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When he thought back on it, Chris realised he hadn't been truly mad with Ezra for longer than he could remember. Sure, he'd gone through the motions, but his heart hadn't been in it and he knew that everyone else recognised that fact. He'd snapped and snarled at Ezra, as much out of habit as necessity, keeping the other man at a distance so he wouldn't know the truth. It was a futile hope - Ezra was relentless, though, keeping on at him like water dripping on a stone, wearing him down till his resistance to everything those green eyes offered just slid away. He hadn't been mad for a while, but he was now. With himself. It had been reckless, thoughtless in the extreme; his actions fuelled by too much booze and too little self-control. Thinking about it rationally, Chris knew that if Ezra really objected to what he'd done he would never have woken up at all, let alone splayed naked across his own bedroll, mouth tasting like the inside of one of his boots and head hammering its dislike of the cheap booze he'd been drinking last night. He ached all over, strange pains in unfamiliar places. Looking down at himself, Chris saw he had enough marks on his body to make even Buck go green with envy if he didn't cover up enough when he got back to town. "No room at the inn," Ezra had commented only hours before, when they'd ridden into town with the prisoner they were escorting. The useless half-drunk sheriff had forgotten their arrival, the rooming house was full to bursting point, so they'd agreed to camp just outside town before setting off for home the next morning. It had all started to go out of control after that. Ezra had insisted on heading for the bath house, his usual running commentary on the bathing habits of the local inhabitants falling from his mouth as he did so. Chris had reluctantly trailed after him. He felt oddly unwilling to be alone - it was out of character but for some reason he found he wanted to be sociable with the one person he knew in this god-forsaken town. Besides which, no matter how much Ezra might joke about it not being time for his yearly bath yet, Chris couldn't bring himself to miss the opportunity of seeing Ezra naked. He didn't think Ezra had noticed his interest, but he'd been wrong. Not that he'd known this at the time, when he was busy making sure he could catch glimpses of Ezra's skin out of the corner of his eye as he relaxed in his own tub. He'd stripped as quickly as he could, sinking down into water that was a little too hot in his haste, clothes discarded in a pile by the head of the tub. Ezra always took his time getting undressed, folding each garment with care, his fastidious nature creating a sideshow for whoever else was around. Chris wasn't fool enough to watch the other man directly, though - that was much too dangerous. But every so often Ezra would half-turn, bending to place the latest piece of clothing on the growing pile, and then Chris could look his full unobserved. And he did. Chris savoured the sight of Ezra's body, imagining what that smooth pale skin would feel like under his own calloused fingertips, his eyes tracing the occasional scar whose path he'd love to follow with his tongue. It was a sweet torment, each stolen moment of observation giving him material for later encounters between cock and hand. This time was no different. Ezra was pale, that was for sure, but there was nothing womanish about him. He'd worked hard at some point in his past, hard enough to build muscle whether he wanted anyone to know about it or not. In the time he'd known the other man, Chris knew there were a lot of things about Ezra he didn't know, things Ezra would never tell anyone because it wasn't their business, and that was a way of looking at the world he could understand just fine. Maybe he'd drunk a little more bad whiskey than was wise this time round, after they'd both soaked for a while then dressed and headed for the saloon together. Ezra hadn't commented on it, though he'd talked about everything else under the sun, but instead had matched him drink for drink even as he winced at the rotgut that passed for booze in those parts. He'd been watching the local action, eyeing up a card game in progress, but had pronounced it poor pickings and beneath his involvement. If that had been different, if they hadn't both been a little roostered, perhaps it might never have happened. Perhaps Ezra would have stayed on a couple of hours later at the saloon, separating those players from their money and by the time he'd have returned to their campsite Chris would have been half-sober again and in control of himself once more. Instead of which neither of them had been in a good frame of mind and everything between them had fallen apart. ------------ He came back from relieving himself, stumbled on a rock and nearly ended up face first in the campfire, if it hadn't been for Ezra's quick reflexes, booze or not. They'd hit the dirt tangled together, his own temper flaring even as he hit the ground and only the way Ezra was wrapped round him had prevented Chris from landing a punch or two. He knew it was stupid, knew he ought to be grateful to Ezra, but the last thing he felt at that moment was gratitude. Buck always said he was a mean drunk and it looked like he had every intention of proving it on Ezra. Ezra, whose erection was making itself known even as the two of them tried to separate themselves. "I guess you'd like me to roll over for you, huh?" Chris said, as he dusted himself down. He tried to ignore the fact he had a matching erection, grateful for the low level of light the campfire provided. "I have no intention of providing you with any surcease," Ezra said, straightening his jacket. "Unless you intend to maintain this subterfuge." "What subterfuge?" Chris took a couple of steps closer to where Ezra stood, his fingers curling into a fist as he figured out how best to wipe the smirk from Ezra's face. He couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself from asking what Ezra meant, from rising to the bait. From wanting to take the other man on, one way or another. "Your observation of me did not go unnoticed, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said, standing his ground. The smirk didn't go away, even as Chris came within striking distance. "And no amount of fisticuffs will alter the fact that you are aroused." "It'll make me feel better," Chris said. "I wish I could say the same," Ezra replied. "But somehow I fear my role in that performance would be as the well-known philosopher describes life: nasty, brutish and short." He paused, head cocked to one side, reminding Chris of a bird. "I have a better idea." "Not rolling over," Chris reminded him. "I wouldn't consider asking." Ezra began to strip, as if replaying the earlier show in the bath house. Chris felt himself relax a little, though this time round Ezra moved faster than before, taking a little less care with his clothes till he stood in just shirt and pants, the pants undone and hanging open. His erection was even more pronounced now and Chris felt his body respond, his own arousal growing in a way he hadn't thought possible. He would have taken a step back, telling himself he just wanted a better view, if Ezra hadn't grabbed his arm. Chris stumbled forward, finding himself with an armful of Ezra even as the other man kissed him. It was unexpected, the last thing he'd thought would happen, even when he imagined some kind of encounter with Ezra. It was over before he realised it, an obvious distraction to take Chris's mind off Ezra's hand slipping into his pants with practiced ease. His nimble fingers were cool on heated flesh through the material of his combinations and Chris was a little abashed at how his hips jerked forwards at the touch, the smirk reappearing on Ezra's face at the movement. "Not rolling over?" Ezra asked. "Is that your final word?" His fingers tightened a little on Chris's erection, moving with just enough force to make Chris have to catch his breath before he replied. "Maybe," he said, surprising himself even as he spoke. "But maybe *you* should roll over for me anyway." "Maybe I should," Ezra said. His hand was gone from Chris's pants before he realised it, as he continued to strip, managing somehow to stand on one foot and pull off his boot despite the amount of bad liquor he'd consumed earlier. It was a feat Chris wouldn't have wanted to try and copy, even if the rush of blood to his cock seemed to be sobering him up in record time. "Your place or mine?" he continued, as he dropped one of his boots and started work on removing the other. The world spun a little as Chris sat down on his bedroll, watching Ezra shuck the rest of his clothes in short order. He didn't fold them up as neatly as he had in the bath house, but the gradual revelation of well-muscled skin was as arousing as before and this time there was no need to hide the fact that he was watching. By the time Ezra finished he was hard enough to hammer nails, let alone take advantage of the other man's nakedness. "You could at least take your boots off," Ezra said. It was amazing how calmly he spoke, considering that he was naked and Chris was still almost fully-clothed, but he looked as relaxed as if he was out for a Sunday stroll. "This little encounter would go *much* more smoothly if you didn't appear ready to jump up and run away at any moment." He could see the sense in that, though it took an effort to tear his eyes away from Ezra - naked, hard and watching him toe off his own boots - long enough to follow the suggestion. After a moment's thought, Chris decided he probably ought to lose the pants too, though that was more of an effort due to the sizeable erection he was now sporting. Ezra had slipped his hand into the same pants with ease but that was before he'd been as hard as he was now. Chris thought he heard a snort of laughter from Ezra as he struggled to free himself completely, but a quick glance at the other man saw him studying the ground with a face full of innocence. The pants joined his boots, laying in a haphazard pile next to the bedroll. "Well?" Chris asked, pulling himself onto the bedroll. "Let's do it." "Ever the romantic," Ezra replied, crossing the distance between them quicker than Chris expected. He found himself suddenly with an armful of Ezra again, one hand freeing Chris from his combinations once more even as the fingers of the other twined themselves in his hair and his face was pulled forwards for another bruising kiss. Ezra's erection was unexpectedly heavy and heated against his hipbone, even through the cloth that separated the two of them, while the other man's well-muscled leg was between his own, the slightest of movements from Ezra's fingers making Chris moan in a way he'd never heard himself do before. He must be drunker than he thought, letting Ezra run things this way, but those talented fingers and that equally-talented mouth had apparently robbed him of any ability to resist. "Roll onto your side," Ezra said, his breath warm on Chris's ear, hand still moving on Chris's erection. There was something about this that didn't add up but the insistent pressure of Ezra's fingers stole the thought and he did as he was told, Ezra getting onto his knees to allow the movement beneath him. "Perfect," he said, hand speeding up a little, enough to make Chris whimper at the change of pace. Ezra slipped sideways, moving up close, his body pressed against Chris's length. That talented mouth was working its magic on the juncture of Chris's neck and shoulder, moving up to allow Ezra to lick a spot behind Chris's ear that made him squirm unexpectedly, then back down to his neck once more. He was close, hips moving with the movement of Ezra's hand, barely conscious of what else Ezra was doing, even as he felt the cloth of his combinations move, the back panel opening to allow flesh on flesh. Chris's hips jerked again, no matter how he tried to stay still, Ezra's whispered words barely heard above his own gasped breaths. "That's it," Ezra was saying, "almost there." The words made little sense, even less as Chris felt his climax thundering down on him, hips moving in earnest with Ezra's hand now, no attempt to hold himself back. Something was there between his legs, even as he felt the climax hit; it was wet and hard and pushed in with one strong movement, brushing against something inside that made sparks erupt behind his closed eyelids. "What the hell?" It had taken a while for Chris to get his breath back, form words he was sure the other man would understand, conscious of the fact that Ezra's hand still gripped his cock, even if now only loosely in comparison to before. He was also aware that Ezra's erection still pressed hard and hot against his back; Chris had said he wouldn't roll over for anyone and somehow, despite what he'd thought for a moment, Ezra had taken him at his word. At least that was how it seemed. "What was that?" "That," Ezra said, the heated whisper reminding Chris of what had just happened between them, "was your prostate gland, Mr Larabee." Chris snorted. "It's a little late for formality, Ezra," he said. Ezra's laughter made his erection brush against the small of Chris's back once more, his own spent cock jerking a little in unexpected response to the chuff of breath across his ear. "I thought..." "That I'd taken advantage of your drunken and libidinous state?" "Something like that." Chris shifted back on his bedroll, away from the wet patch he'd made, back into Ezra's erection. He smiled to himself at the intake of breath Ezra couldn't help at the movement. "Problem?" "Nothing I can't handle," Ezra replied, his hand moving from Chris's cock to his hip, "as you are aware." He couldn't argue with that, could he? "Not rolling over, remember?" he continued, as he moved a little down Chris's body, erection slipping between his thighs. It only took one or two movements of Ezra's hips, fingers tightening on the combinations Chris still wore, to demonstrate he was quite capable of managing almost by himself. He didn't regret the almost- offer he'd made, though. Maybe next time... ---------------- Movement in the brush made Chris turn swiftly and drove all thoughts of what he'd experienced the night before from his mind. His hand snake towards where he'd left his pistols, the holster hanging from his saddle, and he pulled the pistol free, pointed and cocked it in one clean movement. "Don't shoot," Ezra said, emerging from behind a rock, their water canisters dangling from his hand. "I was starting to wonder when you'd wake." Chris thumbed back the hammer, sliding the pistol back into its holster. Ezra hadn't moved, still standing just inside the small area they'd chosen for a camp, as if unsure of his welcome. The expression on his face didn't give much away but the way he stood, as if poised to make a break for cover, told Chris more than he needed to know. "No coffee?" he asked, grabbing at his pants from the pile he'd made the night before. Out of the corner of his eye he would have sworn he could see Ezra relax, then take a few hesitant steps towards what remained of their campfire. "Maybe we should have stayed in town after all." "No room at the inn, remember?" He probably ought to be a little mad at Ezra, just for the liberties he'd taken, the things Chris had allowed him to do, but somehow he couldn't manage to summon up the energy. He had to admit he'd slept well, better than he would have done even if he'd had a room in the best hotel in town and the services of the town's most talented whore. And at least he hadn't had to worry about getting rolled in the night, finding that whore had taken off with the contents of his pack as well as what she was promised. All in all, he and Ezra had both benefitted from the arrangement, one way or another. Ezra was tending the fire now, all his concentration focussed on bringing it back to life, and Chris took the opportunity to study him unobserved once more. Maybe there was something to be said for getting roostered once in a while.
~ fin ~
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