steep for a cookie," he said but Angela only laughed.

 

"Thirty minutes? Now tell me honestly, what's the longest you've ever lasted with her?"

 

Not that long, Chris had to admit. Not when Ella was serious and she had a bit of enticement.

 

He followed Angela into the suite beside her own, waiting while she called up room service to order refreshments and food for the room. She kicked off her shoes, had Chris help her move the chairs and the short divan into better positions to see the bed, giggling when he suggested they move the bed into the middle of the room.

 

"I think it's bolted to the wall," she said. "Although if I had more time -- and room -- I'd have them bring single beds up here and we'd set up a nice little Roman dining room." When the room was situated to her liking she headed back into her own room, stripping off clothes and changing into something that looked almost like a negligee save the fabric was layered and revealing by suggestion rather than reality. "Come on, you can play consultant," Angela said, putting on a pair of dainty sandals before leading him down the hall to the other suite being used for storage.

 

Private stock, Chris recalled, six steamer trunks of them with everything Angela thought she might want or need, most of it pulled from her own playroom in her private residence. Fabrics and scents, special foodstuffs and a variety of toys and tools. "Ah, my pretties," she said, opening a trunk.

 

"I thought Ella had to do the work," Chris said as she plopped on the floor to open one of the trunks and pulled out a flat case, opening it. Beneath it was a tray of very elegant and carefully crafted lucite and glass dildos, plugs, and rings.

 

"Well, yes, dear, but she is a woman and I suspect that Guy has his pretty boy well trained," she held up one slender wand of clear glass, the texture subtly nubbed. "Now, as a judge...I would think you get to set the ground rules. Or maybe I could just raise the stakes. Another five grand if he can hold on with this filling that nice ass of his. And you could be the impartial participant to place it properly," she said with a sly grin.

 

Chris fingered it, his own ass clenching slightly at the slick feel of it. Smooth and cool, it would warm quickly, move easily with little need for lube. The looped base of it was wide enough for him to slip three fingers through it...offering control and strength. "I think I would want something a little more up close and personal to fill that nice ass," he said, handing it back to her.

 

Angela arched and eyebrow at him and moved the dildo to the flat open case she'd pulled and was adding items to. "Maybe we should change the scope of the bet. Persuade Ella to give up her place, concede the field to you?"

 

"Not for Royal's entertainment," Chris said with a tight smile and Angela sat back on her heels.

 

"What is it about him that sets you off so? Ella? Tanner? Something else?"

 

Chris shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. He just gets my back up. Too..." he struggled for it. Maybe it was a whiff of jealousy, although not for Ella. Royal could have her and be welcome. Maybe it was because despite the very real thread of sensation and attraction between he and Vin, he hadn't managed to do anything about it since Vin had made the offer -- Royal had kept him on a short leash and tomorrow they'd be in Cozumel, the journey half over.

 

"Cocky? Confident?" Angela prompted. "I thought you liked that in men?"

 

"Too slick," Chris said at last. "He's a player of a different sort. No sense of ...obligation or reciprocation."

 

Angela though on it for a moment, then rose to her feet with an assist from Chris' hand. "Could be. I'm finding him...as charming as I recall. Brash though. And yes...maybe a little over-eager to make sure of his place outside the farm. That's not unusual in someone new to the scene," she said. Chris picked up the case and closed it.

 

"No. But he's not a kid and I guess I'd expect more...restraint from a man who supposedly scratched out his own fortune. More confidence. This isn't so much fun for him as a way to score points. And competition's fine..."

 

"But it can blur the lines between good fun and good sense," Angela agreed, securing the door. She glanced up to see room service already outside the other door, hurrying forward to open it and let them set up.

 

It didn't come up again, while Angela directed the placement of food stuffs and decorated the room to her satisfaction. Chris retreated to change into something looser, having no doubt that by the time this little show was over, it wouldn't only be Tanner and Ella who were sweaty and slick.

 

And he had little doubt that Ella would be playing for him as well as her new friend...and the promise of five grand, tax free. It had been she who had introduced the pleasure of watching to him: almost a guaranteed turn-on, and the need for restraint in the observing, half the pleasure.

 

Loose slacks again and a wide-necked crew shirt made his wardrobe of choice. He left his shoes off: his room and Angela's only a step down the hallway. He wandered into the set-up, watching Angela with indulgent amusement as she spread silks over the bed, set out water and wine near the bed and a bucket of ice. There were towels set discreetly to the side and the chairs had also been covered in fabric and a few well-placed pillows were placed on the floor near each chair.

 

"Looks more like you're setting up for an orgy than a display," he said.

 

"If we get lucky," she said coyly and rose up on her toes to twine her arms around his neck. "I'm going to check your stamina when we're done, stud," she said in a fairly decent imitation of Buck. "Maybe even before they're done."

 

Sweet arousal came unbidden as Angel rubbed against him, her cheeks already high with color and her eyes bright in anticipation. "Maybe you should volunteer to step in for Ella. I'm thinking you could get a man going without too much effort."

 

"Don't think it didn't cross my mind," she said wickedly. "Been awhile since I personally broke in a hot young buck and taught him a few tricks. I tend to go for the blonds, though."

 

"Lucky me," Chris said on a chuckle and kissed her again before there was a knock on the door. Angela groaned a little, stole another hard kiss and then went to open the door.

 

Let the games begin, Chris thought, picking up glasses and pouring wine for himself and Angela before staking out the chair he knew she'd placed specially for them. Guy Royal's deep laughter and Ella's higher pitched voice brought his head up and he smiled and toasted them with the glass but didn't go to meet them, settling on the chair. He was glad of his decision when Vin entered, smile on his lips as he greeted Angela.

 

Chris had thought he looked good in the leather but the thin sweats hanging low on his hips, held up by a loosely knotted drawstring, and the worn grey sweatshirt he wore, gave Chris reason enough to breathe shallowly. Ella's loose robe, showing an ample amount of cleavage and a flash of bare thighs above feet tucked into spiked heels were sexy enough and meant to be but it didn't really register on Chris' brain. Tanner did, which might say more about how long ago he'd lost his fascination with Ella's blatant and somewhat bottled sensuality than her actual appeal and the fact that Tanner looked sexiest when he was still and quiet. As near as he could tell, Tanner hadn't intended to dress provocatively, only comfortably.

 

Angela was whispering something in Vin's ear, but Chris caught his gaze. He didn't get quite a smile, but a nod to let him know Vin saw him, before Vin turned his attention to Angela to answer her question. Then Royal was pulling him further into the room as Ezra Standish and Carla Cortiz appeared. A few minutes later Buck and Isabelle showed up, Chris a little surprised at Isabelle's presence but she only grinned at him and accepted a glass of wine, Chris playing bartender to Angela's hostess.

 

Ella sat on the bed with Royal teasing her ear while the guests and judges settled in, Angela perching on the arm of Chris' chair. Vin got himself a bottle of water and took a swig, a quick glance over Angela's little box of toys sending what Chris was sure was a blush to his cheeks. But he fingered one of the clear implements, an amused smile on his lips.

 

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I would say all participants and observers," Ezra said with a smile and nod at Isabelle, "are present and accounted for." He flipped his watch over, setting the display and stopwatch. "I will begin the timing at the first...uh, indication of readiness on Mr. Tanner's part? If that is acceptable?"

 

"Works fine for me. We'll let the judges call it...hard," Royal said with a chuckle, eyes lingering on Chris.

 

Vin caught Chris' eyes as well but looked away quickly. "I'll take a five for business," he said, setting the water bottle down and stripping off his shirt. The muscles of his back were revealed first, shoulders flexing and accenting the tapered drop to his trim waist and narrow hips. Undressing wasn't for show, Tanner pulling his shirt off as he might do working and too warm. Chris caught a glimpse of a fresh bandage, this one of flesh colored cloth, on his side, but then Royal was on his feet, reaching into his pocket to hand Vin a small box of condoms. Vin took it and listened as Royal whispered in his ear.

 

Drinks were refreshed and Angela set some music, a little soft and unobtrusive, lowering the lights a fraction but leaving the bed illuminated. It was not unlike a bad porn movie, Chris thought, save that he thought it might be better than most. He let his eyes follow Vin as the man headed for the bathroom. The broad shoulders were set, face impassive although not entirely uninterested, just...not entirely involved, Chris thought.

 

"That's it, darlin', let us see it all!" Buck was calling and Chris brought his attention back to where Ella was letting Royal pull the robe from her body. Even naked she looked like a queen, making a show of it for Buck, for Royal, even for Isabelle and Carla. Ella liked being looked at and admired, and she'd never been shy, Chris recalling a time or two when she'd gotten up at a local strip club, just for the hell of it. They'd both been younger and a whole lot more interested in the thrills than anything. Ella had come out those clubs a few hundred dollars richer, every time. Daring Chris and Buck to do the same at a male strip joint.

 

They'd done it too, getting a rush off the excitement, the admiration, the palpable sense of lust in the air. Powerful and heady stuff when you were twenty-two and the rest of your life was all about order and structure. It had taken those outrageous nights for Chris to seriously start to consider what Ella had been suggesting for months...easy money, great sex, but not the desperate edge of it that he saw on the faces of the hookers on the streets.

 

Ella still got off on it, laughing now and tossing her hair, even offering a kiss to Carla just to get the blood in the room flowing. She was canny enough not to offer the same to Isabelle who was watching Ella with wide-eyed amazement, but while the color was high in her cheeks, she didn't seem shocked -- curious and fascinated more like. Laughing when Buck gave her a kiss and settled her across his lap.

 

The bathroom door opened and closed again, and Vin emerged, still in his sweat pants but he kicked off his shoes and handed the box back to Royal before skimming the pants off his hips and legs and Chris found his attention taken up fully once more. The condom was already in place, his dick still soft enough to fold laxly over his balls. He was also entirely bare, Chris noted with a little thrill, Vin's groin shaved clean as opposed to the carefully shaped pubic hairs at Ella's pussy. Near hairless elsewhere as well, but naturally Chris thought, except for the thick fall of curls framing his face, and the thinner wisps under his arms. His hair looked nearly black compared to Ella's highlighted chestnut locks.

 

"Very nice," Angela murmured in his ear, fingers delving through Chris' hair.

 

Unselfconscious too, Chris saw, liking the casual confidence as Vin bared his body. He gave a little shiver like the room was too cold but he didn't hesitate to approach the bed, giving Ella a half smile. Tight, firm buttocks flinched a little as Ella let her hand roam over his hip and back, nails scratching lightly on his skin. She reached for the night stand, finding the small bottle of oil and spreading it over her hand, before laying her fingers along the length of Tanner's dick, pushing the edge of the condom back toward his groin before stroking in earnest. She smiled up at him and Chris watched his hand rise and hesitate then stroke through her hair as she worked him. He was already showing sings of arousal, skin already flushing, but he was breathing deeply and steadily.

 

There was hardly a sound in the room save the music and the combined rhythms of their breathing. Royal was sitting back casually on the small divan, within reaching distance of Carla, but eyes fixed on his two companions. He looked keenly interested.

 

Ella's fingers worked relentlessly, sliding over the thickening shaft, over and around it, Vin rocking ever so slightly to meet her hand, watching her. He was not so much long as thick, the red flush showing through the translucent latex.

 

Chris almost missed Ella's soft request for judgment. Vin was flushed and hard, cock rising hard and full toward his belly.

 

"I think that counts," Chris finally managed, Carla and Buck echoing him.

 

"Think you could save some of that for me, Vin, honey?" Carla called out which made Vin chuckle a little and the tension in the room ease back a bit.

 

"Time is called, ladies and gentlemen. Miss Gaines, please do your worst," Ezra said which got a laugh from Ella.

 

Vin's participation was minimal as Ella bent her head, licking and then covering the head of his cock with her lips, leaving faint smears of lipstick on the condom and Chris took a deeper breath. He knew too well how skilled that mouth was and his groin throbbed in envy as Ella sucked and bobbed, alternating her speed from long slow strokes of tongue and hand and short, harsh sucking. Vin's back was rigid, legs nearly locked and his fingers carded through Ella's hair, his other hand rubbing across his belly as he let his head fall back. Bet or no bet, he wasn't trying to force his body to remain unresponsive to the talented mouth working over his cock. If anything he seemed to want the inevitable orgasm to come quickly, no matter that his patron had ten grand riding on this bet.

 

A quick glance at Royal showed the man only watching avidly, seemingly uninterested in Vin's lack of resistance. The pale blue eyes flickered from Ella to Vin, but all he could really see clearly was the back of Ella's head so his gaze lingered on Vin's body, on his face.

 

Not a bad place to be looking Chris thought, feeling his cock stir at Vin's response and he pulled Angela a little closer, slipping his hand under the skirt of her dress to stroke her thigh. Ella lifted her head, breathing softly, smiling at Vin's quickened breath and stroked him with her hand for a moment, reaching up to tease one rosy-brown nipple. It peaked beneath her fingers, Vin gasping sharply when she pinched and twisted it a little. Still stroking him, she applied her tongue and teeth to his belly and his hip, licking and sucking, leaving small marks on the skin before getting to her feet to continue the marking up his chest. Vin reached out to steady her on her heels, their height enough to almost bring them equal. His hands moved over her skin, along her sides and across her ass, Ella falling into the rolling pattern of rock and sway. She went for his jaw and mouth but before she could kiss him, Vin ducked his head, nuzzling her throat.

 

Maybe Vin was more cognizant of the bet than he appeared because he was certainly distracting Ella from her objective as her hand left his cock to rub across his tight ass and up and down along his crack.

 

The heat in the room notched up a bit, the real competition now between Ella and Vin. Vin's hands roamed, squeezing flesh and stroking slowly, cupping the full weight of her left breast in his hand before bending to nuzzle it, taking the already tight nipple between his lips and sucking.

 

Chris heard the vague murmur of Buck's voice, Isabelle more securely in his lap and one hand resting between the tight wedge of her denim clad thighs. Carla was murmuring into Ezra's ear and he was paying half a mind to her, petting what skin he could reach, but his eyes were riveted to the pair by the bed. Chris' own hand crept further up Angela's leg and he shifted a little so she could move down in the broad chair, grinning at her when he realized she, once again, wasn't wearing panties. She shifted her legs a little wider but she didn't look at Chris, only smiled, fully enthralled by watching Vin and Ella trying to devour each other.

 

And Guy Royal looking ready to eat them both, leaning forward with another full glass of whisky, the bottle at his feet and Chris had never seen him move. The look on his face was hungry, lustful, smiling a little as Ella finally tugged Vin to the bed, on her knees, Vin following when she took him by the cock to lead him. She tugged on it playfully and Vin grunted softly, face and chest flushed but his dick was still fully hard, darkly red.

 

"Ten minutes," Ezra announced softly and Chris barely heard him, shifting forward a little to bring Angela between his thighs, his own cock riding hard and high against his slacks. He felt Angela tremble a little as he stroked along the crease of her vagina, feeling the wetness there and nuzzling her throat but his eyes were fixed on Ella and Vin, glad they'd taken to the bed crosswise so he could see them. See Vin most of all as Ella pushed him to his back, straddled his legs, before curling over him to take his cock in her mouth again. He didn't even make a pretense of trying to pet her, long fingers grabbing tightly at Angela's silks and the coverlet below, chest muscles taut and nipples buttoning as if Ella were suckling them as well.

 

Her weight held his legs down and Chris rubbed against Angela as Vin's hips pushed upwards, pressing into Ella's mouth, straining toward the back of her throat. Chris' soft groan mingled with Vin's as Ella took all of him, her hair falling forward enough to almost obscure the sight of it.

 

She knew it though and pushed the glossy strands back and across her opposite shoulder, still aware of the eyes on her. Her face was flushed too, cheeks hollowed as she sucked strongly and Vin bucked, hips twisting as she slid her mouth upward to release him, a pleased smile on her face. Then she was shifting upward, settling over him and leaning forward again. Vin turned his head toward Chris, toward his audience, as she bit and sucked on his nipples again before squirming to settle herself on him, taking him deep and slow and straightening up again to lift the hair off her neck as he found her depth. She found her balance, showing off her curves and the pert, sloped lift of her breast as she arched back a little, finding a better angle for herself.

 

She started slow, rolling hips and stomach on a graceful undulation that brought her slightly forward at the crest of the stroke. Small sounds escaped her, moans and little gasps of pleasure. Vin finally unclenched his hands long enough to rest them on her thighs, letting them ride up to her hips and back again as she moved. She lifted a little and he arched to meet her, skin showing a fine sheen of sweat as he used his backs and hips to thrust.

 

"Twenty minutes," Ezra said softly, as if anyone still cared. Buck and Isabelle were only barely watching, mouths and bodies tangled together even fully dressed, but Chris caught Buck watching and then watching Chris, a devilish smile on his lips.

 

It was the longest, slowest fuck Chris could recall ever seeing, his own breathing coming in short harsh pants, against Angela's shoulder, feeling every powerful thrust Vin made into Ella's body rock through his groin and up his spine. Tanner was working for it, muscles straining as Ella stepped up the pace, leaning forward to brace her arms as she slammed her body down harshly on Vin's again and again. Her own broken moans became higher pitched and sharper as Vin's cock stroked over her clit and deep inside her vagina.

 

"Good God," Angela said softly, leaning back against Chris, body trembling as she caught his hand. "I want one of those," she murmured, and Guy Royal chuckled.

 

Ella was shaking, encouraging Vin, writhing on his cock, and then pulling free since she was too close, far too close. She gave almost a growl of frustration as she bent over him again, jacking him off with harsh fast movements of her hand, all but wiping away the slickness her own juices had left on the condom. She took half a second to reach for the ice bucket, pulling a sliver out to press into her own opening, cursing loudly as the chill hit her skin but cooled her down a bit.

 

Vin was nearly silent save for the harshness of his breathing, once more clutching at the blankets and shaking, making no move to bring himself off. Ella finally pulled him up and went to her own back. Her nails dug into his buttocks as she pulled him inside her, slamming her head back onto the bed as his cock slid against her already sensitive clit. She wrapped her legs tight around the lean hips, heels digging into his ass as Vin thrust and withdrew, body working almost mindlessly for its release. He was braced on the bed, the tendons in his arms stark and pronounced beneath sweat-sheened skin and a thin line of sweat trickling between his shoulder blades an along the long taut length of his back.

 

"Fuck!" Ella cried out, body seizing as she came, nails digging deeper into Vin's flesh as he continued to pump, and rock, striving for his own orgasm, gasping harshly as she moved, ass clenched tight and back straining so hard Chris thought he might just pop his spine.

 

Chris slid his hand between he and Angela, the heel of his hand pressing down hard on the base of his cock when he felt his own orgasm threaten to break. Clenching his jaw, he tried not to think about what it would be like to have Tanner using all that strength to plunder his ass, or how it would feel to bury himself in between the tight cheeks.

 

Ella cried out again, thrashing and pushed Vin back, until he went back on his heels and Ella squirmed and writhed patting her pussy to calm herself and reaching for Vin's still hard cock with her other hand.

 

"Thirty minutes," Ezra announced, voice decidedly shaky. "Do we have a winner?"

 

It was hard to believe Vin hadn't come yet, harder to believe he was still conscious. Still on his knees, he was sweat drenched and panting still, working his hand along his flesh in time with Ella's but he looked ready to fall over.

 

"I think so," Chris said, shifting Angela easily and rising, a grimace crossing him at the added stimulation to his groin he didn't want. Ella growled with frustration and left off her efforts, flopping back on the bed, chest still heaving.

 

Royal was on his feet as well, but Chris got to the bed first, pulling Ella's hand away, then Vin's, more gently, to peel the condom off.

 

Vin's cock was flushed still but dry save a little leaking pre-cum and oil from within the condom.

 

"My bet," Royal said, grinning, hard-on evident on him as well.

 

"Your bet," Chris agreed, eyes dropping back to Vin while Royal leaned over to kiss Ella soundly.

 

"You did real good, gal," Royal said and gathered up her robe, wrapping it around her, before turning his attention back to Vin. "Never a disappointment, Vin," he said, catching the other man's chin with some thing like rough affection. "I'll take care of you in just a minute, if you don't mind if we borrow the room a little longer, Angela?"

 

"No, no, of course not," Angela said getting up as well.

 

Over and Chris hesitated, eyes still on Vin, on the fists clenched at his sides, trying for deeper breaths with his eyes closed, body trembling. Still hard and erect but doing nothing to ease it, and laying down obediently when Royal guided him into a prone position.

 

Ezra was up already, arm around Carla's waist. "A most spectacular display," he said softly, eyes lingering on Vin, then meeting Chris' eyes for a brief moment as if trying to communicate something. Then he offered a two-fingered salute. "I'll prepare a draft for you, Mr. Royal," he said.

 

"Pick a charity, Mr. Standish," Royal said, unconcerned. "You as well, Angela. Just a friendly wager, after all...should go to a good cause." He was rubbing Vin's hip as Ella came to curl by his side. Royal lifted his eyes to Chris and smiled. "I'll donate another five grand to a charity of your choice if you'd help Vin alleviate his need, Mr. Larabee. I'd like to watch, of course."

 

Chris was tempted, badly, looking down, almost ready to say yes and let the rest say yes as well but he met Vin's eyes briefly before the other man slowly, but very deliberately, looked away.

 

Exhausted or ...not really wanting to fulfill their mutual desire this way. Chris didn't know but he took a breath and smiled slightly at Royal. "Some other time, maybe," he said, not missing the flash of annoyance in Royal's eyes. "Enjoyed it though. Guy, Ella..." Chris hesitated again then reached down to push Vin's hair back off his face and stroke his cheek lightly, smiling when the blue eyes focused on him and Vin's expression softened. "Pretty impressive there, cowboy," he said and Vin smiled, understanding the implied agreement to wait.

 

Chris stood up, as uncomfortably aware of his own arousal as he was Vin's, but he collected Angela and left the three of them alone in the room, glancing back only once to see Ella getting a glass of wine and Royal spreading oil over his hand and reaching for the box of condoms once more.

 

None of them were watching him, not even Vin, who had his eyes closed, one arm up and resting on his forehead. Chris found himself rooted to the spot, unable to return or leave. He couldn't see what trick Royal employed but he did see the expression of something close to pain or discomfort cross Vin's face, quickly replaced by an open-mouthed gasp of pleasure. He rolled to his back, lifting his hips, as Royal worked him, Vin bucking against whatever stimulation Royal provided: maybe fingers up his ass and Chris wondered if Angela hadn't been right to suggest the dildos. He was a little surprised Royal didn't take his prize stud the old-fashioned way. Vin's body suddenly relaxed as he sucked in air harshly, and turned his head, seeing Chris still watching from the crack of the open door. Vin swallowed and covered his eyes with his hand, jaw setting hard and Chris felt a little like he'd been punched. He closed the door quickly and silently.

 

"Everything you expected?" Angela asked softly, Chris startled to find her there, leaning against the wall, an all too knowing look in her eyes.

 

Chris found himself breathing heavily, rock hard and flushed. He caught the back of Angela's neck gently and pulled her to him, bending his head for a kiss, her hands delving into the loose waist of his slacks. It was a sliding, stumbling walk to her door, into her room and the bed that waited for them. Both of them were too eager, too ready and Chris tried desperately to stop thinking, to shut off the image on relentless replay in his head of Vin's expression as he came. He was careful, knowing the difference between a woman's soft curves and a man's hard body, but he might have given Tanner a run for his money at that -- all the while wishing he'd taken Royal up on his offer.

 

---

The Cruise: Below Decks

 

Day Four - Cozumel

Vin left the lounge, heading toward the lower decks. Behind him he heard Larabee excusing himself from Angela and her group. He could feel Guy's eyes on him as well. He'd deal with that later.

 

The lower decks only had low lighting on since, supposedly, there were no passengers being berthed here. Vin had sought out the lower decks and their access to the sides of the ship for solitude and just get away from far too many people around for him to be comfortable. Especially since Guy was keeping him on the razor's edge of arousal almost constantly.

 

It hadn't taken long for other guests to realize there was a certain amount of privacy to be had here or the illusion of it for the semi-exhibitionists among them. But with the party going full swing above decks and the entertainment being provided in a little while, he'd figured it was as private and close as he could manage. Guy had given him an hour. A minute past that and Vin didn't want to think about the consequences.

 

At the bottom of the second set of steps he waited, looking up, catching a glimpse of the charcoal silk slacks before the rest of Chris Larabee came into view. Vin's heart was pounding a little faster, body tightening just watching the man walk, reacting as he had almost since the first.

 

The man gave a whole new meaning to the word stalking.

 

He paused on the bottom step, green eyes raking over Vin's body with about the same expression he had given the tray of appetizers being walked around the lounge.

 

"Here?" Chris asked, a smile touching his lips.

 

"No one actually berthed down here. Though I hear it's gotten to be a right popular place." Vin leaned against the wall, shoulders to the carpeted sides, feeling the rough rub of fabric even through his shirt.

 

Chris took the final step, hands thrust in the pockets of his slacks but there was a noticeable bulge at his crotch. "Guess your patron wasn't kidding about your liking to be watched," he said, a lazy smile crossing his features and Vin let the comment pass. "Guess he knows you pretty well. Two years?"

 

Vin swallowed, wondering what else Guy was saying and to who. Not that it would matter. "Close to it," he said as Chris came closer. He pulled a hand out of his pocket, reaching out to touch Vin's face, letting his hand slide along his throat to his shoulder.

 

Fingers closed over the round of his shoulder and Chris ' other hand emerged to brush across his waist. Chris was so close, Vin could feel his breath along his cheek.

 

"He's got excellent taste," Chris said and then he moved, lightning-quick, before Vin could even react. "Must be real good to you, give you what you need for you to stay so devoted," Chris growled against the back of his neck.

 

Vin found himself pressed to the wall, hard and fast, body held flat by the weight of Chris' body against his, arms stretched high over his head and held there. Chris didn't release him, nudging his hair away with chin and nose to get to the sensitive skin at his throat, teeth and lips pressed over it in a series of small nips and lick that went from Vin's shoulder to under his ear.

 

Against his ass he could feel the heavy hard bulge of Larabee's erection, the silk of his slacks barely disguising it: they weren't meant too. He pushed back, encouraging the man, tugging his arms so that he could push his jeans down and let Larabee have what he so obviously wanted, but Chris wouldn't let him go, grip tightening on his wrists.

 

"Uh uh," Chris growled at him, pressing him harder and then nudged Vin's legs apart sharply: a shove with his foot to each side, and Vin caught his breath. If Chris let go of him now, he'd probably fall, and the strain of the heavy denim across his crotch was nearly painful. "Was Royal right? This how you like it?" Chris breathed into his ear. "A little rough and fast?"

 

Vin licked dry lips, trembling as Chris bit his shoulder again through his shirt, leaving a wet, cool space there and a flare of pain. "Rough...not so fast," he breathed back, wondering, if given his own desire and fast arousal, it could be anything but fast.

 

"Long slow fuck...held like this?" Chris asked him, shifting his grip on Vin's wrists to transfer both to one hand. "Anybody could walk by..."

 

They could, and Vin felt his breathing shallow out, staring down the companionway as if the theoretical audience would suddenly appear, then he groaned softly as Chris' now free hand fumbled at his jeans. He tried to move his hips back to give Chris some room but found himself pressed hard to the wall again.

 

Chris' fingers managed the brass rivet and the zipper, chuckling softly when his fingers touched bare flesh and then he hissed when he found smooth skin, the full, hard flush of Vin's cock, and fingered the small leather ring wrapped around the base of it. "He does like to make you wait, doesn't he?"

 

Vin swallowed. "Likes to be able to say when I get to come. If..." he murmured, catching his breath as Chris explored and touched; not really stroking him, just getting to know the equipment by feel alone. His fingers curled around Vin's balls, rolling them and tugging and Vin bucked, unable to stop himself. Awkward and tight as it was with Vin pressed to the wall and his jeans still tangled at his hips, Chris' fingers slid below his balls, stroking along the small expanse of flesh between Vin's cock and his anus. A shiver ran through Vin and he took a deeper breath when Chris stroked and then pressed.

 

It was closer to pain but there was still that shock of pleasure, Vin dropping his head back at the sensation and squirming. Chris nuzzled his neck again, dropping hot kisses along the stretched tendon he found and did it again: stroke and press, fondle Vin's balls and then stroke and press once more. Vin could only hiss and tremble, body responding to Chris' touch like the man had a schematic of every tender and sensitive spot Vin possessed. The feeling ricocheted through him, almost like he was being fucked, deep and slow but other than Chris' hand and the press of his body, there was nothing else to stimulate him. He wasn't sure he could take anything else.

 

He could feel the ridge and ripple of every muscle in Chris' chest, in his legs, heat seeping through his T-shirt from the press of the other man's hard body against his own.

 

"Is that what you need...what you want? For someone to tell you when...want me to tell you when, Vin?" Chris asked him, finding his earlobe and sucking softly then biting sharply as he pressed the spot between Vin's legs again and sent a fiery shock of sensation through Vin from his toes to his head. There was a challenge there: Vin could hear it, feel it in the way Chris gripped him more tightly, almost daring him to struggle. Vin could only wonder if that was what Chris wanted, the struggle, the fight, a painful heaviness settling in his chest at the idea that Larabee might be more like Guy Royal than he seemed.

 

"If that's what you want," he hissed back, not really physically fighting but resisting for the first time. Even wanting Chris as he did, didn't give the other man the hold on him Royal had, and unless Guy was standing here, making his demands known, Vin figured he was pretty much able to make his own decisions. "That's the way it works ain't it -- you're the driver here, you get to make the moves, the decisions? Take your best shot."

 

It was harder than he thought though, because all else aside, he wanted Chris, wanted to be fucked, touched, overwhelmed…maybe more than anything he'd ever wanted.

 

But not owned, not like this. Not passed on like some kind second-hand possession -- because that was what this was. Guy had done this as much as Larabee, making sure that Vin got what he asked for but not what he wanted. It was almost funny that he'd be trying to salvage some kind of dignity, pressed up against a wall with another man's hand wrapped around his dick and between his legs and so hard from wanting it, his legs were trembling.

 

Chris breathed softly in his ear, breath tickling his skin from the loose strands of hair brushing over Vin's face. He exhaled slowly, softly and Vin bit back a moan as his fingers pressed deeper, reaching behind, a single finger sliding inside him, dry but smooth. "Would you rather drive?" Chris said softly, licking at his ear, then his jaw, but he sounded sincere, curious, and he didn't give up, managing to nudge the hard nub of Vin's prostate and send another jolt through him.

 

"I'd rather get fucked so I can come," Vin muttered back, trying to rub, to ease the aching hardness, knowing it was futile. But he could get some relief, dry or not, and God, if he went back to Royal like this, chances were the man would be thrilled enough to actually provide Vin with real relief, either with sex or more drugs. "Whatever you're going to do, do, or leave me alone," Vin snarled back, still not physically struggling, but he was close. Getting angrier. Not that it made any difference.

 

Abruptly, Chris released his wrists and pulled his hand free of Vin's jeans. Vin made a soft noise, a protest, but he clutched the wall, forcing himself to breathe deeply. "Bastard," he said, closing eyes against the very real ache in his loins, in his dick. Almost before he finished the epitaph, Chris' hands were at his hip and shoulder, turning him around quickly and firmly and pushing him back again.

 

Chris' mouth covered his and Vin was so caught off guard, so shocked he opened his own, felt the sudden, sure invasion of Chris' tongue between his lips, the caress and suction of it. Chris' hands stroked, easily and gently, across his hip, his shoulder: both hands trailing across his body until they met at the waist and Chris very carefully tucked him back into the denim and zipped him.

 

Vin almost passed out. He felt his knees buckle, only Chris caught him and held him up, releasing his mouth so he could suck in a deeper breath.

 

"Just from my kiss, Vin? I'm pretty impressed with myself," Chris said, grinning widely, laughter dancing in his green eyes that wasn't mocking, but genuinely amused.

 

Vin couldn't speak, staring at Chris in wide-eyed amazement, if not wonder.

 

He'd been kissed. It shouldn't have shocked him, but it did. He'd been kissed before, but not in a while. Guy wasn't interested in affection or even passion -- not really. He was interested in the show, in the power and the control. Maybe Larabee was too, but it seemed more like he was getting off on catching Vin off guard, trying for responses Vin thought he'd long since forgotten how to give.

 

"You're an asshole," Vin snapped, tensing as he felt heat in his face, knowing the blush was spreading when Larabee looked even more please and then laughed.

 

"Occasionally," Chris admitted, still grinning and still pressing Vin to the wall but not as firmly. Still, Vin was almost painfully aware of him, of the heat beneath the silk slacks and shirt, of the strength in the lean body. Larabee's fingers brushed across his cheek and he jerked his head away. "Thought you wanted me...this," Chris said, almost a purr.

 

"You want to fuck, Larabee? Get on with it...cause this is the only free offer you'll ever get," Vin said flatly, wishing against hope that his body, for once, would settle faster instead of rising to the bait and promise of relief.

 

Chris' smile faded a little, green eyes narrowing. "Whoa, there, cowboy. This was just supposed to be a little friendly fun. Everybody here for a good time..."

 

"Sure," Vin said and managed to wrench his body away but Chris caught his arm, eyes narrowing further when Vin tensed, hands curling into fists.

 

Slowly, turning it into another near caress, Chris released him. Vin pushed off the wall warily, not sure he understood the expression on Larabee's face.

 

Vin rubbed his arm and Chris' gaze dropped, glancing up sharply when he saw the faint bruises already starting to form. Fast as a striking snake he caught Vin's wrist, but with a lot less pressure, examining the marks. "You always bruise this easily? I didn't mean that, Vin."

 

"Don't worry on it none," Vin said gruffly, pulling away again. "Happens." Happened when Royal had him so shot up with his special shit, it was a wonder Vin didn't bleed to death from a paper cut.

 

"So maybe I should have asked you...how do you like it?" Chris asked him and Vin almost groaned.

 

"We were doing fine," Vin said but he wasn't even convincing himself.

 

Chris bit his lip and leaned against the wall. "Maybe we should start over. Tell me I didn't mishear you. You did say if I wanted you all I had to do was follow."

 

"Yeah," Vin admitted.

 

"And you did say here would be good," Chris said.

 

"Didn't have a better place," Vin said and carefully leaned against he wall if only because the stillness, the lack of movement was making things subside a little. The cock ring was still too tight, his skin overly sensitized from earlier in the day and Chris'...attentions…hadn't helped, but in all his restless need there had been real pleasure there. "And he'll be looking for me soon."

 

One blonde eyebrow was raised. "And you have to be where he's looking?"

 

"Pretty much," Vin said cautiously. God, he wanted to trust Chris. Trust him as much as he had on the dock, taking on Nathan's muggers, but he couldn't be sure. As far as he knew, Larabee was with Angela Redding, and Angela was friends with Guy, if you could call it that. He wasn't quite in the mood to put up with Guy's suspicions -- or his punishments if he found out Vin had been doing anything but fucking around. Talking was definitely not on the acceptable list of behavior.

 

"You still want this?" Chris asked him.

 

Vin hesitated. If he said no he might have forty-five minutes to himself, enough to calm down some, take a cold shower, get better prepared for whatever Guy had planned for later. Or he could take his chances now, take a grab at whatever pleasure he could and despite the roughness of Chris' first play, he had no doubt Chris was skilled, skilled enough to ease some of Vin's tension, take away the ache for a little while.

 

And he was so damned beautiful.

 

"Yeah," Vin said finally and leaned back against the wall again, forcing himself to relax. Forcing himself to meet Chris' changing gaze as he moved to stand in front of Vin again.

 

"Not so rough," Chris said, half a question in his tone.

 

"It's fine," Vin said. "Whatever..." his dismissal was lost under Chris' mouth, Vin caught off guard again, by being kissed again at all.

 

This was far different: Chris held him still, but gently, fingers stroking along his throat as he lifted Vin's head, angling his mouth to get better access, pressing close but not hard. Vin found himself gripping Chris' arms as well, feeling the muscles of his biceps, that signature heat that seemed to wash over him. He pulled Chris closer, rubbing against him, but not really willing to give up the feeling Chris' mouth was creating. He could feel the throb deep in his groin, the shimmer of sensation along his nerve endings. He'd forgotten this: how it felt to be kissed and held by someone who wanted it for their own reasons, rather than doing it because they were told to, or because having Vin was considered a sign of favor from Guy Royal.

 

Chris' hands were at the snap of his jeans again, but he didn't stop kissing Vin, only moved his mouth a little, along his jaw, to his hairline, barely breaking away even after he had Vin's jeans open again. "You're like a starving man, Vin," Chris said, one hand encircling Vin's cock as his other dove into Vin's hair to pull his head up for another kiss. "God, still hard..." he said with a little surprise. His thumb played over to the catch on the ring.

 

"Leave it," Vin gasped, covering his hand, head spinning both from the arousal and the breathlessness he felt after having been kissed so thoroughly. His mouth felt bruised and swollen and he could only taste Chris any longer, not the usual dry mouthed tinniness.

 

"All right," Chris said against his mouth and then attacked his throat, wet kisses laid along the tendon to his collarbone. Then Chris was dropping to his knees, Vin moaning softly and gripping the silk clad shoulders when his cock was engulfed, wrapped up in moist heat. Chris sucked softly and licked, wrapping tongue and lips around Vin's hardness and then jerking his jeans down further, sucking on his own fingers and once more pressing upward between his thighs.

 

A wet finger penetrated him, speared him and was joined by a second, Chris' thumb stroking over his perineum in a near painful counterpoint to the stroking Vin was getting on his prostate. And his mouth kept working, until Vin was jerking, feeling the raw burn of the rough carpet at his shoulders.

 

His fingers dug into Chris' shoulders as he felt the surge and heave through his belly and groin, Chris tongue lapping carefully at the come leaking from his cock.

 

It helped, just that much, to relieve the pressure, both from the drugs and the cockring, eased some of the pain but not all of it. Enough though...for him, but Chris was still working him, driving him.

 

Chris pulled back a little but kept stroking, watching Vin, smiling when Vin jerked again, caught on the precipice as his body reacted and continue to react. Then Chris rose, unfastening his pants, Vin panting harshly but nodding as Chris pulled his dick free of the silk, stroking the thick length of it. Vin reached out a shaking hand to stroke and fondle, hearing Chris' soft groan as he was petted and teased, stopping Vin after a moment, to slide a hand over Vin's bared ass.

 

Vin wasn't sure he could move but he twisted, facing the wall once more and felt grateful when Chris caught him around the waist, holding him up maybe more than he realized.

 

There was an audible hiss and groan from Chris as his cock pressed inward, filling Vin's ass with relentless force, but he didn't shove or try to make it fit any faster than Vin could take it naturally. "Christ, you're tight," Chris said into his ear, and suddenly slid all the way in then out, Vin closing his eyes as the blood rose again, pushing his cock against the rough weave of the carpeted walls. His breath came in a hitching sob as Chris fucked him -- slow and deep; Vin caught between the exquisite pleasure of it and the not so pleasant pressure building once more.

 

His body jerked again, and he touched his cock, drawing a sharp breath when his own touch was painful but then Chris was coming, hard and fast, driving into him and gasping harshly in his ear. Wetness flooded Vin's ass, making Chris' movement easier until he slowed and then stopped, leaning against Vin.

 

Vin could only concentrate on breathing, small shudders running through him that had less to do with pleasure than the frightening feel of losing control. He felt lightheaded and dizzy: even the light kiss Chris laid on his shoulder added to it, he held his breath for a long moment but he couldn't stop it.

 

He heard Chris' startled grunt of surprise as Vin jerked again, body shaking and spasming as he flashed like fire toward another orgasm, long and protracted, straining for something that wouldn't actually happen, even though Vin kept hoping for it...praying.

 

He was disappointed again, but only vaguely. He was unable to really think straight. He thought he heard Chris saying his name, felt him pull free with a soft grunt, but he still held Vin, through the shakes, through the gasping for breath...

 

It would pass...it always did...should have. Vin couldn't quite grasp that it hadn’t, that the shaking and the shortness of breath hadn't passed yet. He made a small sound when Chris' hand covered his on his cock, still holding him up, snapping the tight band free even though Vin was pretty sure he tried to stop him, warn him.

 

He felt another wave of vertigo wash over him, the walls seeming to waver and spin. His body still ached but worse, his head feeling like it had been slammed against a hard wall once too many times.

 

He couldn't think any longer, couldn't move, couldn't see. It had felt so good for a little while, Chris' mouth on his...still on his, pressing air into this mouth...

 

Because he couldn't breathe.

 

 

---

The Cruise: Single File Drill

"You want a piece of me, Larabee, why'n't you take a walk and follow me?" Vin murmured. "Stairs. Below decks." His voice was low and sweet in Chris' ear. He didn't linger, only kept moving and Chris couldn't help but let his eyes follow first as Vin headed out of the lounge toward the stairs and elevators.

 

He wasn't doing anything but walking, maneuvering gracefully around people entering, back straight and shoulders up, sidestepping again and raking a hand through the thick curls as he let two women enter. They smiled and one reached out to touch his chest. Vin only smiled and said something, causing them both to laugh and then he was slipping out the door and to the left.

 

Chris was a surprised at the invitation. And intrigued. Even enthused. It was a little confusing, since Vin had looked less than thrilled when Guy Royal had made his suggestion. He hadn't protested though, and Chris found himself wondering again at the nature of the relationship between Vin and Guy -- other than the obvious. Amicable animosity mostly, although it had surprised him that Vin, who always seemed to be on the prowl for some kind of sexual thrill, had looked more bored than anything when Royal had stood on deck talking to Angela with his hand shoved down into the front of his swim trunks.

 

And he'd been aroused then too, skin flushed, but he hadn't moved, hadn't seemed to react at all, save to clench his fists. "I'm going to get some air," he whispered into Angela's ear, smiling at her and leaving a lingering kiss on her throat.

 

"Or a nice piece of ass," she said back, eyes laughing. She'd seen Vin leave too. "Give him your best, lover. I don't think that boy's having any fun."

 

Chris smiled at her, kissed her again and headed out, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked out. It was an odd thing Angela had said, had observed, but it had truth to it. He'd seen Vin laugh, smile even, eyes bright and alive, but the glimpses had been rare. And he'd seen him enflamed, shaking with passion, tension, that long body working like it would never stop. Ella had been impressed and she didn't impress easily.

 

He swallowed as he made his way down the hallway, to the stairs, feeling blood flush his veins, his cock. He'd never denied his own voyeuristic tendencies, although he was an amateur compared to Royal, who seemed to be trying to bring it to a level of high art, and found the damn near perfect expression of it in Vin Tanner's body. He'd never really felt any jealously or envy toward Ella Gaines, but he had wanted for himself what she was getting. Wanting that slimly muscled body to be driving into him or vice versa.

 

Angela had certainly been appreciative of the second-hand foreplay Royal had offered.

 

Heading downstairs, he glanced through the open rises, catching a glimpse of Vin leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, almost but not quite out of sight. There was less light here, but he could see him, tight white T-shirt hugging his chest, those damn jeans tighter than the shirt if that were possible, like they'd been spray-painted on, the crotch worn and faintly paler than the rest of the denim.

 

Chris hit the last step and glanced up and down the companionway. "Here?" he asked and watched Vin move a little restlessly.

 

"No one actually berthed down here." Vin said, with a shrug, setting his shoulders against the fabric-covered walls. He smiled, just a flicker of a grin. "Though I hear it's gotten to be a right popular place."

 

Chris took the final step, letting his gaze linger on Vin's face for a moment before letting his eyes roam over the slender body. His slacks were loose enough but his balls tightened at the way Vin stood, legs apart, hips thrust slightly forward. He was a cocky bastard but Chris found that appealing. Vin wasn't unaware of what or how he presented himself. The glint in the blue eyes just seemed to scream, take me, now, anytime. What had Royal said? If Vin were a she-cat, he'd be in heat constantly. But he wasn't a she-cat in anything but demeanor: he was wonderfully, delightfully male. Arrogant and randy as a whole herd of yearlings, and just about as concerned as what other people thought, it seemed. No one staying on this level or not, it was a fairly commonly used short cut to the starboard deck. "Guess your patron wasn't kidding about your liking to be watched," he said, smiling at Vin, a hint of a leer there. Chris wasn't going to let a little thing like prying eyes bother him, not when Tanner had made it into a dare of sorts "Guess he knows you pretty well. Two years?"

 

"Close to it," Vin said, but something crossed his face and that smile faded a bit. Maybe Vin was recognizing the end of his run as Guy Royal's favored boy. Might explain is alternating moods of playful excitement and downright surliness.

 

Or not. Vin didn't look at him directly, chin dropping in a way that, had it been anyone else, Chris might have take for embarrassment, or maybe shame. It seemed unlikely though since Vin had put on quite a show the night before last in front of a room full of strangers. Still, there was something odd, and Chris had been observing people long enough to feel slightly wary of it.

 

And he didn't like Vin's head down at all. He'd admired the man's guts from the first, his pride, even his smart mouth. Beautiful mouth. He pulled a hand free, to reach for Vin's face, lifting his chin again. Wondering as he did at the thought that he'd never seen Guy kiss Vin and Vin hadn't kissed Ella, nor she him. He'd been touched and fondled, groped and teased but he had to wonder how anyone could resist those lips, moist and flushed. He wanted to taste them, or feel them wrapped around his cock like they'd been wrapped around Ella's tits.

 

No time like the present, he thought lifting his other hand and leaning close only to have Vin turn his head slightly. Maybe Vin didn't like to be kissed. Chris had heard the old saying: Whores never kiss, but it had never stopped him although he supposed it might mean something else to someone like Vin. Or maybe Royal was right and Vin didn't want even the illusion of affection, just the thrill of the sex, the endorphin rush. He could do that too.

 

He moved his other hand to stroke along Vin's side, along his waist. "He's got excellent taste," Chris said low and rough and suddenly changed his grip, pulling Vin at hip and shoulder and flipping him to face the wall. He'd seen Vin fight -- he doubted there was little he could do if Vin didn't want it this way. But Vin didn't resist, not even when Chris gripped his wrists and held them over his head, pressing his body hard against the Texan's back. "Must be real good to you, give you what you need for you to stay so devoted," Chris growled against the back of his neck.

 

He didn't wait for Vin to answer, using his chin and mouth to get a taste of the slightly flushed and sweaty skin beneath Vin's hair. He smelled strongly, but not unpleasantly: sweat and salt, musk and the lingering scent of whatever shampoo he used -- something woodsy and fragrant. His skin was smooth and cool, but slightly damp, texture and tastes changing only slightly as Chris let lips and teeth roam over his neck and shoulder, up under his ear and felt the shiver or reaction race through the slim body.

 

God, Vin was responsive as hell, breathing going shallow almost immediately and he pressed back, then gave an experimental tug on his arms. Chris held firm and pressed harder, rubbing the bulge of his erection against the small tight ass. The silk protected him from what could have been the exquisitely painful friction of Vin's jeans, leaving him wanting more. His blood was high, though, his curiosity up as well with the darkly erotic edge that Chris often found appeared most often with other men. He didn't like Royal and wasn't likely to agree to the other man's offer, but this: here, now, this was between he and Vin, and Chris intended to take every opportunity to discover just what it was that made Vin Tanner keep appearing in his dreams, waking or sleeping.

 

"Uh uh," Chris said when Vin tried to free himself. He was holding him firmly, tightly, but he thought he'd recognize real resistance if he felt it. Holding him against he wall with his body, Chris pressed his boot to the inside of Tanner's right foot and kicked out, forcing the man to step wider. He then did it again on the other side and heard Vin breathe in sharply, less sure of his balance than he had been. He held him, letting Vin know he wouldn't let him fall and felt his cock leap at the way Vin arched his spine to keep from stumbling, legs trembling in their wide spread position, but he held it, every muscle taut. "Was Royal right? This how you like it?" Chris breathed into his ear. "A little rough and fast?" he asked softly, letting his teeth graze Vin's shoulder then biting hard enough to wrangle another sharp inhalation from Vin before he sucked on the spot, tasting cotton and sweat.

 

"Rough...not so fast," Vin said, a little breathlessly, shifting slightly and Chris bit back a groan as that tight ass rubbed against his cock.

 

Vin's answer was only slightly surprising and Chris went with it, still trying to feel his way through this, through Vin's reactions and his own. "Long slow fuck...held like this?" Chris asked him, and then shifted his grip to hold both slender wrists in his hand, although it was more like pressing the crossed wrist to the wall than a real grip. He heard laughter from above and grinned. Interesting picture they made, he was sure. "Anybody could walk by..." he said and saw Vin glance away again but didn't make too much of it. His hand slid between Vin's body and the wall, grasping the brass button on Vin's jeans to work it free, then the zipper. Vin pressed back, trying to make room but Chris forced him flat again, excitement racing through him when Vin trembled under the strain and then shivered as Chris' hand found bare flesh.

 

Totally bare, Chris realized, remembered: Vin's crotch shaved as smooth and hairless as a boy's, the skin warm and moist, only the barest of fuzz on his balls. He was rock-hard and full, Chris' fingers tracing over the small leather ring encircling the base of Vin's cock. And Vin had been wearing these jeans and this shirt at lunch today, which made Chris wonder how long he'd been wearing the ring, and how long he'd been this hard. He hadn't had it on that night but he'd managed to go the distance and then some, not actually spilling come until Guy had made the show of drawing it out of him.

 

Jesus, Chris thought, almost aching for him but Vin only squirmed a little and panted as he was touched "He does like to make you wait, doesn't he?"

 

Vin swallowed. "Likes to be able to say when I get to come. If..." he murmured. He fell silent, holding his breath as Chris explored more, by touch alone, barely brushing the inside crease of his hip, nudging the hard cock upward before letting his thumb slide over Vin's balls then under, to squeeze them. He felt the roll of Vin's hips, another shudder and a gasp escaping him. He jerked minimally, Chris squeezing again, expecting Vin to come in his hand but he didn't. God, he had to be close. Chris knew he was.

 

He had said rough, and maybe that was the key. Straining a little, Chris reached deeper into the constraining denim, finding the tight skin behind Vin's balls and stroked it, feeling the edge of the pucker of Vin's ass. The heel of his hand nudged Vin's cock and balls and he used two fingers to press upward.

 

Vin cursed softly, raising up on his toes, body arching hard, as far as he could as the shock ran through him, panting harshly as Chris fondled him again, the shiver and tremble coming again, and he once more squirmed.

 

And didn't come. Chris was panting softly too, feeling the movement of Vin's body against his own, every trembling muscle communicating need and desire right into his bones. More than anything else, he wished they were on a bed right now, wishing he could see Vin's face, watch him while Chris fucked him hard and deep and slow. He'd probably need a cockring of his own but it would be worth it.

 

He bit his lip, pushing Vin harder, pushing his own need to release, just rub or thrust against Vin's body and come; the pressure in his cock almost painful. But it had become almost a challenge: the need to make Vin Tanner give it up before Chris did. He could see why Royal held his trophy up with pride. This could become addictive, beguiling, being able to have this kind of control over someone.

 

Chris felt the first trace of moisture on his wrist from Vin's cock and grinned to himself, wondering if Guy had a magic word that would trigger the orgasm in Tanner that Chris knew was boiling under the surface. What had Vin said? Royal liked to be able to say when and if....

 

"Is that what you need...what you want? For someone to tell you when...want me to tell you when, Vin?" Chris asked him, taking Vin's earlobe between his lips and sucking then working it deeper into his mouth so he could bite sharply; at the same time using his thumb to work Vin's perineum again. The rolling spasm through Vin's body that resulted almost sent Chris over the edge. Vin pulled and Chris pressed, feeling charged and excited by the heaving body beneath his own, feeling Vin's hardness, the throb in his own groin, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. Vin suddenly took a harsh, deep breath and went still, the whole tension in his body changing. It wasn't fighting -- but it wasn't encouraging either.

 

"If that's what you want," Vin muttered softly, letting his forehead rest against the wall. "That's the way it works ain't it -- you're the driver here, you get to make the moves, the decisions? Take your best shot." He wasn't moving but Chris could almost feel the pounding of his heart, the quiver in his loins, the trembling running along Vin's thighs as if he were cramping but he hadn't uttered a sound of discomfort, nor done anything to change his position.

 

And he sounded….angry. Or disgusted. Chris couldn't decide which. And he wanted to know. He breathed slowly, getting his own body back under control and eased up, just a little. Vin exhaled slowly, softly, and made a small sound as Chris twisted his hand and slid a single finger into Vin's ass, hissing softly at the strain in his shoulder as he buried his finger as deep as he could, letting his knuckle rub over the hard nub of Vin's prostate. "Would you rather drive?" Chris said softly, licking at his ear, then his jaw.

 

Vin shuddered hard, a moan escaping him as he moved his head restlessly against the wall, the muscles of his anus clamping down hard on Chris' finger, but he moved again, a just a fraction upward and then down, trying to fuck himself on Chris' finger.

 

"I'd rather get fucked so I can come," Vin said, low and tight, a moan escaping him and he cursed softly when Chris pressed him to the wall again. "Whatever you're going to do, do, or leave me alone."

 

Now he really did sound angry -- or desperate, Chris realized, drawing a sharp breath as he realized how hard he was pushing, that Vin's breathing was labored, his cock pressed tightly upward, trapped between the wall and Chris' hand in what had to be a massively uncomfortable position. But even pulling his hand back, Vin reacted, shaking again and the sound he made was as close to a whimper or a plea as Chris had yet hear. There was something not quite right with any of this. Aroused as he was, he still hadn't gotten to be one of the best in the business without having learned to pay attention to the signals his partners were throwing out -- and Vin was tossing them like hand grenades.

 

Only Chris had been too caught up in how easily, how beautifully Vin had responded, he'd forgotten to pay attention to other signals. This wasn't exactly the kind of Dominant/submissive behavior he'd been half expecting from Guy Royal's comments.

 

Chris eased his grip on Vin's wrists and gave him a little space, resting a hand between his shoulder blades to keep the man from falling and then taking another deep breath to settle his nerves and his blood. He was still as hard as Vin was, still ached to finish this, preferably buried to his balls in Tanner's ass, but he wasn't willing to take what he wasn't sure any longer was actually being freely offered.

 

"Bastard," Vin spat at him, and Chris had the sudden need to see his face. Firmly, but gently, he pulled Vin around to face him.

 

He was caught once more that the blue eyes, by the flush in Vin's face. His jeans were still open revealing the flushly erect length of his cock against darkly tanned skin. He smelled of sweat and come and musk. His tongue moistened his lips and Chris decided he had to taste that mouth after all.

 

Vin seemed surprised, startled, but his mouth opened and Chris took advantage of it, sending his tongue on an exploration with no real goal other than to catalogue and test the taste of Tanner's mouth. There was a sweetness there from the juice he'd been drinking in the bar, along with a slightly bitter taste like he'd been chewing on aspirin, but it was faint and not entirely unpleasant. He couldn't resist touching as well, leaning in a little when he felt Vin start to kiss him back, almost like it was a surprise, or something he didn't quite know how to do.

 

That was as surprising as the rest and Chris watched him, seeing the half closed eyes, the color rising in his cheeks, feeling the tentative foray of Vin's tongue into his own mouth. He pulled back after a long moment, brushing fingers along Vin's belly and then pulling the edges of his jeans up and easing the still rigid cock beneath the fabric. He wanted this still, but suddenly the hall wasn't the place. He wanted Vin in a bed, with lights fully on so Chris could see him, make sure he wasn't misreading the signs again.

 

Vin gave a grunt of discomfort at being redressed and his knees buckled, Chris catching him carefully. "Just from my kiss, Vin? I'm pretty impressed with myself," Chris teased, expecting Vin to catch the humor.

 

He didn't. "You're an asshole," Vin snapped, tensing, and the appealing blush turned to a full flash of scarlet across Vin's cheeks, along his throat.

 

"Occasionally," Chris said on a chuckle and leaned in again, to soothe, maybe tease. Vin was frustrated, no doubt, but he wouldn't die from it. Chris raised a hand to stroke the red cheeks, ready to suggest they move this elsewhere and then stopped when Vin jerked his head violently away.

 

Not just frustration, then. Vin was really angry.

 

"Thought you wanted me...this," Chris said softly, not moving, waiting to see which way this cat would jump.

 

"You want to fuck, Larabee? Get on with it...cause this is the only free offer you'll ever get," Vin snarled at him, but he still didn't pull away, giving Chris mixed signals again and his own frustration rose.

 

"Whoa, there, cowboy. This was just supposed to be a little friendly fun. Everybody here for a good time..."

 

"Sure," Vin said, and apparently reached the end of his patience, pulling away. Chris caught his arm and then frowned when Vin's hands clenched into fists, like he was going to take a swing.

 

Slowly, Chris eased his grip, stroking the other man's arm. He wasn't entirely sure Vin's problem was with him. Vin was still flushed, breathing irregular, but his body was still taut and hard, the faint tremor of his muscles indicating that even anger hadn't quelled his arousal or his desire. Reluctantly Chris let him go entirely.

 

Vin rubbed at his arm, Chris' eyes following the movement and then he swore softly, staring at the darker marks on the tanned skin, in the precise pattern of his fingers. Not just red from being held but dark red, like the Vin had been hit by something. Chris reached for him again, not sure he could believe that someone could bruise that fast -- not without a good explanation. Jesus. Maybe part of Vin's anger was because Chris *had * hurt him more than he realized. He caught Vin's wrist again, but far more gently. "You always bruise this easily? I didn't mean that, Vin."

 

"Don't worry on it none," Vin said, pulling free. "Happens."

 

He didn't seem unduly distressed by it -- more embarrassed than anything and Chhrris found himself backpedaling in his head all the way to the lounge. He really needed to replay this whole scene and see what he'd missed. "So maybe I should have asked you...how do you like it?"

 

Vin made a sound halfway between a groan and snort and shook his head, meeting Chris' eyes briefly. "We were doing fine," Vin said.

 

And that made so much sense with Vin keeping his distance. Chris bit his lip and leaned against the wall, unconsciously shifting his stance. His dick had calmed some but not by much and he could still smell Vin's scent on his fingers, on his hands. "Maybe we should start over. Tell me I didn't mishear you. You did say if I wanted you all I had to do was follow."

 

"Yeah," Vin said.

 

"And you did say here would be good," Chris said.

 

"Didn't have a better place," Vin said, leaning against the wall. He was still breathing a little fast, Chris noted, and the bulge at his jeans had lessened very little. "And he'll be looking for me soon," he added, glancing toward the stairs and Chris studied Vin's face. No pleasure at the thought at all. Resignation maybe.

 

"And you have to be where he's looking?"

 

"Pretty much," Vin said, quietly, reluctantly, looking at Chris again with something so close to longing, something that read as both hot and soft in his eyes. Chris felt his pulse quicken again. What was it about Tanner -- a contradiction in every word, every glance and still he seemed to be able to make his wants plainly known. He looked like he wanted to say more but fell silent, close to Chris and not pulling away.

 

Watch his actions, don't listen to his words…long ago enforcement training on interrogating a suspect rose unbidden and Chris listened. Vin had been surly, aggravating, even hostile, but he hadn't moved or fought when Chris pinned him, hadn't resisted being kissed, only pulled away when Chris seemed more likely to talk than act. "You still want this?" Chris asked him.

 

Vin didn't answer immediately but then he nodded, leaning back against the wall, the tension there forcibly eased with a deep breath and a slowly exhale. "Yeah," he said, voice quiet and husky, meeting Chris' gaze dead on once more.

 

Chris approached him carefully, tossing out everything he thought he knew about this man. "Not so rough."

 

"It's fine," Vin said. "Whatever..." and Chris cut him off, stopped him from speaking because they'd just get in trouble again and he wasn't liking the 'it doesn't matter how I want it' tone in Vin's voice. His mouth covered Vin's suddenly, fully, and this time Vin didn't wait to kiss him back, swallowing when Chris stroked his throat, sucked on this tongue, his lips, and dove back into his mouth for more. Vin's hand gripped his arms, pulling Chris closer, trying to meet the thrust of his tongue with sweeps of his own, then rubbing against him, more like a sway, in rhythm with the dance their tongues were doing.

 

Vin's touch was light, tentative but there, fingertips ghosting over his shirt, up to his shoulder, a soft sound escaping him that wasn't quite a groan or a sigh. His body was firm and hard against Chris', warm and supple.

 

Chris felt a little drunk as he unfastened Vin's jeans again, getting lost in the way Vin kissed him back, suckling his tongue, the edge of his mouth, like he couldn’t get enough, or that he'd die if they stopped. Chris pulled back, just a little, seeing the flush rising again, the dilation of Vin's pupils pronounced. "Jesus," Chris swore softly. "You're like a starving man, Vin."

 

He moved the denim down, further this time, baring Vin's hips and then his ass, tugging at the T-shirt and Vin's cock was still high and hard, Chris touching him with something like wonder. "God, still hard..." His thumb played over to the catch on the cockring, knowing it had to be uncomfortable by now.

 

Vin stopped him from popping the catch, covering his hand on a tremulous search for air. "Leave it."

 

"All right," Chris said, not really understanding but acquiescing. This was something new. Vin was wholly pliant, touching and rubbing but there was little tension, almost like he was drugged, only arching toward Chris when Chris finally released his mouth and started kissing his way down his body until he was crouched in front of the straining cock.

 

Chris took him fully in, covering the length of him and felt Vin clutch at his shoulders. He glanced up to see Vin's head back, then he rolled it to the side, eyes half closed and chest heaving as Chris sucked and licked. The first bitter taste of him flowed across Chris' tongue and he wanted more, Vin's spill salty-sweet and thin. Chris pulled the denim to Vin's calves, spreading his knees a little as Vin widened his stance, the soft moans and pants all the encouragement Chris needed. This was better, much better and he sucked on his fingers before returning his mouth to the thrusting cock, feeling his way between Vin's legs and found his hole.

 

Muscles clenched around him as he pressed upward, finger fucking Vin and feeling his cock harden further at the tightness and strength of him. He stroked Vin's perineum again and felt the jerk and shudder, more come on his tongue, but the ring was working over time. There was no more than a taste until Vin bit back a wild cry and bucked, muscles dancing, fingers digging into Chris' shoulders. Chris swallowed and sucked and waited, Vin still shaking as his body was wracked by a hard but mostly dry orgasm.

 

His fingers were squeezed and Chris couldn't stand it anymore, rising smoothly and unfastening his pants, Vin watching him, dry lipped and still shuddering. But he reached out, the long fingered hand shaking but sure and gentle as he stroked Chris, teased the slit of his cock with a finger tip. It was Chris' turn to groan and he moved closer, letting his palm slide and squeeze the firm muscles of Tanner's ass. Vin licked his lips and gave a barely perceptible nod before rolling to the left, doing his best to take deeper breaths.

 

Chris rubbed Vin's shoulders, along his back for a moment before catching Vin's waist to pull him back a bit. Vin tensed then relaxed, Chris pushing steadily but not trying to drive himself into Vin's body -- although there was a part of him that wanted just that.

 

This was better though…much, Vin so tight and firm around him it was like taking a virgin. He heard the muffled whimper as he pressed deeper and another gasp as he pulled back.

 

He lost track of whatever reaction Vin might be having as his own pleasure rose, only peripherally aware of his arm around Vin's waist, or the scent of his hair. Thrust and retreat, push and pull, the rhythm of it as relentless as the tides beyond this artificial bit of floating land. He groaned Vin's name as his body demanded a faster pace, arm tightening around Vin while he braced himself on the wall. It was all about the fucking, about the tight friction on his cock, at the heat and clenching pressure threatening to suck his orgasm from him. When it did, Chris couldn't stop himself from slamming home, plunging into Vin's ass with a force that left him breathless and Vin gasping. As he emptied himself, he felt the liquid slick the inside of Tanner's ass, the rich scent washing over him, them

 

He was breathing like a freight train, leaning on Vin, pushing himself up to take his weight off the other man. He hissed as another wave of pleasure broke over him as his overly stimulated cock slid back but not quite free. Vin felt it too, gasping for breath.

 

"That was--" Chris started, only to have Vin jerk in his arms, back arching as he pushed forward, ass tightening on Chris' spent cock as another orgasm wrenched through him. Or that was what Chris thought it was, gritting his teeth when Vin bucked and then Chris nearly fell, likely to take Vin with him when Vin seemed to just collapse. "Vin!" he said it sharply, gripping the other man, reaching around him, covering Vin's fingers where they were clenched around his still hard dick and Chris swore loudly. Vin shouldn't be this hard -- no man could be. He fumbled for the ring, grip awkward with Vin nearly a dead weight, struggling for breath as his body continued to shake. Chris' slacks were tangled around his ankles and Vin's jeans at his calves.

 

The leather ring finally gave and Chris expected something, anything. There was a dribble of come from Vin's cock, the skin still flushed, angry looking and barely any softening at all under his touch when Vin's hand fell away.

 

Chris used his shoulder on the wall to ease them both down, afraid he'd trip over his pants if he tried to lift Vin up, but got him down, across his lap. Vin's skin was slick with sweat and still flushed the rise and fall of his chest too shallow and too sharp like Vin literally couldn't breathe…

 

And then he stopped. It took Chris a moment to realize it wasn't Vin finally calming down, but that he had really and truly stopped breathing. "Jesus, Tanner!" he snapped, shaking the man and then holding him, listening for a heartbeat and found it, pounding hard and fast. He slid Vin to the floor and caught the back of his head, pressing his mouth to Vin's and forced air in, seeing the rise of the sweat drenched T-shirt. Then again, and thought he felt movement , a convulsive swallow and he rolled Vin to his side, hitting him sharply between the shoulder blades. Vin coughed and choked again, then sucked in air, still unconscious as the shakes started again.

 

He's having a convulsion, Chris thought, panic rising and glanced around, heard voices above. "Hey!! Help!!" he barked out yelling, resting a hand on Vin's shoulder and swearing as he struggled to pull his pants up so he could get help.

 

"Sir?"

 

Chris could have kissed the young steward, who stared at him from the curve of the steps, and then at Vin wide-eyed. Chris couldn't take any time to care for the state of their undress. "JD, I need you to find Nathan Jackson, or the doctor that's on board and find them fast. Now," he said when the young man hesitated.

 

Then JD was gone, pounding up the stairs. Chris checked on Vin, made sure he was still breathing and then pulled his pants up and fastened them. He didn't bother with pulling Vin's up but pulled off his shirt to cover the other man.

 

It felt like forever but it was only a few minutes before he heard Nathan and JD returning.

 

"Chris? What happened?"

 

"I don't know…" he started, at a loss to explain it. "God, Nathan...he stopped breathing. Choked. It looked like convulsions, but he just stopped."

 

Nathan was already kneeling, checking Vin's pupils, his pulse. He dug in his pocket and handed JD his card and key. "My room is just above his one, 312. You'll see a medical bag on the desk. Bring it quick," he said and then looked at Chris. "What were you doing? Before--"

 

"We were fucking!" Chris snapped out, as if it wasn't obvious, with Vin a sprawl of arms and legs, Chris' come still slicking his thighs and the scent of it strong in the alcove of the stairs.

 

"Chris!" Nathan said sharply, dark eyes locking with Chris'. "I *know* that. I need to know if you were literally fucking him or doing something else? Was he sucking you off? You said he choked."

 

Chris took a deep breath and shook his head. "We'd… finished...nearly. I was fucking him…done. Then he had…I thought he was having another orgasm, that damn cockring…" he said fumbling on the floor for the strip of leather. "He'd been breathing pretty heavily -- hell, we both were," Chris said, unablee to entirely shake the pleasure of the moment, the intensity of it.

 

JD came thumping down the stairs, carrying Nathan's bag, but there was a crowd gathering, drawn by his movements and the yelling.

 

"JD…can you get us out of this hallway, one of those rooms there?" Chris asked, staring at the darkened corridor. "Nathan, can we move him? We're gathering an audience."

 

"I can open it," JD said dropping the bag down. "Is he okay? Should I get the captain?" he asked, trying hard not to stare, but Chris caught the blush high on the boy's cheeks. The crew might be specially hired to ignore most things, but they couldn't all ignore everything and in truth, JD looked more concerned than embarrassed.

 

Nathan looked up and shook his head. "Let me finish examining him. We can move him after I check his pressure." He fit the blood pressure cuff on Vin's arm, and pumped it up, listening carefully, then pulled it off, leaving the stethoscope around his neck. "Pressure's too high. He's still breathing funny," he said, but he helped Chris sit Vin up slightly, both of them sliding their arms under the unconscious man. JD got the door open and the lights on and at a nod from Chris, Nathan shifted Vin's weight into Chris' arms -- the door too narrow for both of them.

 

Vin was no lightweight, but even unconscious he wasn't unmanageable and Nathan guided Chris into the room, pulling blankets back and then pulling off Vin's shoes and his jeans while Chris settled him on the bed. Then Chris stepped back to let Nathan sit on the edge. Some of the flush had faded from Vin's face, leaving him paler and bruised looked, the hair at his forehead and around his ears curled by sweat and tangled from his thrashing.

 

Carefully, Nathan examined, listened, frowned and then started checking Vin's arms.

 

"What are you looking for?"

 

"Needle marks, tracks," Nathan said, glancing up and shaking his head at Chris' expression. "I can't afford to miss anything, Chris. His BP's way too high for someone in as good a shape as he is, physically. His breathing sounds like he's having a reaction to something, like an allergy -- or asthma. Hell, could be a food allergy. He's cool but sweating." Nathan looked but found nothing on the insides of Vin's arms or on his legs. "JD, I need you to find the doctor or Mr. Royal or both. Royal might be better first and have someone find the doc."

 

"Why Royal?" Chris asked, finally daring to sit at the very head of the bed, as JD took off again.

 

"Most likely to know Vin's medical history. Chris, I don't know what this is…he could have epilepsy or some kind of seizure disorder for all I know. But I'm betting he's on something," Nathan said quietly, tucking the blankets around the man despite the sweat on his skin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cockring. "He had this on the entire time?"

 

Chris nodded. "Wouldn't let me take it off. I did at the end and that's when he..." his fingers traced through the tangled hair. "He should have come...I mean he did but there was..." Chris hesitated, not quite sure what he was trying to say.

 

Nathan looked up, brown eyes narrowing. "Didn't come? No semen, no urine? Swollen as he is?" he asked and Chris shook his head.

 

"Just a little...he's still hard." It made him ache thinking about it.

 

"Swollen," Nathan said again, Chris not sure he understood the distinction but Nathan pulled the blankets back and examined Vin's lower body with delicate care, then stretched the cockring out, holding it up to the light. "Son of a ..." he said softly.

 

"What?" Chris asked, not liking the sudden tight expression on Nathan's face.

 

"There's blood on this. Just a little but...tilt that sconce this way, Chris," he directed, shifting so his own shadow didn't block out the light. Nathan handled Vin's cock with the detachment of a professional, stroking the flesh carefully although Chris doubted it was an attempt by Nathan to arouse Vin any further -- if that were possible.

 

Even so, Vin moved, reacting and Chris caught a flailing hand, startled when the blue eyes suddenly stared blankly up at him. Nathan released him, pulled the blankets back up and leaned over him.

 

"Vin? Vin, look at me," Nathan said, voice firm and gentle, Nathan waiting until Vin 's eyes shifted from Chris' face to Nathan's, but then Vin closed them again, wincing, free hand coming up to his head.

 

"God....damn...what?" He sounded breathless and Nathan pulled Vin's hand away from his face.

 

"You collapsed, Vin. You stopped breathing. I need you to listen to me, friend. Are you on any medications, any drugs?"

 

Vin blinked, trying to focus, a grimace of pain crossing his face as he shifted his body on the bed. The movement left him shaking again. "It passes...always passes," he said, half mumbling.

 

"What passes, Vin?" Nathan said but Tanner was slipping away again. Chris got up to get a washcloth and wet it.

 

Swearing, Nathan reached into his bag and pulled out an ammonia capsule, waving it under Vin's nose. The man jerked and coughed, looking close to choking again or vomiting. "Vin, I'm sorry..." Nathan said.

 

"M'head..." Vin muttered, as if he hadn't heard. "God...just shoot me..."

 

"Rather not," Chris said, applying the cool washcloth to Vin's forehead, stroking his hair and smiling when a few of the tiny lines of pain on Vin's face eased. "Vin, you need to tell us? Are you on any drugs? Anything you're taking? We're not narcs, but you stopped breathing."

 

"Doesn't do that..." Vin said. "Never...has. Royal...too much. Told him it was too much," Vin said and started drifting again.

 

Nathan started to bring him around again and Chris stopped him. "Let's ask Royal. What are you thinking? You said there was blood on the cockring."

 

Nathan nodded, easing back, watching while Chris wiped at Vin's face and throat. "I suspect...he's been given something, some kind of injection, keeping him hard. Like an aphrodisiac but it's...not about arousal, just, making him hard."

 

Chris stared at him. "Okay. I know medical science has made some progress over the last few years, but you're not talking about Viagra, here?"

 

Nathan shook his head. "Nope. But certain drugs...they can do it -- they're meant for short term use though. For older men, for men who have cancer or other things than interfere with getting a hard-on. But they aren't meant for fellas that don't have a problem...but this is more than that. His blood pressure's too high and his heart's working too hard."

 

"What the hell's going on here?" Guy Royal snarled, pushing the door open, JD right behind him. Royal stopped, staring at Vin on the bed. "Jesus, what did you do to him, Larabee? Didn't put out fast enough for you?" Royal asked. "Or just decided he was too much for you alone and had to call in a friend?" he added, glancing at Nathan. "Don't sweat it...he can take you both," he said on a chuckle. "I'd like to see that."

 

Chris listened. He couldn't do anything but listen: shocked, startled. If he'd had any illusions that Guy Royal gave two shits about Tanner, they were wiped clear in a flash. What he didn't know was if Vin saw it, knew it or...

 

"You sick bastard," he said, getting to his feet, ready to wipe the sneering look off Royal's face. "He stopped breathing, you asshole. What's he on?"

 

"What do you mean? I don't put up with drug use---" Royal said.

 

"He's damn well on something!" Chris snapped, advancing on the man. "He said you gave him too much. Now what is it? What are you giving him?"

 

"I don't have to stand here and put up with your accusations. If Tanner's on drugs he's done it to himself! Can't expect much more from trailer trash like that."

 

Chris felt something in him snap, fear and anger rising up to collide and he grabbed up Royal by his shirt and shoved him back against the cabin wall, hard. "He fucking well works for you.. and that little show the other night...proud of your Texas stud, you said. Goes the distance. What the fuck did you give him to make that possible?"

 

Royal's pale blue eyes widened as Chris grabbed his throat. Royal wasn't a small man but his struggles were ineffective when Chris drove his knee into the man's groin -- enough to hurt him without dropping him in his tracks. "Don't lie to me," Chris warned. "Or so help me, I'll tear your balls off and feed them to you, one at a time."

 

"Fuck you! I don't have to answer to you!"

 

"What have you been giving him?" Nathan demanded again and Chris tightened his grip on Royal's throat. Royal gasped for breath, reminding Chris of Vin, fighting to breathe, shaking so hard Chris had been barely able to hold him. He squeezed a little harder.

 

"Trimix...PPP. It's in my cabin!"

 

JD looked at the two men and caught Chris' hard glance. He looked at the man on the bed and nodded curtly to Chris. "I'll get it."

 

"And anything else..." Nathan said, checking Vin's pulse again and his eyes. "How often? When was his last dose?"

 

"This morning," Royal snarled out but Chris eased his grip.

 

"What the hell is that, Nathan?" Chris asked.

 

"It's a combination drug, used to treat erectile dysfunctions, it's a vaso-dilator," Nathan said, checking to make sure Chris was understanding him. "It can cause prolonged erections if it's misused," he said with a glare at Royal. "If he got the last shot this morning...has he been like this all day?"

 

"He usually is. Works well for him...good for what he's for," Royal said with a hash bark of laughter and looked at Chris with a glint in his eyes. "That's what you liked, isn't it Larabee? Always ready, can keep going for ...hours."

 

Chris was tempted to hit the man hard enough to put him out for hours and barely restrained himself, but he gave Guy's balls another nudge with his knee. Nathan looked seriously concerned and while Vin was breathing a little easier, he didn't actually look any better. There was still a thin sheen of sweat on the tanned skin, and even unconscious he was still trembling, small spasms racing through him.

 

And he was still hard which suddenly made Chris sick to his stomach.

 

"How long have you been giving it to him..."

 

"When he needs it."

 

"How long and how often?" Chris snapped out shoving Royal backward against the wall again.

 

"Just the last few months! Every couple of days..." Royal said, but he hesitated and Chris slammed him back again, eliciting a cry of pain from the older man.

 

"Before this morning?" Chris demanded.

 

"Every day....since we got on board. I kept to the dosage! Gave him...vitamins and stuff...it's an approved drug."

 

"Under a doctor's care and you ain't no doctor," Nathan said. He put his stethoscope on to listen. "What else did you give him?"

 

"Nothing!" Royal started and then Chris did hit him. Not enough to knock him out, but the blow sent Royal to his knees. "Just some herbs...natural stuff. To help him sleep. The PPP...keeps him up. Makes him a little wired."

 

"Which herbs?" Nathan asked.

 

"I don't know...health food store stuff -- Valerian."

 

"Christ," Nathan said.

 

"What?" Chris asked, warning Royal to stay down when he moved to the bedside.

 

"Bad mix," Nathan said. "Too much of the PPP, keeping him up, not letting the blood release. And the Valerian -- I'd guess too much of that as well. Blood flowing too easily, this bruising..." he lifted Vin's arm to show Chris the bruises he already knew about. "I need to get to the infirmary, get some fluids in him to flush some of this out, but he needs a hospital. How far are we from port?"

 

"Three days," Chris said, reaching out to stroke through the dark hair. Vin moved restlessly, and with little control.

 

"Need to talk to Mrs. Redding, see if we can do something about getting him back sooner. You're an idiot, you know that?" Nathan said to Royal. "You trying to kill him?"

 

"I had a doctor prescribe it!"

 

"Then he should have told you...a couple of times a week, maximum," Nathan said. "And that for somebody who has trouble getting an erection at all, which I'm betting Vin doesn't," he said, glaring at Royal. He looked up when JD burst back into the room carrying a collection of vials and pill bottles in his hat.

 

"This is all I could see out. I didn't check his drawers but I can," he said.

 

Nathan examined each bottle, checking dosages and how many or how much was left in each. He set them aside. "Can you stay with him? I'll be fast and I need to find Mrs. Redding," he asked Chris.

 

Chris nodded taking Nathan's place on the bed when the other man rose. "JD, you find Mrs. Redding...bring her here. Anything I should watch for, Nathan?"

 

"I couldn't tell you...not exactly. He could stop breathing again. I'll try to be fast as I can. If he comes round, try to keep him still as possible. He might be nauseous. Let him vomit if he needs to but that could set him off again." Nathan said, he and JD leaving together.

 

"What about me?"

 

Chris glared at Royal, but in truth, there was no where he could really go. "Get out...but don't think this is over, Royal," he warned softly.

 

"You don't scare me, Larabee," Royal said but got to his feet and was out the door before Chris could answer.

 

"Then you're even more of an idiot than Nathan thinks," Chris said to his departing back and turned his attention back to the man on the bed. Vin was still breathing too fast and too shallowly, body twitching. He calmed some though, when Chris stroked his hair or caught one long fingered hand in his own.

 

Christ. What kind of monster was Royal to do this? Even despising him as Chris did, there had been a ring of truth to what he'd said. Even knowing it was drugs and carelessness on Royal's part that had caused it, Chris couldn't deny that seeing Vin that second time, cheeks lightly flushed, body hard and obviously aroused, had been a turn on. Those blue eyes had met his fearlessly, even had a little challenge in them, walking so slowly, not flinching when Chris' eyes had raked over his body, appreciating the regard. Throwing out an invitation and a challenge all in one.

 

No wonder Ella had been impressed with him...his stamina, his reactions...was it all drug induced?

 

Chris had a hard time believing it, Vin Tanner was a beauty even without the drugs...that lazy sprawl across the deck chair, the low husky laugh, the rough voice.

 

Right now he looked wrung out and fragile, fighting too hard just to keep breathing, his pulse racing under Chris fingertips.

 

And he'd let Royal do this to him. He had to know there was something wrong, that too much of this...too much of anything was a bad idea. Unless he just liked the edge, the rush of it. He was young, maybe reckless…maybe he thought he was immortal.

 

It didn't feel right. Vin had seemed close to angry before his collapse, uncertain but not entirely pleased with Chris. With any of it.

 

Chris got the washcloth re-wet and wiped the sweating face, trying to cool the flushed skin. He re-examined everything Vin had said from the first time they met on the docks, up to the confrontations below decks. What Royal wanted or didn't want, expected, Vin putting that in front of nearly every conversation…something Chris had taken as a kind of devotion, trophy stud looking to please his sugar daddy. But nothing in Guy Royal indicated that he cared one way or the other if Vin pleased him. He was a showpiece, exactly like a trophy, something to be brought out for the sole purpose of evoking envy in others. And it worked.

 

It didn't make Chris feel any better to know it had worked on him as well.

 

Vin's head moved restlessly and Chris automatically reached out to soothe him. "It's all right, Vin," he said softly, praying he was right and that Nathan could do something.

 

"Trade places with you," Vin said quietly, voice hoarse and Chris got up, getting a glass of water for him before even thinking if he should, but he was holding Vin's head up and letting him sip before he rationalized that Nathan had said fluids would help.

 

"How ya' feeling?" Chris asked, easing Vin's head back on the pillows.

 

"Bad road's got nothing on me," Vin said and hissed softly when he moved a leg.

 

"Try to stay still. Nathan went to get something to help."

 

Vin went still by degrees, turning his head away. "Not quite the ride I wanted to give you, cowboy," he said.

 

Chris smiled at him, shifting an arm to Vin's other side and leaning in. "Was pretty spectacular until the end," he said, but his smile faded when Vin didn't really respond. "He said he's pretty much kept you like this..."

 

"Man likes his pleasures," Vin said tightly and shifted uncomfortably, pushing at the blanket. "Hot..." he said and Chris rolled the blanket back, baring Vin's stomach.

 

"Better?" he asked but got no answer. Vin's eyes were closed again, mouth lax, and even as Chris watched, another shudder wracked him. "God, Vin," he said softly, pulling the blanket up. He'd done a lot of things in his so called career, but he had no idea how to deal with this, trying to understand why Tanner would let himself be treated this way. It wasn't lack of confidence or personality, and given his reaction earlier, what Chris had seen -- he didn't really seem the type to go seeking abuse. He could be wrong, but Chris didn't think so.

 

He tucked the blankets back and then paused, seeing the gauze bandage at his side. Bright red blood dotted it and, carefully, he peeled it back.

 

The shallow cut had barely healed, the ends of it red and slightly swollen but the wound itself still bled. No more than it had before but still bled.

 

"How is he?" Nathan asked, returning with two bags of fluids and a pack of needles. The needles gave Chris a queasy feel.

 

"He came around a minute ago, but you might want to look at this," Chris said and surrendered his place to Nathan after pointing to the cut.

 

Nathan looked, got a clean piece of gauze and some alcohol and cleaned it. "This is from the fight on the dock," he said, glancing at Chris. "That was what? Four days ago?"

 

"Yeah," Chris said, sitting at the head of the bed again. "Maybe I let Royal go too soon."

 

"May be," Nathan said and looked at his fluids and needles and sighed. "Bad idea. He's not clotting like he should."

 

"How bad, Nathan?" Chris asked.

 

"Bad enough and...I can't do much but watch him, Chris. Need to find that doctor friend of Mrs. Reddings. This is way past what I know how to treat."

 

"JD went to find Angela. She'll know how to get hold of the doc. This is so fucked."

 

Nathan nodded and put the bags to the side and Chris was uncomfortably aware of the man watching him.

 

"Ain't your fault, Chris. None of this...it's Guy Royal done this to him."

 

Chris took a breath and nodded, brushing Vin's hair back off his forehead. "I know. I just wish to God I knew why Vin let him," he said.

 

But Nathan didn't have an answer and at the moment, Vin couldn't answer. One way or another, though, Chris swore silently, He'd find out.

 

He didn't bother to try and figure out why it was important to him.

 

---

The Cruise: Questions

He tended to come awake fast and alert, and half his sleepy mind argued that this was needed now: to wake, be perfectly still but alert, get a grip on the situation.

 

There was an arm across his waist, and the press of a firm, warm chest to his back, a muscled leg nestled between his own. Not that unusual all things considered, save the body was still and lax and while wrapped around him, was not holding him, demanding or asking of him.

 

It was kind of nice really, save he was waking up, and the identity of those arms and legs seemed more important.

 

He shifted, drew a deeper breath and tested that grip across his waist.

 

No clutching or grabbing. There was a half-controlled attempt to rub fingers across his belly then up along his ribs. Just a stroke, sleepy and tender.

 

Vin found himself struggling out of the rest of his sleepiness pretty rapidly.

 

It came with a cost though. Awake, his head started to pound, his bladder felt like it had swollen to four times its size and every part of him ached in some way: shoulders, back, ass, groin -- although that could be as much from his bladder as anything -- and even his hands felt swollen and stiff.

 

All of it combined to drive the identity of his bed partner from the forefront of his brain, as he struggled to rise from beneath the weight of that arm and the tangle of legs. He made it, partly rolling and partly pushing, back twingeing painfully as he sat up and then nearly fell over, he was so light-headed.

 

"Easy." Firm, dry hands caught his shoulders, steadied him, held him until the dizziness passed. "You all right?" The voice was rough and coarse from sleep, but quiet, and at Vin's nod, the hand shifted and his supporter swung around to sit beside him.

 

Larabee. Looking sleepy and tousled and distractingly naked. The dark gold hair was mussed and tangled, face a little paler from sleep, but there was a smile on the full lips. "Trying for the bathroom?" Chris asked and Vin nodded again, throat dry and head pounding so bad the edges of his vision blurred.

 

"'ken do it," he said, pushing up to prove just that but Larabee didn't even wait to see if he'd fall, just came up with him. Vin would have cursed save his legs were as shaky as a new born colt's, and while he damn well knew there was nothing in his stomach to come up, wasn't his protesting gut just trying to prove a point anyway?

 

"Uh huh," Larabee said, smug as a sonuvabitch and caught him around the waist again, pulled Vin's arm across his shoulder, and guided him toward the bathroom.

 

The rest was a blur, save the ease on his bladder, and even that left him feeling washed out and weak. Chris said nothing and maybe moved a little too fast getting him back to bed, cursing softly when Vin felt the grayness encroach once more. Part of him wanted it -- the relief from what was the sickest he'd felt in long time, the frightening tremors in his muscles that felt like shivers only didn't leave him cold, only aching.

 

It took him a few long moments to realize that Chris was tending him, washing his face with a warm washcloth, along his throat and chest, then holding his head up so he could sip at something cool and sweet that washed the metallic taste from his mouth.

 

The grayness faded back, Vin only becoming gradually aware that Larabee was stroking his fingers through his hair, soothing him as one might a fretting child. Vin forced his eyes open and found himself a little breathless and confused by the warmth in that green-eyed gaze. The smile was gone, Chris' mouth set in a thin worried line, leaning over Vin from the side of the bed as he had earlier.

 

Earlier. Hours ago. "What time is it?" he asked, wondering how long he'd been out.

 

"A little after four in the morning. Still feel sick to your stomach?"

 

Vin checked, noting the queasiness but the juice had helped. "No. It's all right. You been here, all night?"

 

Chris' lips curved up. "Yeah. It's my bed," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're a pretty quiet sleeper."

 

Vin didn't quite know what to say to that, feeling more awake, and uncomfortably beholden. "More trouble than I'm worth," he said.

 

"Not so sure of that," Chris said, the hand that had continued stroking through Vin's hair moving down, knuckles brushing the side of Vin's cheek and jaw. "Why do you stay with him, Vin?" he asked, softly, searching Vin's face, obviously expecting an answer.

 

It took all Vin had not to blurt it out, but he shrugged instead. "I've got my reasons. 'S not so bad. This was...a mistake," he said it but didn't believe it.

 

"Pretty damn big mistake." There was barely checked anger there and Vin took another breath, knowing it wasn't directed at him, was there because of him but not for him. "There's better things for you than this," Chris said.

 

Believed it too, he was so certain, so sure. "There's worse," Vin said, biting back the rest of what he could have said. "Seen that too."

 

Chris looked honestly surprised. Not disbelieving, but disconcerted, uneasy. He didn't give up though. "Vin, you could have died. You can't be this stupid."

 

"What do you know about it? About anything?" Vin hissed back at him. "Stupid enough to get myself into this wasn't I?" he said, spat it out and wished he could take it back. "Just leave it alone, Chris," he said after a moment, seeing the startled surprise on Chris' face. Yeah, well he wasn't as smart as Larabee thought. "I'm...grateful, for what you've done: what Nathan and the doctor and Mrs. Redding have done. I'll be all right and Guy won't...he'll be more careful."

 

"You don't have to stay with him, Vin."

 

God, did the man never give up? Let up? Probably not. He'd hate to put his will against Larabee's. He had a sneaking suspicion he'd lose, no contest, but that was exactly what he had to do.

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

"Bullshit."

 

It confused him that Chris was pushing this hard -- they hardly knew each other. A fight and a hard fuck and nothing else much in common. Not even their positions, and Vin wasn't that stupid. And Ella wasn't that discrete. Chris wasn't exactly the kind of whore Vin had been on and off his whole life. The man chose his clients, picked his price, and while the whole idea was alien to Vin on a certain level, he didn't have any trouble seeing how a man like Chris Larabee could set those kinds of rules, those limits. He was educated, had the fine manners of a gentleman -- the kind of gentleman that Guy Royal could only ever aspire to be. Deep down, Royal wasn't anymore than a herd riding cowboy, used to dirt under his hands and sweat on his back, and a curse on his lips from the moment he woke up to the minute he closed his eyes to sleep. There was nothing soft or gentle about Guy Royal, although he played at it with Ella, trying to take on airs. Having her teach him about the intricate dances of influence and society that Chris came to naturally.

 

Royal was more like Vin than the circles he was trying to gain entry into -- hard and bitter and likely to get meaner as he got older. It wasn't much of a future for Vin either but he couldn't see anything else.

 

But it was familiar if nothing else. He had no illusions that Royal was any better than himself, just richer. And that meant Vin could be the better man on a level field. He could keep something for himself and would. The only things that meant anything to him -- the only things he owned.

 

"That's the way it is, Larabee. Leave it."

 

"But why? Jesus, Vin, if it's a job, trust me, there are others. You can't tell me it's because you feel anything for him at all."

 

He felt a lot for Royal. Hatred was pretty close to the top but Vin kept that one well tied down. Revulsion, disgust...once he'd had some respect for the man, for what he'd accomplished.

 

He met Chris' eyes, blurred by confusion and that anger again. "I gave him my word. Promised I wouldn't leave till he told me I could go."

 

Chris didn't understand it: Vin could see it in his face. "And what the fuck does he give you? Except to his *friends*?"

 

Vin flinched at that. Not that he thought it was be a big secret. Not among these people, on this cruise. Chris had seen for himself, hadn't he?

 

And he had no idea why Chris had turned Royal down, really. Vin hadn't wanted it that way but that hadn't seemed to matter before, if ever. Of course, he hadn't wanted it to be the way it had ended up with Chris either. That had been for him. He should have known better than to think what he wanted would ever be the way of things. "Don't matter what he gives me," Vin said, dry mouthed again. "I gave my word. It's what I have, Larabee. That 'n'my name."

 

Chris only stared at him for a long moment, then looked away, sitting up, with his back partially to Vin.

 

Vin closed his eyes. He didn't need Larabee's scorn. He didn't need anything from Chris Larabee at all.

 

"Why would you give such a promise, cowboy? What's his hold on you?"

 

Chris' voice was soft, not scornful at all.

 

Vin's throat ached at the need to tell it, but it would only be worse if he told. Bad enough he was Royal's whore, and Chris seemed willing to set that aside. For now. But what would he think of wasting his time and his pity on a murderer?

 

"Guess him and me are more alike than you thought," Vin opened his eyes to find Chris staring at him. "He likes the easy sex and so do I," Vin said, keeping his voice flat, even: meeting that green-eyed gaze dead on again. "Pays me a good wage and I sleep in decent bed. Told you; I've had it worse."

 

"You're a fool," Chris said, darkly.

 

"I'm a whore, Larabee. You should know what that means," Vin said, hard and cold, lifting his chin.

 

For a moment he thought Chris would hit him, or leave, or throw him out since it was his room. Better Vin left on his own and he rolled over, pushing up again and got his legs over the side of the bed.

 

"Where the hell are you going?" Chris caught his arm, almost jerking him off balance.

 

"My room," Vin said. "Where're m'clothes and I'll get out of your hair."

 

If he could stay upright that long. He spotted his jeans on the floor and bent over to pick them up.

 

The blood rush to his head sent the room spinning and he fought it, fought the darkness, and welcomed the desperate strength he found in needing to get out of here, away from Larabee and his damned questions.

 

"Vin, don't ...don't..." Chris caught him again, hands gentle but strong, bring him upright which just made him dizzy again. His fingers lost their grip on the denim and he was fast losing his grip on consciousness again. Damn Royal anyway for leaving him so weak he couldn't fend for himself.

 

He heard a soft grunt and then he was almost floating, feet not touching the floor, breathing in the scent of Chris' skin, his hair. "Damn, Tanner, for such a skinny bastard, you weigh a fucking ton," Chris muttered, softly, but not angry. Then he was being lowered again, the mattress giving way under his weight, under the weight of Chris knees when he knelt beside him.

 

His head was lifted again and more juice offered, Chris holding him up until the sugar hit, chasing the shadows away again. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

 

"God, don't talk about food," Vin managed, stomach rebelling at the idea and almost bringing the juice up.

 

"All right. Easy," Chris crooned, hand rubbing along Vin's back. "Rest, Vin. You're white as a ghost."

 

Vin did, body relaxing by inches until he could bear the nausea and the weakness enough to reach for sleep. Chris settled behind him, bracing his body, pulling the blankets up again.

 

"Didn't mean it. Sorry," Vin muttered.

 

"Didn't mean what?"

 

"No right calling you names...not when I'm...worse," he said softly.

 

There was a soft chuff of laughter against his hair. "Been called worse by worse, Vin. I shouldn't have pushed. When you're better, we'll try this again."

 

"Won't matter," Vin said softly.

 

His head was tipped back and the barest brush of a mouth covered his lips. Sweet, gentle, and the lightest sweep of a tongue within his mouth. "Maybe not to you," Chris said against his mouth.

 

Vin wanted to protest that too, but he was too tired and Chris' hand had started rubbing his back again. Shouldn't matter to Chris either. He'd only get hurt trying to tangle with Royal and Vin didn't want that.

 

"Leave it be, Chris. Please." He managed, without giving reasons.

 

"Can't do that, cowboy. I don't like to break promises either," Chris said softly and Vin had no energy left to argue.

 

So Chris had understood that much, at least. He held that, even as Chris eased him down on the bed and pressed to his side, warm and secure.

 

Vin figured if there was any justice or mercy in the world, he wouldn't wake up. Better this than...

 

He wasn't willing to lay any money on ether justice or mercy. But he could take the reprieve into his dreams, and did.

 

---

The Cruise: Desperate Measures

It was still dark outside the glass fronted doors that led to Larabee's private balcony. Vin found himself staring at it, barely able to make out the tracing of stars across the pitch black sky.

 

Chris had rolled away, sleeping on his back and Vin could make out the sharp angles of his face, relaxed now in sleep.

 

A huge part of him wanted to stay where he was, maybe go back to sleep. But the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that Royal would stew on it, accuse Vin of disloyalty, maybe even work it up in his head that Vin was planning something -- with Chris' help.

 

It wouldn't matter if it were true or not. The consequences would be the same.

 

He gripped the side of the bed, testing his strength, rolling to his side and waiting to see if Chris stirred or woke. A few minutes and there was nothing but the shifting of Chris' weight on the bed. The delay gave Vin time enough to locate his things in the dim half-light illumination coming from the partially closed bathroom door. Time enough to spot his clothes and his boots, jeans folded up neatly on a chair. His shirt was there too.

 

It took nearly everything he had to push himself upward, to sit and wait again, let the dizziness pass and the deep muscle aches settle into something that could be controlled by biting down hard on his lip.

 

A few more minutes to convince himself that he didn't feel any worse than after having been thrown from a horse and that was bad enough but he got up and gathered his things. Dressing in silence was more than he could manage so he only gathered his things, holding them to his chest and glanced back at the bed.

 

So much more he'd wanted, he thought briefly, eyes taking in the tousled blond hair, the long stretch of body under the flimsy sheet. It wasn't even the feel of Chris' body, or how good it could have been that lingered, but the feel of his lips, the taste of him. The gentle strength of the hands that had guided him to the bathroom and held him when he felt sure he'd shake himself apart.

 

Nothing for it but to put it behind him, remind himself again that he shouldn't reach for what he couldn't have. Tearing his eyes away from Chris' sleeping form, he eased the door open and slipped into the hall, closing the door silently behind him.

 

It took more time to lean against the wall and then find the low bench, settling on it to pull on his jeans at least. He almost pitched over afterward, breath once more tight and hard in his chest, feeling like he couldn't get a deep enough breath, and the shallow panting he was doing was making him lightheaded.

 

He could be grateful for the elevators for once, not sure he could have managed the stairs, but the oversized numbers were fuzzy looking, and when the elevator finally stopped and opened he found himself too dizzy and weak to even try to get out.

 

It scared him, more than he wanted to admit, that he couldn't seem to do more than hold himself upright in the corner of the elevator, clutching shirt and boots to him like they'd protect him from the darkness threatening the edges of his vision. The doors closed again and the elevator dropped, Vin feeling a kind of panicked laughter rise inside him: that he'd be in this damn thing until someone else got on and then was likely to hurl all over them.

 

"Mr. Tanner? Vin?"

 

He'd passed out, he supposed, or at the very least he'd forgotten how he'd ended up sitting on the floor.

 

JD's face swam in front of him, hazel eyes wide with concern. "I should get the doctor, or Nathan," he said, Vin barely hearing him, fascinated as he was by the fact that the doors were sliding closed behind JD again.

 

"No...just..." Just what? He couldn't think straight but he recognized JD. He'd been there in the room, when Dr. Shea had come in...he already knew what had happened. And he worked for Angela Redding...or the cruise line, or both. Vin couldn't quite remember save that Angela knew him and Chris as well as Nathan. Three marks to JD's favor that Vin could maybe trust him enough to ask for help and less obligation than with the others, maybe. He gripped JD's arm. "I need to get to my room, JD. Can you help me do that?" he asked, not really expecting the youth to refuse but knowing if JD had other ideas there wasn't much he could do to stop him.

 

JD studied him, shaking his head a little but he reached behind him to punch the button for the right floor. "I will, but you need to see one of them...you're awfully pale, Vin."

 

"Just kind of ...tired," Vin said softly, and bit back a groan when JD offered him a hand and an arm to get him to his feet again. JD was surprisingly strong, and between them, Vin got to his feet, JD bracing him against the corner again until the elevator stopped. He took Vin's boots and shirt and got an arm around his back, Vin leaning more heavily on the narrow shoulders than he meant to, but he couldn't help it.

 

The corridor seemed to pulse and expand, the edges of it wavering. The disconcerting movement didn't stop when they did and Vin fought to keep his stomach from rebelling yet again as JD worked the key card and got the door to his room open.

 

A little further, just to the bed and Vin did groan when he was reassuringly horizontal again. At least he wasn't going to fall. "Thank you," he said, when JD helped him settle, pulling a blanket over him. The room was an angled berth, sporting only a porthole view whereas Guy and Ella's cabin had a smaller version of Larabee's balcony. Vin had spent more time there than anywhere when Royal was out and around and the idea of fresh air almost made him ask JD to take him to the deck…only he was pretty sure the only way he'd get there was if JD carried him.

 

"It's okay," JD said. "Let me get the doctor for you, Vin. You don't look so good."

 

"I've felt better," Vin admitted. "He's gonna tell me to rest...I'll do that, JD. Won't move from here. It's early..."

 

JD looked undecided, raking a hand through his near black hair and searching the room. He moved, fast enough to make Vin dizzy, bringing water and the room phone to the edge of the bed. "I'm on duty in a few minutes but I'll check with them and you call, Vin. If you get sick again. Please?"

 

Vin nodded. "I will, JD. I'm gonna sleep though. Don't worry on it none," he said, trying to reassure the younger man, guilt rising as he realized he had yet another person fretting over him.

 

He got a quick flash of a grin. "Too late. I'll check back..."

 

Vin could only nod and when he found strength enough to look again, JD was gone and the cabin was dark. He didn't know if he'd been out for minutes or hours, there was nothing save the clock to tell him time had passed and he hadn't looked at it when they'd arrived.

 

He felt flushed and sweaty and his skin had a feel like there were things crawling on it.

 

Getting up knocked both the water and the phone off onto the floor with a crash and shatter that made his head throb again. He tried for the light near the bed and almost fell, limbs not working as they should.

 

Then he was near blinded as the connecting door opened and the room sprang to light.

 

He couldn't even be afraid, seeing Royal there, half-dressed, an expression like a summer storm on his face, twisting the usually handsome features of his face into something ugly and alien.

 

"Surprised to see you, Vin. I thought maybe you'd found some more amenable hole to climb into," Royal said.

 

"Now, Guy. It's not Vin's fault Chris has a soft spot for strays and hopeless cases," Ella's voice purred from the doorway behind Guy, sliding into the room to lean on the doorframe. "Don't take it personally."

 

"That son of a bitch threatened me. Me!" Royal said, stalking toward the bed and Vin could only lean back. "Uppity whore."

 

Christ, what had Chris done? Royal was red-faced with anger, body tense and hard and Ella was smiling like it was something she wanted to see.

 

Probably did, the bitch, Vin thought, under no illusions that in the grand hierarchy of things, Ella Gaines was way above him in the rankings of Guys' favorite toys.

 

"You like it when I get uppity," Ella reminded him on tinkle of silvery laughter.

 

"I might not be so forgiving if you start trying to lay claim to what's mine," Royal hissed at her and Ella had brains enough to take it seriously. "And you..." he glared down at Vin, then leaned in so fast, grabbing so hard at the back of Vin's neck and his forearm Vin didn't have time to resist even if he'd been capable of it. "Why don't you order us a little breakfast, Ella. Vin and I need to have a little talk."

 

"If you kill him, even your money won't protect you," Ella said, not moving but less concerned about Vin than her bank account, from the glare she shot at Royal's back.

 

"I'm not planning on it. Too much invested in him already. Close the door, Ella," Royal growled and after a moment she did so.

 

"We have an agreement, Vin," Royal said, leaning in to sit on the edge of the bed, grip shifting to the front of Vin's throat.

 

It wasn't much pressure but Vin was struggling enough to breathe as it was, and once more wished he could will himself to pass out. His heart was pounding, head aching and even tensing under that grip produced no more strength in him than a day old kitten.

 

"Haven't forgotten..." Vin gasped out, meeting the cold grey-blue of Royal's eyes. "Came back didn't I?"

 

The hand at his throat stroked rather than pressed. "Yes. Yes, you did. Smarter than I give you credit for...maybe. Was he worth it, Vin? Learn anything new? Larabee's supposed to be the best...all his 'friends' say so. Teach you a thing or two?"

 

Vin didn't answer, couldn't answer, the edges of his vision blurring again. It wasn't even so much Royal's hands on him, at his throat, sliding down his chest -- he wasn't sure he could respond to anything, even with more drugs and he sucked air at the idea that Royal might use them again, if only to punish.

 

"You know I don't mind if you get a little play time in, Vin, but...don't get too attached. So you tell me...was it good? Worth it? He looked to be good sized feller and I bet he wanted a piece of you...almost as bad as you wanted it."

 

It was taunting and cruel, Royal still touching him, fondling him, talking himself into a semblance of arousal just from the thought of it. "You should take some lessons from Ella...she's been mighty loyal...unless of course, I ask her to play elsewhere. You should remember that. You don't fuck anyone I don't tell you you can, and no one fucks you, unless I say it's okay."

 

Bile rose again as Royal's right hand insinuated itself between his legs but he didn't have to worry about choking on his own vomit as he was rolled over to his stomach.

 

Fighting wasn't even in the game book. Royal was reclaiming his rights, driven both by Vin's inability to fight back and the humiliation Chris had flung at him. And Royal was hard already, probably disturbed by the noises here when he'd been prepped and ready for Ella's attention. Vin took some cold satisfaction in thinking that Ella was probably frustrated as well.

 

Or maybe not. She could fake reaction with the best of them and at the moment, Vin couldn't have faked interest in living. It wasn't often that Royal took him this way at all: he usually wanted Vin's mouth or his hands, or only to watch...took him too long to get aroused and it was over too fast. Vin had recognized it as envy early on, even more than desire: Vin the proxy for Royal's frustrated desires and thwarted lust. But it came with a cost, a price and had gotten harder to pay in the last few months, pain as much a part of the process as pleasure.

 

This was no different but at least Royal hadn't lost all sense of perspective, or maybe he just recognized the fact that Vin would either gag or vomit if he tried to thrust his cock into his mouth.

 

Vin's fingers clawed into the bed, fighting off a shudder of both revulsion and nausea as his jeans were stripped from him and his left leg shifted upward. Spit and water were as gentle as Royal got, and the probe of a meaty finger the only warning he had.

 

He may have passed out, losing touch with the sudden push and shove inside his ass, only next noticing the steady, harsh pumping and Royal's pants of pleasure and effort. He could even be grateful in part that Royal wasn't interested in any kind of reciprocal effort, merely holding Vin as he needed to to get the best leverage for his efforts.

 

It wasn't over soon enough for Vin but it did eventually end, Royal pressing him down and breathing harshly against his neck until he softened and pulled free. "Jesus, Tanner, you stink," Guy said harshly, rolling back. "Or maybe that's Larabee I smell," he said and that thought seemed to amuse him no end. Enough to pull him to his feet and head for the bathroom. The shower started and Vin closed his eyes, not moving. He wanted no more than to lay here and block it all out.

 

Not in the cards though and he nearly did pass out again when Guy hauled him up and all but dragged him into the bathroom. He supposed in his own way, Royal might just be trying to do what as right, even if weren't prompted by either kindness or compassion -- or Vin really did smell that bad.

 

"You get cleaned up and then rest," Royal said, after Vin was under the heated water and the man handed him both soap and a washcloth. The water felt better than he expected and he ducked his head, soaking it, feeling his headache recede a little, the aches in his body starting to unwind under the warmth. Royal only watched him for a few moment, leaning back in the water, occasionally reaching out to apply soap or touch. Vin didn't even shy from that much contact. The warmth helped initially but it was making him feel weak again and dizzy, and he found himself holding onto the towel bar while Royal washed his back and between his legs.

 

Done, Vin rinsed off, Royal stepping out to gather up one of the big towels to dry himself off with. "I meant what I said, Vin. You rest. You stay here. You don't talk to anyone. Tonight you be at dinner, on your best behavior. You hear anything, anyone asks and you were drunk last night. Too much tequila...rum, whatever. Drunk and stupid," he hissed. "And you damn well stay away from Larabee unless I tell you otherwise. He wants a piece of your ass again and he is going to have to come ask me for it. Nicely," he hissed. "You hear me, boy?"

 

Vin nodded, but it wasn't enough of an answer and he found himself jerked back and pressed against the shower stall, Royal's once more flushed face contorted as he slammed Vin against the tiling. "I can damn well have Federal Marshals waiting for you on the dock, you stupid piece of ass," he snarled. "Now, do you understand me? You talk to no one and you be ready tonight."

 

Vin gulped air and gasped, feeling as if all the blood in his body were pooled at his feet. "Yes, sir," he said and only waited for Royal to let him go. It took a moment and then Guy did leave him, and the bathroom, the cabin. Vin gripped the bars in the shower to try to regain his equilibrium.

 

Stay in his room. He could do that. He'd worry about getting up to meet Royal for dinner later. Much later.

 

He found enough strength -- or will -- to turn the water off and grab for a towel, but the latter action pitched him forward again and the heaves started before he could do more than grab for the support of the towel bar again. There was so little left, it was mostly just painful, but he was left with the sour taste of juice in his mouth and an ache in his gut from the muscles spasms that kept trying to convince him that there was more to be brought up.

 

The towel was warmer and dryer and Vin pulled it around himself, wondering if he could make it to the bed. A false step forward that nearly pitched him on his face and it was too much to even contemplate. He only eased himself down, wrapped himself in the towel and rested his head against the damp tiles.

 

Marshals, more threats, Royal's unwanted attention, his own body's betrayal, and he closed his eyes and drifted, feeling unequal to dealing with any of it and wondered if it weren't too much to ask that some lesser sentence than this persistent pain and weakness be just punishment for his crimes.

 

---

The Cruise: Truth or Dare

It felt late. Chris stretched out across the bed, half asleep, feeling his muscles slide easily, back and thighs flexing to rid himself of the stiffness the night had left. He groaned softly, knowing despite his struggle from sleep, he actually hadn't gotten enough of it quite yet.

 

He needed to get up though and couldn't quite figure out why, until he stretched again.

 

And opened his eyes.

 

Vin was gone.

 

That woke him up, searching the room, glancing toward the bathroom, but the door stood open and he could hear nothing. Vin's clothes were gone too.

 

"Fuck," he said softly, sitting up, staring at the clock.

 

After ten. A few hours ago Vin had been so sick he could barely stand and yet had managed to get out of bed and out of the cabin without Chris even waking.

 

Son of a bitch. Chris didn't know whether to be pissed off or admiring. The decision itself wouldn't actually resolve anything and so he got up instead and headed for the shower.

 

Twenty minutes later he was clean, dressed, and ready to track down the aggravating Texan, get food and see if either would improve his mood. A tap on Angela's door and a check revealed his hostess already gone, out and about. He stopped by Nathan's room as well but the medic wasn't there.

 

People were already up and strolling, brunch laid out on the starboard cafe and Chris stopped long enough to get coffee before finding a table outside. A waiter brought him a plate of eggs benedict at Chris' request and a carafe of coffee, but only the coffee appealed to him even though he ate. A shadow fell across his plate and he glanced up, half-smiling at the familiar face.

 

"Taking a life of ease?" Buck Wilmington asked, grinning as he dropped into the chair across from Chris.

 

"Kind of the point of a cruise, isn't it?" Chris said. Buck slouched down, stretching long legs out to cross them at the ankles. He was wearing the most god-awful Hawaiian print shirt Chris had ever seen and a pair of cut-offs that made him look more like a beach bum than a man of leisure. Or a man of pleasure. "Where's Isabelle?"

 

"Chatting up some French professor," Buck said with a grin and had the waiter bring another cup and a shot of whiskey. "The man in question being French and a professor as opposed to..."

 

"Are they talking in French?"

 

"Sounded like it," Buck said and thanked the server, then proceeded to mix equal parts coffee and whiskey. "You look like you had a rough night," he observed, after a sip. He was still smiling, but there was seriousness to his eyes, the blue still warm but not quite so laughing.

 

"Something like that." Chris pushed his plate back.

 

"Heard there was a bit of a ruckus."

 

Chris eyed him. "Oh, yeah? And what else did you hear?"

 

"Ain't none of my business, Chris. And it isn't yours either," Buck said evenly.

 

"My business is my own."

 

"That's what I'm saying," Buck said and leaned forward, hands between his knees. "I'll grant you...what I heard...well, it stinks. Like fresh horse shit. Whatever Royal and Tanner have going, you'd do well to steer clear of it."

 

"That you're opinion or just advice?" Chris asked quietly.

 

"I know better than to give you advice," Buck said. "But you're a soft touch for a hard case and you mark me, stud. Tanner's a hard case. And Guy Royal's more trouble than you need."

 

"You think so, huh?" Chris asked feeling the first soft flare of anger.

 

Buck settled back and met Chris' glare with a shake of his head. "Don't look at me like that, Chris. You want to make time with Tanner while we're on this floating paradise, feel free. But we'll be in port in another couple of days and ain't nothing gonna come of it. You'll have twisted yourself up over nothing and wasted your time."

 

Chris gave Buck a quick, hard smile. "It's my time to waste, isn't it?"

 

Buck only rolled his eyes. "Lady Mother and all the saints, Larabee. What's your stake in this? Tanner's a hot piece of ass but you've never been one to do more than sample that side of the bed."

 

The sight of his food -- congealing eggs and sauce with a film on it already -- soured and twisted his stomach a bit and Chris tossed his napkin down to cover the mess. "Maybe he's good for my ego. It's not every fuck that passes out on me."

 

Buck gave him a grin but when Chris didn't show any signs of humor, his mustache drooped a bit as he frowned. "Heard he got sick...figured he was drunk."

 

"That's what you get for listening to rumor," Chris said, then leaned forward. "Who told you that?"

 

"It's all over the ship," Buck said. "Tanner got drunk and slipped his leash a bit with you. Royal had to hunt him down--said it happens."

 

"Son of a bitch," Chris hissed.

 

"That's not what happened, I take it?"

 

"Not hardly," Chris said. "What else?"

 

Buck hesitated, chewing on the corner of his mustache. "Not a lot. Royal's coming across like the indulgent lover...and Tanner like a greenhorn first day off the farm. Not much of anything. You're...getting a reputation as the injured party. Royal's not holding a grudge. "

 

"Nice of him. You seen Angela?"

 

"Earlier," Buck said with a nod. "She looked a little out of sorts. Late night?"

 

Chris nodded, leaning back and rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I need to find him."

 

"Royal?"

 

Chris gave a snort. "Eventually. Tanner."

 

"Might be help you there..." Buck said, finishing his coffee. "He's in his room." Chris stared at him and Buck grinned. "The kid. JD...helped him up there this morning."

 

"Helped him?"

 

"That's all he said. I figured Tanner was still nursing a drunk. You going to tell me what's going on? And why you're so pissy?"

 

"I don't like being played," Chris said softly. "You feel up to sweet-talking Ella a bit?"

 

"She likes you better," Buck said as Chris got to his feet.

 

"Yeah, but I'm in a bad mood."

 

"Which is different from most days, how?" Buck asked, getting to his feet and dancing out of Chris' reach. "I'll talk to her but you level with me…what's going on?"

 

Chris eyed him for a long moment then gave a curt nod. "All right. Let's find JD, first, and check on Vin and I'll tell you what I know…and then what I think."

 

Buck only nodded and dug his hands in his shorts pockets. "Fair enough."

 

It didn't take long to find JD, and on finding the young man, Chris found Angela and Dr. Shea as well. There were settled into deck chairs with umbrellas, drinks, Shea's companion half his age and wearing what could only be nominally called a bathing suit. Chris barely glanced at her and she was showing little interest in anything but her tan and whatever music she had playing on her headset. Angela fell uncharacteristically quiet on seeing Chris, stopping her conversation with the doctor almost mid-word. But she smiled, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Well, sleepy head, I expected to see you much earlier, or much, much later," she said with a roguish smile, sitting up a bit when Chris then Buck bent down to kiss her in greeting. "How is your Texan?"

 

Chris caught a quick red-faced glance from JD, but he ignored it, locking eyes with the youth. "Couldn't tell you. He was gone when I woke up. Buck said you saw him, JD."

 

JD nodded and suddenly both Angela and Dr. Shea were more attentive. "I was coming on duty, about seven this morning. He was…in the elevator. Asked me to help him to his room."

 

"How'd he seem?" Shea asked.

 

"On his feet but he was pretty pale and not that steady. I got him to his room, left him with the phone and water…" JD said. "Checked back a couple of hours later but Mr. Royal was there…I mean, him and Ms. Gaines were leaving. They said Vin was sleeping."

 

Shea relaxed a little. "Best thing for him although I'd still like to get some fluids in him."

 

"How long ago, JD?" Chris asked.

 

"And couple of hours ago."

 

"You seen Royal?"

 

"He's on the Lido deck," Angela said. "Richard and Elise are giving a demonstration…for those who want to take one last wild fling before we hit port," she said. "I think perhaps you and Guy should try to spend as little time as possible in each other's company," she said with a knowing smile but there was an edge under it and Chris took a short slow breath. Angela was out of sorts but he wasn't sure if she was angry at him or Royal or both of them.

 

As little as he liked it, Royal's "story" of Vin being drunk took some of the pressure off Angela -- if only because the idea of a scandal on-board wasn't something she really wanted her high profile guests to have to deal with. Someone getting drunk on a cruise was hardly worth noticing -- someone collapsing because of drugs or abuse….that wasn't something even the most jaded of her guests would want to be associated with.

 

"I just want the opportunity to talk to Vin without interruption," Chris said easily and got a warmer smile.

 

"Given that he cut out on you, maybe he doesn't have the same inclination," Buck said and Chris nodded as they took their leave.

 

"Then he can tell me that," he said, half convinced he might even abide by it. "Just tagging along?"

 

"Curious," Buck admitted and glanced back at where JD was tagging along too. He got a defiant look from the young steward.

 

"I can at least see if he needs anything," JD said and Buck only grinned. JD scowled at him. "You didn't see him this morning…" he said.

 

Chris said nothing but he wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Granted, Vin had apparently felt well enough to leave and in control enough to do so without waking Chris but JD once more looked honestly worried -- and maybe a little guilty for leaving the man as he had.

 

They reached Vin's room, Chris knocking and getting no answer. Then again.

 

"If he's as sick as you say, he'd probably dead asleep," Buck suggested and Chris almost agreed with him, ready to give it up. "You could call him later," Buck offered.

 

"Or now," JD said, heading down the hall to a phone and dialing Vin's room. Chris waited, expecting to hear it ring but heard nothing. "It's off hook," JD said, trotting back and palming his key into the electronic lock.

 

The lights were on in the small cabin and it took only a glance to take in the dislodged phone, broken glass on the floor and the mussed bed, not to mention the lingering, overripe scent of sex. There wasn't really any place Vin could be but the bathroom and Chris and Buck hit it at the same time.

 

Buck's skepticism and suspicions fled his face at the sight of Vin Tanner curled up in the corner of the shower, skin as pale as the fluffy white towel that barely covered him. The bathroom was chill and damp, and the sharp stench of vomit remained even though most of what Vin had brought up had either disappeared into the shower drain or dried on the towel.

 

"I'll get Dr. Shea," JD promised, and ducked back to the phone to call down, thinking more clearly than Chris who really had half expected to find Vin sleeping, maybe still sick, but not like this.

 

"I'll get a blanket," Buck said, backing away as Chris crouched, catching Vin's face. Even unconscious, his breathing was short and fast and wet sounding, Chris cursing softly as he pulled the towel away to exchange it for the blanket Buck brought back. Vin's skin was hot but he was shivering in the coolness of the enclosure, skin damp although Chris couldn't tell if it were sweat or just wet from the shower he'd obviously taken.

 

He half roused when Chris worked his way behind him, Buck helping to lift him up and JD clearing away the glass and stripping the bed down a little.

 

Vin struggled against them, coming half-conscious and Chris caught his hands which only produced more struggling. "Lemme' be, y'bastard," Vin snarled, putting what strength he had into a punch that might have actually done some damage to Buck had Chris allowed it to connect.

 

"Easy, Vin. It's Chris...you're all right, Tanner --" Chris spoke sharply, disproportionately glad when the blue eyes seemed to actually focus on him for a moment. "You cut out on me. I was gonna buy you breakfast..." his fingers wrapped around Vin's fist.

 

Vin tried to answer, a partial smile on his lips that faded too quickly as he swallowed, obviously fighting back another round of nausea. "Boss 's'got my mornings," Vin said.

 

"Noticed that, son," Buck said, tone gentle but he looked no more happy about it than Chris did. Vin stopped fighting, going almost boneless and they moved him to the bed as quickly as they could, trying not to jostle him too much.

 

Laying him flat produced the same kind of wet choking that Chris had first seen and he sat down to hold the other man up, Buck nodding when Vin seemed to breathe easier.

 

Dr. Shea didn't arrive alone, Angela behind him and Nathan bringing up the rear. It was eerily familiar to Chris -- only the room was smaller. It was a silent group that watched Dr. Shea examine Vin.

 

"He didn't give him more?" Angela said, voice tight and Shea shook his head.

 

"I couldn't tell you. This could just be more of the same. Drug interactions are funny things and given the amounts and the frequency of the dosages Royal described to Nathan, adding in whatever other crap he's been giving him…" Shea shrugged and looked at Angela, not Chris. "I don't have a lab here, Angela, and what I need to be sure is blood work. His pulse is acceptable, though, and his heart rate. His pressure's nearly normal. If I didn't know about the drugs I might suspect food poisoning."

 

"Andrew, I know I didn't invite you along for this, but you need to tell me. Do I call for an air-evac or can we wait?" Angela asked.

 

Shea considered it and then glanced up at Angela and finally at Nathan. "Let's see what we can accomplish with some fluids, maybe some oxygen -- that sounds like simple congestion. Nathan, you feel up to playing nurse for a bit? I'd rather not leave him alone."

 

"We can split it," Chris said. "Out of here, though. My cabin would be more comfortable both for him and whoever watches him."

 

"Chris, he can rest just as easily in the infirmary," Angela began. "I don't want you and Guy Royal--"

 

"Fuck Guy Royal," Chris snapped back. "I'm not leaving him so Royal can take care of him at his convenience -- not that his brand of care offers much to recommend it!" he said, holding up the rankly soiled sheets. He was almost as angry with Angela as he was with Royal, but not quite. The idea that Royal had used Vin when JD said Vin could barely stand up broke open something deep and painful in him and left him feeling vicious.

 

Angela's expression went from conciliatory to remote. "Tanner isn't a child, Chris. And as far as I know, he's not brain damaged either. His choice."

 

It had been and Chris couldn't deny it. He also couldn't deny his own suspicions that there was more here than just Vin's promise not to leave Royal until he was given permission. He modified his own tone. "Jesus...Angela, I'm sorry. I know what you're trying to avoid and...even protect. And I know Tanner got back here by his own choice and under his own power...but, Christ. Look at him," he said, knowing that under it all, underneath even her very real anxiety over the rest of her guests and the need to protect them, there was a soft heart.

 

Angela's eyes didn't waver from Chris' face, studying Chris with all the detachment and attention of a woman studying fabric samples. It was a standoff, the very air seeming tense.

 

"I won't make an issue of it with Royal," Chris said, half-promised. "Not unless he pushes it. But Vin needs someone to keep an eye on him and it's a damn sight more comfortable in the suite than here or in the infirmary."

 

It took her another moment before she nodded. "All right. Buck, you help Nathan get what he needs, if you would. JD...you and I are going to find Mr. Royal and inform him that his ...employee has taken ill again and that Mr. Larabee has kindly offered to care for him rather than interrupt Mr. Royal's...pleasures," she said. "Chris...you're on my time now."

 

Chris lifted his chin, almost ready to challenge that, or maybe protest the sudden change in their arrangement. "Fine," he said finally and Angela smiled. The only thing that made it bearable was that her smile was neither triumphant nor calculating, but closer to the warm smile he was used to from his former employer and sometimes lover. But it had shifted, they had shifted something between them somehow, and Chris wasn't in a place to actually address it.

 

Buck didn't demure, glancing between Chris and Angela before setting his jaw and nudging Nathan. JD and Angela left as well, leaving Chris with the doctor and with Vin who was showing signs of coming around again.

 

"Mr. Tanner..." Shea was patient and calm, giving Vin time to realize he was being spoken to and to recognize the speaker.

 

"Jeez...doc...sorry," Vin said, words almost slurred but he fought for it and Chris rubbed his back, not knowing what drove him to it or to recognize that his presence was reassuring for Tanner.

 

"Not to worry, Mr. Tanner. I need to know...have you taken anything else? Drugs? Vitamins, anything since I saw you last night?"

 

Vin shook his head, which made him wince. "No. Juice...water. Didn't stay...down."

 

"No. Apparently not," Shea said. "I'm going to give you some fluids by IV, Mr. Tanner. We're moving you back to Mr. Larabee's cabin--"

 

"No..." Vin said pushing up. "No...I can stay here. Just need to rest some more."

 

"Vin. You were unconscious," Chris said, half-angry at the denial, the refusal. "And you shouldn't be alone."

 

"I'll be fine-- just--."

 

"Mr. Tanner," Dr. Shea said flatly. "I want you to listen to me, very carefully. Our first impulse was to air evac you back to the mainland. You have been nauseated and vomiting for more than 12 hours. If it were only the drugs Mr. Royal was administering, we should have seen some improvement by now. Without blood work, the only thing I can guess is that you are having a reaction to those drugs and whatever else you've been taking regularly. Now, given the conditions we are faced with, I would be uncomfortable leaving you alone -- and Mr. Larabee has made a good case that his suite is far more comfortable for whoever is tasked with watching you than these quarters or the infirmary."

 

Chris watched Vin carefully as Shea spoke firmly and very matter-of-factly. Tanner seemed both surprised and anxious over the seriousness Shea was trying to imprint on him. He seemed to be taking it seriously, fighting for every word but even when Shea finished, he shook his head.

 

"Mr. Royal's gonna be...kinda put out," he said and Chris rolled his eyes behind Vin's head.

 

"Vin, Angela is talking to him right now...to let him know what we're doing and likely as not, she's doing it really publicly so he can't make a scene."

 

"I don't need him any madder at..." Vin started and then stopped. "He doesn't like folks making decisions for him."

 

//And you do?// Chris thought sarcastically but said nothing.

 

"Well, Mr. Royal isn't a doctor and I am," Shea said, glancing at Chris. "And I'm prescribing rest, fluids, and that Mr. Royal take good advice graciously. I advise the same for you."

 

Chris could almost see Vin trying to come up with a good argument, admiring his tenacity even while he was ready to damn the man for being so pig-headed. If not strangle him.

 

Finally though, Vin just leaned back, swallowing heavily and staring up at the ceiling. Chris didn't think it possible for him to get any paler, but he did, lips stretched thin and hard but he said nothing more.

 

Nathan and Buck returned with the gurney Nathan had used the night before and Shea got up, to talk to Nathan while Buck waited, watching Chris and Vin from the door.

 

"Vin, the floor is secure. He can't get up there unless one of lets him," Chris said, wondering if it were fear that was making Vin so stubborn.

 

"Gotta come down, sometime," Vin said, barely a whisper, eyes closing and all the fight seemingly gone out of him.

 

Chris didn't know what to say to that. It was true enough, but why Vin thought it his only answer, Chris didn't have a clue.

 

Nathan came to help move Vin and Chris surrendered his grip only to help get Vin situated before they were all headed to the elevators, Buck and Chris bringing up the rear and few guests around to see the migration.

 

"Had a bit of a chat with your medic," Buck said quietly. "You have a real gift for tangling with bastards, stud."

 

"Royal or Tanner?" Chris asked with a faint smile.

 

Buck chuckled softly. "Bit of both, I expect, but I meant Royal. You know...this means he cheated on that bet of his the other night."

 

Chris slowed his walk and glanced at Buck. "Yeah, I guess he did."

 

"Makes you wonder what else he cheats on," Buck observed and Chris turned that over in his mind thoughtfully as the elevator doors opened and they moved upward.

 

Getting Vin back in bed was the easy part and Chris and Buck headed outside to the balcony while Shea and Nathan set up the IV and got him settled.

 

"He's got something on him," Chris said softly.

 

Buck nodded, folding his arms to be able to look down at he decks below them. "Yeah. I'd think so, unless Tanner is just a seriously twisted masochist."

 

"It crossed my mind," Chris admitted with a smile. "Too much pride."

 

Buck snorted. "You'd know. But you haven't told me yet, why Tanner? JD said you helped him out of a pickle too, but I don't see you hot to pull down that boy's pants."

 

"I like my pants legal at the very least," Chris said sourly and kicked at the railing. "Couldn't tell you, Buck. Half the time I think it's just cause Royal pisses me off so. But if that's true...I may be making Tanner's situation worse -- using him because Royal annoys me."

 

"You might be at that," Buck said, quietly. "But I'll tell you this much -- if you really had it in for Royal, if that was any part of this, you wouldn't be using Tanner to get to him. You're a lot of things, pard, but that's not the way you fight. You mark my words, though, Chris. I'd bet that's exactly how Royal fights. He plays to win. Which means you need to watch your back -- cause he will use Tanner, Angela, Ella, anyone he can."

 

"I don't know what we're fighting about," Chris said on a heavy sigh. "Hell, I don't know that there is a fight. Whichever, but it'll be over in a couple of days...we'll hit port and I never have to see the slimy bastard again."

 

Buck gave him a look then stared out at the ocean. "You aren't that stupid, Chris."

 

Chris didn't answer him but deep in his gut, he knew Buck was right.

 

"Chris." Shea called him and he went back inside.

 

Nathan had the IV bag hooked onto the wall sconce next to the bed and Vin was propped up to half sitting by pillows. His eyes were open but he refused to look at Chris. Chris set his shoulders and followed the doctor into the hall.

 

"I've left instructions with Nathan. I'm half tempted to give Tanner a sedative but..." he held up a hand when Chris bristled. "I'll wait. See how he does on the fluids."

 

"That'll help?"

 

Shea shrugged then nodded. "It might. That's a low grade fever. Chills. His body's fighting off something that could as easily be a viral infection as drug toxicity. He's dehydrated on top of everything else. I looked at the pills JD brought last night. Herbal mixtures don't tend to work like pharmaceutical combinations -- their effects are cumulative, but some of those I saw, if he's been taking them for awhile, they can build up surprising toxicity levels. Most of them are water soluble: he'll piss or sweat them out. That gash on his side has me worried too, but I didn't see anything in the meds that could account for it -- no blood thinners. Nathan knows to check it if it starts bleeding again," He hesitated, glancing back at his patient. "I really am guessing at this, Chris. We'll keep an eye on him, give it another twenty-four after the fluids. We'll be closer to port then. You look like you could use some sleep too."

 

Chris gave him a quick smile. "I probably could. Thanks for this, doc. Not what you signed up for on this cruise."

 

Shea gave him an odd look and a half-smile. "I don't stop being who I am when I come on this cruise. Besides, Angela gives me a discount if I get called up," he said with a wink.

 

He moved off and Chris leaned against the door, watching Nathan pull another blanket over Vin who was now shivering instead of sweating. Buck was inside as well, giving Tanner his own version of a once over although he didn't seem to be having he same kind of thoughts Chris kept tripping over.

 

He wanted to believe Vin's color was better, but he figured it was more trick of the light. Then he tensed and entered the room again as Vin just seemed to collapse in on himself. Nathan glanced up when Chris hovered near the bed.

 

"Out again. Pressure's a little low but not dangerous. I think he's exhausted more than anything," he said in a calm, reassuring voice.

 

"He been passing out like that all along?" Buck asked and Nathan nodded.

 

"Pretty much although more warning than last night and he's sleeping now," he added. "I'm gonna get some stuff from my room, but I'll be back, quick," Nathan said.

 

"I can stay with him, Nathan," Chris said. "It was my idea."

 

Nathan shrugged. "It's all right. I'm just gonna get some books to read. Probably just as well I stay here. I'm thinking I might have a few words for Mr. Royal myself -- but I think Mrs. Redding has enough on her hands with just you and him going at it." There was humor in the brown eyes but he was serious as well. "Fluid's on a slow drip. Gonna take awhile."

 

Chris nodded and Nathan left them. Buck looked a little indecisive.

 

"Aren't you working?" Chris finally asked him.

 

Buck grunted and nodded. "Yeah. I should probably find Isabelle, but if you need me, Chris..."

 

Chris nodded and patted his arm. "I know. Keep your ears open, Buck."

 

"And my eyes. You and Angela going to be all right?" he asked quietly when Chris walked him to the door.

 

Chris leaned his forehead on the wall for a moment. "Yeah. Eventually. Bad position for her to be in...but you know her, Buck. She's a decent human being."

 

"Yes, she is, and pretty damn fond of you. Don't fuck that up, Chris," he warned and gripped the back of Chris' head and gave him a little shake before leaning in to give him a buss on the forehead. "Keep it loose, stud."

 

"You too, Buck," Chris said and closed the door behind him. He almost didn't want to look at Vin, aggravated and annoyed at the man, if not the situation and wondering if he hadn't lost his mind after all. He was well on his way to alienating one of his oldest friends, another friend looked at him like he already had lost his mind -- Buck was rarely subtle -- and all for a man he barely knew and who had made it clear he didn't really want Chris' help.

 

Only Chris wasn't sure that was true, his mind reaching back to the conclusion he'd reached in the companionway: listening to what Vin had to say wasn't necessarily the best way to know what he wanted.

 

He sat on the end of the bed, within reach but didn't touch. Vin had fought being brought out of the shower until he recognized Chris. He'd tried to talk them out of moving him, but he'd leaned heavily against Chris, even pressed back a little when Shea was laying out the risks for him. He kept turning to Chris in subtle ways that said the exact opposite thing his mouth was. Chris wasn't sure Vin was even aware of it -- he was having a hard enough time trying to keep functioning.

 

He trusted Chris: everything about him said so and Chris had no more explanation for that than anything else.

 

"I got pie on my face?"

 

Chris brought his head up, meeting the blue eyes, open once more. "No. No pie. How're you feeling?"

 

"I think I'm gonna get tired of answering that question since you never believe me," Vin said.

 

Chris grinned at that. "Well, telling me you're fine as you fall on your face, makes you a little difficult to believe and a really bad liar."

 

"I'll practice," Vin said and laid his head back on the piled pillows. "Never quite pegged you for the nursemaid type, Larabee."

 

Chris nodded. "Never quite pegged you as either a liar or stupid, Vin."

 

The flush on Vin's face had nothing to do with his fever and he glared. "Fuck you."

 

"I think that's what got us into this mess," Chris said, trying to lighten it a little. He hadn't really intended to make Vin angry or make fun of him.

 

Vin shoved the blankets back and rolled to his side. "If that's what you want have at it and then leave me alone."

 

Chris could only stare, shocked by Vin's reaction and angry too, a little, at himself. He felt sick, to see Vin laying there, bared and tense, but Chris had no doubt that he half expected Chris to take advantage of the offer -- which said more about Vin's state of mind than his actual opinion of Chris, Chris suspected. He moved up on the bed and pulled the blankets up.

 

"You're a prickly bastard," he accused softly, smoothing the blankets over Vin's shoulder.

 

Vin closed his eyes and relaxed a little. "Yeah. Not fit for decent folk. Sorry." The last was said softly, the apology almost a whisper only Chris didn't know if were Vin apologizing for his tactless offer or for not being "fit for decent folk." As before, he reached across to rub Vin's back, felt the man relax further by degrees.

 

Yup, listening to Vin only confused him, but watching him, touching him, seeing how he acted and reacted...far more truth there.

 

"You can stay here until we dock," Chris offered.

 

"Need to be at dinner tonight."

 

"We'll see what Dr. Shea says."

 

"No...no, Chris, listen to me," Vin said, half rolling to his back. He took a deep breath and he looked totally wiped out, Chris suddenly aware of just how bad Vin did look. JD had every right to be worried. His skin was cool again and damp, face pale and bruised by fatigue and the hand that rested on Chris' forearm wasn't steady at all. "It's not that I don't 'preciate what you've done...I know Guy can be an ass, and a bastard when he wants to be but...it's what it is. And what...I've got. What I am. Just leave it alone."

 

Chris covered his hand carefully. "Can't do that, cowboy."

 

"Won't."

 

"Maybe," Chris allowed. "Vin..." he struggled for it, hadn't had time to put it together in his head yet. "There's better for you. Let me help you find it. Royal doesn't have any way to keep you from choosing differently," he said, knowing it was a lie and hoping Vin would show him, tell him how much of a lie it really was.

 

Vin closed his eyes and pulled his hand away, closing himself off and Chris out. "I've told you what I chose. And who. Leave it and me alone," he said on barely a breath and Chris rocked back slowly.

 

Watching as Vin pulled back further, physically, emotionally -- and Chris got up, put his back to him and stared out the sliding glass doors.

 

There was no part of "No" he didn't understand...but even as he heard Nathan come in and turned to greet him, he was more convinced than ever that Vin's "no" meant something else entirely.

 

But he wasn't going to get answers from Vin, which left him with only one other source.

 

"All right," he said softly to himself, knowing he was risking Angela's regard and her anger. "Nathan, I'll check back," he said and got a nod and an odd look from the medic.

 

"We got enough trouble, Chris," Nathan said softly. "So does he," he added nodding toward Vin.

 

Chris gave a grunt of laughter. "I'm not looking for trouble, Nathan."

 

"Uh huh," Nathan said skeptically and sat down next to the bed in a chair. "You might want to talk to Mrs. Redding."

 

"Oh, I plan to," Chris said and grabbed his light jacket.

 

And then he'd find Guy Royal and get the answers he wanted, that he needed.

 

Glancing back at Vin he frowned and chewed on his lip. Right after he figured out why it was so damned important to him.

 

==========================

 

Angela Redding sat near the window in the starboard Fiesta lounge, watching the deck below, barely shifting position when she saw Chris Larabee emerge and lean over the rail.

 

Buck didn't have the same restraint, leaning forward to look at his friend, then back at Angela. "You still mad at him?"

 

"Not mad, no," she said and smiled at Buck. "It'd be nice if just once, he'd do what I expected."

"What you expected or what you want?" Buck asked her and Angela gave him a little glare. He only smiled at her. "He hasn't changed that much, Angel."

 

"No, I suppose not. You'd think I'd be happier about this. I've been waiting to see it for a long time."

 

"I know what you mean," Buck said softly, watching his friend as well. Chris looked tense and distracted, shoulders' hunched and staring outward where the ocean met the sky and nothing much to see. Maybe forever. "Leave it to Larabee to make falling in love the hardest thing on the planet rather than the easiest."

 

Angela gave a small snort. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one to see it."

 

Buck nodded, a frown on his face as he leaned forward to clasp his hands between his knees. "This could...hell, probably will, end up badly. Chris thinks Royal has something on Tanner."

 

"So do I," Angela said quietly and glanced at Buck with an expression that brought Buck to sitting upright. He'd seen that look on Angela Redding's face before and it boded no good for somebody. He waited but she offered nothing else. "You keep an eye on him, Buck. Let me worry about the rest, hmm?"

 

"I always look out for him," Buck said.

 

"I know," she said and reached across the table to catch his large hand in her smaller one. "Even more now...because he could lose this, Buck, even before he knows what it is he's got. And I don't know Tanner well enough to call it."

 

"Or Royal." He squeezed her hand.

 

"Oh, I think I know Guy Royal well enough," she said and her voice was icy.

 

"Angela, darlin'," Buck said. "You just remember...you got folks worrying about you too. Including that ass down there."

 

Her expression eased and she leaned forward to kiss Buck lightly on the mouth. "I know it, honey, but I've been at this a long time, and as much as Guy Royal may not like people messing with what he sees as his, when people fuck with things that are mine... Well, you know what they say: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned -- or underestimated." She stroked fingers through his hair and headed out, leaving Buck to lean back and keep an eye on Chris as he moved along the deck.

 

"Or a woman in love," he said softly to himself, losing sight of Chris but not really seeing him any longer anyway. "I hope you know what you're doing, pard. And what you might be throwing away."

 

---

The Cruise: Negotiations

"What have you got on him, Royal?" Chris asked softly, sipping at his whiskey and staring over the railing at the wide expanse of sea and sky.

 

Guy Royal braced his hands on the railing and took a deep breath, the silver-white waves of his hair lifted by the steady breeze. "Enough. Told you, didn't he? That he was coming back. To me."

 

"That's what he said," Chris murmured, still reeling under it, at Vin's refusal, at the blankness in his eyes when Chris' temper had risen. "I still want to know why. He doesn't like you, Royal, and you sure as hell don't seem to care about him, one way of the other."

 

"I'm wounded, Mr. Larabee. Mr. Tanner is of great worth to me. He's a fine employee, one of the best cowhands I've ever hired. Can track a coyote or a wetback across stark, blinding desert, rope a calf…drive a herd, fix a fence. As well as his other more appreciable talents. You know: the ones you've become so enamored of," Royal said, openly grinning at Chris but the pale blue eyes were cold and glassy.

 

"You've nearly killed him. Not exactly proof of your regard," Chris spat out, finishing his whiskey, and tossing the glass overboard. "It can't be just that he's a good lay. Man of your money and influence could have pretty much anyone in your bed you wanted. And be far less likely to spit in your eye than Tanner is."

 

Royal threw his head back and laughed. "He does have spirit, don't he? Barely housebroke… more like a wild thing than a man, but I like that about him, don't you?" Guy asked, that sly conspiratorial tone back. "Some wild things just need to be broken to a firm hand. Some of them beg for it…" he leaned close to Chris. "Did he beg you for it, Larabee? Ask you to give it to him hard?" Royal's hand landed on Chris shoulder and it was all Chris could do to keep from once more laying the man out with his fists. Guy Royal did like to talk, and given enough lead, he might actually say something that would give Chris a clue to what was going on. But listening to Royal was making him sick. The more he talked, the more Vin retained his stubborn silences, the more Chris came to believe there was very little about any of this that was consensual, if legal.

 

Which was damn murky area for him to be wandering into.

 

Royal's arm crept across his shoulder. "If he didn't get down on his knees and beg you for it, I'll have to have a talk with him, let him show you how pretty he can ask for it…he may not have done it for you, but…" Guy chuckled. "He does what I tell him to… it's a sight to see, all that pride and spirit at your feet, asking for it. But then, you might know a thing or two about that as well, wouldn't you, Chris? Can I call you Chris?" he asked.

 

"Fuck you," Chris snarled, unable to take the man's words and certainly not his touch. He twisted and snapped his arm back, hooking it around Royal's arm and jerking the man back and around until his back hit the railing. Still keeping his grip on Royal's arm, his fingers closed around the man's throat, forcing him to arch over the rail, Chris' knee wedged against his crotch, quite ready to dump the piece of slime overboard. "Maybe you should call me, 'sir'," Chris said, leaning into him and smiling when Royal gasped in pain. "Or maybe we should end this conversation right here. Now you talk to me, *Mr.* Royal, or I'll dump you over with the rest of the garbage."

 

He pushed.

 

"Murder!" Royal gasped out when his feet left the decking. "I'm…keeping him from a murder charge!"

 

Chris didn't know what he had expected but it wasn't this. He jerked Royal down again, but just barely. "Spit it out…" he commanded.

 

"He's…he's got a temper. Told you he was wild!" Royal said. "I had trouble with a local rancher…Cattle running on my land. Vin and another hand went over to return the cows, warn him to keep off my land. Vin lost his temper…killed the old man. Probably an accident but…that's it. I kept the evidence that would get him convicted from getting to the authorities. He owes me! And he knows it!" Royal squeaked when Chris tightened his grip on Royal's throat again.

 

Chris eased up, just a little. "And so he lets you do this to him? Give me a better story!"

 

"No! This…got out of hand. You've seen him, when he's that wired, that fired up…you can't tell me it doesn't thrill you a little, Larabee. I've watched you. I got carried away showing him off, that's all. We get back on shore and I'll make sure he gets the right care. It’s not going to happen again."

 

Chris was listening, not sure how much of this was the truth, not willing to trust anything Royal said, but God, if it were true… "And you're covering for him out of the goodness of your heart?" he asked, shaking the man a little.

 

Royal hesitated but then his face darkened. "Hell no. But it was a stupid thing, more accident than intent. I'd wanted him before that, but he'd turned me down…worked for me, flashing those blue eyes and that tight ass. He came to me first, scared out of his mind. And he should be…Texas still has the death penalty, Mr. Larabee, and even if Tanner sat on death row for years…you tell me how long you think he'd last in prison, in jail. I get caught at this and I could lose everything. So he owes me. Big. For as long as I want to collect. And I'm not done with him yet. This…whether you believe me or not -- I never meant for this to make him sick. I've never given him so much so often and I won't again. Having him drop dead from a drug overdose is not something I want attached to my name any more than Jess Kincaid's murder," he said flatly and dared to reach over and pull Chris' hand free.

 

Chris let him go and gave Royal a cold smile as the man took a couple of steps away, rubbing his throat and then his arm.

 

"I don't give up what's mine easily, Larabee, and you'd best remember that. And Tanner *is* mine, until I decide otherwise."

 

"You could get nailed for obstructing a murder investigation," Chris said. "There's no statute of limitations on it…it wouldn't take more than a phone call."

 

"I could," Royal said and the sneer was back. "I might get fined, maybe even a few years, but Tanner…he'd do time. Jail. Prison." Royal took a step closer, eyes glittering like ice, his fear once more washed away by anger. "You keep it in mind if you're tempted to make that phone call. I didn't kill Jess Kincaid, I just protected an employee. I've saved his ass once. I won't do it again and he makes it to jail, he makes it prison, and that fine ass you want a piece of won't be anything more than bloodied meat by the time the other inmates get done with him. Man as pretty as that, nice body, sweet smile. He'll be lucky if they let him up long enough to eat a meal. He'll be somebody's girlfriend before the end of the first day --- that is, if the guards don't take a shine to him first. Or he'll fight," he warned softly, his voice low and coarse with threat. "And cheat the electric chair that way. If they let him get himself killed. But I ask you, Mr. Larabee, would you?" He smiled then, playing Chris' obvious concern like an ace.

 

Chris wanted to hit him again. There might be a grain of truth in this whole thing after all -- it would explain a lot: why Vin stayed, why he hadn't run off already, what he could be so afraid of that Guy Royal was the better choice. And what little else Vin had let slip did indicate it wasn't always like this. He did work the ranch, had a certain amount of freedom. As long as he was available when Royal wanted him, the other man didn't seem to care much what he did.

 

Vin was like a dog trained to run off leash and come at his master's call. That analogy didn't make Chris any less nauseated than the knowledge that Royal kept him drugged when on display, had.

 

"Of course, given the right motivation, I might be willing to let him slip a little, cut him loose," Royal said and Chris glared at him.

 

"How much?" he asked, flat and hard, doubting it would do anything to help Vin, but he needed to know more.

 

"Money? You insult me, Chris! Can't put a price on a thing like this -- not a price paid in cash," he added, leaning against the rail, and Chris felt his anger rise up again as Royal's eyes raked over his body, slowly, appraisingly. "Angela tells me you're retiring. Leaving all them lovely, rich women to their own devices. Disappointing the ladies isn't a very nice thing to do. And I hear you like your comforts."

 

"I'm thinking my career plans aren't really something you're that interested in, Royal," Chris said.

 

"Oh, but you'd be mistaken about that, Larabee. I like fine things...collect them you might say," Royal said, and Chris stared at him, half-guessing where this was going and feeling a little off his stride about it. This was all a game to Royal -- a dangerous one -- but it was like watching Ezra Standish play high-stakes poker. It wasn't just about the money, it was about the winning. And for Royal it was about status -- a darkly secret status known only too a few and Chris could only wonder at who the hell it was that Royal was trying to impress.

 

"Fine man like you, well educated. I like the fire in you, Chris," Royal said, half laughing at him. "So maybe we could work something out...you and me. You're looking for a bit of a lifestyle change, and I can give you that. Ever worked a big ranch, Larabee? Big business and you've got the brain for it...could come sign on as foreman, handle the hands...Even Tanner," he said, tone a laughing purr.

 

The man was delusional, Chris thought but at the same time, he was getting that Royal was half serious. "Want me to be another notch on your cock, Royal?" Chris asked, lip curling up in something like a smile but closer to a sneer.

 

Royal chuckled, but his eyes were cold again, hard, his gaze assessing. "We play in different circles than other folk, Larabee. And you've never been anything but the door prize. Playing sweet lover to the ladies, lonely women, who've got more money than sense. But you've got something...purely pitiful the way they are all sighing because you're retiring from the field. Ungrateful, I'd call it, after they've padded your bank account more in five years than you could ever have made in a lifetime of real work."

 

"Feel free to hire yourself out anytime, Royal," Chris said, refusing to be baited by something so base. "You're a good-looking man, got land and influence. Could almost have any of them, with or without taking money for it...that is, if you could get it up at all," he said, taking a shot and felt gratified when Royal's face flushed.

 

Oh, God, it made a kind of sick sense. The drugs had never originally been meant for Vin. Royal was the one with a problem...

 

Chris took a careful breath, not sure the picture this painted was any better. Vin had been so tight, so firm -- not an ass used to be regularly fucked by someone Royal's size. But he'd drugged him, used him...and if Angela was right and the little display Royal had put on the other night were par for the course...

 

Murder. It was starting to look like a good idea -- and not just for Vin but because men like Royal should be put down, like the mad dogs they were.

 

And now he had set his sights on Chris -- and Chris was all too aware, watching the anger in Royal's face turn his skin ruddy -- that Royal was serious. Not so much because he wanted Chris for sex or as a partner or even to show up with the latest prize in the battle of the too rich and too bored leashed to his status -- but because Chris had defied him, snubbed him, generally made it clear he didn't like him. And he'd done it in front of the people that had the power to make or break his status in the social circles he played in.

 

He may have played his wild card too soon. "Might want to watch that attitude, Mr. Larabee," Royal hissed at him, pulling himself up to his full height and he stood and inch or so taller than Chris. He was a coward, but Chris had no doubts the man could get brutal if he was angered enough. "You aren't any better than a well-paid whore and I'm thinking a few phone calls of my own might land you in more trouble than you really need. Or want," he said and Chris met his gaze without flinching, which angered Royal more.

 

They locked gazes for a long moment before Royal took a step back, another smile on his lips that made Chris' blood run cold, though he fought to show nothing. "Maybe more trouble than...someone else needs... or could handle. Someone who doesn't have your... connections. Local jail near my ranch isn't known to be that friendly," he said, voice oily soft. "Don't much care for criminals of any kind. Thieves...a few days there and Vin might better appreciate what it is I offer him."

 

"You're a sick bastard."

 

"And you're an uppity whore, Larabee. But I can be persuaded to overlook that failing. And you'd get paid," he said on a low laugh. "Tanner could be your bonus for work well done. And who knows, Chris," he said and reached out run his hand along Chris jaw. Chris grabbed Royal's wrist before he could be touched. Royal only grinned and didn't try to pull free. "Who knows, Larabee. I might even fuck you now and again...maybe even Vin. Would you like that? Have you both. You could drill that ass of his and I could have yours, maybe all together. That'd be fun, wouldn't it?" he said and started laughing, his eyes halfway to crazy and Chris let him go.

 

"You could end up dead, Royal," Chris hissed at him.

 

"I could...might get hit by a bus," Royal said still laughing. "And when I do, Larabee, Tanner will go to prison...you can visit him once a month, what's left of him," he said and Chris tensed, ready to carry through his threat.

 

"You think on it, Chris. Life's not so bad. Ask Tanner. I don't ask much of him...I just expect...obedience," he said and backed up, heading for the stairs still laughing.

 

Chris couldn't do anything, breathing hard for a long moment until Royal was gone then turning to grip the rail and squeeze his eyes shut.

 

God. Damn. It.

 

He'd made it worse. Much worse. For Vin if no one else, because this wasn't a bargain to get him away from Royal any longer, this was a battle for his life -- every bit as dire as the one he was fighting alone in Chris' cabin.

 

And God, he'd sworn, Chris had sworn to himself that he'd never care this much again. He could still walk away. Chances were Royal wouldn't kill Vin or turn him over to the authorities. He might even get tired of him some day and let him go.

 

Or decide he knew too much and arrange an accident of his own.

 

It wasn't his problem and he certainly wasn't obligated to whore himself out over it. Not again. That wasn't why he did this, why he'd ever picked up this business. It had been about making his choices.

 

And if Vin really had killed that rancher, didn't he deserve what he got? Was he any better than the people who had killed Sarah and Adam?

 

That pain flared hot and deep inside him and he stared at the ocean, fighting back the agony that threatened to take him over again.

 

It took long minutes and he was stiff from gripping the railing so tight, from holding himself together. But he was calmer. Angry still, but clearer headed.

 

He doubted the man who had stepped off a sidewalk to help a total stranger was the kind of man to kill another in a flash of anger. He wanted to believe Vin was that better man. Needed to believe it...but if it were true...if it had been accidental, even...

 

Then Vin Tanner was on his own and both he and Guy Royal be damned.

 

---

The Cruise: Answers

Chris took a long walk before returning to his cabin, needing to calm down after his talk with Royal. His confrontation with Royal. He needed the time to make sure he wouldn't buy anything Vin Tanner told him without question. That took more effort than he wanted it too. Maybe because Royal was a slimy pile of garbage and an asshole and Vin Tanner...wasn't.

 

But it didn't make him any more honest than the next man and a murder charge...people had gone to great lengths to avoid less than that.

 

He kept to the upper decks, walking the length as it got darker. There were a few people on deck, but most of them were inside, either at the sombrero party or off making their own entertainment.

 

He opened the door quietly, slipping inside and caught Nathan's eye. A glance at the bed showed Vin still asleep although on his side this time, without the IV, and Chris raised an eyebrow at that.

 

"Doctor Shea came by. Wants to see how he takes the first liter before giving him more," Nathan said quietly, almost a whisper. "He's breathing better though."

 

"Been awake?"

 

"In and out," Nathan said glancing at the bed. "Running high as he's been, I'm not surprised he crashed so hard."

 

"So we wait?"

 

"Shea wants to give it 24 hours. I'll give him more fluids in the morning. See if I can't get him to eat something."

 

"You could probably eat something too. I'll sit with him, if you think it's all right."

 

Nathan took time to think about it then nodded. "Should be. I'll go to the staff dining room so if you need me, you can find me. Talked to Mrs. Redding?"

 

"Just when she was downstairs," Chris said. "She's not real happy at the moment."

 

"No, I 'spose not. There's juice there and water, if he wakes up and wants something. He can get up if he feels up to it. There's coffee there for you if you want it but not for him. No stimulants of any kind if we can help it."

 

Chris glanced at the table where the promised liquids waited and patted Nathan's arm. "Go on. We'll be okay."

 

"Try not to let him get excited," Nathan said seriously, then he left, closing the door behind him. Chris stood there for a long moment, not looking at Vin or anything much, but when he raised his eyes, Vin had shifted on the bed, more on his back once more. It was reassuring that his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm rather than the struggling for the unsteady gasps for breath Chris had witnessed earlier. His tan looked less sallow as well, or maybe it was a trick of the light. Nathan had them low, but not out.

 

He poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into the chair Nathan had vacated, almost wishing he dared wake Vin, just so he could ask him and get rid of the aggravating morass of doubt and suspicion in his head. It was giving him a headache.

 

He half wished he'd thrown Royal overboard. He'd been close.

 

His eyes shifted from his contemplation of his coffee cup to Vin again. Well, he had Tanner in his bed again but this wasn't exactly what Chris had in mind. He let his gaze drift, oddly glad that there was no obvious bulge at Vin's crotch, wondering again how the sight of it had gone from exciting him to making him ache in sympathy in just a few short hours. Context was everything.

 

Vin shifted again and Chris studied him, finally realizing the other man was becoming more and more restless: dreaming, nightmares or discomfort -- Chris didn't know, but he moved to the bed and repeated his actions of earlier. Vin's fingers curled around his lightly, holding on, still asleep and he sighed softly when Chris pushed his hair off his face.

 

He felt warmer too, some of the bruising seemed to have faded so maybe whatever Shea had given him and the fluids actually were helping.

 

"Haven't held hands with anyone since high school," the soft voice said, breaking his concentration. He met Vin's gaze. "And that was with a gal." Vin didn't pull his hand away. If anything, his grip became more firm. He seemed to be fighting to focus on Chris' face, though, or fighting to stay awake.

 

"You want some water or something?" Chris said, pulling his hand away, to reach for the pitcher and glass.

 

"Yeah. That'd be good," Vin said and managed to push himself up on the pillows enough to take the glass and sip it, slowly, testing his stomach's ability to hold it down or just letting the cold water ease the scratchy sound to his throat. "I could probably go back to my own room."

 

"You're fine where you are, Vin," Chris said. "You need rest."

 

"Don't like putting you out," Vin said and took a large swallow of the water.

 

"You aren't," Chris said and leaned across him again, taking a breath. Vin could slip into sleep or unconsciousness again so easily. "Had a little chat with Royal."

 

The fine features tightened, Vin's jaw clenching. "Bet that was real interesting," he said and twisted to set the glass down. Chris took it from him and refilled it, but left it on the night stand.

 

"Revealing," Chris said.

 

"Chris..." Vin leaned back, jaw still set and something that could have been concern clouding the blue eyes. "Don't fuck with, Royal. He may be a candy-assed bastard, but he's got plenty of fella's who'd mess you up just for the fun of it. And he never forgets anything. He'll ease off once we get back."

 

"You're still going back with him?" Chris asked.

 

"Leave it, Larabee. I got my reasons and they ain't none of your business," Vin said, a brief flash of anger showing in his eyes, rising on his cheeks.

 

"One of those reasons being the murder of Jess Kincaid?" Chris asked, never taking his eyes from Vin's face.

 

Vin took a breath, sharp and deep like Chris had gut punched him, and Chris wasn't sure what to make of it. "Royal tell you that?"

 

"I persuaded him," Chris said. "Tell me I'm not going to have to work so hard to get it from you."

 

"Get what? A confession? Fuck you, Larabee," Vin hissed, and pushed upward, trying to sit.

 

No quick denials. No explanations: Vin looking like he was trapped by something other than the sheets tangled around his hips.

 

"How about just what happened? Royal said he thought it was an accident," Chris said, not allowing Vin to do more than sit up.

 

"Accident my ass," Vin said softly and let his head drop for a moment before lifting it and pushing his hair back. "What did he tell you?"

 

"Why don't you tell me your side first?"

 

Vin hesitated. "I need to get up."

 

Chris leaned back a little but watched him warily, saw Vin's eyes narrow.

 

"It's a fucking ship, Larabee. Where am I gonna go? I haven't put up with Royal for two years just so I could throw myself in the ocean."

 

Chris nodded and shifted off the bed, giving Vin a few moments of struggling to get the blankets pulled back and his legs over the side. He was shaking again by the time he had his feet on the floor, and notably paler. "Cold?" Chris asked while Vin breathed through whatever pain or weakness nagged him. He was as bare as the day he was born. The only part of him covered was his side where the patch of gauze stood out starkly against tanned skin. He shook his head. "I'm fine."

 

Even waiting for Vin to get his bearings, Chris noticed he was tanned all over, no lines. A few marks and scars but no more than he'd expect from someone who worked a ranch. Vin gripped the edge of the bed and pushed himself upward to his feet, almost falling over before Chris caught him.

 

"Damn it," he hissed softly, embarrassed by his weakness.

 

 

It was only dozen steps, and Chris would have taken more of Vin's weight but the other man fought for his balance and to walk on his own, even without trying to pull away from Chris' support.

 

For Chris it was like a new kind of torture. Vin was a warm solid weight against his side, the skin under his hands soft and smooth. Vin's scent, tangled up in the medicinal odors of alcohol and antibiotic cream, still came through strongly: musk and sweat, clean skin, something like woodsmoke or sage. Unsteady as he was, the muscles in Vin's back and along his sides slid smoothly under Chris' hands. No stranger to desire, Chris was still a little startled by just how strong his reaction to Vin was.

 

Maneuvering Vin into the bathroom, Chris flipped the toilet seat up for him and stepped back.

 

"I think I can handle it," Vin said.

 

"I think if you fall over, Nathan will have my ass," Chris shot back and thought he saw a spark of humor in Vin's eyes.

 

Vin did his best to ignore him and then there was a reason for him to concentrate on other things. Another hiss of pain escaped him as reddish-orange urine escaped his cock, and his whole body clenched, Chris grabbing for him as gently as he could, feeling the deep shudders in the slim frame. Vin's fingers dug into his arm where it rested across his waist, even after he was done. "Nathan ...warned me," Vin managed to mumble out, not even protesting when Chris wiped him dry, then turned on the tap at the sink, all without letting go of Vin. He was seriously afraid Vin would collapse again and all his anger at Guy Royal resurfaced -- along with his frustration.

 

He fought it back, waiting until Vin was steady enough to bend over the sink to wash his hands and splash water on his face, before resuming his grip at waist and shoulder to guide Vin back to the bed. This time he did take more of Vin's weight, wondering if he'd get the answers he wanted as he helped the man lay down again. Vin was wiped out: mouth tight-pinched in pain, resting on his back with one knee raised.

 

"I didn't kill him," Vin said, so softly Chris almost missed it. "I'm pretty sure..." His voice was no more than a breath and Chris caught possibly the first unguarded look on Vin's face he'd ever seen.

 

Doubt and fear, some anger there too and a wounded look that cut deep. "Tell me, Vin. What you know? He says he's got evidence to prove you did it."

 

Vin swallowed and nodded. "Enough to make the cops check it out and make it stick...I don't have any way to prove I didn't do it, Chris."

 

"Tell me," Chris said again, pulling the sheets up and letting his fingers rub along Vin's upper arm. "I'm not sure Royal would know the truth if it bit him," he added, hoping some show of support would loosen Vin's tongue. "He said Kincaid was running cattle on his land."

 

Vin nodded, met his eyes. "He was. Happened a dozen times. Every time the creek would swell, the damn posts would come down and a few head would cross over. Fence was Kincaid's. It had been going on for awhile, even before I signed on as a hand. Royal kept telling him to replace the damn thing, use tension wire instead, but Jess, he knew how to build one kind of fence: post and wire. Told Royal if he wanted a better fence, he could build it his own self. Jess...he was a crotchety old coot. Mean as hell, just as soon spit at you as look at you. And he had Royal in a fix of sorts. Had the water rights on that side of the spread, wouldn't lease them, just let Guy have them...out of the goodness of his heart." He let loose a dry chuckle and Chris smiled and offered him another sip of water when Vin licked his lips. "Guy finally did it. Put the fence in. I think Jess wanted it all along. But we had a storm and the tension wire went down too. Weaning season. Had a hell of a time cutting the herds apart and at the end of it...well, I think Jess actually had a few more head than he started with. But the calves were unbranded. He put his own fence back up."

 

"I guess that didn't sit too well with Royal."

 

Vin snorted. "Not hardly. I mean, cattle thieving still bad news, but Jess maybe got a half dozen calves. Had them tagged and branded before we even realized we were missing any. Guy and Jess had a few not so polite words before Jess chased him off with a shotgun."

 

"Bad blood all around."

 

"I 'spose, but Jess Kincaid...his spread was a fourth the size of the Bar R. He had a couple of hands and more he'd take on seasonally: for calving and branding. I worked for him during branding season right before I signed on with Royal. He was barely making ends meet, I'd think. Hanging on because he's old and stubborn. No family. Just that land and those steers."

 

There was a tone to Vin's voice that Chris hadn't really expected to hear. Respect, admiration even. Wrong or right, Vin had admired the old man's guts.

 

"Next time the creek ran high, we were back to square one. Royal called up Jess and told him to come get his own damn cows -- wasn't wasting the men or time to cut them back out again. Jess told him he'd better have his cows back by sundown, or he'd call the county sheriff and turn Royal in for rustling. Wouldn't have stuck but it would have been a pain. Royal was madder than a nest of hornets. Jess didn't have the hands to do it, but I didn't know that then. So, Royal had me and Eli Joe cut the animals out and take them back, but he wanted us to tell him that if it happened again it would be Royal who called the cops. He'd have done it too, just to rile the old man. Could have gotten him fined... Don't know that Jess could have made it without selling stock off season."

 

"So you and Eli Joe took the cattle back."

 

Vin nodded. "Drove them to his back pasture and came back by the house to let him know they were back and what Royal had said. Jess was pretty mad. Had that twelve gauge out so fast I thought he as gonna pepper the both of us. Then he just lost it -- swearing up and down it was just another attempt by Guy to get his land. I think he was half drunk. Started shooting -- not at us, but enough to spook the horses and they ran off meaning we'd have to hoof it back to Royal's spread and it was a long hike back. I got a little mad too, finally got the gun away from him, trying to get him to calm down. I don't remember what all I said. But he got quiet and I gave him his gun back. Next thing I know, he's on me with that gun, using it like a bat, then I'm face down in his yard and he's screaming again. I don't know if I passed out or he hit me again or what. Next thing I know...Eli Joe was there and Guy. Jess was dead. Eli Joe said we fought some more for the gun and it went off, but...I don't think it was loaded when I took it from him."

 

"Could have been an accident."

 

Vin nodded but didn't look convinced. "I swear I don't think I killed him, Chris. I was mad, but he was an old man, drunk. Found out afterward, he'd lost his hired hands -- couldn't pay them and they moved on. He was too proud to ask for help."

 

"It was still an accident, Vin," Chris said.

 

Vin shook his head, flexing his fingers. "No…I don't think so," he said quietly and then looked up again, staring past Chris' shoulder at something -- or nothing. "He was back shot, Chris. My fingerprints would have been on the rifle. When I came round, Eli Joe was screaming at me for being a fool. And I ...then I just didn't know. I had a lump on my head fit to blind me and scratches, like I'd fought with him. Royal sent me back, dealt with the cops, made it sound like we'd been taking the cattle back and found Jess like that. There wasn't anything they could find to say otherwise. House was ransacked, looked like a robbery. I don't...I've got a temper, but I don't think I could do that to a man."

 

But he had no way to prove it. It wasn't so much what Vin said as the fact that Royal had stepped in at all. There wasn't any reason for it, just to protect an employee. "What happened to Eli Joe? He has to know what happened."

 

"He only ever said I'd been out of my head and that Jess went for a shovel or something after I got the gun. A few weeks later, he was gone. The cops kept coming after me, after every hand on the ranch, with questions and the like, but I just..." Vin took a deeper breath, closing his eyes and laying his hand over them rubbing his temples. "I stuck to what Guy had said. He or Eli Joe one wiped off the stock. They never found my prints, nothing that could tie me to it, or Eli Joe. And it wouldn't have done me any good to go tell them I didn't do it when I couldn't remember, and didn't know what had happened."

 

"What do you think happened?" Chris asked. He had his own theories but he wanted to hear Vin's. He did feel the hard knot of tension in his chest ease off, though.

 

"I think Eli Joe shot him. That box of shells was on the porch rail. Maybe he thought he was stopping Jess from beating me to death, although I don't think Eli Joe would raise a finger to help anyone who wasn't paying him. Later I wondered if there weren't more to it."

 

"Like what?" Chris asked and offered a hand when Vin tried to sit up again. Vin took his hand and folded his legs under him, hunched on the bed close to Chris with his arms wrapped around his knees. He stretched a little and Chris could hear the joints in his back pop. For a moment, Vin sat still and silent, still looking pained and tired but there was a shrewdness to his eyes and his chin came up. "Took a few months for it to happen, but when Jess' land came out of probate, there was no one to claim it. Went up for auction and Royal bought it. Made sense: set as it is next to the Bar R, but he paid high for it. Another rancher on the other side made him cough up some big bucks. A few months later they found a promise of oil. They've been drilling test holes since, come up good on two sites."

 

"You think Royal knew that, before Kincaid was killed?"

 

"Maybe. I know Jess hated the oil rigs with a passion, didn't like seeing them...marked the land he said. He was old enough to remember when you didn't see them. There might have been a geologic survey somewhere from earlier. Years earlier, when the oil business was gearing up."

 

"Jesus, Vin. You're like a bad western," Chris said and Vin smiled slightly, then tilted his head to look at Chris.

 

"You believe me?"

 

Chris almost said yes immediately, but something in Vin's face made him think it through. "I think...your story makes more sense than Royal's does. Getting dragged into a murder investigation, even second hand, would have made things difficult, but there wasn't any real reason for him to protect you, was there?"

 

Vin knew what he was asking and shook his head. Shrugging slightly. "Not really. He'd made a pass a couple of times, but...he was my boss and I never planned to stay there any longer than to get a stake up to move on. I thought I was doing okay and he never made a big deal about me turning him down and God knows I didn't want trouble with the rest of the hands. Took my two days off and headed into Dallas if I could catch a ride. Kept my job and my…recreation separate, you know?" Vin asked and Chris nodded. "It didn't make any sense to me either at the time… when he put the bargain on the table. Which got me thinking there was more to it."

 

"I think you're right," Chris said, although he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't motivation enough for a man like Royal to have Vin Tanner at his beck and call; not given his offer to Chris. Power trip, plus whatever else the man was hiding. "If it had gone to trial, it might have been years before Kincaid's land came up for auction." He hesitated again, trying to fathom the expression on Vin's face: part pensive, part hopeful.

 

And no one to believe him in what, nearly three years? No one he'd talked to, if Chris were guessing the situation correctly. Only Royal, who had been reinforcing the idea that Vin was guilty, and the consequences of it in terms that were probably more graphic than the ones he'd offered to Chris. Chances were he was right about prison. Vin wouldn't survive, or his life would have more misery than it did now and the only thing to look forward to would be a long walk to his own death.

 

"I do, Vin. I believe you," Chris said, realizing he did and felt deep inside that Vin was right, even if he couldn't remember. It could have been an accident but Vin wouldn't have shot Jess Kincaid in the back. He didn't know why he was so certain that was the truth but there were no frayed edges of doubt to the idea. And three years: he wouldn't have been much more than a kid. Legal and obviously ready to work but maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. His whole life ahead of him, ready to be cut off because of something he couldn't remember and probably didn't do.

 

Taking that all into account, it made more sense that Guy had made sure Eli Joe was well out of sight, if he wasn't dead, which left Vin with only his word against Royal's and whatever evidence Royal had.

 

Vin nodded, dropping his head again, Chris wondering if he weren't too tired and then realized Vin was looking down so Chris couldn't see his face. "Hey," he said softly, lifting Vin's chin and only caught the end of the struggle, Vin's eyes bright but dry.

 

"Been a long time in the telling," Vin said quietly. "I guess I didn't know how much I wanted to ...have someone else ...see it that way." He took a shaky breath. "Doesn't change anything, though."

 

It wasn't so much defeat as resignation and Chris felt his chest tighten again, remembering that it had changed, only Vin didn't know it. Royal had upped the ante.

 

"We need to find another answer. He's going to ..." Chris couldn't even voice it, that fear.

 

Vin could. "Kill me someday. I know it. But he hasn't yet."

 

"You could disappear."

 

Vin nodded. "Thought about it. Tried to leave, a couple of months after the investigation died down...just told Royal I'd move on. That's when...this all started," he said. "He said I owed him and I guess I felt like I kind of did…tried to work it…" he looked up at the ceiling. "Offered him…you know, a few times. That I'd stay a week, a month. He didn't want it on my terms, and then I was…" he shrugged again. "I don't want to go to prison and I sure as hell ain't ready to die for it. But the longer I stay, I keep thinking if I can hang on, maybe he'll let something slip, something to let me find Eli Joe or...something I might hear. I'se kind of surprised there hasn't been an accident on the ranch."

 

It was a dangerous line Vin was walking. "Longer he keeps it hidden, the worse it would be for him if it came out. You might be able to get away...if you had someplace to go," Chris said, not sure what he was offering if anything. Hope maybe.

 

Vin regarded him steadily for a long moment before looking away again. "Tried it once. Six months ago...didn't get far. Should have gone for the open land instead of the road. Easier to get lost." His voice was flat, distant.

 

"Found you?"

 

"Outside of Dallas. I thought the city, get lost there...had me back before the sun rose. No charges. Just hauled me back like a wandering steer. Let me spend a..." Vin's breath hitched, "day with his buddies at the local lock up. I haven't been keen to try it again."

 

The fear was back, and barely checked anger. Chris could feel it, see it in the faint tremors that had returned. He could practically taste it in the air. Then Vin swayed a little and blinked and Chris caught him, easing him back onto the bed. More water and Vin seemed to focus, but he looked exhausted again. "Why don't you rest? I'll get the kitchen to send something up. We'll worry about the rest of it when you're feeling better."

 

Vin caught his hand. "Chris, I appreciate this...what you've done. Just for listening, but you need to stay out of it. Mrs. Redding, too. When he gets really mad or has his back against the wall...he's not a good man to cross and he's got friends..."

 

Chris laced his fingers through Vin's and smiled. "So do you, Vin. In case you haven't noticed."

 

There was a flicker of gratitude in Vin's eyes but he still looked serious. "It's my mess. I don't want you...anyone mixed up in it."

 

"Tanner," Chris said and leaned in. "It's too late for that. Now, shut up and get some sleep," he said and reinforced his order by pressing his mouth to Vin's. The reaction was a lot stronger than he'd have thought Vin had the energy for, leaving Chris dizzy and still smiling. Vin was wide-eyed startled, breathing a little shallowly but it eased and leaning against him, Chris could feel no other reaction in the long body except some lingering tension. Which was probably good. Nathan had said no excitement.

 

For Vin anyway, but Chris found himself reacting as strongly as he had earlier. Vin opened his mouth to speak again and Chris lightly laid his hand over his mouth. "Rest, Vin. It's later than you think. Get some sleep."

 

Vin eyed him suspiciously for a moment but then closed his eyes and Chris moved back into the chair beside the bed. A few minutes later Vin was asleep.

 

Nathan came by to check on them, half waking Vin taking his pulse and blood pressure but he seemed reassured. "Kitchen's open all the time if he wakes and wants something, and you know where I'll be. Don't forget to rest yourself," he said.

 

"I won't. Thanks, Nathan," Chris whispered as Vin slipped back toward sleep.

 

An hour later, Angela slipped into the room and Chris rose to greet her, kissing her softly. "Not much company for you."

 

She made a dismissive sound, taking a few light quick steps to study Vin. "He looks better."

 

"Nathan thinks he is. The doctor too," Chris said as the moved into the salon connecting their rooms.

 

"Guy was in high sprits at the party. Why does that make me uneasy?"

 

Chris ground his teeth together. Arrogant bastard. "He thinks he's won something. Stay out of it, Angela. This is bigger than you think," he said but despite her look, inviting him to tell her more, Chris remained silent. He didn't want Angela caught in the middle of it. "Leave it," he said, kissing her temple. "It's gotten personal, and that's not where you need to be."

 

"I've got a lot more layers around me than you do, Chris," she said, playful look gone and Chris got a glimpse of the steel spine of the woman he cared more deeply for than anyone in too many years. "And this...I'm all for fun and games, but this is criminal -- in the nasty sense," she said. "Guy Royal isn't someone I need. He probably beats hookers and children too," she spat out, which was about the worst crimes she could think of.

 

"Maybe. But leave it to me for now," he said, modifying his approach. If he cut her out too hard, she'd push in anyway. "I'm going to try and corral Ella tomorrow, see if there's something she knows."

 

Angela didn't look pleased but she backed down a little. If Chris knew her, and he did, she was already looking for ways to resolve it all. "You be careful with her too. Right now, Royal is her banker, and she's awfully fond of the money."

 

"I know her. I'm going to sit with Vin for awhile and then I'll be in--"

 

"Chris," she said, tone patiently amused. "I'm going to bed. And you should too. You've been hovering over that boy like he might disappear. Deep as he's gone, he won't even know you're there. You can take me to breakfast in the morning." She kissed him lightly. "And call Nathan if you need to. If I know him, he'll be up all night worrying anyway. I'll see you in the morning, darling."

 

Chris smiled at her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, before kissing her deeply, taking his time and felt her mold herself to him. "Something to give you nice dreams," he said when they parted.

 

"Drive me into a cold shower, more like," she said, color high. "You rest too," she admonished again and went to her room.

 

Vin hadn't moved much, rolling to his side. Dimming the lights further, Chris headed to the bathroom for a quick wash and then returned. He didn't usually sleep in anything but he pulled a pair of sweat pants out and slipped them on, eyeing the bed before climbing in cautiously, trying not to disturb Vin. Rolling to his side, he studied the lax, shadow painted face.

 

Not surprisingly, Vin's face followed him into his dreams: then Guy Royal's. Of the two of them, Vin got the more rest.

 

---

The Ranch: North Range

Summary: Reading "Negotiations" in "The Cruise" series will probably help, if only to set this up -- wherein Royal made an offer and a threat and Chris agreed. Chris has been at Royal's Bar R for about three days, with little opportunity to actually talk to Vin. Ella is also there. This is about a week or ten days after the end of the cruise where Vin and Chris met.

 

Chris managed to avoid both Ella and Royal by remaining in his room until he saw the limo head out. Let Royal hold onto the idea that Chris wouldn't get out of bed before noon if he could help it.

 

And in truth, his head was a bit cottony even if he had proved to himself that he could hold his liquor a whole lot better than Guy Royal could. It was no wonder the man couldn't get it up without a little chemical assistance...he probably pickled his dick years ago.

 

The dust hadn't even settled on the drive before Chris was out the door and headed toward the corrals. He snagged a cup of coffee and a biscuit laden with ham and cheese on his way out, grinning at Maria when she reminded him to take his hat.

 

He did remember, as well as wearing looser jeans than he usually did. Three days only and he'd been quick to take stock that half the reason the hands remained on had as much to do with the fact that Royal, despite all else, knew his stock, knew his horses, and intimately knew the details and the amount of pure sweat and hard work it took to work a ranch this size. He paid above average as well, and Chris could only wonder how much that contributed to the fact that most of the hands seemed willing to turn a blind eye to whatever else might be going on in Royal's range of interest.

 

Terrence saw him coming, Chris nodding to him as he approached the pen with the stock ponies. He doubted seriously if Mickey Terrence was actually buying Royal's story that Chris was an investor looking to learn more about ranching by dogging the foreman as his second before sinking money into the Bar R. But Terrence was an old hand, and there weren't too many opportunities for men his age to land a job as sweet as this. He was good at it too, a fact that it hadn't taken Chris long to verify even without talking to Vin, but he wasn't likely to rock the boat. There were no 401Ks or pension plans lying around for old cowboys.

 

"Tanner!" Terrence called out even before Chris could say good morning. He glanced over, squinting against the dust of the yard, barely able to make out Vin among the moving horses. He was working with three other hands, clearing out hooves on the stock ponies. He waved, but finished what he was doing, then slapped the animal on the flank to get her to move on.

 

"Had Jake saddle up for you," Terrence said to Chris as Vin approached. "Maria sent lunch down earlier. When's the last time you rode?"

 

"I do it pretty often," Chris said honestly. "Not trail work like this, but I'll be all right."

 

Terrence nodded, digging into his pocket to pull out a pouch. A pinch of tobacco was slipped past stained lips. "Told Tanner to head up to the north range...main herd's been a little fractious with these lightning storms..."

 

"Just looking Mickey," Chris said as Vin slowed. "Morning, Vin."

 

"Mr. Larabee," Vin said, polite and distant, his eyes meeting Chris' but they might as well have been strangers.

 

"Jake, bring 'em up." Terrence called and one of the younger hands did as we was told, leading two already saddled horses up to the outer fenc