Simpatico by Cattraine

Josiah Sanchez scowled and irritably scrubbed a big hand across his face as the early morning sun sliced through the bedroom window and beamed directly into his blunt featured face. He cracked a bloodshot, pale blue eye open and glared at the ceiling until he was more alert. Mornings did not always agree with Josiah after a night of debauchery. Finally, he rolled over and sat up on the side of the wide bed as he sleepily scratched his hairy chest and balls.

The naked young woman curled up at the foot of the bed roused at his movement and sleepily uncurled from her tight fetal position, slid silently off the end of the bed and pulled her faded calico shift on over her dark curly head. The worn material clung to her ripe brown body displaying her heavily swollen belly. Quietly she slid on a pair of sandals and slipped from the room to prepare breakfast.

Sanchez gave her bottom a fond pat as she passed. It wouldn’t be long before she dropped her baby, he figured. Standish was already taking bets on who the father was, with Josiah and Nathan as the top contenders, closely followed by Buck. Josiah privately thought the sire was more apt to be one of the Confederate renegades they had taken her from.

He stretched and groaned at the popping of his stiffened joints and reached down and gave Nate’s big boned ankle a squeeze as he moved off the bed. He didn’t want the man to put a knife in his back before he was completely awake. The big black man snorted and shifted under his touch, then rolled back over and resumed snoring. Josiah admired the lean, naked length of dark skinned muscle that was his oldest friend for a moment, then rose and shambled over to the window overlooking Purgatorio’s main street.

Pushing the broken shutters aside, he leaned out to survey his domain. It was still early and thus pretty quiet. The denizens of the outlaw border town tended to keep late hours. The only movement on the street below was that of a Mexican peasant leading a barrel laden donkey cart, and Buck Wilmington ambling across the street from the whorehouse to the cantina, one arm around Maria and the other around the new girl, Inez.

Josiah snorted and shook his head in rueful admiration. A matched set of shapely Mexican whores. Wilmington was one of the most sensual men he knew, always ready and willing to mount anything that moved. A human satyr who could charm his way into any woman’s knickers and most men’s drawers. He sometimes wondered if that came from Buck’s being born and reared in a North Carolina brothel. He knew the man had bragged that he had mounted his first woman at age ten and been the Breaker for the new girls at age sixteen. No doubt he would have stayed and been a wealthy brothel owner by now, if the war hadn’t intervened and young Buck hadn’t enlisted in search of adventure.

A movement across the street on a window balcony of the hotel caught his eye. Vin Tanner was leaning out over the balustrade, nude golden skin gleaming in the sun. Josiah smiled fondly at the sight of the handsome, young renegade. The sun truly loved Vin, haloing his curly, light brown hair and gilding his skin with pure gold. Sanchez sighed wistfully. It was pity that Larabee was such a possessive bastard.

Last night had been a prime example. Larabee had spent the better part of the evening drinking, playing cards and downright flirting with his old compadre in crime, Raphael de Cordova de Martinez under Vin’s bewildered eyes, but the moment Tanner had decided he had had enough and taken Maria into one of the back cribs, Larabee had folded and followed. A few moments later the young whore had emerged alone, flushed and disheveled. Larabee seldom tolerated anyone touching Vin except himself, although they occasionally shared a woman.

The big priest watched as Tanner suddenly leaned over the balcony, keen blue eyes intent. A delighted grin spread over his face, and he turned his head and called something over his shoulder into the shadowed room behind him, before turning back to the street. Leaning farther out himself to see what had caught the younger man’s eye, he felt a broad grin stretch across his own face.

There riding bareback down the street on a tiny gray burro was a familiar, sun burned figure. Dressed only in a ridiculous bowler hat, a serape, gun belt and boots, with his skinny pale legs and feet nearly dragging the ground as the little animal minced along, was their tagalong greenhorn. As the amused outlaws watched he reined in, in front of the cantina and stiffly dismounted to limp inside, hands on his guns, fringed serape barely covering his pale ass.

Josiah raised his head and exchanged grins with Vin across the street. This ought to be good. They both leaned farther out of their respective windows expectantly. Sure enough, there was a sudden noisy burst of gunfire, the crash of shattering glass, cursing in both Spanish and English, and shouting followed by sudden silence. Had the outraged and violated young man succeeded in sending Bucklin to meet his maker? It was a pity Ezra wasn’t awake to take bets.

Sanchez watched as Chris joined Vin on the balcony; sleepily scratching his bare belly, lean torso pale cream in the golden morning light. He wore only a pair of tight, unbuttoned black pants, and his blond hair fell forward in an unruly silken hank over his eyes. Larabee slid a casual, possessive hand over Vin’s bare hip as they waited, heads tilted, expectant eyes on the cantina doors.

Sure enough, the batwing doors soon swung open and Buck emerged, long arm draped companionably over the irate youngster’s shoulders, mouth yammering a blue streak, his other hand gesturing expansively as he steered the young man down the street towards the bathhouse. God alone knew what bullshit he was filling the kid’s ears with now. The tall ladies’ man was limping slightly from a graze to the hip, but his smooth patter never faltered or missed a beat, and the still suspicious but gullible young man was nodding slowly in agreement with him before they reached the end of the street.

Sanchez shook his graying head in amazement. He watched as across the street, Larabee leaned over to murmur something in Vin’s ear, a wide, sexy leer on his face. Vin grinned and shook his curly head, but Chris just slid both powerful arms around the younger man’s waist and bit his ear, pulling him back inside the shadowed room. Josiah figured those two probably wouldn’t make an appearance until noon.

There was a derisive snort from behind him and he wasn’t surprised to find that Nathan had joined him on silent cat feet to peer over his shoulder down the street after Wilmington and his new conquest. "Fool," the black man murmured hoarsely. The two big men exchanged rueful grins before turning back inside to dress and head downstairs, where their woman had prepared breakfast.

**************

Inside the shadowed room, the sturdy ladder-backed chair creaked and its legs thumped rhythmically against the floor boards as Vin rode Larabee’s long, thick cock, his powerful thigh muscles thrusting him slowly up and down. Tousled head thrown back against Chris’ shoulder, his eyes shut, lush mouth open as he neared his climax, he was unaware of Larabee’s avid gaze on their reflections in the narrow, cracked pier glass that hung on the inside of the open closet door.

Chris nipped and sucked hungrily at the nape of Vin’s salty neck, both strong, calloused hands busy, one tweaking and twisting tiny nipples, the other lazily pumping Tanner’s slick, swollen cock. They were both almost over the edge now, panting hard, their joined bodies slick with sweat. Vin shuddered and moaned, his movements growing erratic as his trembling thighs tired as he posted up and down.

Larabee suddenly began to thrust roughly up, changing the pace of the ride, one big hand sliding down to clamp on Vin’s narrow hip and hold him tight on the older man’s lap. Tanner yelped and gasped sharply in pained pleasure as Chris’ thick cock head nudged the tiny hidden gland inside and brought him over the edge, his sleek compact body shuddering, hands slapping and clutching involuntarily at Larabee’s, toes curling as a thick jet of hot semen spurted over Chris’ pumping fist.

Larabee gave a growl of pure pleasure and sank his teeth hard into Vin’s shoulder as the younger man’s climax milked his own cock like a hot velvet glove and brought him off as well. He gave a satisfied bass grunt as he shot his own thick load deep inside the Texan’s lean body, calloused hands holding Vin’s hips hard enough to leave fingertip bruises. He smirked over Vin’s shoulder at his own sated reflection in the mirror, eyes on his lover’s blissful, flushed face.

Tanner sighed softly, eyes closed, breathing hard as he relaxed and leaned back in his man’s arms, his curly head lolled against Larabee’s broad shoulder, his hands still clutching Chris’ forearms. Chris lazily nuzzled his cheek, their morning whiskers rasping lightly, his big hands lightly massaging Vin’s seed into his quivering belly. Moist lips brushed and clung as they exchanged slow kisses and waited until the wet heat between them eased Chris’ softening member gently from Vin’s body before reluctantly moving apart.

Finally Vin sighed, slid shakily from his lap, stood and padded across the floor towards the washstand. He still limped a bit from his wounded leg, but it was healing well. Larabee stretched his lean torso and long legs lazily and admired the lean flex of sleek, rosy buttocks, one muscular cheek already bore a love bite and his creamy seed trickled down strong thighs. It pleased the gunslinger to leave his marks on his man. He had been Vin’s first lover and had vowed to himself to be the last. He would kill any man, friend or foe that laid a lascivious hand on Tanner. If Vin didn’t beat him to it first

He found himself thinking back to the day in Yuma Prison when he had first laid eyes on Vin. He had been in for a murder charge, patiently biding his time until he either found a way to escape, or the boys managed to bust him out. He was thirty-five and Vin had been delectable bait in his late teens, thrown into Yuma for murdering several of the soldiers that had callously slaughtered his Comanche family and rescued him.

**************

At the time he shared a cell with Chato Lopez, an elderly half-breed in for horse theft. A pair of thieving brothers in for the brutal rape and murder of a young immigrant girl shared the cell next to them. The Smith brothers were a pair of vicious, hulking morons who would have been lucky to share a brain. They had continued their bad habits in Yuma, preying on weaker, younger men aided by a sadistic guard who liked to watch. Their latest victim, an Oklahoma farm boy in for petty theft, had recently hung himself out of sheer shame and humiliation.

Larabee had overheard the guards talking about Vin’s arrival, as they marveled over why a white boy would turn into a murderous savage and kill his own kind, and had privately decided that the boy had the right to defend his family, red or white. He had lost his own young family to a border raid long ago, back when he had tried to lead a straight life. He and Buck had tracked the Comancheros down and killed them one by one, leaving a string of bloody corpses from Eagle Bend clear across the Rio Grande.

Sure enough, Yates manhandled the slim young man down the corridor towards the cell to shove him in with the Smiths. Most of the other guards were taking a supper break and Yates had slyly calculated that he had more than enough time to have a bit of voyeuristic fun at the young prisoner’s expense. Larabee had stepped up to the bars of his cell door in an uncharacteristic display of interest.

As Yates fumbled for the right key, Vin had lifted his tangled head from gazing down at his manacled hands and looked directly into Chris’ eyes. It was like being struck by lightening on a clear day. Larabee had straightened, a surge of adrenaline surging through his veins. He felt like he had known this young man all his life.

“Don’t put him in there, Yates. You know what those bastards will do to him.”

His hands clenched hard on the bars of his cell with the desire to wrap his fingers around the sadistic prick’s throat; his eyes were still locked with cobalt blue set in a youthful, chiseled face. The boy looked all of sixteen years old and just as vulnerable; there wasn’t even a sign of peach fuzz on the exquisite young face. The Smiths would eat him alive. The thought enraged the gunslinger.

Rick and Del Smith had chortled with pleasure at the sight of their newest victim. It wasn’t often that something this young and pretty ended up in their clutches. Rick’s thick lips had spread in a wide grin, displaying tobacco stained teeth. He smacked his mouth in anticipation of sinking his teeth in sweet golden flesh.

“Shut up, Larabee! Del and me are gonna treat this sweet little thang to a real good time. He’s gonna love ever inch I feed him.”

He was already kneading his cock through his dirty pants with meaty hands in anticipation as he spoke. Tanner’s blue eyes had widened, then narrowed to thin blue slits at his words, as he realized what was about to happen. Chris snarled and lunged at the bars, making a futile grab for Yates as his rage got the best of him. Yates laughed and cracked his heavy oak truncheon across the bars in front of Larabee’s face.

“Back off Larabee, maybe the boys will give you a taste later.”

He unlocked the cell and yanked the heavy door open, then grabbed Tanner by the collar and shoved the slight young man inside, right into Rick and Del’s waiting hands. Larabee swore and lunged again, nearly blind with rage. He would have killed all three of the sick bastards with his bare hands if he could have reached them at that moment. If asked later he could not have given the reason for his extreme reaction, he had previously taken little interest in Yates and the Smiths or any of their unfortunate victims.

All he knew was that he couldn’t bear the idea of any of them laying a hand on that blue-eyed boy.

Yates had thrown his head back and laughed as he slammed the cell door shut and stepped back to watch the action. He licked his lips as he watched the hulking brothers grapple with the slim prisoner, one hand straying unconsciously down to fondle his own crotch. He ignored the enraged Larabee who was still swearing and straining to reach him through the bars and the convicts in the other cells who were cursing him. The youngster was fighting back, white teeth showing in a feral, silent snarl as he fought tooth and nail against his assailants.

Rick had nearly managed to tear the young renegade’s shirt off, but so far neither hooting, jeering, slow moving brother was able to hang on to him long enough to pin him and hold him down. Yates’s breath quickened at the sight of the youth’s compact muscled chest with its neat brown nipples. His eyes widened in sheer disbelief at what happened next. Tanner abruptly ducked his head and rammed it hard into Del’s crotch, shoving the heavy set man back against the brick wall, cracking the back of his skull against the bricks as well as crushing his testicles. The big man folded into a ball with a high-pitched pig squeal.

Twisting and turning out of Rick’s clumsy, thick hands, Tanner whirled around and whipped the heavy length of iron chain cuffing his wrists together in a vicious arc across Rick’s nose and eyes, breaking the former and temporarily blinding the man.

Rick howled with pain and clutched at his bloody face. Before he could recover, Vin had leapt on his broad back like a cougar on a bull, wrapping his chain around the man’s thick neck and expertly garroting the man as he rode him to the ground. Rick choked and gagged, clawing at his throat, dark stubbled face rapidly turning magenta as he was slowly, surely choked towards death. Del was still curled up in the corner whimpering, half conscious and nursing his ruptured ball sac.

Yates swore in disbelief and pulled his alarm whistle out to blast a sharp call for help. To his dismay, it was the yard Captain who responded first. Harris was a law abiding, genuinely fair-minded man who took his shitty job seriously. He took one look at the situation and yelled down the corridor for back up. He turned to Yates with a snarl.

“Open that goddamned door! I specifically told you not to put that boy in with those shitheads! You know their record! Get him out and put him in with Larabee and Lopez!”

“Yes Sir!”

Yates hastened to obey, realizing his job was on the line now. Four other guards pounded up and it took all five of them to pry Vin off of Smith. He snarled and fought savagely, biting, snapping, kicking and clawing leaving the burly guards bloody and swearing. Finally, they managed to untangle him from the weakly gasping Smith and haul him out, holding him spread-eagled up off the ground to keep him off balance.

“Tough little son of a bitch!” One of the men wheezed as he fought to keep a hold on one kicking leg. His partner grunted in agreement, busy trying to keep Tanner from gouging his eyes out with a clawing hand. Yates yelped and swore as sharp teeth dug into his wrist. The rest were too busy to comment.

Harris regarded the angry young man silently, then turned thoughtful eyes on Larabee’s irate face. The blond was staring daggers at Yates and he had no doubt that he would kill the man if given the chance. The gunslinger’s interest in the young renegade intrigued him. Larabee had always been a loner, supremely indifferent to both the guards and his fellow prisoners in Yuma.

He turned back to Vin; the young man stared back with unblinking hatred in his blue eyes. The boy was as feral as any puma or mustang the Captain had ever seen. Well, there was more than one way to tame a wild horse. One way was to tether him to a steadier animal. He would give it a try. Larabee intrigued him. Despite his long history of violence, he was a quiet man who more often kept to himself, nose buried in a book from the prison library.

“Manacle him to Larabee,” he ordered, ignoring the green glare the gunslinger shot his way. He met Chris’ eyes squarely.

“It’ll give you something to pass the time with, Larabee. See if you can tame the heathen so he’s fit for civilized company.”

Larabee’s glare intensified. They opened the cell and grappled to unlock one of Vin’s shackles and clamp it over Larabee’s left wrist. He stood stiffly in silent outrage as they locked it shut, then abruptly tossed the still struggling Tanner into the cell and into his arms. He caught the writhing form reflexively to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. Harris slammed the cell door firmly behind them. He regarded the prisoners solemnly.

Twin glares razored right back at him. He noted that Tanner made no attempt to fight off Larabee’s supportive touch and that the older man cradled him close in a unconsciously protective manner, and gave a nod of satisfaction; maybe his plan would work after all. Larabee was not known for abusing other men. The young savage gained a mentor and a bored Larabee was given a worthwhile task to fill the empty hours. The boy instinctively recognized an alpha male and responded accordingly.

He turned cold eyes on Yates and the man gave a nervous gulp. He had received numerous complaints about the man before, but this was the first blatant sign of insubordination Yates had given. It was time to take action and nip such behavior in the bud. He was going to make the sadist regret his behavior dearly.

“My office, Yates.”

“Yes Sir!”

The other guards straightened their uniforms and began the thankless task of hauling the Smith brothers to the prison infirmary. With luck, Rick would survive his near asphyxiation minus a few brain cells, and Del might keep at least one of his balls, whether he ever got the chance to use it again or not. They left a quiet cell behind them.

Inside the cell, Chris Larabee became conscious of the fact that he was still holding young Tanner, arms around his shoulders, nose practically buried in the shorter man’s long hair. He inhaled the scent of sweet grass, sweat and sun. The tousled head tilted and blue eyes again looked deeply into his. Tanner was quiet, calm under his hands. Reluctantly, he released him and stepped away, giving the young man what personal space their shared chain allowed.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Tanner cocked his head, eyes still locked with his. Chato spoke softly from his bunk in Comanche, repeating Larabee’s question and Vin tilted his head to listen before slowly nodding. He was still breathing hard, but calming, and with quiet dignity he set about trying to straighten his torn, oversized striped prison issue shirt. It was so large it practically shrouded his slight frame. Larabee found himself sternly fighting the urge to lend a hand.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? Impulsively he held out his right hand.

“Chris Larabee,” he said by way of introduction.

Tanner eyed the offered hand, then slowly grasped his wrist in the traditional way warriors greeted each other. He raised his eyes to Chris’ face.

“Vin Tanner.”

It was the first time he heard that soft Texas drawl.

**************

The wet, cold splat of a washrag tossed into his lap abruptly caused him to yelp and glare as Larabee’s mind snapped back to the present. He looked up to meet amused blue eyes. Vin was almost dressed, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders.

“You lollygagging again, old man? Better get a move on afore I eat all your breakfast.”

Chris gave his lover a leer and snapped the cloth playfully at Vin’s rump, before swiping it across his own genitals. He watched fondly as Vin sat on the bed to tug on his boots, as he donned his own habitual black attire. It was funny how sometimes a man never immediately recognized a gift even after it had been dropped into his lap.

Downstairs they ambled next door to the cantina, where the cursing barkeep was sweeping up the broken glass left from the young Easterner’s fruitless attempt to shoot Buck’s balls off. He might excel at fanning his guns, but his aim was for shit. Fortunately, he had run out of bullets before destroying the good whisky stock farther down behind the bar, and Buck was a fast runner, adept at dodging bullets from irate fathers and husbands.

Chris claimed his usual corner table in the shadows where he could see all the exits and the stairs, signaling to one of the kitchen girls for food. She had just brought the heaping plates of frijoles, tortillas and steak when a bleary eyed Ezra meandered sleepily down the stairs. Buck’s noisy little escapade had cut into his beauty sleep. Also, he was coming down from a weekend opium binge and in a rather dour mood. Seating himself at Larabee’s table, he nodded vacantly, not quite awake yet and signaled for coffee.

Chris had ordered him to cut back on the pipe in preparation for a joint train job Los Magnificos had planned with Raphael and his vaqueros. Ezra was their best inside man when it came to robberies, his capacity for gleaning information from a variety of sources seemingly endless, and Larabee wanted him sharp. It hadn’t hurt that their main source of information for this job came from Ezra’s own mother.

Maude Standish owned an upscale hotel in San Francisco that catered to the growing city’s wealthiest clientele. She provided her jaded customers with any vice their hearts desired, and in return fleeced them of their wealth and any useful information. She had recently sent word about a large army payroll that was traveling from the San Francisco mint east towards Kansas City via a passenger train.

If her information was correct, there would be almost twenty thousand dollars in newly minted gold coins on the almost unguarded train. It was due to pass through New Mexico Territory in a week. The government official in charge was foolishly counting on secrecy as the main means to protect the shipment, not taking into account the fact that his undersecretary had a bad gambling habit, a weakness for wine and elegant blondes, and a big mouth.

Maude was counting on her darling boy and his crude friends to secure her a tidy share of the take. As the three finished their food, Josiah and Nathan joined them. Josiah grabbed a tray of beers from the bar and they quietly began to discuss details for the upcoming robbery. They trusted Raphael, he was as honorable as any outlaw they knew and he and Chris had been acquaintances for a long time.

Rafe had known Buck even before the big ladies' man had cut up his former employer, Don Paulo. The young man had made the mistake of trying to steal the runaway Inez back for his father, and Buck had carved him up with a ten inch Bowie knife after the young fool came at the big man with a sword. If the arrogant fool had bothered to ask before Buck presented him with loops of his own intestines, Raphael could have told him that Wilmington took his love life very seriously. He adored women and fancied himself passionately in love at least twice a month.

Raphael de Cordova de Martinez was the second fastest gun in Purgatorio. He was also too good natured and intelligent to envy Larabee for being the fastest. They were a lot alike and carried on a subtle, dangerous verbal flirtation that neither man ever intended to pursue. Quite simply, they were both dangerous alpha males and Rafe preferred women.

Rafe and his small band of men usually kept south of the border, but had been known to venture up into New Mexico, Texas and Arizona if the profits were good. Occasionally they teamed with Los Magnificos to wreak havoc north as well. The two gangs respected each other and got along quite well except for the occasional brawl. At the moment, Rafe was rounding up his most trusted men and securing extra saddle stock for the upcoming raid north.

Josiah was just finishing the tale of the persistent greenhorn to Ezra when Buck and the Kid joined them. The boy was scrubbed clean and wore his awful brown suit and hat. He watched them all alertly with wary eyes as he cautiously took a seat next to Wilmington. His big hazel eyes widened and he swallowed hard at the sight of the wall behind Larabee, decorated with Vin’s latest Wanted poster, which was surrounded by an artful display of an assortment of the scalps and badges of the men who had been foolish enough to attempt to bring him to justice. There were at least a half dozen scalps and as many tin stars nailed to the wall.

The kid had survived being abandoned naked as a jaybird in the unforgiving desert and had the gall to track them down. Somewhere a peon was missing a donkey and serape, so maybe he was good for more than a few laughs.

Josiah gave him a friendly grin and slid over a glass of beer, which he sipped cautiously, keeping his mouth firmly shut. To say the boy was more then a bit confused was an understatement. He had fully intended to take bloody revenge on his assailants, but found himself with conflicted emotions. After all, he had asked to be initiated into the gang. Were all rituals into manhood like that? He had been sexually inexperienced before his crude initiation and while it had been painful and frightening, it had also been exciting and even enjoyable because he had climaxed not once, but twice. Was that normal?

Chris masked a smirk behind a shot of redeye as he watched Buck flatter and tease the confused boy. Wilmington had taken a liking to the tenacious youngster and taken him under his wing. Larabee figured that as long as he kept out of the way and kept his mouth shut, he could tag along as Buck’s pet. He might actually prove to be useful, and if he didn’t, well, Larabee could always use him for target practice later when he was in a foul mood.

At Wilmington’s gesture, Maria came over and draped her nubile body over the kid’s shoulder, causing his eyes to become as big as saucers at the sight of her pert dark nipples straining against her blouse less then three inches from his nose. Even as she flirted delicately with the kid, her hungry dark eyes sought out Chris over the boy’s head. She was halfway in love with the blond gunman despite his disinterest and blatant misogynistic attitude towards women. Lately she had taken to using Vin in an attempt to snare the gunslinger’s attention. That had backfired last night.

**************

Larabee and Martinez had been sharing a bottle and a card game and bantering back and forth as was their custom. Vin had sat quietly in the corner near Larabee watching and listening, as was his habit. Their verbal play had gotten a bit racy and the young man had found himself becoming increasingly jealous of the handsome, dark eyed Latino whose clever conversation seemed to fascinate Chris.

Vin knew he wasn’t eloquent like Ezra, or as book smart as Josiah or Chris. Truth be told, he felt more than a little backward and ignorant when in the company of most folks. He couldn’t read well or make witty conversation, and in a rare moment of self-doubt, he now found himself wondering sometimes if Larabee just saw him as little more than a convenient fuck.

Chris meant the world to him, but neither of them were men given to sentimental declarations. Their affection was more often conveyed with a glance or a touch. Before he could really chew that thought over, Maria had moved in, slid into his lap and purred an invitation in his ear.

Feeling reckless and a bit neglected, he had taken her up on her offer and pulled her into one of the back cribs, determined to take his mind off his childish jealousy towards Larabee and his old amigo. It had been a while since he had had a willing woman and he decided to take full advantage of the situation. He allowed her to tug open his shirt and pants as he sprawled back on the narrow cot and she had knelt above him to expertly service him.

He was on the brink of climax, head thrown back against the thin pillow, when the rings of the curtain to the dim cubicle clattered as it was roughly shoved aside and a tall dark shadow slipped inside. Maria raised her head from Vin’s glistening, erect cock with a startled gasp. Larabee took in the erotic scene in a glance, Vin in a wanton sprawl with the whore kneeling above him working his tender flesh with her mouth. He gave her an evil white grin and flicked a silver dollar into her lap with a jerk of his head towards the door and a soft command.

“Salgo.”

Pouting, she obeyed, knowing she would feel the back of his hand if she didn’t. Her plan to make the blond jealous had worked---for Tanner. Angrily, she snatched up the coin and flounced out in search of more appreciative customers. Breathing hard, Tanner opened his eyes and sought his partner’s face in the darkened room. All he could see was a glimpse of golden hair highlighted from the hall lamp above broad shoulders and the feral glint of white teeth. His breath hitched in anticipation.

There was the rustle of Larabee’s duster hitting the floor, followed by the metallic clink and heavy thud of his gun belt as it dropped as well. Then the cot creaked as Larabee climbed on top of him, strong hands yanking his pants all the way down and off, before roughly spreading and lifting his legs. Before Vin could protest, Chris twisted a big hand in his hair and kissed him hard, tongue thrusting wetly into his mouth before Larabee growled softly in his ear; “Mine.”

The only sounds that followed were the rhythmic creak of the cot’s slats, harsh breathing, the damp, heavy slap of skin against skin and the guttural, pleasured moans and grunts that Tanner gave as Larabee mounted him and claimed him with the same tender ferocity he had shown years ago in Yuma prison, that first time, after they had both been thrown into the black out cell as punishment for fighting.

**************

Larabee ignored the lovely young whore and glanced over to where his partner sat, amused blue eyes on the young greenhorn. Had Vin ever been that innocent? He didn’t think so. Even when he was barely sporting peach fuzz on that square jawed face, he had been old beyond his years. Larabee found his thoughts once again returning to Yuma. As though sensing that, Vin tilted his head and quirked a questioning brow at him.

Chris let the slow, shit eating shark grin that was always the best indicator that he was thinking of hot, bareback sex cross his face, and watched with pure evil delight as a wild rose blush washed over Tanner’s face in response. Vin dropped his head, a sly crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

Still grinning, Larabee refilled his shot glass and pushed it across the table to his partner, taking pleasure in the simple brush of Tanner’s fingertips against his. No one could inspire lust in him faster then his Texas wildcat, no one. He might screw around with faceless whores on occasion, but he always came back to Vin. Vin was his, heart and soul and had been ever since that day in Yuma.

**************

Larabee and Tanner had been chained together for almost six months now. Surprisingly they got along quite well, seldom tangling themselves despite their shared chain. They were both quiet men, with tidy habits. Tanner was Larabee’s watchful shadow. He had deferred to the older man from the beginning, trusting him to explain the intricacies of prison life.

No one harassed them now other then the occasional catcall. Vin’s expertise in taking down both Smiths had been impressive and Larabee had quietly spread the word that he would kill any man who touched the boy. Yuma Prison was considered a progressive institution for its time. There were no floggings or unnecessary corporal punishment and men who attempted escape received the ball and chain instead of time in a sweltering hot box. Yuma even boasted a chapel and a library. The only dreaded punishment was known as the Black Out cell.

An entire cellblock was carved out of the sandstone cliff. Several of these cells were reserved for punishment for the most persistent felons. If a man was in the habit of picking fights, theft, or worse, ten days or so in the black out cell would calm him down. The small cave like cells had wooden doors instead of the usual bars. Once inside the windowless cell, the heavy wooden door was shut and a blanket hung over it, blocking the light, the result placing the occupant in total darkness. Food and water was slid in once a day through a flap at the bottom of the door.

More than one miscreant lost their senses and had been pulled out as a gibbering, quivering mess after days spent in isolation and darkness. A couple had had to be institutionalized as a result, having lost their minds after a lengthy incarceration in the dark cell. Men who spent time there seldom repeated the offense that put them there. It was a very effective means of punishment. One cell was even rumored to be haunted by the spirit of the man who died there.

It was early winter and pretty damned cold for Arizona. Vin and Chris had taken to sharing Larabee’s bunk to keep warm, Tanner usually slept on the ground beside it. More than once Larabee had woken spooned around Tanner’s smaller body sporting a rock hard erection. Neither man said anything. Sexual frustration was a given in prison although both handsome men had been slyly approached at various times with offers for relief.

The other cons had quickly learned that Tanner was off limits. Those who had foolishly assumed that the young man was Larabee’s pachuco and for rent had quickly and painfully learned otherwise. Any first query was met with a feral flash of white teeth and the amiable offer to rip their balls off. Those who persisted suffered the promised consequences.

After a battered Hernando Ramos was found nearly bled out, still trying to keep his slashed genitals attached, the offers and innuendo ceased entirely. The burly murderer had been so taken with the sight of young Vin from the first that he had been determined to have him, even if it had meant killing Larabee to get at him. He had first tried bribes, then subtle threats and then in frustration, had made the mistake of coming after Larabee with a razor, not realizing that he was attacking not just one extremely dangerous man, but two.

Larabee and Tanner had made short work of the fool using his own weapon, and as a result were thrown in the Black cell for ten days as punishment. Although Captain Harris was aware that Ramos got what he deserved, he still felt order had to be maintained. The usual punishment for fighting was thirty days in the dark.

Uncharacteristically for them, Larabee and Tanner had been bickering before the fight. Frustration from being chained and imprisoned was starting to wear on Tanner’s nerves, after nearly a lifetime spent outdoors and the same, coupled with intense sexual frustration, had left Larabee snappish and short tempered. He would have quite literally killed for a cheroot, a shot of whisky and ten minutes with a willing woman.

Hernando had indeed chosen to wrong day to make his move. He found himself the focus of twin whirlwinds of unleashed frustration and rage. He was lucky to survive. It would be months before he could walk straight again, he would never be quite the man he had been. He would be pissing sideways for the rest of his life.

Tanner and Larabee were shoved unceremoniously inside the dark chamber and the door locked firmly behind them. To Larabee’s surprise, Tanner had immediately turned in the dark and attacked the door, snarling in a mixture of Spanish and Comanche dialect as he pounded and kicked at the unyielding timber. In the blackness it sounded like the young man was on the verge of a conniption fit as he panted and swore.

Claustrophobia. Was Larabee’s immediate thought. He had had a cavalryman in his unit during the Civil War that was so claustrophobic he couldn’t even endure sleeping in a tent in the winter. As irrational as the phobia often seemed, it was very real to the persons who suffered from it and it could be dangerous for them.

Quickly, he wrapped both arms around the shorter man from behind and pulled him close against his body. He knew how frightening the Black cell could be, having suffered a stint in it before, so he sought to anchor his panicked young companion with voice and touch.

“Easy, pard, easy. It’s just a dark room. I’m right here and I’ve got you. There’s nothing to be afraid of, kid. I’m right here with you.”

If he could have seen the expression on Vin’s face it would have surprised the hell out of him. The startled young man had frozen in his taller companions arms, an incredulous look on his face at Larabee’s actions, which became a smirk as he realized that his friend thought he was afraid of the dark.

Larabee had mistaken his little temper tantrum for panic. Amused, he kept quiet to see what else Chris would do. At the moment, he was rather enjoying the warm embrace. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him with any affection. He kept still and waited to see what would happen.

Larabee kept talking, pleased that Vin had quieted in his arms, although he was still panting, his heart pounding against Chris’ chest. Carefully, he pulled Tanner back and down against the wall to sit between Chris’ long legs. With his unchained hand, he clumsily stroked the tangled head as he cuddled the younger man close, unconsciously enjoying the solid feel of the warm body in his arms as he sought to soothe him.

“There pard, there. You see? Nothing to get upset about. I’m right here with you. Anything bad that comes for you has to go through me first.”

The blond was unaware of the rough tenderness in both his voice and touch as he sought to comfort his young friend. Tanner had relaxed in his arms, turning so the curly head rested against his shoulder. He could feel Vin’s warm breath against his throat. The gunman shifted slightly as his treacherous body responded to the body heat of the man he held.

Trying desperately to keep his mind off his growing arousal, he kept blabbing to Tanner, talking more in the next half hour then he usually did in a week. He described the cell around them, talked of his previous tenure there, cursed the guards and Ramos to hell, and spoke of what they would both do once both were free of this shithole, and all the adventures they would have. All the while, he gently stroked Vin’s soft hair with a rough hand.

He had no idea that his young companion was enjoying himself immensely. Not only was it pleasant to be cuddled, but it was also fascinating to hear the usually laconic Larabee yak endlessly. He was glad it was too dark for his friend to see his face. His shoulders shook silently with repressed laughter.

As Larabee talked, he realized he was quickly running out of topics to keep Tanner’s attention. After describing various guns, horses and women of his acquaintance, some of Buck’s more outrageous escapades, and his own fervent desire for a bottle of whisky, he was literally coming up dry. A taciturn man, he did not share Buck or Ezra’s gift of long-windedness. Vin seemingly stirred uneasily at his silence when he paused to catch his breath and think, so he quickly hugged the smaller man closer, tucking the curly head under his chin.

Desperate for a new topic of conversation, he lit on his recent attempts to teach Vin how to read. They spent a couple hours daily at a battered oak table in the small prison library with an old primer and a slate and he had taken to reading a chapter or two of whatever book he had at hand to Vin each evening.

“How about we recite your letters, pard? You’re doing real well. It won’t be long before you’ll be reading to me. Let’s see…A is for Apple. I sure would like a juicy, ripe red one right about now. Haven’t had a damned apple in a year.”

“B is for Buck. The horny son of a bitch is probably in bed right now with some judge’s wife.”

Tanner shook slightly in his arms and he gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“C is for Cat. Had a big orange tomcat when I was a boy. Best damned mouser in Indiana. D is for…”

He paused, trying to think of a suitable word other then the ubiquitous Dog.

“Dick,” said a soft Texas drawl in his ear.

“What?” Larabee asked, startled.

“Dick. Like the big ol’ pole that’s pokin’ me in the ass right now.” There was a soft snicker against his throat.

Realization dawned on the gunslinger. He had been had. By an expert. Admiringly he lifted his head and peered uselessly down in the dark at his companion, who was shaking now with silent laughter.

“You little shit. I thought you were having a conniption fit.” He shook his snickering friend vigorously.

Tanner lost it completely and cackled out loud, clutching helplessly at his ribs. Larabee gave a happy, throaty growl and bent his head and unthinkingly shut Vin’s mouth the best way he knew. The kiss was hot and deep and got even better when a startled Tanner wrapped his arms tightly around Larabee’s neck and enthusiastically returned it.

Eventually, he lifted his head, panting softly for air. Somehow he and Tanner had ended up lying on the floor entangled together with various items of clothing askew. Vin writhed happily against him, rubbing his own hard cock against Chris’ hipbone, tugging at his clothes. The young Texan was now gnawing and sucking hungrily at Larabee’s nipples.

He wound a hand into Vin’s hair and tugged his mouth off his tingling chest with a moist slurp. Vin snarled at the interruption.

“You know what you’re doing, kid?” The older man growled, resisting the urge to flip Tanner over and mount him immediately.

“Got an idea or two,” the Texan replied, nipping hungrily at Larabee’s stubbled jaw.

He had never had sex before, but he had plenty of ideas, and he was more then willing to start practicing on the lean blond on top of him. More than once he had awakened in their shared bunk wrapped in strong arms and Chris’ warm, musky scent, yearning for something that he couldn’t quite put a name to. Now he thought he could, with Chris’ cooperation. He cupped Larabee’s head with both hands and kissed him hungrily.

Larabee groaned in his mouth and abruptly rolled over on his back, pulling Vin on top of him, strong hands sliding down to cup and knead the Texan’s tight ass. He felt Vin buck against him, his slick cock nudging into his lean belly. Panting, he tore his mouth away from that sweet mouth, fighting for some composure. Vin murmured in protest, hungry mouth again seeking Larabee’s in the darkness. They were both too damned close to the edge, starved for relief.

Once again he forced himself to slow down, to stop and think before he hurt the young man in his arms by mindlessly rutting like an animal. He grabbed Vin by the shoulders and shook him gently, wishing he could see the flushed young face. He knew Tanner was at least nineteen, but he looked far younger. Taking a deep breath, he spoke hoarsely in Vin’s nearest ear.

“I’m not gonna lie to ya, Cowboy. I want the same damned thing half the men in here want from you. “

Vin stilled in his arms.

“The difference is that I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. The first time is gonna hurt some, but I promise to make you feel so good you won’t care.”

He waited, hoping like hell that Tanner wouldn’t refuse, because he honestly didn’t think he could stop now. For long minutes Vin pondered, his quick breath warm against Chris’ face. Finally, he spoke softly.

“I want you, too.” His raspy tenor sounded very young in the dark.

Larabee let out the breath he was holding, suddenly realizing as well that he didn’t just want to use Vin’s body, he wanted to make love to him. He was damned proud to be the young man’s first lover and he hadn’t felt such tenderness for anyone since his young wife had died all those lonely years ago. Unconsciously he cradled Vin close, lips against his temple.

Raising a hand, he stroked the tousled head, smiling up in the dark as he felt Vin snuggle in close, arms winding around his neck. When was the last time anyone had shown the boy any affection? He hugged him close, planting soft kisses on the young face that turned so hungrily to his. It was time to slow down and savor the gift that he was being given.

“Okay, pard, why don’t we move this to the pallet. It’s a mite softer than this stone floor on my old bones.”

They sat up and he took Vin’s hand, chain clinking as they stood and felt along the wall to where the thin burlap covered straw tick lay, covered with a coarse blanket. The water bucket was nearby and he took the opportunity to grab a drink before offering the dipper to Vin. As the young man drank thirstily, Larabee searched his pants pocket, finally finding what he sought.

The infirmary had issued him a small tin of comfrey salve to ease the irritation caused by the heavy iron manacles they wore. Carefully, he opened it and sat it close at hand where he could easily find it again, before turning back to Vin. He was pleased when Tanner came eagerly into his offered embrace and he kissed the wet, pliant mouth deeply, holding his young, soon to be lover close.

Softly he spoke in one ear, explaining the mechanics of male-to-male sex, what he wanted and what they were going to do. Tanner listened attentively and nodded a silent affirmative against Larabee’s shoulder. If he was afraid, Larabee could find no sign of it. Carefully, he began to finish undressing the young man, covering each inch of bare skin with gentle touches and kisses. Tanner responded, shyly tugging Larabee’s shirt off his shoulders and tentatively opening the buttons of his baggy prison issue pants.

Chris encouraged his explorations with soft murmurs of pleasure, guiding curious, exploring fingers over his torso. He gave an unseen smirk of sheer masculine pride at the soft, awed sound Vin made as he timidly touched Larabee’s erect cock for the first time. His breath hitched as shy, supple fingers stroked velvet skin, and a thumb gently rubbed the slick, tender head of his cock as it slid from the foreskin.

Carefully, he removed the curious hand before he shot his load; he had plans for that later. He kissed the long fingers and guided the hand back to his chest instead. Then he reached for Vin. He returned the pleasure, one arm around Vin’s shoulders, the other hand gently manipulating the young man’s eager swollen penis. Tanner gasped against his throat as Chris quickly and expertly brought him to the edge and over, with a few long, smooth strokes.

Vin cried out softly as he came, hips bucking helplessly, his hot semen filling Larabee’s big hand. Chris kissed him hard and slid his wet fingers under the Texan’s silky ball sac to probe gently between his cheeks; he found the small rosebud pucker and began to work it open, one finger at a time. He distracted Vin from any discomfort with sweet, deep kisses as he began to explore the supple body with his mouth.

His reaction to Tanner’s body surprised him. He had had sex with men before, but it had been rough and fast, merely scratching an itch. He had certainly never kissed them or explored their bodies. It was somewhat of a shock to find himself with his nose happily buried in silky belly skin as he worked his way down from tiny nipples on a surprisingly muscular chest, to the salt sweet, musky skin of Vin’s crotch.

He sure as hell had never had his mouth on another man’s dick before, but everything about Vin’s body pleased him, from the rich tang of his musk to the silky, almost hairless skin and he hungrily mapped it with tongue and teeth from the top of the curly head to the soles of the slender, arched feet.

Vin yelped and moaned when Chris slurped his soft member in his mouth and began to suck him gently, his hands dropped helplessly to slap and clutch at Larabee’s shoulders and twist in his hair.

It wasn’t long before Larabee brought the eager young man up to climax again, distracting him from the now salve covered digits industriously working him open. The hot mouthful of bitter, salty fluid wasn’t distasteful. He swallowed it thoughtfully, and then leaned up to share the taste with Tanner. He smiled fondly against the hot cheek as his lover panted softly, trying to recover his breath, strong hands clutching Larabee’s shoulders, breath huffing against the older man’s face.

He kept gently working Vin’s virgin hole, finally adding a third finger. Vin’s hands tightened on his shoulders and his breath hitched when Chris’ long finger gently brushed the tiny gland inside.

“Okay?” he asked softly.

He waited for the affirmative nod, lips against warm skin before carefully easing Vin into position. Tanner knelt up and braced himself on shaky limbs to present his backside to his lover. He was both exhilarated and a bit afraid. Larabee was a well-hung man. The lean blond moved to mount him, calloused hands firmly grasping narrow hips as he moved into position.

He coated his thick, drooling erection with a layer of salve, gritting his teeth to keep from bringing himself off. He had been celibate for too damned long and his body was impatient for the promised delight of taking the sweet virgin ass beneath him. One hand braced on Vin’s hip, he used the other to guide his member home. Once the fat, mushroom head breached the tight ring of muscle, he paused to allow Tanner to adjust to the intrusion, groaning with pleasure at the exquisite, tight heat.

Vin cried out softly and bucked involuntarily beneath his weight. Unable to stop, Chris’s hips rammed forward, sheathing his cock almost to the root in the silken, moist heat of Tanner’s body. Sensation flooded him like a tidal wave and he surrendered to it, thrusting urgently into the body beneath him. Hands tight enough on Tanner’s hips to leave bruises, he fucked the young man lustily, lean, muscular buttocks flexing as he took his pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to reach a toe curling, yelping coyote climax. Wrapping arms and legs around the Texan and pushing in as deep as he could, he gave a throaty growl and came, teeth in Vin’s shoulder, shooting his seed deep inside as he collapsed heavily on the young man’s sweaty back. Tanner gave a choked cry as he climaxed for the third time. It was a while before Larabee regained enough presence of mind to roll to one side and check on his partner.

Carefully, he eased his soft cock from Vin’s behind, mindful of Vin’s soft grunt of discomfort. Long fingers gently explored, and he was relieved not to find any tearing of delicate tissue. He cleaned the younger man gently with his damp bandanna and applied another dab of salve to tender, swollen skin. Tanner’s silence worried him though. He wrapped both arms around Vin and turned him to face him, holding him close. He tilted the square jaw up and kissed the hot face, inexplicably relieved when Tanner nuzzled into the crook of his neck and both arms crept shyly up to wrap around his neck.

He reached down and tugged the wool blanket up over their entwined bodies, still cradling the smaller man close. The chain linking them was once again an annoyance as he noticed its heavy weight, and he pushed it aside as best he could. Vin was quiet in his embrace, sated and almost asleep, the moist heat between them cooling and he buried his nose in the sweaty silk of his hair, his hold warm and possessive. He smiled in the dark at the small, contented sleepy sighs the younger man made as he settled, and planted one last kiss on his temple.

Only later would he admit to himself the extent to which he had claimed the smaller man, and realize just how much of himself the lean Texan had claimed in return. Now, he just held his new lover close, legs entwined, hands gently stroking and massaging his narrow back as they slid towards sleep, enjoying the sensation of Vin’s warm skin against his, the rich scent of their combined musk and the rare feeling of utter satisfaction. Words were unnecessary; their bodies had spoken eloquently for them.

Ten days later when Harris would release them, instead of a pair of meek, cowed prisoners, all he found was a yawning, sated, mated pair who emerged blinking into the winter light reeking of sex like a pair of tomcats, and totally unrepentant. All he had succeeded in doing was to reinforce the growing bond between them. He couldn’t have done a better job if he had sent them on a private, all expense paid honeymoon.

The bond they had forged there in the dark would tether them together for the rest of their lives.

**************

Buck Wilmington beamed happily at the seven men gathered around the cantina table. Successfully dodging bullets always gave him a hell of an adrenaline rush. He raised his glass to those gathered, including the new Kid. To the world they were nothing but murderers and thieves, history would simply refer to them as Los Magnificos.

To Wilmington they were the closest things to family he had ever had in his life.

Larabee smirked at him across the table, a lean, lethal shadow of a man, Vin at his side as usual. He was the deadliest, fastest gun in the Territory, probably in the country itself. A mean drunk with an evil temper. Yet he would wear a widower’s weeds for his lost family for the rest of his life. He was Buck’s oldest and dearest friend.

Vin smiled at him, calm blue eyes on his face. Tanner had lost two loving families, one white, one red, at a heartbreakingly early age. To the civilized folk, Vin was little more than a murdering renegade and savage. What sanctuary he had found from a harsh world had been in a gunslinger’s arms. He was the one person in the world with whom Chris Larabee was simpatico. They were partners for life and would ride to the river and beyond together.

Ez blinked sleepily back, his sly brain only now coming fully awake. Ezra was a mystery to Buck, his gray eyes holding a thousand secrets. He was one of the most intelligent men Buck knew, more then capable of succeeding at any task at hand, yet he preferred to live in a dream world. The other men kept a sharp watch to insure that he would never be lost in it.

Josiah and Nate sat together shoulder to shoulder, like the old road dogs they were.

Jackson, who had been a slave and now reaped bloody vengeance with the same blade that had been placed in his hand as a child, on that first day long ago in the hellishly hot cane fields of the south. To Nathan, the color of Justice was red.

Sanchez, who tried hard to believe in a just and good God, but was on much more intimate terms with his fallen archangels and kept a wary eye to the skies, always ready to believe in the omens foretold by dark wings instead of peaceful white.

Dunne, who was the innocent still, the unknown blank page. The youth who had thrown in his lot with a roving pack of human predators and in the coming months would be hard pressed to stay out from under their teeth. If he survived, his life would be forged in lead and blood.

Wilmington himself, who searched endlessly for true love, women a banquet at which he grazed, but never stopped to savor long enough to appreciate. Yet he never saw what was under his nose.

"To the Magnificent Seven!"

They raised their glasses and drank to their own infamy. In the coming month, their spectacular train robbery would make them front page news all over the country, and more than double the prices on their respective heads, attracting a new, formidable breed of posse, the relentless kind that hunted men for fame as well as fortune.

They had chosen their paths a long time ago, steered sometimes by an unkind fate and ill luck, still, they had persevered and survived as the supreme predators they had become. They were hard men in a harsh environment. Civilized men would call them thieves and murderers, never knowing any other facet of their complex personalities.

FINI

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