Title: In Between Days

Author: E.L.

Fandom: Magnificent Seven, ATF AU

Pairing: Uh uh, that would be telling. And I am very good at keeping secrets. <g>

Disclaimer: HA HA HA HA <ahem> Sorry, that got away from me there. No, kiddies, I don't own `em. But Lord Above, if I did . . . <snort>

Author's Note: This is for all y'all out there who wondered. And pestered. Can't forget pestered. Who needs squirrels with these guys around? Ouch! <grumble, grumble, grumble> All right, all right, I do. I need the squirrels. Satisfied? Yeesh . . .

* * Denotes Thought

There was something oddly refreshing to kissing Christopher Larabee. It wasn't the taste, from his experience one mouth tasted much like the other, depending of course on what the person had been eating previously. It wasn't skill either, though Chris had enough in that department to pass muster. It was . . . trust, he finally decided and pushed the black-clad man firmly yet gently down to the floor until his entire weight lay on top of his superior. He felt Chris' body tremble with tension and knew that, like any wild animal backed into a corner, the blonde was fighting the urge to throw him off and clear across the room. He soothed Chris with his hands, running them up and down the length of the other man's body and underneath the thighs up to the buttocks and back, keeping a steady, caressing pace until the legs spread for him and he was lying between Larabee's knees. 

He pushed his tongue deeper into the slightly tense mouth and swirled along the ridges on the top of his jaw, around the teeth and gums, and finally sucked Chris' tongue into his own mouth. At last, his leader groaned, deep, guttural, painfully raw, and strong arms came up across his back to clasp him tightly against a heaving chest. It was what he had been waiting for, the signal that Chris seemed to need forced out of him. As usual, well sometimes, his reward was the withdrawal of some of the weight on top of him, allowing Chris to thrust upward and grind his erection into his own.

He placed his hands around the back of Chris' head and neck, drawing him closer into the kiss until they both had to break off and breathe; great gulps of air that smelled of dust and faintly of the cordite that clung to the men and strongly of musk. Chris leaned back on his arms and wary ice-blue eyes swept his face, hunting for signs of pity or contempt and, finding none as usual, relaxed enough to focus on his lips. He grinned and pressed his crotch down onto Chris' watching his leader's eyes flutter and his head drop back, spine arching upwards into his touch. Larabee's neck bared, drops of sweat rolling down his windpipe and along the jugular, wetting the collar of his black dress shirt, only the top button undone. He growled and swept in, licking the corded tendons sticking out from the neck as Chris cursed and moaned and tried to get away and get closer in equal measure. Just like always.

With one hand for balance and the other wrapped firmly around Chris, he pulled the man into a half-sitting position, biting gently into the junction of shoulder and neck to ensure the head stayed back. He looked up and watched as Chris' mouth opened and closed, tongue flicking out over dry lips, eyes tightly shut. He threw one leg over Larabee's and rocked slowly back and forth, setting the pace but letting Chris meet him in it, waiting patiently until the mouth opened again, tongue out and -

The phone rang.

Both agents started but he didn't let go and Chris didn't struggle anymore than usual so he brought up his other hand and -

The phone rang again.

With a regretful sigh, he pulled back and sat on his haunches, watching as Chris opened muddled dilated eyes to stare at him blackly. "Better get that," he said and moved so that Chris could slide his legs out from underneath him and get up.

His leader answered the phone in a voice he'd rarely heard outside of their more intimate moments but quickly got himself under control. At the first mention of Vin, concern struck in both of them and he made to get off the floor, but, as Chris' worry turned to laughter, he resettled himself on the floor and just observed the man before him. 

They both still wore their work clothes. Tired and worn as they were, he had decided to leave the stripping for later. *Decisions, decisions,* he mused. His leader had a wonderfully athletic body, trim lines not much given to flab, and an excellent musculature. The usual array of varied and interesting scars that a body in their dangerous profession gathered over the years. But the deeper scars . . . he shook his head. Chris, no two ways about it, was damaged goods. Beautiful, honorable, decent, and any number of other admirable qualities that made a wonderful team leader and friend, but, still, damaged. Perhaps even beyond repair. Enter him. *The Lord works in mysterious ways.* 

Chris didn't want romance. He'd had that with his wife. To Chris, he'd had everything with his wife. Death had idealized Sarah to Chris. She had been the perfect wife, the perfect mother. This didn't mean she hadn't been a good woman or that their marriage hadn't been a happy one but the trauma of her death had left Chris devastated. From what Buck had let slip Chris had cleaned up a great deal under Sarah's influence, not to mention Adam's. *Without their presence . . .* He shook his head and watched as Chris replaced the receiver in its cradle, shoulders still shaking slightly. "Anything need doin'?" the man asked.

He looked over at me, a faint smile still tugging his lips. "Nah, nothin' big," he said. "Just Vin actin' out of sorts."

He nodded and watched as Chris shifted his weight to his left foot and back again. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and stood, looking up at the man sitting on his floor. The tension in the room heightened and his leader's shoulders drew together, the mantel of perpetual responsibility once again drawing close to settle around him like a shroud.

He shook his head. "Come here," he said and extended a hand. With a slow, weary tread Chris walked over and gripped his hand tightly, intertwining their fingers. He pulled gently and Chris dropped quickly to his knees in front of him, eyes still alert for the least sign of contempt, of pity.

He sighed and let go of Chris' hand. He reached out and placed both hands against Larabee's shoulder dragging them down the muscled chest before settling at the waist and jerking the man closer until they sat with no space between each other. He placed a soft kiss to the side of Chris' neck and felt the man shudder. "Time for the bedroom I think," he said, voice muffled by the dress shirt.

He felt Chris nod jerkily against his shoulder. The blonde muttered something and he drew back to look him in the face. "What was that?"

Chris' lips thinned and he swallowed. "Nothin'."

He traced a finger around the outline of Chris' lips and unconsciously perhaps, the tip of Chris' tongue flickered out to lick the tip. He chuckled a little. "Sure?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He slid his arms around his leader's body and pulled him to his feet before leading him up the stairs. "Anytime, Brother," he said. "Anytime."