Would you die for me? by KETanner

"Would you die for me?"

Huh? Come again?

"Would you die for me?"

Would I what? Damn, that voice o' his is all sexy and low, like honey 'n wood smoke, filled up with all the want and heat of what we're playin' at and his cock is buried eight inches up my ass and he's asking me what?

"Would you die for me, Vin?"

I stare up at him, his eyes are dark and shaded, sleepy, hardly able to believe my ears. We're right in the middle of gettin' all sweaty and heated up together and he's asking me these kinda questions. I ain't hardly got enough brain left to form words when he's inside o' me so fucking deep and we're layin' here skin to skin and here he is wanting to have one of Ezra's 'philo-sophical' discussions?

Piss on ya, Larabee. Now ain't th'time fer askin' me 'bout this shit.

"Ya don't start movin' an' I'll kill ya m'self." I say it with a small grin, tryin' to get 'im to back off, to not take it all so serious-like, to keep him from pulling away.

Aw, hell. Didn't work. Now he's got that look on his face, the one where he's shutting me out, closin' his self off to where ain't nobody able to reach 'im. To where sometimes even *I* cain't reach 'im. Pisses me off sumthin' fierce when he goes there, this secret place deep inside his self, a place where I cain't follow.

Pisses me off even more when he starts to pull out of my aching ass.

Quick as a snake, I wrap my legs 'round him, holdin' on tight, keeping 'im close. I can tell by that frown he's wearing and the spark in his eyes that he don't like it none, don't like being held on to that way. Well, that's just too bad. He's the one started this shit and he damned well better finish it.

Damned well better finish me.

He strains against my thighs, his muscles bunching underneath skin slick with sweat and colored with heat. His cock slips out a touch, but I damn sure ain't lettin' go. I learned right quick the best way to handle Larabee is t'keep him right where I want 'im. Up close and deep inside where I can feel 'im, where he cain't hide none from me.

Where I can feel every damned beat of the heart he says he ain't got.

I know better than that though. I know what he's got inside. I feel it ever' time he touches me, ever' time he looks my way with that partic'lar glint in his eyes. Even when he's riled at me, that look is still there. Has been from the day we met, when our eyes first touched across a dusty street, and we marched into battle side by side with nary a word. It's a look that says he wants me, that he needs me, that he cain't live without me, like a dying man in a desert with no water to quench his thirst.

Ain't neither of us ever put a name to it. That's fer women and gigglin' young girls who blush a bright, pretty red. But I suppose if it came right down to it, then love is what you'd call it. 'Cept men ain't supposed to use that word, let alone admit to feelin' it, 'specially not when it comes t'other men.

But, yeah, I can admit it. I love 'im, and I know he loves me even though we ain't never spoke of it, and probably won't never will, until it strikes me all of a sudden that maybe that's what he's askin' me now.

Helluva a way to ask it though.

Kinda takes me by surprise.

And piss poor timing as well.

Would you die for me, Vin?

Right in the middle of wantin' him to fuck me through the damned bed sheets and he's got this sudden need to hear me say it. I must be doing somethin' wrong. Usually Chris don't get so distracted while we're fucking. He's got a kinda one track mind thatta way. But even if he does, I can usually get 'im back on track faster than the four o'clock train down at Miner's Junction.

See, he's got this little place right behind his left ear.

Must be losing m'touch.

I twitch my legs a little tighter, my heels digging into his ass, and he grunts against m'hold. Them long fingers o' his are fisted tight in the sheets, no longer touching me, no longer teasing m'skin, and I wanna weep with the loss of 'em. I cain't hold back a bit of a groan. Seems I'm fightin' a losing battle.

But then again, it's prob'bly been that way from the start.

Oh, not from the start of our relationship as Ezra'd call it. But a losing battle after today, after what happened down in the streets below, just outside Chris's window. Seems some young hothead rode in t'town while I was out at Nettie's. Silly fool was lookin' to make a name fer himself. Tried callin' Chris out only Chris decided not to play.

I was right glad to hear that seeing as how there was a time when Larabee woulda put a bullet right between the kid's eyes and never even bothered to blink.

But all that's changed now.

Larabee's changed.

'Course, I've changed too.

Buck told me after that Chris tried talkin' the kid out of it, told him to go home and live, but when that didn't work, he punched the youngster and locked him up over in the jail house to let him cool off some. Seems like all that did though was rile the boy some more 'cuz as soon as he got out, he come lookin' fer Chris again.

Only this time, not face t'face.

I got there just in time to keep 'im from shootin' Larabee in the back.

Seems Larabee don't appreciate being saved by a man throwin' his self from a galloping horse even if it kept Chris from taking a bullet. Didn't know 'til later just how close I come to catchin' one in the back m'self. Didn't think about it at the time. All's I knew was Chris was in danger. Didn't think no further than that.

Didn't need to.

I can see now that it musta scared the hell outta Larabee.

That's why he's askin' me these questions.

That's why he wants to know.

"Hell, yeah, I'd die fer ya, Chris."

M'voice is rougher than usual, softer too, but I cain't lie to 'im. Never could. Not while he's still inside me. Not while he's still lookin' at me with them eyes o' his.

Not when I can still feel his every heart beat.

I damn near start wailin' when he moves inside o' me again, wantin' him, needin' him, and he's filling me up with his cock. I'm trying hard not to notice how the tears in his eyes sparkle like crystals in the light. He moves faster and faster inside o' me, thrustin' hard, drivin' m'body higher 'n tighter, winding me up. I can feel it comin', the rush I been waitin' fer, his heat and hardness and essence fillin' up all the empty places in my soul.

Then he leans close, his chest against mine, and whispers in m'ear. His sweat drips onto my upper lip and I can taste him, feel him, smell him.

"I don't want you dying for me, Vin."

Too late.

Too late.

Oh, God. It's too late.

M'whole body flies apart and he's holdin' me and I'm shakin' and dyin' all in a single heartbeat. I hold onto him too, never wantin' to let go, needin' him more than th'air I breathe, feelin' like all the pieces of m'broken heart have finally been made whole.

My wounded soul is now healed.

His too.

"Too late, Chris," I whisper into the sweaty strands of blond hair b'side his ear. "Too late."

Still breathin' hard, he nods in understanding, acceptin' my words for the truth they bring, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it goes for him as well.

Our words of love are left unspoken.

Would you die for me?

Yeah, Larabee, I'd die for ya.

THE END