The Ones You Love

by Stan Lee* and Eclipse

Alternate Universe "Escorts"

Summary: In the world of high-paid professional ESCORTS, Chris and Buck are long-time partners and work with their company of friends, "Access 7," which has been in business for roughly four years. Chris and Buck, for various reasons that may become clear in future stories, have a very intimate, and somewhat twisted, relationship. For the first time since starting the business, their relationship hit a huge snag because of Chris' growing obsession with a particular female client. At the end of the last story, they had worked things out. Or had they?

Follows You Always Hurt . . .

Warning: This story contains both violence and sexual violence, and some off beat kind of bdsm. And, in all fairness, it's a C/B story first and foremost, with participation of all the characters.)

Buck felt himself slowly drifting toward consciousness, eyes fluttering open, closing momentarily against a ray of sun, opening again as they adjusted to the light. He lay unmoving for a moment, happy to be in his own bed, Chris lying safe beside him, tucked up tight against his belly, his soft, even breaths indicating that he was still asleep. Buck smiled, comfortable and content. Home with Chris. Nothing could be better.

Then he stretched.

The pain that shot through him took his breath away. A sudden startling memory of last night stabbed at him, of himself writhing under the lash, sobbing out a plea, all pride stripped away. Then a floodgate opened and memory crashed in: Sarah saying goodbye to him and Chris the last time they had seen her alive; Caroline Wallingford at one of Jennifer's parties, looking and acting so much like Sarah; Chris' flinty eyes and the desperation in them as he wielded the crop. In his mind's eye, Caroline laughed at something Chris whispered to her; in his mind's ear, Chris' voice grated, Nobody else will ever give me what you do, Buck.

Maybe nobody else was dumb enough, but Buck shouldered the bad with the good; Chris needed to cut loose sometimes, with a violence neither of them understood. And Buck needed to let him, be there for him, make sure he was okay at the end.

Buck moved slightly, swallowed down a hiss as his back and ass seemed to catch fire. Chris had really worked him over last night, maybe harder than ever before. He settled again as best he could and stroked a soothing hand over Chris' shoulder when the man shuffled restlessly. Chris squirmed closer until their bellies were touching, sighed, and relaxed back into sleep.

It had been strange to see Chris so intimate with Caroline Wallingford, to see how a trick stirred up bits of Chris that Sarah had uncovered when she was alive. The half-smile that was never far from his lips when Sarah was near, the particular spark in his eyes when he would look from her to Buck, like he was sharing a treasure, a secret, the look he reserved almost exclusively for her. Then Sarah had died and that smile had become so rare again, so precious. Guarded, doled out as if with conscious care. Saved for special occasions.

Buck had refused to recognize that smile when Chris saw Caroline for the first time, too afraid of what it might mean. But last night, after a rare, intensely painful session, when Chris had told him he wanted to keep fucking Caroline, the feeling of dread that he always associated with hearing the woman's name had slid sharply into focus. Seeing Chris look at another woman in the same way he had looked at Sarah had wrenched something in his gut, something sickening and painful.

Meeting Sarah. God, that had been a hard time for all of them -- until everything between them fell so beautifully into place. Buck had known from the moment those two laid eyes on each other that something serious had happened. For all his standoffishness, Chris actually had a knack for connecting with a certain kind of people; he made friends easily when he wanted to. But whatever had passed between Chris and Sarah was different, deeper, permanent. Buck had felt it and panicked briefly--he and Chris had been so tightly bound together that he had never considered somebody else in the mix. But he had made room in his heart for her, at first just because she meant so much to Chris, and then because he'd found that she really was worth his affection. She treated him like a brother and he loved her for it.

And Chris had reacted like he always did, reaching out to Sarah with one hand while keeping a firm grip on Buck with the other, not for a moment thinking he would have to sacrifice either of them. Buck smiled. He should have expected that Chris would want to have it all. And he had been stupidly, crazily relieved that there was still a place for him, that there continued to be through the years that followed.

But that was with Sarah. Caroline was married to money, unapologetic about her choices, as happy to pay for sex as she was for romance. She looked like Sarah, had similar mannerisms, but she wasn't Sarah, and couldn't even hold a candle to Chris' dead wife. Buck didn't know how he was going to cope with her yet.

His chest felt uncomfortably tight, his muscles aching from holding himself in position for Chris for so long. So often that was a good feeling, like a strained tendon from too-athletic sex, or a sore throat from too much head. Right now, with that woman behind him and Winston in front of him, all he felt was a deep exhaustion.

He knew if Chris woke up they would argue again about keeping this date and he just didn't feel up to a fight. Easing out of bed, he pushed his pillow into Chris' questing arms, gathered up clothes and an overnight bag, pasted on his game face and slipped silently out of the room.

7 - 7 – 7

"Morning, Winston," Buck said blithely, slipping past the butler and rubbing right up against the man. Winston loved his brashness, and liked when his staff saw people suck up to him.

"You're early," Winston said, waving the butler out of the room.

Buck raised his eyebrows. "I can come back later if you want," he offered, but he was already leaning up against Winston and rubbing the heel of his hand down the man's rising cock.

Buck took the grunt and a barely controlled thrust as an invitation to stay.

Winston's eyes glittered as they took in his bruised cheek, and white teeth bit absently at the wide lower lip. "What happened to you?"

"Got hit," Buck said vaguely. "Like it?" And in seconds he was on his knees with Winston's cock half way down his throat. Which was fine. It was what he was being paid for.

Handsome, cultured, sophisticated, and until recently a fairly undemanding client, Winston McConnell's family had gotten its money just like the Kennedys and the Rockefellers--by stealing it from everybody else and running liquor during prohibition. And just like the other supposed aristocrats, Winston loved paying for things that other people had to work for. There had always been a dangerous edge to the man that Buck had been able to control. This time was different. The bruise on Buck's face had overexcited him, and as soon as Winston saw the lash marks on Buck's back, his cock went up like he was on Viagra, and stayed that way for three hours. Winston pawed the whip marks through their first fucking session, breaking them open, deaf to Buck's veiled complaints. Buck spent the rest of the day fighting to contain him, dropping to his knees at the first sign that Winston was getting hard, staying on top as much as he could, trying to keep Winston focused on the bruise on his face, but by midnight he was on his belly across the bed, and when Winston ran a fingernail down the cut skin on his shoulder, making him bleed all over again, Buck finally lost his patience.

He rolled hard enough to dump the man onto the other side of the queen-sized bed and glared, hard. "I swear to God, Winston, you do that again and we're through here. Do you understand me?"

The man actually looked surprised. "I'm paying for it, you can't--"

Buck smiled, showing all his teeth and raising up a staying hand. "We both know what you're paying for," he placated. "It doesn't include marking me up. " He tucked his chin and looked up through his lashes. "I didn't cancel on you, because I knew you'd get off on all this. I was trying to do you a favor, 'cause you're a special client. But you're making me regret that decision. Do you really want to do that?"

"What I want," Winston purred, pressing hard belly and harder cock up against him, "is to put marks like that on you myself. "

"That isn't for sale. "

"Obviously, it is to somebody. Whatever they're paying, I'll pay more. "

Buck dropped his head to hide his amusement. Winston didn't understand him, and never would. He curbed his smile before he looked back up. "Nobody paid me," he said.

Winston looked confused. "You mean you let somebody do that to you? Why?"

Buck laughed. "Jesus, Winston, for a man of the world you're pretty damned naïve. I don't just fuck for money, you know. "

Winston seemed to chew that over for a while and Buck saw the moment when the man made the connection. "Larabee did that?" he said, clearly intrigued. "Why?"

"It's none of your business who did this to me or how it got here," Buck said, exasperated. He never should have opened his mouth. "The only thing that's your business is that you can't have it. "

Winston whistled, eyes glittering with amusement and a new level of lust Buck had not seen there before. "I always thought your lover was a twisted fuck; it's right there in his eyes. "

"Cut it out, Winston. " Buck had no idea why Chris and Winston couldn't be in the same room together without mixing it up like schoolyard bullies. Let them talk and it was ten times worse.

Winston ignored him, eyes narrowing, lust turning to calculation. "He sells himself too, doesn't he? How much does he charge?"

Buck wondered where Winston was going with this. "Why?"

Winston licked his lips. "If you won't let me do it, I'll pay to watch Larabee do that to you. "

Buck fought hard to maintain a neutral expression. "What Chris and I do is personal, private. It isn't on offer. "

Winston's lip curled in disbelief. "Everything's for sale, especially for your kind. "

Buck could almost feel sorry for the man. He pasted on a smile. "Almost everything, Winston. But not what's between me and Chris. "

"You know I'll pay you both well…" Winston began.

"I already told you, nobody pays to do this to me. Now, do you want to get back to where we were, or should I just leave now?"

Winston gave in with ill grace, although Buck didn't for a second think this conversation was over. He slid half-off the end of the bed and dipped into his overnight bag, pulling out a new strip of condoms. "Come on, now, don't sulk," he cajoled, turning and crawling up beside the man's body. "I got somethin' I think will make you feel better."

Buck rolled one of the condoms onto Winston and reached for the lube. He made sure that Winston's cock was well coated before he rolled up onto his knees and spread his legs wide, grinding his teeth together when Winston shoved himself inside. He was still loose from being fucked all day, but Winston's lack of care hurt nonetheless.

Winston worked him long and hard with little finesse, but eventually he grunted, jerked wildly and came. Buck flattened out on the bed when the man pulled out of him, his muscles screaming, his ass raw and on fire. Winston rolled off and onto his back, panting with exertion. Buck took a few deep breaths, trying hard to relax before climbing shakily to his feet.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said. He hoped that the hot water would help to ease his aching muscles. He had almost reached the bathroom door when Winston called his name. He turned reluctantly.

"At least think about what I want from you," Winston said. "You know I'll make it worth your while."

Buck was too exhausted to argue. He needed to get himself cleaned up, maybe find something to soothe his torn back.

"I'll give it some thought, Winston," he said tiredly, regretting the words almost instantly when he saw a light of triumph flare in the man's eyes. He trudged to the bathroom, hoping to hell that Winston would be asleep by the time he finished his shower.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris hated waking up alone. Yesterday had been worse than usual, waking to an unexpectedly empty bed. Today was almost as bad, missing his lover, longing for his return. He hated sleeping alone too, and that had only gotten worse since he and Buck had started this business.

He rolled out of bed and walked to the door that separated bedroom from sitting room in their suite, his eyes landing on little things: Buck's sweatshirt draped over a chair, the furniture he'd shipped with a moving company all the way from Missouri: a beat up sofa that dated back to their pre-Sarah days, dressers, lamps... Chris could still remember their argument over that. You don't think we can afford something new, with the money we'll be making? Buck had just laughed, and replied, I think there'll be too much new, and I want stuff of ours there...

Buck had been right.

Early on, with the pressures of adapting to their new line of work and the constant demands on their time and their bodies, the only thing that held Chris together had been knowing that eventually, he and Buck would be able to curl up on that damned big overstuffed sofa. He had been glad then to cling to the habits of the past, to try to compensate for too much time apart by surrounding himself with comforts from a simpler time. But it hadn't been enough.

Chris turned, glanced back at the empty bed. There were times even today when Buck wouldn't permit sex, wouldn't offer it--when they were too tired, too stressed, when it was "too much like work," because in the beginning they'd unconsciously begun to treat each other like whore and trick, and Chris hadn't been able to separate one kind of sex from the other. Little by little they had carved out space for themselves, agreeing on when they could and couldn't talk business, setting boundaries on what each of them could give to their clients. They had started to arrange their schedules so that they worked at the same time as much as possible, and had created their own "weekend," Mondays without fail, Tuesdays when they could, even before Chris had found Vin and Nathan. They never worked on Mondays, no matter how lucrative the date, and that was intelligence hard-won. Back in the beginning, when he'd nudged Buck into the high end of this business, they'd almost lost their way, spending too much time at work and not enough time at home. Then Nathan had introduced them to Josiah, and they had all moved into this building and Buck had told them about fuck-free Mondays.

Chris smiled a little; Mondays were far from fuck-free. As often as not, the whole gang was likely to settle into a pile for relaxation and friendly sex, after spending time at the Saloon, the neighborhood local that they had somehow garnered a place in, or playing ball, doing those things that expanded the connections that had formed naturally between them. Mondays had dispelled his initial distrust of Ezra, and he figured that eventually, it would be Mondays that resolved the rest of their differences.

But Monday was a day away, and Buck wouldn't be back until after six tonight. Chris sighed, his good mood evaporating like the fog on a bathroom mirror, and dragged on sweats. Coffee would make everything look better. Coffee, and the company of friends.

Vin was in the kitchen, staring at the gurgling coffee pot, dressed in sweats, tennis shoes and a tank.

"You going running?" Chris asked as he retrieved a mug.

"Yeah. Feelin' stiff, thought I'd work the kinks out."

Chris couldn't suppress a grin. "What's his name didn't work them out for you?" he ventured, breaking their comfortable quiet.

Vin smirked. "I had three what's-his-names last night, cowboy, and they were the ones paying me."

He debated asking to go along, but decided against; when he cut loose, Vin ran Chris into the ground. "Find me at lunchtime," Chris offered. "We'll go to the Saloon."

"Okay."

They drank their coffee in companionable silence, and Vin left just as quietly, with a touch to the back of Chris' neck as he rounded the table. Chris could picture his friend in front of the building, glancing casually around himself as he stretched before the run. Always alert, Vin wasn't a man you could catch off guard very often.

And Chris had a few kinks himself. He refilled his cup and spent the morning distracting himself with long-avoided paperwork. The IRS was going to like him this year. Eventually, though, he changed into shorts and meandered to the small, makeshift gym they kept in back.

Ezra was already in there, spinning on an exercise bike, and Chris hesitated at the door.

"Good day, Chris," Ezra greeted, without looking up.

He took his cue and strode on in. "Ezra."

Their silences weren't nearly as comfortable as the ones Chris shared with Vin. Even here, in their home, Ezra kept a piece of himself back, watching, analyzing. But they were all right together, as long as Ezra wasn't trying to dig too deeply into his personal business. And Ezra, who kept an investment banker very, very happy, was doing wonders for the company's stock portfolio.

"Hey, Ezra," he called out, trusting his impulses. "Vin and I are going to go over to the Saloon for lunch, around two o'clock. Want to come?"

Ezra tried hard to hide his surprise; with Buck out of the house and his last confrontation with Chris so recent, he hadn't expected overtures of friendship from Chris Larabee. Kicking off the bicycle, mourning the loss of breeze from the ceiling fan he had strategically placed, he walked around the weight rack and picked up dumbbells.

"Thank you, I accept."

Chris smirked, probably at his formality, but that was Chris' problem, not his. From his better perspective, watching Chris concentrate on a leg press, Ezra noted that the man was very much "back to normal."

It was as unexpected as it was welcome, but even as they began to spot each other at the bench press, Ezra couldn't leave it alone. He bit his tongue through Chris' first set, leaned on the bar during his break, and let the man get 180 pounds back into the air before saying, "I don't mean to overstep..."

Chris' smooth control of the bar barely faltered. "Say what you want to say."

"I honestly don't understand how you can hurt Buck like you do. And it seems like things might run a bit more smoothly in this place if I did."

Chris pursed his lips, and for a moment Ezra thought the man wouldn't answer. But then he expelled a breath of air, racked the bar, and sat up. "I wish I could explain it, Ez. Buck says the only place I lose it is inside my own head, when I'm with him, that I never have and never will really hurt him."

"You do hurt him, Chris," Ezra said carefully. "We've all seen the evidence of that."

Chris looked over his shoulder at him, some combination of anger and wariness in his eyes. "What I do... " he paused, blew out a breath of air. "You have no idea who he is, Ez. What he's been through. " Then, simply, "You wouldn't understand."

Ezra had his opinions about that, but he decided he'd rather keep Chris talking. "So why do you do it, then?"

A short laugh, then, "I don't know. I just … something inside me needs to push him, to make sure he really trusts me. I need to know that he'll always be there for me, no matter what. " Chris shrugged and looked up into Ezra's eyes. "And Buck... Buck's got his own reasons for doing it. But I've never hit him where I shouldn't, and I've never scarred him or damaged him. I never will. No matter how crazy I seem sometimes. " His eyes lit up in the softest of smiles. "And Buck knows that. That's what he tells me, every time he offers his back to me."

Ezra was surprised at Chris' honesty, and wondered if Buck didn't have a hand in it; Buck was forever mitigating between combatants in this household, when he wasn't screwing around. Ezra wasn't convinced that either of them had perspective or sanity about this issue.

"And when you offer him your back?" he asked carefully, taking advantage of Chris' forthrightness.

Chris chortled. "You think Buck would hurt me? You think he could really hurt me? You're the only one. " He lay back down on the bench and gripped the weights. Ezra took up his position and watched as muscle bunched and built, as tendon stretched and pressed out from beneath the smooth, pale skin.

Right in the middle of the set, Chris said almost conversationally, "Don't ask me to explain it because I'm no good at that shit, but when Buck gets all macho and wants to play rough, it's like skydiving. Roller coasters. Stupid, a rush, and something you'd do again and again. And I love it Ez," he said fiercely. "I love it when he wants me to prove something to him."

Ezra felt the strangest tingling in his chest and groin, not at the images of violence, which he abhorred, but at the tone in Chris' voice. These words were spoken in confidence, and obviously so filled with passion, Ezra found he couldn't question anything the man said. He didn't understand it, and he still, frankly, thought neither of these men had a fucking clue what they were doing to each other, but he'd seen enough evidence of the love that bound them together to know better than to question that.

Chris, still on the bench, re-racked the weights and looked up at him, then tilted his head back to scan down his body, before smiling again, softly. "Buck says you and I need to get together."

Ezra smiled and reached to adjust his growing erection. "Buck may be right."

"Want to hit the showers?" Chris offered, invitation veiled in the casual offer.

Most definitely. Ezra crossed his arms on the weight bar and leaned down on it, meeting Chris' eyes upside down. "I think you're wrong about the other things, Chris," he ventured.

Chris nodded. "I know. That's your right."

Ezra nodded in reply. "But it's nice, not to be so pissed off at you."

Chris sat up and spun around, meeting his teammate's eyes with all the honesty inside him, and nodded decisively. "Same here," he admitted.

The shower time was nice, too, easy sex like they'd had before and would have again; hand jobs, blow jobs, nothing complex. Chris spilled onto the blue tiles, shuddering, his mouth locked to Ezra's, sucking hard and gasping out his pleasure. Ezra was the more fortunate, he thought, as Chris grabbed a condom and went to his knees. Hot water, steam, and steam of the kind supplied by Chris Larabee left him boneless, his body threatening to melt down the shower wall and wash into the drain.

When he opened his eyes, Chris was already by the small bench at the other side of the room, running a towel over his back. "C'mon, Ez," he said, a grin of high energy lighting up his face.

"You expect me to move?"

"Shit yes. I even expect you to walk. " Chris threw the towel over his head and, muffled, continued, "Lunch, Vin, the Saloon. " Dry, still naked, Chris strapped on his Rolex and consulted it. "You've got twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes? Ezra swallowed a groan, and pushed himself away from the wall.

7 - 7 - 7 – 7

Standing in front of the huge fireplace, Buck watched early afternoon shadows shift through the sheer curtains, and reflected that as many times as he'd been by this fireplace over the last two years, he'd never seen anything burning here. He couldn't even recall any ash in the grate. Like so many things with Winston, it was just for show. He glanced at his watch. Five o'clock. Past time to cut and run. He'd barely slept last night, rarely slept at any of his overnighters but this time Winston had kept pulling the covers down and messing with Chris' marks. He had finally forced himself to lie flat on his back, despite the pain, just to keep the man's paws off him, and had waited until the fucker fell asleep. He'd been more comfortable in the big armchair in the corner of the room after that, returning to the bed only when Winston woke in the night with a hard-on and brusque demands.

He needed to get his head down for a few hours and catch up on a little sleep. He needed to sit in a tub of ice too, after the way he'd been fucked all weekend. Buck wondered if he would be able to persuade Chris to come to bed with him this early in the evening and hold him while he slept. A blow job would do wonders right about now, too. He smiled to himself, thinking it probably wouldn't take much to persuade Chris to come to bed with him.

Buck jumped when Winston appeared out of nowhere and threw an arm around his shoulder.

"I want you to stay tonight," Winston said.

Buck shrugged the arm off. "I don't stay over on Sundays."

"Oh come on, it'll be good for us both," he wheedled.

"I don't stay over Sundays, Winston," he repeated. He was doing a lot of repeating, this weekend. "You know that."

"Make an exception."

Buck chuckled indulgently; he couldn't help it, Winston was acting like a big, spoiled kid, and Buck was going home soon. "I'm a prostitute, Winston. You rent me, you don't buy me. I have people to get back to."

Winston's nose twitched in distaste. "You mean Larabee and your little clique. A bunch of whores and a boyfriend who sells you to strangers every chance he gets."

"What the hell is it between you two?" Buck asked, genuinely curious, and more than a little tired of the man's sniping about his lover. "You act like a couple of dogs growling at each other through a fence."

"He's a jumped up little pimp who doesn't know his place," Winston said brusquely. "He's nobody."

Buck narrowed his eyes "He's mine, is what he is, so just shut up about him."

"Yours?" Winston laughed shortly. "Turn your ass to any mirror in this house and look at what he did to you, then tell me who owns whom."

The jibe wasn't worth answering. Besides, he wasn't sure that he knew the answers anymore.

"How much does he make off your cock sucking, Buck?"

Not as much as Buck felt he should, if truth be told.

"I've told you before, that's my business, Winston," Buck countered calmly. "Not yours."

Winston walked to his dresser and retrieved his wallet, pulling out a wad of money as he strolled back to the cold fireplace. He peeled off five one hundred dollar bills, paused, glanced up at Buck for a moment, then peeled off another five. "Will this much extra, on top of your fee, make you a prostitute for one more night?"

Buck knew Winston thought he could be bought, and it was something about the rich he had never understood. He'd seen all kinds: unhappy, friendless, loveless, jaded. Hell, he had yet to meet a millionaire who had more friends than he had. Winston couldn't buy him... Buck stretched his back a little, wondering how the scabs on his shoulders were doing, wondering why Chris had needed to mark him up so badly this time.

Shaking off the thought, he turned to face Winston, and they stood there, measuring the other for what they could get. "Are you going to try to mess with my back again?" he challenged.

Winston peeled off two more bills. "Probably," he said.

Buck smiled, and half-shook his head; he couldn't fault the man for lying, at least. Then he looked at the money. Winston couldn't buy him, but yeah, Winston could sure as hell rent him for a little while longer. "Well, as long as we're not lying to each other, you can peel off another five and maybe I'll think about it."

He watched the bills leaf through the man's smooth fingers, and nodded. "I need to call Chris."

A well-manicured hand reached out quick as a snake and grabbed his wrist. Buck tensed, looking from the offending hand to its owner until Winston reluctantly let go. "Go ahead, call your whore boyfriend," he said, waspish. "Tell him I've decided to keep you a while longer."

Buck turned his head before he rolled his eyes. Damned rich bastard. "How about I just tell him I'm gonna bring him home some more of your money?" he asked, sarcastic.

The man glared, but subsided.

He called home, got the machine. Chris' voice, business-like and laconic, made his blood run hot and cold. That happened sometimes, when he was hurting enough, or Chris had pissed him off or pushed him too hard. He wanted to go home, but not to the Chris he'd fought with Friday night. That Chris, he felt more inclined to smack around, and until the urge passed, he might as well be turning tricks. Work was the best way not to think; he could turn everything off at work, and concentrate on the trick, and the fuck. He left a brief message, and was about to call Chris' cell when Winston reached and plucked the phone out of his hands.

"Talk to the pimp later," Winston ordered. "You're back on my time now. On your knees."

Buck sighed. Sometimes the man could be a real asshole. But he wasn't being paid a small fortune to fuck Miss Manners, and Winston got off on the crude shit. So he bit back a retort and did as he was told.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris slowed his pace, a warm down after the hard run he had just had. He was feeling good. He had actually enjoyed his day: a little drinking, a little exercise, a little companionable sex. If he couldn't be with Buck, it was one of the better ways to pass the time. And now it was almost 6 o'clock and Buck would be home soon. He wondered if he could persuade his lover to come to bed with him after two days of tricking, and smiled to himself at the thought. Getting Buck into bed was never exactly challenging. Luckily for him, the man was like a machine when it came to sex.

Chris let himself into the apartment building, planning to grab a quick shower before Buck got home. Not that his lover would object to the sweat he had worked up, far from it. But he didn't want to sit around in wet clothes, and he wanted to work up a sweat with Buck in a whole other way.

He detoured into the kitchen to get a bottle of water and found Ezra and JD having a sandwich and a beer. JD looked good, damned good, in tight silk and blow-dried hair that reminded Chris the kid still had work tonight. Ezra looked just as good, but with him you could never tell.

He greeted them both and asked, "Buck home yet?"

"Not yet, Chris," JD smiled. "There's a message from him on the machine, he asked you to call him on his cell."

Chris frowned and located his cell phone. He hit one of the pre-set keys, waiting while the machine dialed up Buck's number. Buck picked up on the second ring.

"Hi Chris."

"Hey. Where are you?"

"I'm still at Winston's," Buck said.

Chris felt a surge of irritation, but tried to keep it out of his voice. "When are you getting out of there?"

"That's why I called. He's asked me to stay one more night."

Chris' irritation spiked and he gritted his teeth. "You've already been there longer than you should," Chris said tightly. "Come home now, tell him to book you again next week. " Chris glanced at Ezra, seeing apprehension in the man's eyes.

He heard Buck's heavy sigh. "Chris, be reasonable. He's paying for it. He's paying plenty."

"Goddamn it, we don't need the money that badly," Chris snapped.

Buck laughed, "That's easy for you to say. You don't owe the company a five grand fine. Look, I'm not asking for your permission, I'm not arguing, and I'm not turning down the cash. I left my phone on because I miss you and wanted to hear your voice, you stubborn son of a bitch. Don't make me regret it."

Chris pushed his resentment and displeasure down deep. No point taking it out on Buck, who was only making a business decision, albeit one Chris did not agree with.

"I miss you too. Come home early," Chris said gruffly. "Tomorrow's Monday."

"I'll be back before you wake up," he promised.

Chris doubted that, not the way he tossed and turned without his lover close and safe beside him at night. Especially after two nights away from each other. Chances were he'd be up long before Buck got home.

"How are you feeling? Is he treating you alright?" He was aware of the slight pause before Buck answered, and his stomach rolled over.

"I'm fine. He's being a bit pushy, that's all. Nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about it. " Which, Chris thought, was guaranteed to rob him of what little sleep he might have gotten.

"Buck…"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Buck cut him off. "Okay?"

It was Chris' turn to pause.

"C'mon, Chris. Say it's okay." Buck cajoled.

And because Buck would probably do it anyway Chris said, reluctantly, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Damn it."

Buck chortled. "Yeah, love you too," he breathed, and the warmth in his voice sent a shiver through Chris. He cut the connection, unhappy, vaguely anxious for his lover.

"Is everything all right?" Ezra asked quietly.

Chris tried for a smile. "Everything's fine. Just a greedy client with more money than God. He's staying over another night."

He saw Ezra and JD exchange a worried look. "It's just business," he reassured. But wasn't sure either of them were convinced, wasn't sure he believed it himself.

Things were changing, and he didn't know how to stop them. Tomorrow was theirs, and by extension, this whole rowdy gang's.

Mondays were sacrosanct. Mondays were the touchstone that made the rest of the week work, and that was because on Monday there was no schedule. No clients. No Dorothy, not even any maid service. Monday was for whatever it was they wanted: football in the park, sailboats or fishing boats in the Atlantic, race car rentals or spending half the day at the Saloon, and the other half in bed.

And now that sonofabitch Winston was trying to intrude.

Chris' inclination was to brood in their rooms, so he poured himself a whiskey, stretched out on the overstuffed couch in the living room and stared out the floor to ceiling windows, sipping the sharp liquor while the sweat of the run slowly dried on his skin.

7 - 7 - 7 – 7

It was late, and the house had grown strangely quiet for a building that included three full time employees. Buck eased his weight off Winston's wrists and stared down at the man's shining, flushed face, and felt nothing. He was too tired even to feel pride in his work, or relief that this damned weekend was almost over. He only just barely appreciated the orgasm Winston had allowed him. It had been joyless, spilling onto the man's belly while he rode the cock inside him. Winston wasn't a particularly bad lover. He was just--Winston. And Buck was tired of being here.

He lifted himself carefully on shaking thighs, holding Winston's cock and the rubber firmly in place until he was free of it, and crawled off the man, discreetly glancing at the clock as he moved.

Forty-one hours really wasn't enough time to miss a lover. Forty-one hours, not even two days--hell, he and Chris had been apart for longer than that plenty, over the years. The times when Chris had felt the need to wander, slipping off with no more than a note on the dining room table, coming back a few days later sometimes bruised, sometimes exhausted, sometimes hungover... and when Chris and Sarah were married, Buck had done the wandering, though with far more single minded a purpose: women. With the comfort of a woman's arms and the sweet smell of her body, a woman could soothe almost anything that ailed him. And they generally appreciated what he could do for them, too.

But forty-one hours when he was putting in time with Winston McConnell, after a fucking harsh beating and the fight that had followed and a bad night's sleep after that, that was a different thing altogether. It felt like forty-one days.

"Well, that was something special," Winston purred beside him.

Buck rolled onto his side and propped on an elbow, staring down at his replete--for the moment--trick. "It wasn't bad, was it?" he replied. It hadn't been, really. Winston was still caught up in his back, but had traded a ride in the saddle and an orgasm for Buck in exchange for Buck not leaving early. In that way too, this had been a long fucking weekend, and his ass was killing him.

"So, when and how shall we satisfy the rest of my needs?"

"Would you just fucking quit it?" he snapped. Winston's shit, and sleeping without Chris, and the damned pain in his body, had chewed up years' worth of patience. "It's not gonna happen. It's not for sale!"

Winston got that distant look, the one he got when he was reading the market trends over breakfast, and said, "If it were for sale, how much would it cost?"

Too tired to see the snare, Buck retorted, "You think you can buy everything, don't you?"

The smug smirk on Winston's face gave Buck the answer to that question. Fucking spoiled, rich bastard, Buck thought. Time he learned that even with all his money he couldn't buy everything he wanted.

"I'll tell you what it'd cost," he said, formulating the most outrageous demand he could think of, while trying to sound as though he was seriously considering the offer. "My top rate, plus two, no, three extra days so I'd have time to recover without losing any business, plus another five grand in cash as a tip. That's the price. Now fucking leave it alone. I'm not talking about this again." He eased down to the bed and covered his eyes with his hand. If that didn't get the bastard off his back, nothing would.

"Done," Winston said.

Buck jumped and felt his muscles tense one by one. He gritted his teeth, lifted his arm, and turned his head to stare at Winston.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'done,' Buck. You have yourself a deal."

He felt his mouth drop open in shock.

"You thought I'd say no?" Winston chuckled, sounding indulgent in a way that irritated Buck to no end. "Honestly, you could have gone higher."

"Then I will," Buck snarled, and rolled out of bed.

"I'll throw in another thousand because you negotiated under stress." He was laughing fully now, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Buck just stared, his exhaustion-fogged brain slowly adding up the numbers. "Ten thousand dollars?" he repeated, still certain he wasn't hearing it right. "For one session?"

Winston shrugged. "We'll work out the details later but yes, we can start there."

Buck frowned, and found himself heading for the closet and his suit pants hanging there. "I need to think."

"What's to think about?" Winston asked. "You named your price, I met it. We have a deal."

"Don't crowd me, Winston," Buck warned, and the man threw up his hands in resignation. "I need to think," he repeated quietly. "Give me some space. An hour."

Winston looked at him, nodded slowly. "Don't forget I'm paying for this time, Buck," he said softly, but with a distinct tone of authority. "I'll give you an hour. Then I'll expect your answer."

Buck nodded, grabbed for his clothes and left the room. He couldn't think straight with Winston on him all the time. He needed to clear his head, and figure out why he was willing to consider letting the trick take a belt to him.

He spent his hour on a terrace that overlooked the park, watching shadows move beneath the trees, wondering if what he saw in the dark were lovers looking for a quiet place to be together. He and Chris had made love in public parks, more than once. And in the car, so damned often in the car, where they had slept and practically lived, the year they had left Atlantic City together.

More likely the shadows belonged to street people or dogs, he thought, pissed at himself. He'd thought he'd never do this again. But things changed. And Winston wasn't like some street corner trick with coked out eyes; he was high society. All it would take was the threat of a photograph or a police report to keep him in line. So there wasn't much risk, really.

Ten thousand dollars. It was a lot of money in anyone's book.

Chris wouldn't think so, though. Buck wasn't sure he thought so either, when push came to shove or belt came to flesh. He flexed his shoulders, feeling the skin pull where it had split or bruised too much. His whole back still felt like shit; Chris had really done a number on him, and while Buck had never resented that before, he resented the hell out of it now. Back off, son, he told himself. No use railing over something he had no intention of changing; he'd given Chris all rights to his body more than a decade ago.

Didn't mean he couldn't rent that right to someone else, he reasoned. And maybe it was time he started making more decisions for himself again. He'd given away a lot of responsibility to Chris. Maybe that wasn't fair.

When the butler tapped discreetly on the sliding glass door, Buck turned, resolute. Ten thousand dollars. Why the hell not?

7 - 7 - 7 – 7

Buck hunched down in the back seat of the cab, idly watching the scenery speed by, trying without success to find a comfortable position. His back throbbed, his ass was on fire, his head ached. For a moment he wondered if the huge wad of hundreds in his pocket was worth what he had just put himself through, and pretty much thought it was. But was it worth what he was about to face?

When Buck left early this morning, Winston was already planning their next date. Buck had at least persuaded him to wait until he had healed from Chris' beating before Winston took his turn with the belt and Winston had reluctantly agreed to let him mend first. Buck wondered what he was letting himself in for. S&M really wasn't his thing. There was only one person in this world he loved to surrender himself to, and that was because Chris knew his boundaries so well. But the decision was made. He heaved a sigh of relief when the cab pulled up to his home.

Buck let himself into the building. It was absolutely silent, little chance that any of the men would be up at this time of the day. Most of them hadn't seen this side of seven a. m. for years. He climbed the stairs quietly and slipped into the suite he shared with Chris, crossing quickly to the bedroom.

Chris was sprawled across the bed, his head on Buck's pillow. The sheets and covers were tangled, half-sliding off the bed, a testament to the restless night his lover had passed. Buck crept close to the bed and smiled down at Chris, resisting the urge to stroke a hand over his body, not wanting to wake him up.

Instead he slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting until the water was hot and the room steamed up. He stepped under the shower head and tipped his face into the warm stream, enjoying the feel of the water coursing down his body, before soaping himself quickly and thoroughly and toweling himself off.

When he exited the bathroom and approached the bed he saw Chris shift and lift his head slightly off the pillow. His hair was tousled, his eyes blurry with sleep. Buck slid under the sheets, pulling the covers more firmly over them both.

Chris breathed in one long, slow breath, and his brows furrowed in a tiny frown. "Buck..."

Buck leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'm home. Go back to sleep," he whispered. "It's still dark."

Chris was already rolling over, a hand falling around Buck's waist, his face tucking in against Buck's rib cage. Another deep inhale, Chris sucking in his scent and heat, and Buck knew what that felt like. He just lay there for a moment, propped on an elbow, stroking his lover's hair until it lay smooth and straight, until a tiny snore announced that Chris had dropped off again, into deeper sleep now that he was home. He brushed another soft kiss onto his lover's cheek, eased down onto his belly and did the same.

7 - 7 - 7 – 7

Buck woke up, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He knew instinctively that he was in his own bed, not just the familiar smell and feel, but also the fact that he was deeply relaxed, felt secure, protected. He never slept properly when he was on an overnight date, was restless, easily woke at odd sounds, and unless they were women, spent half the night recoiling from the strange body in the bed next to him.

He had spent way too many nights as a kid balanced on the edge between sleep and wakefulness, either keeping an eye open for a long list of dangers and enemies, from drunken tricks to violent pimps to landlords wanting their rent; or just bedding down in such unexpected places that a decent night's sleep was impossible. He had slept in hallways outside his mother's room while she was servicing clients, in alleyways or abandoned buildings when he couldn't come up with the price of a flophouse room, had peddled his ass more times than he cared to remember for nothing more than a roof over his head and a warm bed for the night. He had almost lost the knack of getting a full night's sleep, saved only by years wrapped in the security of Chris' arms, finally able to close both eyes and tune out the random noises, finally safe from casual acts of violence or degradation.

He stretched, not yet willing to open his eyes and face what he knew was coming. He felt a deep, dull ache in every part of his body, a sharper slicing pain over his shoulders and ass where the whip had kissed him days before and Winston's constant pawing had re-opened the marks again and again; and a real throb of agony inside where Chris had tenderized him and Winston had fucked him so much Buck was sure the jerk was on drugs.

But despite the aches and pains, he also became aware of something gentler. A hand ghosting over his back, feathering a touch over a bruise he knew Winston had put on his hip. He started to roll over, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, pushed him in the opposite direction until he landed back on his belly. He spread out and settled down, allowing Chris to trace a careful finger over his back, following the lines of the marks that covered him.

Buck hissed and flinched when Chris touched a particularly sore spot, felt his lover tense beside him, heard a mumbled apology. He raised his head and turned to face Chris, opening his mouth to the kiss his lover pressed to his lips.

"Morning," Buck smiled.

"Missed you," Chris replied.

"Yeah. Me too," Buck breathed.

He dropped his head down on his folded arms, as Chris continued to stroke a hand slowly, gently, compulsively over his back.

"Sore?" Chris whispered.

"Let's just say I won't be on horseback anytime soon."

Chris smoothed a hand over his ass, let it come to rest on the painful bruise on Buck's hip.

"What's this?" Chris asked quietly.

Although he didn't really need to, Buck raised his head and glanced over his shoulder. The bruise was ugly, dark, almost black at the center, radiating out to purple at the edges. It was almost as painful looking as it felt.

"He got carried away," Buck said simply, watching his lover intently from beneath lowered lashes.

Nobody else would have detected the signs of anger, but Buck knew the man far too well. A tightness in the skin around his eyes, the slightest thinning of his lips, the smallest tremble in his hand. Chris was furious.

And though he knew he was throwing himself back into the storm, Buck also knew that there was nothing else to be done.

"There's gonna be more of the same in a couple of days, Chris," he said quietly, firmly. "I've agreed to let Winston use a belt on me next time."

"No!" Chris' head jerked and reared and his hand involuntarily clutched at the bruised flesh.

"Chris, that hurts," Buck ground out, and Chris snatched his hand away as if he had been burned.

"Buck, you can't do that. You cannot let that bastard hurt you," Chris growled.

"He won't hurt me. I can take a couple of licks of a belt …" He trailed off. This had made a lot more sense when he'd agreed to it at Winston's place. In the cold light of day, away from Winston's constant demands, seeing the look of dread on Chris' face, it didn't seem like such a good idea.

"Call it off," Chris demanded.

"I can't. He's my best client," Buck said.

"Then I'll call it off," Chris said. "I am not going to let that man beat you." His voice was rising in anger, although Buck could hear concern and anxiety as clearly as rage.

Buck sighed and shuffled to the edge of the bed, grimacing when he sat up. He reached down to scoop up a pair of sweatpants off the floor. Chris climbed off the bed and walked around to stand in front of him.

"Why now?" Chris' voice was calmer, though no less angry.

"Huh?"

"Why does he want to do this now?" Chris repeated.

Buck shrugged and looked away. "I told you before. He's been asking for weeks…"

"No!" Chris snapped, and reached to tilt Buck's head up. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because he saw this shit all over my back," Buck snapped back at him. "Why do you think?"

Chris froze for a moment. "Goddamn it," he whispered.

"Chris... " Buck reached out but Chris flinched away and stormed out of the room.

"Fuck," Buck cursed under his breath. Well the man didn't have a stitch of clothing on him. He wasn't going too far. Buck carefully pulled the sweatpants up over his sore ass and hips. Now that he'd slowed down for a few hours his body had finally had a chance to relax and he was beginning to really feel the effects of what he'd been put through the past few days.

He walked slowly into the living room, seeing Chris standing by the tall window, his back to the room. They both craved light and sunshine, it was one of the reasons they loved these rooms so much; tall, wide windows flooded the place with warmth and color. Buck walked up behind Chris, stepped in close. He reached out a hand and touched Chris' arm, but Chris shrugged him off and stepped away. Buck was dismayed, but not surprised.

"Are we gonna fight about this?" Buck murmured.

"I don't want you to do it, Buck," Chris said.

Buck sighed. "That's the difference between you and me, Chris. It's not my way to make your decisions for you."

"It's a goddamned stupid decision," Chris snapped.

Buck stiffened at the words and the tone. "That's your opinion," he said, tightly. "I haven't exactly been thrilled at some of the things you've done recently. But you expect me to put up and shut up."

Chris flinched. "Don't do this, Buck. At least think it over for a couple of days."

"It's done," Buck said firmly. "There's nothing left to discuss."

"Goddamn it," Chris cursed. He turned away and Buck could see the tension in his lover's body, could see how anger made his muscles clench and twitch. He sighed. He hadn't expected Chris to be happy about this, had known even as he agreed to Winston's demands that his lover would be furious with him. But that wasn't really his problem right now.

Buck reached out and stroked a hand down Chris' back, drawing away when his lover turned to face him. They stared long and hard, and Buck watched the pressure build, awaited the inevitable explosion. It wasn't long in coming. "You said you'd never go back to that," Chris snarled. "You said you'd never let a trick hit you again. Not after the last time."

"It won't be like that…"

"Bullshit. You don't know what that bastard is capable of." Chris flung away from him and went back into the bedroom.

Buck shook his head. It wouldn't be like the last time. Not with Winston. But he supposed it was inevitable that Chris' mind had gone there. Sighing, Buck crossed the room and went back into the bedroom. Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands. Buck walked over and knelt in front of him, gently lifting his head, stroking a hand down his thigh, absently noting the immediate way Chris' body responded to him.

"So where do we go from here?" Buck asked. He was suddenly exhausted, in pain, and wanting nothing more than to let go and allow Chris to take care of him.

Chris looked at him hard for a moment and Buck saw a storm of emotions blaze across his face. But suddenly he sighed, and his eyes cleared of anger. He held out his hand and Buck reached out tentatively and grasped it, their fingers clenching tightly together.

"The only place you're going right now is back to bed," Chris ordered. "You look like shit. Have you had any painkillers recently? Any drugs at all?"

Buck shook his head.

"Get back under the covers. " Chris stood up and crossed to the bathroom. Buck crawled gratefully back up onto the bed, kicking off his sweatpants and sliding under the sheets. Chris came back with a glass of water and a handful of vitamins, Tylenol--Nathan's mix. Buck swallowed them all down.

Chris tucked the blankets around him. "I want you to get some more sleep," he said gruffly.

Buck held onto his hand. "Then stay with me."

Chris smiled faintly and slid in beside his lover. They drew together, cool skin touching, bodies seeking a familiar position learned from night after night wrapped in each other's arms. They shuffled and sighed and settled together.

"How long are you gonna stayed pissed at me?" Buck asked softly.

At first Buck didn't think Chris was going to answer, but eventually he felt lips move against his chest and heard his lover murmur, "I'm not pissed. " Chris burrowed closer, held tighter, whispered, "I'm scared."

Buck winced at the words, knowing how hard the confession was for Chris. "It was a long time ago," he whispered. "I won't let that happen again."

Hours later, Chris sat on the bed and watched Buck sleep, watched the twitches that turned into flinches whenever the man moved something that caused him pain. He traced a finger gently over the scar on his lover's side, a constant reminder of the last time. The words kept replaying in his head: It was a long time ago. I won't let that happen again.

There were too many things that were a long time ago, that were never supposed to happen again. He had very little faith that Buck would be able to tell what was too much.

7 - 7 - 7 – 7

By the time Chris and Buck sauntered into the kitchen early Monday evening, the rest of the men were already seated at the table piling their plates high with food. Buck sniffed deeply, inhaling the familiar, rich scents. As a part of Fuck-Free Mondays, take out Chinese had become pretty regular on the schedule too, all of the guys gathered around the long table in the kitchen to eat, laugh and swap stories with each other. He went to the refrigerator to grab a couple of bottles of cold beer, taking a quick look around the table to see if anybody needed replenishing. Vin held up an empty bottle, and Buck nodded and handed him a refill, before giving a bottle to Chris, taking a slow pull from his own drink and settling down at his place beside his lover.

"What did the love birds get up to today?" Vin asked. "Any chance there was fucking involved?" The other men laughed.

"Mind your own business, Tanner," Chris said, his voice a mock-growl. It would probably have shocked everybody at the table to learn that very little fucking had occurred between them during the day. Buck was too sore for anything strenuous. Chris shared a knowing smile with Buck; the guys probably thought they'd been swinging from the chandelier, when in fact they'd done little more than trade hand jobs, then cuddled together on the old couch with the stereo on, enjoying a peaceful and unusually quiet afternoon.

Vin laughed. "Don't know where you old guys get the stamina," he drawled.

Buck raised an eyebrow to Josiah who reached out and smacked Vin lightly on the butt.

"Less of the 'old' slick," Buck said.

"Listen up, guys," Chris said, before this turned into a free for all. Sometimes sitting down to dinner with the whole gang turned into an episode of the Three Stooges and he wanted to discuss a little business before that could happen. "I've cleared everybody's schedules for Thursday night, Jennifer's party. Usual instructions, she'll tell me if she wants you to pay specific attention to any of her guests, otherwise mingle, make sure everybody is taken care of, be nice to the regulars. And keep your own business discreet. You know Jennifer doesn't mind if we pick up new clients at her place, but she's paying us to make her guests comfortable first. Keep that in mind everybody."

The men nodded and murmured their assent.

"Buck, we have an appointment on Wednesday afternoon. Don't make other plans."

Buck looked up, suspicion shading his expression. "What are we doing?"

"I need to get a new tux…"

"Oh no! No fucking way, Chris. Don't make me come with you," Buck groused.

Chris just smiled. "Come on. You need a new one too. We talked about this last time."

"Doesn't mean I want to waste an afternoon in snobby stores trying on monkey suits," he complained.

Chris laughed. "Well, I guess we could get them to come here."

Buck nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Let's do that instead, take care of everybody at once." Buck cast his eyes around the table, trying to gather support.

Chris smirked. "You sure there's nothing I could say to make you change your mind?"

Buck looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think so," he said slowly.

Chris looked at him and smiled sweetly. "Not even 'Armani fitting room'?" he said, and laughed to see the instant reaction.

Buck whooped and grinned at him. "Why didn't you say so sooner, boy? What time's the appointment?"

Vin, who they had dragged out shopping with them a time or two before, had heard the story. The rest of the men looked at each other, curiosity obvious all over their faces. Finally, Josiah cleared his throat and spoke up. "Come on boys, don't hold out on us."

Buck and Chris exchanged smiles.

"You know I hate the places he likes to shop at," Buck began. "All those sales assistants buzzing around like a bunch of flies. Last time we went to pick up a few things Chris arranged it so that we could have a private fitting room and just one assistant."

"Joseph," Chris said, and he and Buck exchanged another smile.

"Joseph," Buck agreed. "Well we get into the fitting room and it's like a whore house, I swear. Mirrors on all the walls, a mirror on the ceiling even, and this little bench thing in the middle of the room…"

"You gotta know where Buck's mind went when he saw all that," Chris said.

The men laughed, knowing their colleague all too well.

"Hey," Buck protested, "I don't recall you objecting too strongly. " Chris shrugged but said nothing. "Anyway," Buck continued, "one thing led to another and soon I have Chris straddling my lap…"

Chris smiled at the memory. Buck had stripped them both in record time, had slicked them up and sat astride the bench. He had positioned Chris over his cock and was just about to begin when there was a tap at the door. Chris had felt a tiny thrill of panic tingle through him and had looked, startled, into Buck's eyes, starting to pull off him. But Buck had held him firmly in place, laughing breathily, pure joy dancing in his eyes.

Joseph had called through the door, "Everything all right in there, gentlemen?" and Buck had pulled Chris down sharply onto him, impaling him deeply, and while Chris threw back his head and choked back a growl, Buck had shouted "Fits perfectly!"

The men roared with laughter at the story. "You are a pair of horny old goats," Vin said, shaking his head.

"Is there anywhere you haven't had sex?" JD asked.

Buck grinned. "We're trying for the Guinness Book of World Records, kid."

Chris looked around the table. "I can't imagine any of you missing a chance like that either," he challenged, and sat back, sharing a grin with Buck when sure enough, they started competing for wildest sexual exploits. The conversation turned decidedly locker-room, laughter combining easily with the chink of beer bottles and the waving of chopsticks.

And the stories were certainly wild; Nathan in the back of an ambulance when he was an EMT, although he hastened to add that his partner was not the patient; Ezra in a box at the opera, with a screamer, trying to time his thrusts to coincide with the soprano hitting the high notes; Josiah at the tomb of Abelard and Heloise at Pere la Chaise cemetery in Paris, giving new meaning to taking his partner to heaven and back; Vin on a horse, no JD you pervert, not with a horse, on a horse; with no surprises when the kid declared that he had made love on a motorcycle.

"Big deal," Buck scoffed. "Who hasn't fucked on a bike?"

"Moving," JD clarified, "on the highway, 45 miles an hour." The kid grinned at the impressed expressions on the faces of his friends.

"In daylight," he continued, saving the best for last, "with a Highway Patrolman!"

"Fucking CHIPS fantasy," Buck said, clearly reassessing his young friend. "Beautiful."

Buck and Chris exchanged another glance, this one speculative. JD caught the look and glowered. "You two touch my bike and you are both SO dead, I mean it."

Chris had the grace to blush a little at being caught out, but Buck looked as though he was already planning his costume.

When Chris felt a foot slide up his leg and couldn't tell from a quick glance who it belonged to, he put down his napkin and pushed back his chair. "Who's up for the Saloon?" he asked, gathering them all up with his eyes. "We don't get moving now, I don't think we'll make it past the den."

"Something wrong with that?" Josiah asked placidly.

Chris started to clear away plates and food containers amidst chuckles and murmurs of assent. "Well, I reckon the den 'll be here when we get back."

"I'm counting on it," Ezra said urbanely, and Chris made the mistake of meeting the man's eyes. Ezra could be a hard man to read, but not when he wanted to play. Chris gave him a small nod; yesterday had been good for them, and tonight would be, too.

All the others stood and helped to tidy up.

JD smiled. "You two gonna try for it at the Saloon?" he asked Buck.

"Been there, done that," Buck laughed. "Wouldn't mind a repeat performance."

Chris just smiled. "Let's go, then. See how things turn out."

7 - 7 – 7

The men entered the Saloon together, noisy and boisterous. Luckily there were not many people around, nobody who might be intimidated by their slightly rowdy entrance, just a few regulars who waved a greeting or smiled at them as they made their way to the back of the bar. All except Buck, who made a beeline for Inez to pick up the flirtation they had been playing at for years.

"Hello darlin'. Miss me?" Buck crooned.

Inez ignored the question and the man. She set up a tray on the counter of the bar and began to open bottles of Corona.

"Are you ready to make an honest man out of me yet?" Buck continued, unabashed.

Inez quirked an eyebrow. "It would take a lot more than a marriage license to make an honest man out of you, Señor," she said.

"I could change, darlin'. For you. You could save me from the wicked ways I've fallen prey to."

Inez uncapped the last bottle of beer, and began to push wedges of lime into the tops of the bottles. "That could take a lifetime," she said. "I have a bar to run. " She stepped out from behind the counter and hoisted the tray of drinks.

"I'd happily spend a lifetime with you," Buck breathed. He reached out to take the tray from Inez, but she skirted him smartly and walked to the back of the bar, Buck following her like an eager puppy.

Inez handed out bottles of beer to the men who had taken over the booth in the back. When she reached Chris she smiled.

"Any chance you've decided to finally accept his offer?" he asked, returning the smile. "I'd be awfully obliged if you'd take him off our hands."

Inez laughed. She knew the relationship between these two, had figured it out within hours of meeting them for the first time and seeing them together. Now, three years later, they were as tightly bound to each other as ever. "Not today, Señor. Maybe another time."

Buck had climbed into the booth and tucked himself into the corner beside his lover. "As long as there's still hope," he said. "A man's gotta have hope."

Inez turned and left.

"Don't you ever get fed up being shot down in flames by that woman?" Nathan laughed.

Buck winked at him. "She'll come around. Just you wait and see. One day that fine lady is gonna come to her senses."

Chris raised his bottle. "To the happy couple," he said, and the other men raised their own drinks and joined the toast.

Buck reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He threw them down onto the table and said, "Who's choosing tonight?"

Vin reached out to pick up one of the coins but Buck slapped his hand away.

"Oh no! No way. It's my goddamned dime, Vin. And I'm not gonna sit here and listen to that broke down, red-neck, hillbilly, depressing-as-hell, Texas country sorry-assed bullshit that you call music." Buck said. The others burst into laughter.

"Suck my dick, Wilmington," Vin muttered.

"Later, darlin'. If you're lucky."

Vin flipped him off.

JD shuffled slightly. "Don't even think about it, squirt," Buck warned. "That damned earsplitting noise you listen to isn't even music."

"You know what they say, Buck?" JD grinned. "If it's too loud, you're too old."

Buck reached over and cuffed JD on the back of his head. JD rubbed at the place Buck had hit, grumbling "You'd better not put Elvis on, Buck."

"What possible objection could you have to the King?" Buck asked, incredulous.

"He's been dead for a hundred years," JD grinned. "Besides, he wasn't that hot."

Buck clutched at his chest in mock horror. "What in God's name do they teach kids these days?"

Nathan reached over and plucked the money off the table, knowing that this could go on for hours. He walked over to the jukebox and dropped the coin in, punching well-worn numbers, almost without having to look at them. The sound of The Eagles singing Desperado floated over the table. Buck smiled at Nathan, and before long the men were tapping time, humming, or singing along,

Buck nudged JD. "You and Vin up for a rematch?" he asked, indicating the pool table.

"You wanna get your ass kicked again, Bucklin?" Vin grinned.

Buck laughed. "In your dreams, son. Ten bucks says I wipe the floor with the pair of you."

"Easy pickings. You're on."

Buck squeezed Chris' leg under the table. "I'm going to show these kids how it's done," he said. Chris shook his head and scooted forward, making room so that Buck could climb out of the booth behind him. Buck took advantage of the shuffling around to brush a kiss against his lover's neck.

Chris watched the three of them, smiling at their playfulness. They were like overgrown kids when they got together. He watched idly as Buck bent over the pool table preparing for a shot, and had a sudden, startling memory of Buck taking him on a pool table a year or so ago. In a client's house, working out the details of a party at which several of the men would work, Chris had been playing a friendly game of pool while they talked, and Buck had decorated the wet bar, leaning bonelessly against it. He had become aware of the way Buck was looking at him, had tried to ignore the look because there wasn't a hope in hell that what was so obviously on Buck's mind was going to happen anytime soon. Then the client had stepped out of the room to organize a deposit check, and quick as a flash Chris found himself face down over the pool table, green felt rubbing up against his cheek, Buck's cock rubbing up against his ass.

"Jesus, Buck," he hissed, half-laughing. "We can't."

But Buck was already undoing his belt and pulling his pants down. He'd slipped a couple of well slicked fingers into his lover, and Chris realized with a knee trembling jolt of lust that Buck had been preparing for this possibility long before the client walked out of the room. He didn't have time to object, wasn't sure he felt inclined to object, as Buck pushed up into him until Chris could feel his lover's cock way up in his gut. He expected Buck to take him fast, but instead his lover began to fuck him deeply, slowly, deliberately. For a moment Chris balanced the edge between caution and craving, but when Buck finally picked up the pace and began drilling into him, Chris abandoned himself wantonly and everything else was forgotten. His own cock was as hard as the pool cue he continued to clutch. He dropped his hand to try to find some relief, but Buck snatched it away, whispered "mine" into his ear and pulled him up off the pool table, covering his cock with a strong, stroking hand. Chris writhed against his lover, pushing back against the cock that filled him, pushing forward into the hand that jacked him, making God only knew what kind of sounds. When he felt Buck's warm cum shooting up into him, he spilled into the hand that cradled him, sighing momentarily, scrambling to dress as soon as they were done. By the time the client returned, Buck was on the other side of the room, leaning casually against the wall, and he was back in position, ready to take his shot, almost as though he had never moved.

Chris snapped out of the memory, adjusting his rapidly swelling cock. God, Buck had no idea what that position was doing to him. Then he saw Buck straighten up and glance over his shoulder. A grin spread across his face, and Buck threw a wink in his direction, and Chris realized that the bastard knew exactly what the position had done.

Watching them closely, Ezra smirked to himself; those two had no idea how transparent they could be. The storm was over, it seemed. They certainly appeared to be as close as ever. When Buck moved off to play pool with Vin and JD, Ezra slid into the seat next to Chris and reached out to brush a hand down his arm.

"Did you and Buck get everything sorted out between you?" he asked quietly.

Chris dragged a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Kind of," he said.

Ezra waited, pretty sure that Chris had more to say on the subject.

After a minute Chris sighed. "He's gonna turn an S&M trick. Winston McConnell wants to take a belt to him next week," he said.

Ezra sucked in a breath. "I thought you didn't allow him to do that kind of thing," he said.

"I don't," Chris snapped with a frown, then sighed. "He's... not listening to me. " Ezra followed Chris' gaze and watched as Buck walked around the pool table, noting the slight stiffness in his movements, the way he compensated for the hurts on his body. "You know these people, Ez," Chris said, never taking his eyes off Buck. "You've met that prick. Should I be worried?"

Ezra considered his answer for a moment. "Winston likes to get his own way and he has enough money to make sure that happens. But I don't think he'd be stupid enough to really hurt Buck if that's what you mean."

Chris gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Buck isn't going to let it get out of hand, Chris," Ezra said.

Chris glanced over at him, something unreadable in his eyes. He was silent for a while, toying with his drink, obviously lost in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was so low that Ezra barely heard him.

"You didn't see him last time he tricked like that," he said softly.

"I didn't know there was a last time," Ezra said, startled.

Chris nodded. "It was before you joined us, before any of the others. When it was just Buck and me. He let somebody beat on him. He was a real fucking mess…" he trailed off, looking away for a moment and Ezra felt a stab of sympathy.

"That must have been hard for you," he said quietly, leading him a little.

Chris waved him off. He seemed to collect himself and when he spoke again his voice was stronger. "He ended up in the hospital, broken ribs, stitches. I promised myself then that nobody would ever hurt him like that again."

Ezra glanced over at his friend, saw the deep concern, the fear he tried to hide. He didn't approve of half the shit Chris and Buck got up to, was adamantly opposed to the way Chris sometimes treated his lover, but he had never once doubted how absolutely these two were devoted to each other. Funny, really; some people didn't even see it. Their nod to public niceties (most days) and the way they could argue like antagonistic brothers allowed many to ignore what thrived beneath the banter. What Ezra suspected was being tested, before his very eyes.

"We'll all keep an eye on him, Chris," he offered quietly, genuinely. "We won't let him do anything stupid."

Chris reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Ez," he whispered.

"You two look cozy. Should I come back later?" Ezra looked up to find Buck grinning down at them. He smiled.

"Get yer ass back in here," Chris growled. Buck climbed back into his seat, settling with one leg bent up behind Chris' back, an arm thrown casually over the back of the seat. He reached around Chris' waist and pulled him up tight until Chris could feel his lover's cock rubbing against the back of his ass.

"Who won?" Chris asked.

"They cheated," Buck smiled.

"He got his ass kicked," JD crowed.

Chris shifted closer to his lover. To a casual observer, it would look as if they were squashed up close because of the cramped space in the booth. But Chris was pretty sure that the men knew that Buck's hand was presently very busy under the table playing with Chris' cock.

They were usually very discreet in public, trying not to attract too much attention to themselves. But this was Monday night, the Saloon was more than half empty, and Inez had put them in back, in their favorite spot, close to the pool table but far enough away from the other patrons to give them a degree of privacy.

Chris scanned the bar quickly, and when he was sure that nobody was watching, he tipped his head and captured Buck's mouth, stealing a slow, deep kiss. He leaned back against his lover, felt Buck lean forward until they were pressed together. He could feel Buck's breath on the back of his neck, shivered when his mouth brush against his ear.

"You okay?" Buck murmured.

God, he was such an open book to this man. Not surprising really since they had spent more than fifteen years tangled in each others lives, the last four wound so tightly together that there was no longer any separation between them.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You're awful quiet," Buck said.

Chris tried for a grin. "Can't hardly get a word in with you assholes around." He was saved from having to answer the question still in Buck's eyes when Vin returned and deposited seven bottles of Corona on the table.

"You owe us ten bucks, Wilmington," Vin said.

"You can take it out in trade later," Buck grinned.

Vin snorted. "You wouldn't even feel me up for ten bucks."

"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Tanner," Ezra chimed in. "Right now he's feeling Chris up for free."

"Free!" Vin scoffed. "Chris has to put up with him 24/7. He's paying the highest price of all."

The others laughed. "Boy, you keep that up and you're gonna find yourself across my knee," Buck spluttered.

"Promises, promises," Vin grinned back at him.

Chris shook his head, catching Ezra's eye. The other man smiled at him. Ezra was right. The rest of the guys would do what they could to help. He wasn't on his own this time.

Though he wished he were, right at the moment. On his own with Buck, and lube or wet mouths and groping hands...

"Earth to Larabee, earth to Larabee," Nathan called from across the table.

He jerked and realized he'd closed his eyes. "Yeah?"

"You planning on adding that bench to your Guinness Book list?" Nathan asked, half-warning, half-amused.

"Uh... " he shook his head. He was getting worse, not better. He was getting as bad as Buck, trading on sensation to allay his nerves. He turned towards Vin. "So which of you won?"

"JD sure as hell didn't," Vin teased, and upended his beer.

"You're up then, Vin," he said, and eased away from Buck. No help for his erection, it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Vin smirked when he stood up, and pretended to bump into him. He hissed with pleasure when his friend's hand pressed intimately into his crotch. "Damn, he's sure got you het up," Vin observed, speculation darkening the normally light color of his eyes.

"You're not helping matters," he grinned, but pressed his crotch forward anyway.

"You two gonna play, or just stand there?" Buck taunted from behind them.

"We are playing," Vin tossed back, and Chris' smile broadened. But Vin stepped away, still with a smile, and headed for the pool table. Resolute, discreetly adjusting his dick one more time, Chris followed the neat ass of his friend.

The game was fast, as Vin almost ran the balls on him.

"Two out of three?" Chris offered.

Vin licked his lips, and Chris couldn't keep down his own smile. His friend's mind had just joined his lover's, in the gutter where Buck liked to live. "What are you betting?" Vin asked. "Just to make it interesting."

"What do I need to bet to make it interesting?" he responded, flirting a little. He couldn't help it; Buck was safe today, and it was Monday, and he was with his family.

"Why don't we find out after I win?"

"You're on."

Chris kept casting his eyes back to the table because there was laughter there, and ease. Ezra had loosened up, and was standing next to the booth swaying to the music, not quite dancing, but it was pretty to witness. JD had cornered Buck in the booth, standing so that he blocked Buck in and gesticulating, telling some story that obviously involved a motorcycle, from his movements and the way he kept spreading his legs and hunkering down... well, a motorcycle or a fuck, Chris thought, and felt a frisson of sexual energy tickle up his spine. JD was so young, most of the time Chris didn't think of him like that. Most of the time.

He ended up so distracted that Vin won the second game too.

"So what do I owe you?" Chris asked.

Vin looked him up and down slowly, eyes sparking with desire. "I'll tell you what I want when we get back home," he murmured, as they returned to the booth, and the hunger in his eyes sent another spike of lust straight to Chris' cock. Chris nudged JD aside and slid back into his seat. Vin reached for Chris' half-empty beer, obviously expecting a fight, but Chris just sighed and settled a little more firmly against Buck.

Vin's eyes widened speculatively. "You ain't so thirsty, is that it, Larabee?"

Behind him, Buck chortled, and squeezed Chris' cock once, hard. He hissed, pushed his ass back. "I reckon it's time to head on home, y'all," Buck announced, and Chris couldn't have agreed more. He almost bolted right over Ezra in his haste to hustle them out the door.

7 - 7 – 7

Ezra presumed that Chris and Buck would disappear into their bedroom. They were so obviously in need of each other. He was surprised when they walked into the den, following the rest of the men. JD stepped up behind the bar to grab a Coke, and poured drinks as the guys called out their preferences. Chris sat on a barstool and pulled Buck towards him, settling him between his legs, sliding both arms around his hips and tipping his face up towards his lover. Buck lowered his head, tangled his hands in Chris' hair and began to kiss him, slowly, deeply, his tongue working Chris' mouth. Ezra felt his cock tighten in response, wondered how Chris could just sit there, wondered why he hadn't pushed Buck to his knees and shoved himself deeply down that oh so talented throat, or done something to relieve the growing ache. As if they could hear his thoughts, both men broke the kiss and looked over at him. Ezra read knowledge, amusement, passion in both sets of eyes and when Chris held out a hand, he didn't hesitate to take it and step closer.

While Ezra had never felt much of a bent toward men, living with these six had awakened appetites in him that he couldn't deny. Chris was a rare treat, sharp and intense, like dark, rich chocolate in which he didn't often indulge. Buck was a more regular partner, more available and easy-going in his lust, as was Vin, and both of those men catered to his more heterosexual tastes. They took good care of him, he knew, and in turn he tried to show his appreciation in ways large and small. The company's stock portfolio showed it, and so did evenings like this one.

Tonight, he let himself be nudged between Buck and Chris, and dropped his hands to their crotches, offering gentle, exploring touches.

Both men were already hard. Chris' eyes smiled, relaxed, and Ezra offered a smile in return as he wondered what would be asked of him, what would be offered. He bent forward to take Chris' mouth, investing all his years-learned skills with women and a very few, very rich, men. Buck's body shifted behind him and slipped away, but another replaced it, and it took only seconds to identify the rough scratch of well-worn denim, the sharp jut of hipbones: Vin. Soft kisses traced a line down his neck, and fingertips gently ruffled his hair. Soft kisses to his mouth, and a tongue purposely gentle; it was gratifying, the accommodations these men gave him and his tendencies. Precious.

"So, what are we gonna get up to tonight?" Vin asked, his voice casual but with an undertone of heat that Ezra didn't miss.

Ezra was in a generous mood; he could let himself be fucked, by any of them--these were the only men he ever permitted to penetrate him when cash wasn't exchanged. It was a pleasure to give pleasure and, mouth still glued to Chris', he floated along on a heady, erotic breeze. He drew back, returned the smile in pale green eyes. "Anything you like," he said to them both.

"Hmm. Well I know how I want to start this party," Vin said, and stepped away.

Ezra turned his head to place his partners: Vin going to his knees in front of JD, sliding a condom onto the young man's prominent erection and following it down with his mouth; Josiah, already naked, his heavy muscles sharply defined, knelt behind Vin and fingered his ass, a slow, meditative motion. Nathan, behind JD, ran his hands gently up JD's arms, over the smooth, bare shoulders. The contrast of dark skin on light had always appealed to him, and would have made Nathan a preferred partner if both of them weren't more straight than gay. As it was, Ezra took his pleasure in watching Nathan with others, and in the smooth, rousing touches Chris bestowed.

"If you stretched out on the floor," Chris whispered against his throat, "I reckon I could give you a blow job you'll remember for awhile."

Ezra shivered with anticipation and his cock twitched. They were too generous with him, really. "I think I could manage that," he demurred. He stepped away to strip off his trousers and shirt, enjoying the feel of cool air on his bare skin. He'd enjoy the feel of Chris' mouth on him even more.

Some time later, his hands clawed into the pile carpet and he thrust wantonly up into the generous mouth. Chris controlled the experience, never letting him escape into orgasm, driving the pleasure up and up, until Ezra was clenching his stomach muscles so tightly they ached. He tilted his head far back, to distract himself or to find the one erotic image that might let him slip past Chris' skills, saw JD lazing back on the floor, a sated, blank look on his face. Josiah and Nathan had curled around each other on their sides, the languid pace of their sucking far too much like Chris'. And Buck--

"Hold on a minute," Chris said, and moved away.

Damn it! You didn't leave a man hanging on the brink of orgasm, for God's sake! He opened his mouth to say as much, but Vin's hand on his cock choked the words in his throat. It stroked, meditative, keeping him interested without bringing him off, and Ezra glanced down his body to locate Vin. Belly down, grinning up at Ezra with familiar arousal shining on his face, he'd obviously been playing with Chris until Chris abandoned them both. Raising his eyebrows to Vin, he asked a question. Vin answered with a nod of his head, and they both looked toward Chris' retreating backside and the sofa beyond, where Buck sat alone.

Chris had been enjoying bringing Ezra up before he brought him off. He'd been enjoying the tickling strokes of Vin's fingers up the backs of his legs, his thighs, and the soft scratch of fingernails over the sensitive skin of his ass. He'd been so enjoying it, in fact, that it had taken a while to realize that Buck had disappeared. With equal parts contrition and concern, he approached the sofa and his still-dressed partner.

"Hey," he whispered, kneeling up against the edge of the sofa and resting his hands on his lover's knees. "What's the matter?"

"The matter?" Buck smiled. "Nothing. Y'all are beautiful, you know."

Buck was erect, and obviously interested in the happy little orgy, but his kiss for Chris was close-mouthed, almost chaste.

"Then come on down and play," he invited, watching Buck closely.

Buck shook his head. "I'm good right here, Chris. " A big hand came up to cup his cheek. "I'm all right, now get back over there before Ezra decides to shoot you for leaving him like that."

Stubbornly, Chris didn't move. "Come with me. We'll sex him up good."

Buck pursed his lips, and finally the truth slipped out. "I'm too sore," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "And I'm still marked up, so I can't strip down. But I'm loving watching you," he assured, "and I don't get enough chances to do it. " A gentle shove to Chris' shoulder emphasized the words. "Now get back out there and show me what you've got."

Chris held Buck's eyes for a long moment, measuring, before he came to a decision. He stretched up for one more kiss. "All right. You just simmer, pal, and I'll take care of you later."

He eased away and slid back into the happy mass of writhing bodies, passing JD on his return to bend and share a brief kiss. Josiah and Nathan were busy, they didn't need any help from him. Ezra still lay on the floor, dick hard, knees open, eyes closed. Vin grinned up at Chris as Chris returned to his place between Ezra's legs, and met Buck's heated gaze once more before swallowing Ezra's cock down.

He liked Buck watching. Sometimes he liked to watch, himself.

Slick fingers slid deep into his ass, and he tensed with anticipation. Vin was finally making his intentions known, and Chris hummed his assent, laughing inside when Ezra tensed and thrust up into his mouth. A little careful maneuvering found Chris with his knees outside Ezra's, and Vin's knees between Ezra's calves. He could imagine the picture they all made and how much Buck was enjoying watching the sinuous flow of body against body. Later, while he sucked him, maybe he'd get Buck to tell him what it had looked like. But now, he couldn't concentrate past keeping his rhythm slow and steady; Vin slid inside him, the pace faster than the one Chris used on Ezra, and he felt his body tense, the heat rising fast.

After Ezra spilled, Chris propped on his hands and looked up to lock eyes with Buck, watched Buck's hand blur on his cock--so much for sucking him later--watched the open-mouthed lust that could take his lover at times like these. When Buck tensed and came, his own body stiffened in reaction and he fell over the edge into orgasm, with Vin right behind him.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris was sitting at his small desk in the living room of his suite scanning the schedule for the week. Sometimes it could be a real headache, balancing the individual tastes of the clients with the preferences of his men and the need to make accommodations in certain areas. Ezra far preferred it when women paid him. Josiah had his own unique client base and rarely strayed outside of his specialty. Chris refused to send JD out if the client liked things too rough; that innocent kid thing he had going tended to bring out the worst in those types. Buck was equally happy tricking men or women, was prepared to do just about anything with anybody, and let clients do pretty much what they wanted to him, which was a whole other headache for Chris.

Nathan and Vin were the men who had convinced him this business would work. Versatile yet sensible, adaptable yet cautious, their way of doing things had taught him how to handle Buck and, eventually, JD and Ezra.

Chris paused to consider when he read the name of Buck's client for the evening. James Wilson, a pleasant enough man with very specific tastes, he liked to be in control, he liked to fuck hard and often, and sometimes got carried away. Buck was perfect for him. His good humor and enthusiasm helped keep the man's demands in check, and Buck could be counted on to handle himself if James tried to take things too far. At any other time, Chris would have o.k.'d the date, but his eye had been caught by another name on Buck's schedule. Winston McConnell. Winston had scheduled an overnight on Friday. And Chris knew what that particular date would entail.

He deliberated for a moment. Buck was healing up nicely, but his back and ass were still sore and the skin stretched across the fading welts was tender, fragile. He needed a few more easy days at least, before he was ready to take on what Winston wanted from him. Chris glared at McConnell's name; Buck might be ready by Friday, but Chris never would be. His overwhelming inclination was to cancel Winston on Friday, push him off for another few days. But he knew that Buck wouldn't stand for it and they would end up fighting. The rest of Buck's calendar for the week was fairly light, mostly women, or men who paid to be fucked. Tonight was the only real problem. He considered taking on James himself, but Buck would kill him if he lost this client, and Chris really had no patience for the man. He didn't put up with half the shit Buck did, wasn't particularly fond of getting fucked by clients, and the tricks pretty much knew that up front regardless of what they were paying for. Bearing that in mind, Chris made a quick decision, and scheduled a different partner for James

An hour later Buck walked into the suite, smiling to himself to see Chris' head bent over the schedule, lost in thought, a chewed up pencil hanging from his lips. He walked over and leaned down to place a kiss on his lover's cheek.

"You working tonight?" Buck asked, dropping onto the couch.

"Nope. Tomorrow and the weekend." He returned his attention back to the schedule.

Buck grinned. "So you wanna join me in the shower while I get ready for my date?" he wheedled, images of Chris wet, naked and rock hard already playing enticingly in his head.

Chris didn't look up. "You're not going out tonight," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Dotty said James Wilson booked me for seven," Buck said.

"Change of plan," Chris said, shortly. "I've switched you out of the schedule for tonight. Vin's taking him."

Buck raised his eyebrows. "He's my regular, Chris."

Chris turned away from his desk and faced Buck. "You know James only likes to fuck. And you know he can be a little over enthusiastic. I don't want him aggravating your back. Not if you're still gonna take Winston on Friday. You need to heal up more."

Buck frowned, measuring his lover's determination. "I'm fine, Chris," he tried.

"I'm the one who decides that," Chris said, and the hard look in his eyes told Buck that now was probably the time to stop arguing.

"I don't like you asking Vin to pick up slack for me just because you're paranoid," he griped. "I'll take James. I'll make sure he knows the rules before we start."

Chris snorted. "That's what you said last time you tricked Winston. And look where that got you. Vin's going out. You're at home. End of discussion."

"But Chris…"

"Don't argue with me on this," Chris ordered. "I'm not changing my mind. I've kept you on the schedule for the rest of the week because the dates are easy and you'll be able to keep the clients from looking where you don't want them to. But tonight is off. Now back down."

Buck threw up his hands in defeat, as irritated as he was pleased that Chris was so damned determined to coddle him. "Fine, whatever you want," he surrendered. He climbed to his feet and started out the door.

"Where are you going?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to talk to Vin. I know how to handle James, thought he could do with a few pointers," Buck said. He turned and started walking again.

"Buck."

Buck turned back.

"If I find out you've tried to talk Vin out of this you'll answer to me. And I'm not just talking a fine. Are we clear?"

Buck sighed. "You're my boss, you own my ass, I do what I'm told or I get it whipped. That about cover it?" he said, sarcastically.

Chris grinned at him. "Very funny."

Buck shook his head and turned away.

"Buck."

He turned back again, more than a little exasperated. "What!"

Chris rose and walked across the room, and Buck was startled when one wiry arm slid around his neck, tugging him into a kiss. Chris' hand grabbed one of Buck's and pressed it hard onto Chris' erect cock. Buck moaned into his mouth, felt his palm tingle against the familiar outline of the cock he loved as much as his own. Chris pulled back a little.

"Come back when you've talked to Vin," he whispered.

Buck smiled, rubbed. "You sure do like bein' bossy, don't you?" he teased.

"I'll show you just how bossy when you get back," Chris promised.

"I thought I was too banged up for sex," Buck said, the irritation of a moment ago replaced with a far finer and more welcomed ache.

Chris smirked. "I said you're too banged up to get fucked. I didn't say you were too banged up for me to play with. Hurry back."

Buck grinned, taking Chris' over-protectiveness in stride. Not that it was much of a surprise. Chris spent too much time treating him as if he were made of glass, and plenty more time proving to himself that Buck was unbreakable. You certainly couldn't accuse the man of being consistent.

Buck knocked on Vin's open door, and stepped into the room when his friend walked out of his bathroom and waved him in.

"What can I do for you?" Vin asked, pulling on a nice tight pair of jeans whose seat was faded almost white. It was like putting a spotlight on a work of art. James was in for a real treat tonight.

"Hey, Vin. Sorry you got stuck with my client. It wasn't my idea."

Vin smiled. "I know. Chris doing his mother-hen thing again."

Buck winced. "Yeah. You should have said no. I could have taken the date."

Vin quirked an eyebrow and laughed. "Chris said you'd probably try to talk me out of it. He finds out he was right you better duck next time you see him."

Buck laughed. "I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I value my hide a little more than that. Just wanted to tell you that James is okay, he doesn't want much, just a fuck. But you have to be firm with him otherwise he gets over-excited. And don't let him talk you into using the cuffs. Last time we did that he lost the damned key for three hours."

Vin shook his head. "I remember the story, and I have done this a time or two, Bucklin," he drawled. "I think I know how to handle myself."

Buck sidled close to his friend and slipped his arms around the man's lean waist. "Aww Vin, I'm not trying to tell you your job. Just... watch yourself is all. I'm used to him, I know how to deal with him. I don't want you to have to put up with any shit on account of me, that's all. " He licked down Vin's neck and sucked at the skin on his shoulder, feeling his friend sigh and tilt his head for the touch.

Fingers ghosted over his ass, cupping it gently. "Don't worry about me, man. I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand in no time. Probably won't even want you back once he gets a taste of what a real man can do for him."

Buck laughed. "You keep thinking that, son. If it helps you sleep nights. " His smile dropped and he sobered. "Come and find me when you get home, okay?"

Vin grinned at him. "You know how much you sound like Chris sometimes?" he teased. "He ain't the only one with a mother-hen complex."

Buck slapped his friend's ass. "Bite yer tongue, boy. One Chris Larabee in the family is enough. Speaking of which, I'd better get on back to him. If he thinks I've slipped the leash and gone on this date he'll start warming up the crop."

Vin stiffened. "You joking?"

Buck shook his head fondly. "Of course I am, with my ass already chewed up like it is. You know him better'n that."

Vin shrugged. "Round here, sometimes I think I don't know shit."

Buck kissed Vin, almost chastely, on the lips, tasting toothpaste and rye.

"Take it easy. See you later."

"Back at you. Go give him hell," Vin smiled.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck snuggled closer to Chris and sighed deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this lazy and comfortable and sated. It had been months since he and Chris had last had two full days and nights with practically no interruptions, He felt a brief pang of guilt thinking of Vin taking on James for him and hoped that Vin remembered his caution about the handcuffs. James really had lost the key last time Buck was foolish enough to play that game with him. He'd had to cancel out on the date that had been scheduled later in the evening and Chris had been furious with him. It hadn't helped that the rest of the guys had been doubled up with laughter when he tried to explain it to Chris after he finally got free, but he had eventually been able to convince his lover that it wasn't his fault and Chris had billed the extra time through to James.

Vin had stepped up for him that night too, Buck remembered, taking on the evening client, soothing her ruffled feathers with a dose of the southern charm he could pull out of his hat on special occasions.

Chris stroked a hand through his hair and he almost purred with contentment. They were spooned up together on the couch in the den, lying on their sides, Chris' chest pressed tightly to his back, an arm draped over Buck's waist, their legs entwined. Buck could feel Chris' cock rubbing up against his ass, felt it twitch occasionally, wondered how the hell his lover could still be horny after what they had just spent a chunk of the early evening doing.

Chris had been gentle with him, if gentle meant taking him to the edge and holding him there, shuddering and desperate, until he begged his lover for release. Hands clasped with Buck's, pressing his knuckles into the bedding and using Buck's tension to balance against, Chris had smiled down at him, ridden Buck's cock down to the root and ordered, "Say it again."

"Please, you goddamned, fucking, bastard," Buck had yelled, his body thrumming with need, and Chris had laughed, eyes sparkling, slid up him and sat back down hard, and said, "I don't think you've got the hang of begging for it at all. Try again."

Buck had held out as long as he could, but when he thought the top of his head was about to explode, when his eyes filled with tears of frustration, when Chris kissed him so tenderly he felt his soul unravel, he had whispered softly, "Please, Chris," and his lover had finally released him.

Now, curled on the sofa in the den, with JD leaning right in front of him intently focused on a movie and Chris wedged in against his back, he felt deeply relaxed, totally spent, couldn't imagine ever getting hard again. Not even when Chris slipped a hand past the waistband of his sweatpants to cup and fondle his softened cock, stroking languidly up and down the shaft. He sighed. It was going to take a lot more than a rock hard cock poking at his ass and a warm hand jacking him slowly to get him interested again tonight. Then Chris squeezed, bit down on his shoulder and began rocking his hips gently, and suddenly the only thing Buck could think about was spreading himself wide for his lover and begging for him all over again.

"Jesus, Buck, watch what you're doing!" JD growled.

Buck jumped and refocused. Until Chris had distracted him, Buck had been twisting strands of JD's long black hair around his fingers. He realized that for the last few seconds he had been pulling the kid's hair instead of stroking through it.

"Sorry JD," he mumbled.

JD turned and grinned at him. "I hope I'm half as horny when I get as old as you two," he said, and Buck wasn't completely sure the kid was teasing him. Thirty looked pretty ancient to a twenty-year old.

Chris raised himself up on his elbow without stopping his hand or the slow, hard thrust of his hips. "Sorry, kid. My fault."

JD shook his head. "Take a break, guys," he said. "The best scene is about to start."

Buck laughed. "Haven't you seen this movie a hundred times?" he teased. "It ain't gonna be any different from the last time you watched."

"Jeez, Buck," JD admonished. "Hasn't Chris jerked you off a hundred times before? I don't see you getting tired of that. It's Steve McQueen, it's the Great Escape, it's the motorbike scene," he said, as if that explained everything.

Buck could feel Chris' body shake with silent laughter. He ground his ass back against the man's cock, heard him hiss and groan, smiled at JD. "Okay, kid. We'll stop. Steve McQueen will get our undivided attention, right Chris?"

Chris muttered a curse. "Sure JD," he gasped, and dragged his hand up Buck's cock, circling the head with agile fingers before pulling his hand out of Buck's sweatpants. Buck suppressed a moan, and fought the urge to flip his lover onto his belly, bend him over the arm of the couch, and fuck him until they both saw stars.

Maybe after the movie. For now, he contented himself with the thought that Chris was just as frustrated as he was, and turned his attention to Steve McQueen trying to vault the barbed wire fence while JD provided a running commentary.

Despite the distraction of an unattended hard-on, Buck found himself caught up in the kid's enthusiasm. JD sure loved this movie. He knew the dialogue by heart and had long ago stopped being embarrassed every time one of the guys caught him mouthing the words along with the actors. He never looked more like a kid than when he sat in rapt attention, lost in the world the movie created.

Chris shifted behind him and leaned up to his ear. "You think he has the hots for Steve McQueen?" he whispered. Buck grinned. Had the hots for the motorbike more likely.

For the hundredth time Buck watched as McQueen gunned the engine on the bike and made his bid for freedom. For the hundredth time he watched JD's heartbreak when the bike crashed and McQueen ended up tangled in the barbed wire. He eased his hand back into the kid's hair, coddling him a little, and filled with affection.

"Hilts make it this time, kid?" Vin asked, sauntering in just as McQueen's character was recaptured.

Buck glanced up, feeling Chris' attention shift behind him, and smiled as he met Vin's relaxed, easy gaze. Vin's eyes lifted an inch, casting behind him, and Buck could tell that Chris and Vin were sharing a wordless hello.

"Ha, ha. Funny guy," JD groused.

Vin glanced down, then walked on over and sat on the floor next to JD. Buck leaned forward and kissed his cheek, grateful to have him home.

"Everything went okay?" he asked.

"Piece of cake."

"He didn't lock you up in his handcuffs for three hours?" Chris laughed.

Vin turned his head and grinned. "I'm not as much of a dumb ass as your boyfriend. I didn't let him get within a mile of me with those things."

"Hey, watch your mouth, slick," Buck protested. "It could have happened to anybody."

The other three men laughed. "You keep thinking that, Bucklin. If it helps you sleep nights," Vin drawled. JD yawned long and loud and Buck slapped him gently on the back of the head. "Bed time for you, I think," he said.

JD glanced at him with what looked suspiciously like a pout. "I'm not five years old, Buck," he groused. "You don't get to tell me when it's bedtime."

Buck grinned at him. "A growing boy needs his rest," he said. "Go on, scoot."

JD yawned again. "Okay, I'm going to bed, but not because you said so. " He rose unsteadily to his feet. Buck reached out and pulled until he tumbled onto the couch, lying practically on top of him. Chris squirmed back to give them room.

"Where's my goodnight kiss?" Buck asked.

JD grinned at him, ground his hips into the erection that had never faded, making Buck groan. "Maybe it isn't bedtime after all. Wanna stay and play a while?" Buck breathed.

JD laughed. "Right. Now you want me to stay. Tough shit. I'm going to bed."

"Tease," Buck said. He lifted his head and captured JD's lips. They kissed slowly, languidly, Buck's hands drifting to cup the younger man's ass. JD pulled back, leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Chris' lips and twisted off Buck's body to land neatly on his feet.

"Don't stay up too long. You old guys need your sleep too," he said. Buck laughed and watched as Vin climbed to his feet and wrapped his arms around the kid. They kissed long and hard, and Buck felt his cock jump, could feel Chris' twitch against his ass. He turned to his lover and smiled, and soon he had Chris' tongue halfway down his throat.

When JD left the room, Buck pulled back from Chris' mouth and quirked an eyebrow. He read the answer to his unspoken question in his lover's eyes. Sitting up, swinging his legs off the couch and onto the floor, he reached out and grabbed Vin by the hips, pulling him in close.

"How about you, Tanner? You want to stay and play?"

Vin grinned down at him and nodded. "Much obliged, if you want the company. Your client didn't return the favor after he got off the last time."

Chris had been determined not to go for anything too extreme or kinky, but he loved watching Vin; the man was so incredibly responsive. And he particularly loved watching Vin and Buck together. It was no surprise to him that the Sanford sisters rented them out so regularly.

After careful questions and Buck's reassurances, Buck wound up on his knees on the floor, head cradled in Chris' lap while Vin knelt behind him, and slid gently, carefully into him. Chris' attention was split between the rapturous looks on their faces and the more graphic action of groin to ass. The visual onslaught of bare, tanned chest and concave belly, of cock and buttock, of Vin's strong hands grasping Buck's hips to guide him, started a flashfire in Chris' groin that wasn't helped by Buck's efforts to suckle his cock. He slid his hands down Buck's tee shirt-covered back, knowing the marks were hidden under there, knowing that just a twitch of fabric would reveal them to his eyes, his hands... Chris held off, rubbing urgently over the fabric, knowing Buck didn't like revealing them even to Vin, and rode the wave of pleasure that washed through them all, starting with Vin's thrust and undulating up Buck's body then into Chris' own.

"Buck," he whispered. "Suck me." Please... Buck adjusted his position, and opened his mouth so that every thrust of Vin's hips pushed him down Chris' cock until they were connected, one to the other. He curled forward over his lover's body, locking eyes with Vin, urgently kneading Buck's back and sides. Vin kept the pace consistent and smooth, never varying, never increasing his thrusts, obviously still careful of Buck's condition. But his hands began to move, coming into contact with Chris', clasping fingers where they grasped along Buck's waist. The rising and falling tensions in his lover's body, the increasing suction of mouth and play of tongue, sent Chris so far into orbit he could barely focus on who was with him and what they were doing.

Except that who was with him and what they were doing was what drove the pleasure so hard, so fast, so high. Vin grunted and his rhythm faltered, and Chris felt his orgasm erupt as his friend's face went blank and transcendent. Buck, back hunched between them, connecting them, hummed along his dick. Gasping, Chris bent low and whispered as near to Buck's ear as he could get, "I love you."

And that was all it took for Buck to join Chris and Vin in climax.

Vin rested lightly against Buck's back as he panted and gasped along with them. Chris, smiling, rubbed his fingers through Vin's sweaty hair.

But when Vin pulled away he stiffened and frowned, and hissed out a breath. One of the cuts on Buck's back had reopened and a thin line of blood stained his tee shirt. Chris flinched and eased Buck up, at the same time Vin pulled out and dispensed with the condom.

"What's wrong?" Buck asked.

"I'll get a cloth," Vin said, and Chris shot him a grateful look.

"We've opened you up again," Chris whispered, voice brusque with concern.

Buck shrugged. "So what?"

"So I don't want to make you bleed every time you get fucked," Chris chided, reaching out a soothing hand. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you. I'm not doing a very good job."

Buck grinned at him, shifting around to curl between Chris' thighs. "You two just did a hell of a good job," he sighed.

Vin came back with a wet cloth and Chris, hesitating, eased Buck's shirt up to expose the bleeding wound. Buck stiffened briefly but settled back down as if accepting the inevitable. Chris stroked through his lover's dark hair, watching Vin's face intently to be sure it was just concern in the soft eyes. He cared a lot about Vin, maybe more than he'd cared about anyone except Buck in years. He cared enough that he felt comfortable stripping Buck, exposing some of their secrets in front of this man, but the first hint of derision or contempt would change that quickly enough. Vin looked up and nodded, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.

Chris dragged in a steadying breath. Vin didn't understand, and maybe none of them did, but Vin wasn't judging Buck, and that was all that mattered to Chris. Leaning over Buck's shoulder, he touched his lips to Vin's in thanks, opening his mouth and welcoming the slick glide of tongue, and if it was a little urgent, well, Chris could understand that.

He ended the kiss and pulled back from Buck's tight embrace, tipping his lover's head back, lowering his mouth and kissing him fiercely until he felt Buck's cock stirring against his leg. He pulled back and smiled down.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, laughing at the disappointed look on Buck's face.

"You two finished already?" Buck demanded.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something to help you sleep," Chris said. "Nothing too athletic," he warned.

"Now he says 'nothing too athletic,'" Buck groused to Vin.

Vin just laughed and shook his head, then stood up and stretched. "I'll leave you to it," he said around a yawn. He leaned down and kissed Buck on the lips. "That was just what I needed, Buck, thanks."

Buck smiled. "Thanks for taking my guy tonight," Buck replied sincerely.

Vin quirked a grin at him. "Don't thank me too much; I took your tip, too."

Vin brushed a kiss onto Chris' cheek and walked out of the room. Chris struggled to his feet and reached down a hand to help pull Buck up. "Come on, then. Let's go and get you settled down for the night," he whispered, and slipping his hand into Buck's he tugged gently until his lover followed him out of the room.

7 - 7 – 7

Thursday came up fast, and the idea of being paid to stand around and flirt with people leant a festive atmosphere to everyone's mood. Chris saw it and silently thanked Jennifer yet again for being so filthy rich. Josiah had had come in at twelve from an overnight and Vin had slipped out, wearing a veritable hustler's costume of torn, tight, faded jeans with frayed hems and white tank top, smirking as he mock-saluted and left for a nooner fantasy with an investment banker in her forties. JD had turned two tricks today because the kid was a money making machine, but he was already home, hyper, and working on one of his bikes in the garage. Ezra, Chris noted amusedly, had done as little as humanly possible, and his big effort of the day had been to go up on the roof and sun himself while reading Fortune magazine.

Chris wondered sometimes if Ezra would stay with them, keep living here after he'd amassed the fortune he was working so hard to build. He thought, probably. Maybe. Like as not, the fortune would never be big enough, and Ezra would be around for a long while.

Buck, for reasons completely lost on Chris, had gotten them all trial memberships at a ritzy gym, and now, at three o'clock, seven gym bags lay piled under seven garment bags by the front door, awaiting Vin's return from his date.

Chris sipped a Pepsi and wandered around downstairs, sticking his head in to say goodbye to Dorothy and ask her to set the alarm when she left, jogging upstairs to check in on Buck, who was dozing stretched out on his belly on the sofa. Since he was already on the third floor, he went to the fire escape at the end of the hallway and climbed up to the roof.

"Ez," he said, frowning, "What'd I tell you about stripping down up here?"

Ezra glanced over the rims of his Serengeti's with a haughty look. "If anyone in those yuppie high rises wants more than a look, well, they can shell out their cash like everyone else."

"You attract attention," Chris said, grinning as he stepped into Ezra's sun and cast a shadow over glistening skin.

"Chris, I like to think I attract attention with or without attire," Ezra said with a smile. Then, "Time to go?"

"Just about. You might want to come inside. And put your pants on."

"Amazing, how few people in my line of work tell me that," Ezra asided; Chris laughed out loud, and headed back down.

Mike drove them, and stayed outside with the limo while they checked the place out and went through a pretty good workout routine. The way most people ignored them signaled the exclusiveness of this place, and Chris wondered who Buck had blown for the trial memberships--and why. But he didn't worry about it, just worked into a circuit with the rest of the guys that involved a lot of jeering, no little sweat, groans and laughter.

They strode into the crowded men's locker room by six-ish, and talk slid downhill to match the atmosphere. Vin talked trash about his noon date, mimicking her "oh you boy, you nasty boy" until JD was red in the face and holding his sides, and nearby strangers were snickering or turning away.

"You get that a lot, huh kid?" Buck teased.

"Like you wouldn't believe," JD sputtered.

Everyone stripped down except Buck, who grabbed his whole bag out of the locker and edged a step toward the two private showers marked "special needs."

Buck wouldn't undress in public, couldn't bring himself to reveal the marks on his body. Some darker part of Chris almost wanted Buck to show them sometimes, but that same dark part didn't want anyone but a select few ever seeing them, so he turned away, keeping attention off his lover as Buck slipped off.

A shoulder bumped his own as he pulled off his tee shirt, and Chris turned to meet Vin's preoccupied eyes.

"How come you ain't followin' him?" Vin whispered. "You could always add 'gym shower' to your list."

Chris snorted and shook his head, even as tempted as he was. He wanted to run soft hands and liquid soap over his lover's back and ass, over shoulders and thin waist, to rub long enough to bring up suds in the dark pubic hair. "We'd never get out of here in time," he admitted. "Besides," he added with a grin, "you really think we've never done it in a gym shower?"

Vin snorted. "Figures."

The six of them headed for the showers together, and Chris smirked at the way everyone fanned out, putting at least one showerhead between himself and the next man.

"So," Nathan started, "I'm gonna be a doctor with a dark past again."

That brought a chuckle from Vin, and Chris grinned between them both. One of the fun things about Jennifer's parties was the in-jokes. Their regulars as often as not played along, pretending they were strangers or perhaps acquaintances from parties past, and listened as the guys revealed their fictional histories. Jennifer was, after all, far too wealthy and far too well placed to let prostitutes mingle at her soirees. Of course, her money was so old that she could get away with anything. This easy balance, of interesting entertainers and nothing so crude as sex on the scene, seemed to satisfy everyone, even the clients who had already fucked one or more of the group.

Buck and Chris had a story they kept embellishing and improving about having been Navy SEALs, until Buck's nonexistent brother hit the stock market and made them all rich. Vin told true stories of being an Army Ranger--he was the only man among them with real military experience-- and claimed he was one of Jennifer's distant cousins, while JD had a great line going about being the bastard grandchild of a rich, deceased society woman whose name he dared not speak, lest he be cut off. He told stories of horseracing and motorcycles and hinted innocently at intrigue. Ezra's stories changed with the weather, and he hadn't yet decided on one. Josiah admitted that he was contentedly researching and improving on his story of having worked at the Vatican.

"Just don't offer to hear confessions," Ezra said lightly.

"Oh," Josiah joked, "you'd be surprised how many confessions I've heard," and laughter bounced off the white tiles.

Buck had beaten them back to the changing area and already wore silk boxers and a short-sleeved tee shirt.

"Come here," Chris ordered before Buck could dress any further, digging through his bag for the lotion he'd brought with him. Buck frowned, and looked around at the strangers at lockers, or on their way to and from the showers. "Fuck 'em," Chris said quietly. "I need to put this on your back.

He steered Buck by the shoulder to a bench and made him straddle it, then sat behind him, slicking up his hands and running them under the shirt rather than exposing Buck's badges to anyone else. Buck sighed in pleasure, and the others snickered in what Chris knew was an effort to restrain themselves from making fuck jokes. He couldn't blame them. The massage was trying to turn sensual despite his attempt to keep it all business. The heat of Buck's skin, the feel of the fading welts against the palms of his hands, the warm, familiar smell of Buck's brand of shampoo and soap tickling his nose, all combined to send the wrong message to his cock and he couldn't resist leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Buck's neck. When one chiseled guy in his thirties harrumphed, Chris looked up, stared right into his eyes and said softly, "Just consider yourself lucky I'm not putting it on his dick," and continued what he was doing while the guy flushed and stalked away.

Buck nudged him in the ribs. "I'd like to not get thrown out until at least after the trial period is over," he murmured.

"Why do you care?" Chris said, smoothing his hands up and over Buck's shoulders.

"Just thought it would be nice for all of us to do something normal together for a change," Buck said quietly, and Chris felt a little ashamed of himself. Buck worked hard for his ersatz family and he liked to do nice things for them. Chris realized that he probably hadn't traded sex for the memberships, had more likely paid out of his own pocket so that they all had a place to work out, a place where they wouldn't be summed up and judged, where they could just be who they were, not what they did.

He wanted to lean forward again, slip his arms around Buck's waist, hug him tightly and gently kiss his lover's cheek. Instead he forced himself to slide back on the bench a few inches. "Okay. I'll behave," he replied and was rewarded with a beautiful, sweet smile that did nothing to ease the ache in his cock. He pushed himself a little further back on the bench, putting space between his body and Buck's, and finished rubbing lotion into Buck's back, this time in a much more chaste fashion.

Vin stopped snapping his wet towel at JD's ass long enough to call over, "Hey Buck, we still owe the Sanford sisters a make-up date. You up for it?"

Chris felt Buck stiffen slightly under his hands. He frowned to himself. The welts that he had put on Buck's body last week were fading fast, but Winston was likely to add a few marks of his own tomorrow. The sisters would probably freak if they saw Buck in his present condition. Or worse, maybe they'd like seeing this kind of mark on him and those dates that had been pure pleasure for his lover would get complicated by other demands. There was no way he wanted to expose Buck to that risk. One bastard of a client had already gotten around Chris' defenses and maneuvered Buck into doing something he should never have agreed to. Chris wasn't about to let it happen twice.

"End of next week will be time enough," he said, before Buck had time to formulate an excuse. He felt Buck relax, and the man squeezed his leg briefly, probably not even aware of the gratitude he was expressing.

Chris patted his back one last time then slipped his hands out from under Buck's tee shirt and climbed to his feet.

The men shaved and dressed slowly, trading obscene comments about each other, subsiding if a stranger walked too close only to pick up with even dirtier remarks once they were more ore less alone again. Chris smiled to himself when Vin tried and failed to tie JD's bowtie, cursing a blue streak when the thin strip of material wouldn't cooperate. Buck elbowed him aside and set to work himself, and soon all three of them were swapping insults and JD looked like he was being strangled.

Ezra came in for some severe teasing at the amount of time it took to blow-dry and gel his hair into perfect place.

"Just because you look as though you've been dragged through a hedge backward," he sniffed at Buck, which was very far from the truth. Buck looked stunning in his new tux, and the memory of the blowjob he had given Chris in the Armani fitting room yesterday only added to his appeal. Glancing quickly around the room, Chris sidled up to his lover and smoothed his hands down the narrow lapel of his jacket, then stepped back to admire the ensemble. Damn, but Buck looked handsome, and Chris suddenly pictured the fly open, Buck's cock out, and a repayment of the favor his lover had given him the day before.

Chris didn't realize how long he'd been staring until he felt a slap on his ass, sharp enough to make him jump and turn. Vin, grinning, whispered, "Keep staring like that and he won't be in that tux for long."

Chris turned away from temptation and hurried to stuff his wet towel and sweats into his gym bag. He stopped briefly to pull out his cell phone and call Mike, who appeared moments later and began to haul their bags out. A few final adjustments to hair and clothing, and the men were ready.

They had stormed the gym in baggy shorts and sweatshirts, hauling suit carriers and gym bags, and they walked out wearing Bruno Maglis and designer tuxedos. The same sort of patrons that had ignored them two hours ago turned thinly veiled gazes toward them, measuring them with the idle speculation of the very rich. Chris couldn't blame a single one of the oglers, because between the seven of them, there was something for everybody who had any appreciation at all for men.

They ranged from fair-skinned blond to coffee-black, from twenty to forty-two, from serious to sober to spirited. From Vin's intelligent blue eyes and long hair to JD's innocent look and Ezra's sophisticated style. From Josiah's serious, controlled presence that spoke subtly but unmistakably of the kind of work he did, to Buck's macho testosterone-driven charm...

"We ought to be passing out business cards," JD said, bumping Chris with his elbow. His young eyes sparkled with avaricious humor.

Chris shook his head. "Can't work all the time, kid," he excused. "This place is just for kicks."

The stretch limo was crowded enough that they were all inclined to cop feels, but Chris and Vin slapped hands like schoolteachers, to keep everyone in line.

"Watch the booze tonight guys," Chris warned, "and I'm not kidding. Anybody gets drunk and everybody pays a fine."

"Hey!" Vin started to complain.

"You know it's a good plan," Josiah said mildly. "If we're all responsible for each other, none of us will be tempted to step out of line."

"That's easy for you to say, 'siah. You don't even drink," JD pointed out.

The big man smiled. "Actually, that's a reason for me to be against the idea."

JD frowned, then smiled when he figured out Josiah's point. "Yeah. " He glanced around and ordered, gruff, "Okay, nobody get me into trouble. I want a new Ducati this month and I don't want to pay a fine for tonight."

"Look who's complaining," Buck teased. "You were the one who got us into trouble last time."

"Hey, that's not fair," JD spluttered. "Vin drank just as much as I did!"

"Maybe, but Vin didn't puke in the rose bushes on his way out," Buck smiled. He turned to Vin and saw the sly grin the man was doing his best to hide. "Tanner, you mix JD's drinks tonight and I will personally kick your ass for you," he said mildly. Vin's eyes widened in surprise, he cast a sheepish glance at JD and shrugged.

"Kids," Buck muttered. "Gotta watch 'em all the time."

"Say, Chris," Vin said, "Buck ever tell you 'bout that New Year's Eve party we worked last year?"

Buck's head reared and he elbowed Vin sharply in the ribs. "Will you look at that? We're here already," he said quickly. And the others laughed at how swiftly he exited the limo, practically before it had come to a halt.

Chris shook his head and climbed out after his lover. "You and I are gonna have a nice long talk about this later," he promised before moving off towards the house. Vin stuck close by his side, turning when they were safely out of range to laughingly give Buck the finger.

"Shit!" Buck muttered under his breath. "Tanner, you're a dead man."

"More like you're the dead man when Chris finds out what you got up to," Nathan laughed, coming up behind him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "I told you it wasn't a good idea at the time."

"Sins of the past, brother Buck," Josiah intoned, coming up on Buck's other side. "They're bound to catch up with us sooner or later."

Chris entered the ballroom first, and found himself a post a few feet from Jennifer where he could watch his men take the room until she deigned to notice him in public. Damn, Buck looked good, one hand stuffed casually into his suit pants so that the fabric tightened over his crotch and thighs. Chris sucked in a breath and tried not to smile; the arrogant shit knew exactly how handsome he was, and never minded working his looks. Josiah walked into the room next, took a quick look around and headed towards a middle-aged couple, recent clients of his. Grave and solemn, yet with a presence that was reassuring and oddly comforting, something about Josiah made dozens of people entrust the most intimate aspects of their private life to him.

Nathan and Ezra came in together, a study in contrasts. Nathan: calm, cool, trustworthy. Tall and beautiful, a little exotic to this particular crowd. Ezra: smaller in stature, but equally elegant, fitting into this crowd as though born to it. Ezra was as careful and guarded as Nathan was straightforward and forthright, and yet there were ways in which the two men were similar. Both held a little of themselves back. Neither trusted very easily, though trust once earned was held dear.

Chris couldn't hide a grin when Vin and JD sauntered into the room. The kids, Buck called them. Sometimes he forgot that Vin was closer to JD's age than his own, but at times like these, seeing them in their "grown-up" clothes as Buck liked to tease, their youthful vigor was all too apparent. And all too appealing. His boys were handsome, playful, charming when they needed to be, boisterous when together. Buck was crazy about them both, got pissy if anybody messed with them, and at the same time tortured them with the unsolicited advice and constant teasing of a big brother, something neither had ever had. As for himself, well, Chris couldn't imagine his life without them anymore. They had both slowly worked their way into his heart when he wasn't looking, when Buck saw distracting him with figures or finances, fucking or fun.

Chris let his eyes rove the room now that everyone was inside. Buck was talking animatedly to one of his favorite female clients. Rowdy, gregarious, a broad grin never far from his lips, Buck presented himself as strong and capable, all man. He was probably the most street-wise of all of them, but he was the most easily wounded, too, and Chris felt so much for the man. Lust never far from the surface, the need to shelter and guard, possessiveness and protectiveness so desperate and anxious in him, often warring with each other. And always love, drying his mouth and making his palms tingle, just from watching his lover across the room. Buck was his wounded heart and charred soul, as much a part of him as his own flesh.

Jennifer finally made her way the ten feet to him, and offered her hand, dragging his attention back to work. "Mr. Larabee, how nice of you to come," she greeted.

Measuring her interest against the crowd, he kissed her knuckles instead of her palm. "You look beautiful," he said, and pretty much meant it.

"Let's have a drink and catch up, shall we?" He escorted her to a nearby bar and ordered two of what she was having.

Jennifer was a wealth of information when it came to the background and pedigree of almost everybody in the room. She pointed out people he'd never heard of and who were so far above him he'd never have met them were it not for their interest in his ass. She supplied him with details on the lives of the men and women who wandered the hall, happily informing him of their history and their bank balances, and any gossip attached to their name. The only drawback was that she was as free with information about his people, and certain of their long-time clients knew as much as she did about him, Buck and the rest of the team.

"I'll let you mingle, shall I?" she said politely, and floated away. Chris did as he had obliquely been told, and made the rounds of the people she had pointed out, flirting with them, making them feel special, trying like hell to remember their names. Some would become new clients, he guessed; the interest of others would let him increase his men's fees.

Halfway through the evening Jennifer made an unexpected request of Chris, inviting him to stay the night. He made a quick calculation, weighed up his dislike of being away from home and Buck against what he owed Jennifer, and plastered on a smile.

"I'd love to," he said.

Jennifer laughed, a soft, elite sound of crystal on crystal. "Oh Chris, don't waste that on me. Just think of something to make it interesting later, all right?" As always, Jennifer was the perfect hostess, at ease in this company as Chris knew he never really would be. She was as good at making her whores comfortable as she was her peers.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, his smile more honest. She really was one tough bitch. "Right now, I need to go tell Buck I'm not coming home."

She fingered his lapel, casually, kindly, and glanced out toward the center of the room. "You really are a lovely couple; the matching Armani was a nice touch."

His smile faded when he followed her eyes and found Winston McConnell crowding Buck against a pillar. "Is there some reason that asshole needs to fuck with my life just to be happy?" he breathed.

"Of course, darling," Jennifer answered. "It's because you're there. And honestly, you do make it easy for him."

He jerked his head around, barely restraining a glare, but Jennifer just smiled and stepped away. Buck could take care of himself in the middle of a room full of people, damn it; Chris began to circle the dance floor, scanning the crowd for the rest of his men.

He saw Ezra first, appearing to listen attentively to a woman Chris knew was recently divorced and on the look out for an uncomplicated diversion. Even as he listened, Ezra was checking out the room for his next mark. Ezra knew almost as much as Jennifer about the people here. It was why he was the only one of them allowed to go home at the end of the evening with a new client. Everyone else had the option of pulling a regular, or going home and cooling his heels until Chris vetted the potential new tricks.

An alarm bell went off in his head when he spotted JD pressed up against a wall, a tall man towering over him. Chris recognized the man and his brain clicked quickly through all the things Jennifer had told him. Wealthy, mixed income, some of it legit, most of it shady, connections on the wrong side of the law. None of which Chris cared too much about. But Jennifer had also told him that the last kid this guy had tricked had ended up in a hospital badly beaten when the date had turned sour. He was blacklisted in most of the higher social circles and as Jennifer told it, he only ever entered her parties if he was someone's date. There was no fucking way this prick was getting his hands on JD.

Chris was about to step in and get the kid out of there when he saw Josiah appear at JD's side. Josiah's presence and whatever he said to the obnoxious guy soon made him move off. Chris caught Josiah's eye and nodded his thanks then turned away, knowing Josiah had the situation well in hand, and found himself face to face with Winston McConnell.

"This looks as if it will be a very lucrative night for you, Mr. Larabee," Winston said.

"Winston," he non-answered. He wasn't about to discuss the details of his business with a client, especially this one.

"Has Buck told you we've decided to get a little more adventurous on our next date?" he asked.

"He mentioned it," Chris said, as neutrally as possible. Winston looked at him, a cool, assessing gaze that swept Chris from head to toe.

"It seems to be something you have a fondness for," Winston said, softly. "I found your work with the whip very inspiring last time I fucked your boyfriend."

Chris felt his jaw twitch. Honestly darling, you do make it easy for him. Fuck that. Switching to his most professional tone he said, "I don't allow my men to take any injuries. If I find you've done any real damage, you'll never get another date with my agency. I don't care how much money you have."

Winston smiled. "I've paid for a lot of sex, Mr. Larabee, I find it keeps relationships within my control. I've never come across a more accommodating partner, though. I intend to keep him close and fuck him often. I certainly have no intention of injuring him."

Chris pushed down the anger that flooded through him. "Well just remember I'm the one he has to account to, and you won't find me so accommodating. If you step over the line with him, I'll pull him out of service."

For a moment the bored mask of the rich dropped from Winston's face, and Chris recognized a certain ruthlessness there. But just as quickly the socialite returned and Winston smiled lazily. "I understand," he said. "It must be quite a challenge to pimp your own lover. Good evening, Mr. Larabee." Winston turned and walked away.

For a moment Chris indulged in the fantasy of driving his fist into the man's smug face, wondering why in the name of God Buck had chosen this asshole to be so damned stubborn about.

"He yanking on your chain?"

Chris turned to Vin. "God, I don't know why I let that asshole get to me like he does," he growled.

"He's just a wallet, Chris."

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "A wallet who doesn't know the difference being buying a fuck and buying the man," Chris said quietly.

Vin shook his head. "Buck knows the difference. Always has. And it's you he comes home to."

"Yeah." Chris smiled, grateful for Vin's quiet support.

Chris didn't realize that he had been scanning the room until Vin spoke again.

"He's over by the bar," Vin said, grinning, "and the washrooms are down the hallway." Chris flushed a little at how transparent he was, but he returned the grin, saluted, and walked off to find his lover.

Buck was talking to one of his regular clients when Chris found him. He caught Buck's eye and jerked his head towards the hall, then strode away knowing Buck would follow soon enough. As it turned out, Buck was only a few steps behind him when he walked into the washroom. He scanned the stalls quickly, and turned as soon as Buck stepped into the room, pressed himself up against his lover and covered Buck's mouth with his own, sucking in his tongue, dropping his hand to cup the soft mound of Buck's cock.

"I saw Winston all over you earlier. How'd you get away from him?" Chris demanded, pressing hard with the heel of his hand.

Buck grunted and thrust up against the touch. "How I always do, said 'down boy,' and walked off. Stop worrying about him, Chris," Buck urged.

Chris just speared the indigo eyes with his own and held the look until he could see nothing else. "You're mine," he grated. "Stop forgetting that."

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, pinning him tight against the hard body. "I never forget that," Buck whispered, and rolled them along the wall. The hot mouth descended, sucking hard on his lips, his tongue, leaving him no quarter--which was just fine with him, because he wanted none.

"God, you look so fucking hot tonight," Buck panted against his neck. "I can't wait to get you home and out of some of these clothes."

Chris tipped his head back. "Shit. Jennifer wants a date tonight."

"I want a date tonight," Buck groaned. "Never mind. I'll wait up for you. " He dropped his head and nuzzled kisses behind Chris' ear. Chris threw back his head, banging the door in the process, to give Buck better access. Only when Buck slid a hand into the waistband of his pants and cupped his rigid cock did he remember.

"Hold on. " He pushed Buck back, holding him at arm's length. "I won't be coming home. I told Jennifer I'd stay the night."

Buck stilled and frowned. "You haven't done that in years," he said.

"I know. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. But she's our way in to this crowd, Buck. I need to keep her sweet."

Buck took a deep breath and nodded. "I understand," he murmured. Then he grinned. "But I expect you to make it up to me."

Chris glanced at his watch. "I've got ten minutes. " He grabbed Buck's hand and pulled him towards the nearest stall, bolting the door when they were both inside.

They scrabbled to undo their pants, and Buck spun his lover around and raised Chris' hands to brace them against the wall. He reached into the inside pocket of Chris' jacket and pulled out a tube of slick. "My own little boy scout," he whispered into Chris' ear, and Chris grinned, knowing he would find a matching tube in Buck's jacket pocket. Fingers delved into the cleft of his ass and pulled his cheeks open, then Buck hooked an arm around Chris' waist and tugged him back, pushing up in one smooth stroke until Chris felt like a piñata at the fair, so stuffed he couldn't breathe.

Buck stopped for a moment and brushed a hand over his rigid cock, chuckling when Chris hissed and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Buck…" he warned.

"I know. I know," Buck whispered. "You're saving yourself for Jennifer."

"Who's expecting me in five minutes," Chris growled. "So either fuck me right now, or save it 'till tomorr--uuh," he grunted as Buck suddenly began to move, pounding into him, slamming him forward with every thrust. The slick fabric of his tux jacket slipped and slid on the metal stall door, and he pushed back, screwing his hips down to try and take his lover deeper, trying to match Buck's strokes, groaning every time his lover buried himself up to his balls. Buck fucked him hard and fast and tugged down the collar of his jacket, trapping his arms against his sides. He jerked, with no room to pull away, and almost screamed when Buck bit deeply into the meat of his shoulder and came, jerking up into him. Buck gave a last violent thrust and collapsed against him. He braced himself under Buck's weight, his lover's panting breath tickling his ear. After a moment Buck kissed him on the neck, shifted and straightened up and Chris heard the whisper of silk and knew Buck was dressing himself again.

He pulled up his own pants, tucking in his aching cock. He knew that screwing Jennifer tonight wasn't going to take care of it the way that Buck would, and tried not to think of how quickly Buck would go to his knees right now if he asked him to, and how good it would feel to be sucked dry by that hot, skilful mouth. He wished that he hadn't agreed to this date, at least not to staying the night. He sighed. Sometimes he had to put business ahead of his dick.

He was about to turn around when Buck stepped closer and bent his head. Chris shuddered when Buck began sucking hard on his neck, could practically feel the blood being pulled to the surface and knew there would be a mark.

Buck turned him around. "That'll help her remember who you really belong to," he whispered.

"Yeah," Chris breathed, and reached up to cup his lover's face and kiss him gently on the lips. "Talk to JD. Make sure he's okay. That prick drug runner Jennifer told me about was on the kid tonight."

"What'shisname? Simms?"

"I think, yeah."

Buck nodded.

"I'd better go, lover. I'm late."

Buck licked his lips. "Okay. Listen, Winston asked..."

"No."

"But Chris, you won't even be home--"

"I said no," Chris repeated. "He's getting you tomorrow. " He frowned, and copped to at least part of the truth. "If I know you're out with him, I'll never be able to get it up, and Jennifer'll be pissed as hell. No."

Buck grinned. "Okay. I'll tell him."

Chris pulled away reluctantly and ducked out of the john to find Jennifer, knowing that at least tonight he wouldn't have to work so hard to get it up for her, not with the smell of Buck all over him, and his lover's cum buried deep inside him.

7 -7 -7

Buck climbed into the back of the limo and slid gratefully into the plush seats. He was tired, all that smiling and glad-handing and social chatter wore him out more than fucking did. Vin and Ezra were wrapped around each other on the seat opposite and it was obvious that they would end up in bed together tonight. JD was nodding quietly against the door.

Buck yawned. He liked Jennifer's parties, even if he often didn't like the people. She had a lot of class.

Vin pulled his mouth off Ezra's neck and asked, "Where's Chris, anyway?"

"He went home with Jennifer. He's spending the night with her," Buck replied.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Vin, then looked back. "You're welcome to join us tonight if you want some company."

Buck smiled. "Nah. Thanks, guys. I can spend one night by myself."

"Well, if you change your mind we'll be in my room," Vin said.

Ezra groaned. "We most certainly will not. Your place is a mess. I can barely even find your bed. We'll be in my rooms, Buck."

"Now wait a minute…"

Buck shook his head and tuned them out. He'd heard this argument a dozen times before, knew they'd end up in Ezra's bed, Vin complaining that his silk sheets were so damned slippery that he couldn't get a decent grip and could never get a hard enough fuck, Ezra countering that finesse was more important than rutting like an animal. Buck had his own thoughts on the subject, and insisted on cotton sheets on his own bed.

Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, Buck reached out and eased JD down to lie across the seat, head settled onto his thigh. JD was about the sweetest thing Buck had come across in a long time. Buck didn't have any illusions, he knew that JD was a tough little son of a bitch. But he was also considerate, easy-going and friendly as a puppy. The house had gotten a whole lot more relaxed since JD had joined them.

The limo pulled up to the apartment building and Buck shook JD gently.

"Hey, kid. We're home."

JD's eyes blinked open. "Buck?" he said, blearily.

"Yeah, son. Wake up. Bed time. " Tomorrow was soon enough to talk to him about Simms.

The kid sat up, rubbed at his eyes, then followed Vin and Ezra out of the car. Buck gave Mike his tip and waved good night. He caught up with the others at the top of the stairs. JD mumbled goodnight and headed for his room. Vin and Ezra paused for a moment.

Vin grinned at him. "Come and find us if you get fed up jerking off. We'll be in Ez's room." He rolled his eyes at Buck, who laughed and left them to it.

He went into the bedroom and stripped out of his tux, hanging it across the back of a chair, thought about slipping between the sheets, but one look at the huge, empty bed brought him up short; he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept alone in it. Years. At least since sometime after Sarah... . He didn't want to restart that tradition tonight.

Pulling on sweats he decided to head for the den and get himself a nightcap. He stopped momentarily in the doorway when he saw JD in front of the big screen TV, remote in hand, surfing through the channels. "Hey," he smiled. "Thought you'd gone up to bed."

JD glanced up and returned the smile. "Nah. Wasn't tired after all. Anyway, The Blair Witch Project is on tonight and I wanted to catch it."

He backed up until his knees bumped against the couch then sat down. Buck crossed to the bar. "You want anything?"

"Just a Coke. Thanks."

Buck grabbed a can for the kid and a beer for himself, then walked over to the couch and handed the drink to his young friend. Holding onto it when JD tried to pull it out of his hand, Buck asked, "You want a little company, maybe?"

JD grinned and patted the seat next to him. Buck dropped down into it and stretched his legs out, getting comfortable.

JD glanced at him and smiled slowly. "You missing Chris?" he asked.

Damn, Buck thought. Was he that obvious? He blushed a little and shrugged. "I saw him an hour ago, JD," he mumbled, not meeting the kid's eyes.

JD's smile widened. "You miss him. That's sweet," he said and ducked away when Buck reached out to swat him.

"Don't let Chris hear you calling him sweet," Buck growled. "He's liable to kick your ass for you, and don't think I'd stop him either. " JD laughed in delight. When he subsided Buck asked, "This film supposed to be scary?"

"Yeah, man. The scariest. Think you can stand it?"

Buck swung his legs off the floor and shifted around until his head was on the arm of the couch. He pulled JD until the kid was lying snugly next to him, then twitched the old Mexican blanket off the back of the sofa and tucked it around them both.

"Wake me up at the scary parts," he said, throwing an arm around JD's waist and snuggling nearer to his back. "I'll protect you from the big bad," he whispered into JD's ear.

JD shuddered in his arms and squirmed closer and Buck drifted off to sleep.

Early next morning, on his way back from his date with Jennifer, Chris popped his head into the den when he heard the low hum of the television. He smiled when he saw his lover and their youngest teammate cuddled up on the couch together, both fast asleep and snoring softly.

He switched off the television, tucked the blanket tightly around both men, and bent to smooth back dark hair and place a kiss on each forehead. Then he settled down into the armchair, and waited for his lover to wake.

Buck awakened exactly like a kid on Christmas morning, first with the frown of irritation that he was awake at all, then with the realization that there was something to wake up for. His eyes lit up even as he glanced around the room, and when they met Chris', well, it was nice to be considered the present under the tree even when your lover was more asleep than awake. He smiled, tilted his head toward the still sleeping JD; no way to get up without waking the younger man. Buck's face took on a look of mischief and he pushed, dumping the kid onto the carpet with no fanfare.

"Time to get up!" he hollered, and Chris winced at the volume, glad the apartments upstairs had been well sound proofed. He winced again, grinning like a fool, as JD tried to catch himself on all fours like a cat, looking around wildly.

"You could've stayed there a little longer," Chris mused. "I need to take a shower."

Buck looked to JD on the floor and back to Chris. "You think I'm gonna miss a chance to peel you out of a tux?" he flirted. "We'll take a shower with ya."

That could take days.

"Hey!" JD finally grumbled, voice thick and cracking, "some of us were trying to sleep, you know!"

Buck eased off the couch and prodded JD's ass with a toe. "C'mon, kid, you get cleaned up fast enough and we'll buy you Krispy Kremes."

"Aww, man," he said, sounding like nothing more than some spoiled and harassed teenager, "it's twenty blocks!"

"And it's not even six a.m. yet, so if we move our asses, we get there and back before commuter traffic picks up," Chris pointed out.

Buck smiled like the sun, and that by itself was worth his support of a doughnut run.

JD put the kibosh on shower sex, much to Chris' amusement and Buck's consternation. Every time one of them reached for the other, JD blocked the movement with a hand, foot or hip, and said, "Stay focused, guys. Krispy Kreme."

While JD trotted off to find a pair of jeans and tennis shoes, Chris took the opportunity to put Buck on simmer, dropping to his knees and tonguing his lover's balls. He kept his hands at Buck's knees, tickling the creases there, and grinned when Buck's cock came erect and rose up out of his way. Licks turned to suckles, as he drew first one ball into his mouth, then the other, until a hand pressed forcibly on his forehead.

He frowned, backed away and looked up: JD. Glaring.

"Krispy Kreme," the kid said with authority.

Buck started to curse half-heartedly and JD whapped him on the belly.

"Just remember, you're the one who woke me up," JD scowled, and tapped his foot while Buck eased his erection into a pair of old jeans, and Chris did the same.

They took the walk, JD fully awake now and jogging around them doing his Stallone impersonation. The streets were mostly empty as they walked in the cool morning air. They got home and deposited still-warm doughnuts on the long, island bar in the kitchen, then went their separate ways, all before eight. JD was possibly up for the day; Chris definitely was not. He and Buck strolled up the two flights to their suite, casually stripping off clothes as they went. By the time Chris closed the door behind them, they only had their jeans on, and those came off in short order.

"Hey," Chris said gently, "Come here and let me see you for a minute."

Buck stepped close, a ghost of a smile hiding under his mustache, but Chris took him by the shoulders and turned him, checking his back one more time. Three thin pink lines remained of the places Chris had opened up Buck's back, one still slightly puckered. Buck's hips and thighs were completely clear, and the bruising Winston had put there last Saturday had faded to nothing.

Sighing, Chris stepped up and wrapped his arms around Buck's waist, pressing them together front to back, and trying not to hold on for dear life.

"It's gonna be okay, Chris," Buck murmured.

Chris turned his lover again and went back to his knees, skipping the teasing entirely. He sucked Buck's flaccid cock gently, felt it grow and thicken in his mouth until he had to back up or deep throat, then alternated between the two.

Buck was groaning almost immediately, and gentle hands threaded through Chris' hair, not guiding him so much as anticipating his next movement. Chris eased his hands up, over the smooth skin of buttocks, took Buck all the way down again and nuzzled his chin against Buck's tight-drawn balls.

"Chris, I'm gonna--" Buck gasped, and Chris took his cue, parting Buck' ass cheeks and pressing one finger in and in, not stopping until it was buried deep.

The taste of Buck's semen hit his throat and Chris sighed. Forget Krispy Kreme; if he had a comfort food, this was it.

He stood up, keeping his hands on Buck's waist to steady himself. "Come on," Chris whispered, "let's go to bed."

They stayed there until noon, doing nothing more strenuous than holding each other. Chris closed his eyes to anything but what was right before him, and looked only at the moment. He didn't think about where Buck had been before this morning, and didn't contemplate where Buck would go later. He just took what he had in his arms right now, and counted himself lucky to have it.

It had been a damned long time since he'd felt the need to do this, since he'd felt so powerless or so afraid where Buck was concerned. It's different now, he reminded himself. We're both different, and it's gonna be okay. Hard words to have faith in, but he'd done it before under far worse circumstances.

The rest of the day was just as quiet, right up until four, when Chris got ready early and prepared to leave for his own job.

As he worked on his tie before the big wall mirror, Buck stepped into view behind him, and warm hands stroked the skin of his neck, above his shirt collar, then moved on to settle and knead his shoulders. "You all right?" Buck asked.

Chris met his eyes with more calm than he felt. "You gonna let me change your mind?"

"No."

He reached a hand and covered one of Buck's, squeezing a reassurance. "Then I'm all right. How about you?"

Buck looked surprised. "Huh?"

"You never liked letting people pay for something like this. And the last time didn't exactly work out for you."

Buck winced a little, then chuckled softly and shook his head. "It's not like that, darlin'," he said, voice filled with an easy, familiar confidence that Chris knew was mostly a bluff. "Winston's not like that. I'll be fine."

Fine. Chris hated that word. "Okay," he smiled, because showing Buck that he was worried sick wouldn't do either of them any good. This really was different. He'd been stupid enough back then to let Buck go out by himself to a seedy hotel that neither of them knew, with a first time trick. But he'd learned a hard lesson. So he'd found out all he could about Winston McConnell, could probably tell Buck what the man ate for breakfast. And if he laid a finger on Buck outside of the terms of the session, well, he knew where McConnell lived too.

Turning, he planted a final kiss on Buck's lips, muttered "Take care," and hurried out of the building hoping he wouldn't be too distracted for his client, counting the hours until he saw his lover again.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck strolled along the tree-lined street towards their apartment building, enjoying the bustle of the Saturday morning residents. It had been such a beautiful morning that he had decided to walk part of the way home from Winston's in spite of his chewed up backside, and had asked the cab driver to drop him a few blocks from home. He was fairly sure it had nothing to do with wanting to delay seeing Chris and getting put through his interrogation. It wasn't that it would be so bad, but he really was hurting, and he hated the idea of letting Chris see that. He wondered if there was any chance that Chris would just let it pass for once. But there was no way that was going to happen. Chris would have inspected him if he'd gone on a date with Mother Teresa, there wasn't a hope in hell that he would lay off after this date with Winston.

Buck flexed his back and groaned quietly as pain washed through him. Winston had sure sucked at using the belt, and had made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in technique. He had hit Buck so hard and often that in the end Buck had had to tell him to stop. Winston had actually looked surprised, as though he didn't think Buck had the right to call a halt. Buck could almost see the words, "I paid for this" forming on the man's lips, but something had stopped him. He had dropped the belt, fucked Buck long and hard, given him an hour to recover, then picked up the belt again and held it up wordlessly.

"One session," Buck had said. "That's what you just got, and it's all you paid for."

"I'll pay for another, then," Winston said with a smile.

After the briefest hesitation, and with orders for Winston to vary the strike zone, Buck had rolled over again. So he had ended up with both a sore back and a beaten ass, which had been outside of their agreement and which Chris would probably go ballistic over.

When he let himself into the apartment building he could smell coffee and breakfast cooking. His stomach growled and he was tempted to just go straight to the kitchen and grab a plateful of pancakes, eggs and bacon, Josiah's special Saturday morning breakfast. But Chris would be waiting for him, probably wearing a hole in the carpet from pacing the room. Like it or not, it was time to face the music. Taking a deep breath and trying to look as relaxed as possible, Buck climbed the two flights of stairs and pushed open the door to their suite.

As he suspected, Chris was in mid-pace when he entered. He looked up, relief undisguised on his face, and crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Buck.

"Morning," Buck said.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, not much for small talk when he had a mission to accomplish.

Buck pushed past him and dropped his overnight bag on the floor beside the couch.

"I'm fine. I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

He turned hopefully, but Chris was blocking his path.

"Not so fast, stud. " Chris said. "I want to take a look at you. In the bedroom, strip off."

"Aww, Chris," Buck groused. "Just take a look under my sweatshirt, for God's sake. I need coffee."

Chris put his hands on his hips and looked hard at him. Buck weighed up his options and surrendered to the path of least resistance. Chris was going to see it sometime anyway. It might as well be on his terms. He threw up his hands. "Fine." He turned and marched into the bedroom.

Chris drew in a deep breath before following his lover. Buck was disguising it well, but he was obviously in pain. He couldn't help flashing back to the last time somebody had beaten on Buck. He had been bleeding profusely when he was dumped out of a taxicab at the old apartment building they had lived at. Somehow he had struggled up the flight of stairs to their apartment and all but fallen into the door. Chris had had one moment of sheer blinding terror before he had leapt into action and caught Buck before he fell. He shuddered and shook his head trying to dislodge the image. It was over. Buck had done what he thought he needed to for Winston, he had come back safe. Sucking up one more steadying breath, he walked into the bedroom.

Buck had stripped and stretched face down on the bed. With every step closer to the bed Chris felt his anger ratchet up a notch. No, this wasn't as bad as the last time Buck had let a trick beat up on him, but it was bad enough. His lover's back was covered in broad, livid belt marks, and some areas that had been struck too much were darkening into ugly bruises. As Chris sat on the edge of the bed he saw cuts up and down Buck's side where the belt had curled around him.

"What the fuck!" he cursed, touching gently around the bleeding marks. "Did he use the buckle end?"

"Easy," Buck said. "The buckle slipped out of his hand a time or two…"

"That's bullshit. There are half a dozen cuts on you. How the hell did he let the belt slip that many times?"

"He isn't exactly an expert at this," Buck muttered.

Chris let his hand drift to Buck's ass, but he barely touched it before Buck flinched anyway.

"You want to explain this?" Chris said tightly.

Buck's shrug ended in a hiss. "He wanted more."

"He paid for one session with the belt, damn it."

"Huh uh," Buck said, and eased up onto an elbow. "He paid separately for both... well, an extra five grand, anyway."

"Is five grand worth that?" Chris asked quietly.

Buck sighed and dropped his head to the bed. Chris stared at his lover's back, unable to stop himself from touching it even though Buck ground his teeth and winced from time to time. What a fucking mess. The thought of Winston doing this to his lover made him sick, and he wondered if he would ever be able to hold a civil conversation with the man again. Buck squirmed under his hand.

"Did that prick give you a rough fuck too?" Chris asked, trying to get his anger under control.

"No more than usual," Buck murmured.

"But you're sore," Chris pressed.

Buck ignored him. "I'm starving, is what I am," he grumbled.

"You're not going anywhere until Nathan has had a look at you," Chris said sourly.

"But Chris…"

"You really don't want to argue with me over this," Chris growled.

Buck subsided, looking up at him from under lowered lashes. He looked so damned vulnerable sometimes, but Chris reminded himself of something Buck told him over and again, he wasn't made of glass. Chris reached to push hair out of his eyes. "You're an idiot," he said gruffly. "I'm glad you're home."

A slow smile spread across Buck's face. "How about a kiss then?" he flirted. "We haven't said 'hello' properly."

Chris leaned forward and pressed his mouth to his lover's. Buck rolled onto his side, pulling Chris down onto the bed and wrapping him in strong arms. They kissed intently, Chris letting his anger be lulled by the soothing familiarity of his lover's mouth. Damned if Buck wasn't rubbing against him, firming up like he was ready to go all morning.

When Chris felt Buck reach down between them, he pulled back and grabbed his lover's wrist.

"Not a chance, Wilmington," he said. "Not until Nathan gives you the all clear."

"Jesus, Chris. I'm fine," Buck growled. "Don't leave me like this."

Chris pulled away carefully and sat back up. "Consider it your punishment," he smirked. "For not looking after yourself properly. Don't move until I get back." He stood up.

"Shit," Buck said, rolling back onto his stomach.

Chris leaned down and slipped his hand under Buck's body. He circled his lover's rigid shaft and gave it a hard, reassuring squeeze. Buck couldn't be too bad off, not if he was turning on like this. "And this better still be here when I get back," he whispered into Buck's ear. "It's mine."

He walked out of the room, finding a grin when Buck muttered, "Yeah, well you'd better hurry if you want it."

7 - 7 – 7

A half hour later Buck finally walked into the kitchen, stomach growling. Chris was sitting at the table drumming his fingers noisily, and Buck grinned at the expressions on Vin and JD's faces. Chris was obviously irritating the hell out of them and they were doing their best to restrain themselves and not try to make him settle down. Nathan hadn't been so patient. He had put up with Chris' fussing for about two minutes, then kicked him out of the bedroom telling Chris that he wouldn't raise another finger until the man was out of his face. Chris had paced in the living room for a few minutes more, railing at Buck through the open bedroom door, until Nathan had stood up, strode to the door, and shut it. Buck could only imagine the look on Chris' face before his lover gave up and stalked out.

Chris looked up as soon as Buck and Nathan came into the room.

"He gonna be all right?" Chris asked Nathan.

"He's fine. Relax." Nathan soothed.

Buck sat carefully at the kitchen table, ruffling JD's hair and winking at Vin. "Where's Ezra?"

"In bed," Vin replied. "Said somethin' about calling the fire department if he didn't surface by two."

"Breakfast, Buck?" Josiah asked, standing by the stove.

"Thanks, Josiah. I'm so hungry I could eat the ass out of a rhino."

"I'm gonna pull him off the schedule for a couple of days, Nathan," Chris said. "Let him rest up a bit."

"Hey!" Buck yelled, getting everybody's attention. "I'm in the room, Chris," he said pointedly. "And I'm not dropping off the schedule. You did that last week and Vin got stuck covering for me. That isn't happening again."

"It isn't up to you," Chris said.

Buck opened his mouth to argue but Nathan got there first.

"Keep him home tonight, Chris. He should be fine after that."

Buck ducked his head to hide a smile. When he raised his eyes again Chris was looking at him, tight-lipped, steel in his gaze.

"So, who do I have tomorrow?" Buck asked sweetly.

Out of the corner of his eye Buck could see JD and Vin exchange a glance and try to hide their own grins. Josiah walked over with a plate of food and a cup of coffee and Buck smiled up at him.

Chris shuffled in his seat and said reluctantly, "One of the contacts from Jennifer's party wants a date tomorrow. Asked for you specifically. Obviously doesn't know what a stubborn pain-in-the-ass you are."

Buck rolled his eyes. "Who, what and when?" he asked.

"Mark something or other. 5 o'clock, his hotel room. He didn't seem sure what he wanted but he's not fucking you. As banged up as you are, you shouldn't even let him get you out of your clothes. You can blow him then I want you out of there and straight home. And Mike is going with you, try to argue and I'll kick your ass."

Buck lowered his eyes to his plate. "I won't be coming home straight afterwards," he said, "I've got another date with Winston." He waited for the bomb to drop and wished he'd had time to warn the others to duck, managing three mouthfuls of pancake before Chris' hand slammed on the table and made them all jump.

"No way. No fucking way are you tricking him again so soon, not after what he just did."

Buck looked up calmly. "It's a regular fuck, Chris. I'll work the 5 o'clock date, then I'll go over to Winston's for a couple of hours. I'll be home by 10."

Nathan moved to the coffee maker and poured a cup, then glided on out of the room.

Buck could see that JD had tensed in his seat. He caught Vin's eye and gestured with his head, and Vin slipped an arm across the back of JD's chair and bent to whisper into his ear. Buck couldn't hear what was being said, but he saw JD nod and relax a little. He smiled gratefully at Vin.

Chris stood up and leaned over the table until Buck raised his head and met the stormy eyes. "Consider this a direct order, Buck. You're not going to Winston's. " And he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Buck could almost hear the sighs of relief from the other men.

"That went well," Buck said, trying to ease a little of the tension that pulsed in the room. The others smiled, but it was mostly half-hearted.

Josiah sat in the chair Chris had vacated. "Guess you're gonna have to stand down on this one, Buck," he said. "He seems pretty adamant about it."

"Yeah, well it isn't his client, is it?" Buck muttered.

The men exchanged worried looks.

"You're not gonna fuck with him over this are you?" Vin asked. "He ain't exactly in the mood for it right now."

Buck looked up, saw the concern in his friends faces, saw the worry in JD's and the touch of fear the kid couldn't hide. He knew he should do what he'd done a hundred times before, kiss the cash goodbye and move on. But damn it, he was pissed off at Chris and tired of his lover's reactionary bullshit, scaring the kid and making everyone else walk on eggshells. It wasn't just the two of them anymore.

"You know what," he said, "maybe I ain't in the mood for it right now, either. Maybe I ain't in the mood for him fucking with my client list and pulling me off jobs just because he's feeling possessive. Maybe just once I know better than he does what's right for me. If he doesn't like it, that's too bad 'cause I'm working Sunday night."

"Ah, shit," Vin said, shoving back his chair.

There was silence for a minute, until Chris walked back into the room.

"That's taken care of," Chris said, matter-of-fact.

Buck reared his head.

Chris leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms. "I left a message with Winston canceling Sunday. He can schedule again next week if he wants but you're not going there tomorrow."

Buck hardly realized he had moved but he suddenly found himself on his feet, standing inches away from his lover. "Call him back," Buck said flatly.

"I told you, you are not taking him on tomorrow," Chris said, a warning clear. "He just beat the crap out of you, for God's sake."

"He didn't do anything I didn't let him do," Buck argued. "You can't kick him off the schedule for that."

"Just watch me," Chris said grimly.

Buck took a step closer so that he was towering over his lover. "Guess again, Chris. I can earn more in one night with him than I can in a week with my other dates and I am not going to let you screw that up just because you don't approve of him. I'm not exactly over the fucking moon about some of the people you trick either."

Chris winced, and Buck drew up short; he hadn't realized how true those words were until he'd said them. But he had never tried to tell Chris how to do his job, not once the trick was cleared. And right now, he was behaving no better than Chris was. He took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. "He isn't going to hit me, Chris," he said, his tone as neutral as possible.

"Then why the fuck is Sunday so important? Why can't you wait a few days?" Chris' eyes were dark and stormy, filled with emotion.

"Because he wants to see it," Buck said gently, trying to ease Chris down while letting him know that this was one of those things Buck wasn't going to be swayed about. "He just wants to fuck me while he looks at the marks. That's all."

Chris stiffened and Buck frowned, wondering what he'd said wrong.

Chris didn't waste much time letting him know. When he spoke his voice was harsh, filled with barely controlled rage. "You belong to me. That prick does not have the same privileges I have with you."

"Aww, Chris," Buck muttered, exasperated. "He's stepping on your territory, is that what this is about?" Reaching a gentle hand, he cupped the back of his lover's neck, letting his fingertips ruffle through the dark blond hair. "It's a couple of belt marks, it's not what we do. " Chris flinched, but the anger in his eyes burned on, unabated. "Just-- relax, Chris. For what he pays, you should be glad I let him fuck me when he wants to."

"That's it?" Chris asked through clenched teeth.

"Yeah," Buck said gently. "That's it."

Chris jerked away from Buck's touch, stalked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the keys to the BMW. "Fine, fuck whoever you want," he said, his voice biting and low. "Why the hell should today be any different, you've fucked whoever you wanted to for the past fifteen years."

"A man's gotta have something to do when you get too busy for him," he shot back. "Besides, I'm a prostitute, it goes with the territory."

"It's what you do, you twisted fuck," Chris snarled, "not what you are."

Chris stormed out and Buck stared at the open door. "He's gonna give himself a stroke," Buck said to himself, then he turned and saw JD, eyes large and round as saucers. "What?"

JD shook his head and looked around at the others.

Buck frowned. "Hey, it's okay, kid," he said, meaning it. "Sometimes Chris just gets out of whack. He'll be all right."

Josiah shook his head. "You know he's only trying to look out for you, Buck," he said, quietly. " You sure you're all right?"

Buck looked to each man in the room, caught the discomfort in JD's eyes, the worry in Vin's, the concern in Josiah's, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I guess, Josiah," he said, suddenly uncertain. "Not sure I know anymore."

7 - 7 – 7

Buck paced the living room of his suite, thinking vaguely that they were gonna have to have a new carpet put in as much as he and Chris were wearing this one out.

He had been out of line in front of the guys. Chris had too, but it was more Chris' job to pitch fits; it was hard enough riding herd on six independent men, and if there was any doubt, the fight between them had just proved it. He alternated between guilt as he paced from the door to the window, and embarrassment as he trudged back from the window to the door. Chris had accepted what he had let Winston do to him, hadn't fought any more than Buck had let him. He knew it wasn't easy for his lover, knew that he had barely gotten any sleep while Buck was away getting the crap knocked out of him for an insane amount of money. And it didn't take a genius to guess that what little sleep Chris had managed had been plagued by nightmares and memories of other times.

Hell, it wasn't like he hadn't given Chris cause to worry, more than once.

It had surprised him, when Josiah questioned his judgment, shaken him more than he'd realized. Maybe he was a little myopic after all this time. Chris was protective, everybody knew it, and that was all Chris had been trying to do with the whole Winston thing. And Chris was possessive; everybody knew that too. They even knew how much Buck depended on that fact, how much Buck loved Chris' need of him, what Chris felt for him, how Chris handled him. He'd had people treat him like property before, but nobody except his mother and Chris had treated him like he was actually worth possessing.

Bits of memory flashed through his mind as he paced, of times Chris had gotten him out of holes Buck hadn't even known he was in. They'd been through so much that the others would never know about, and Chris was everything to him. He felt like shit for getting so wound up. The money wasn't important enough; they'd been broke before, and been all right.

He heard the door open and stopped half way to the window, turned and saw Chris standing in the doorway. Even from this distance he could read what Chris was feeling and he knew that everything the man felt was reflected back in his own gaze. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room in three quick strides, meeting Chris half way, gathering him up into a wordless hug. They clung together tightly, neither speaking, then glued their mouths together in a searing kiss until Buck pulled away, breathless.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "I wasn't trying to piss you off."

"No, you were right," Chris said. "I was taking that prick personally. I don't know what it is about him, he just--he gets to me."

They kissed again, more slowly this time, and Buck felt the heat build in him and spread through his body. He pulled back again.

"Can't we forget about it all for a while?" he asked.

Chris nodded. "We have a couple of hours before I go out tonight. Why don't you let me take care of you?" His skilful fingers were already playing up and down Buck's rising shaft.

"We can't take care of each other?" Buck asked.

Chris shook his head. "Not until later tonight. I have an 8 o'clock fuck."

Buck reached down and reluctantly lifted Chris' hand off his cock. "I can wait," he said, meaning it. Needing to.

Chris smiled. "Okay. I'll fake it with my trick. She just wants to get romanced anyway, me coming isn't part of the deal."

"Is it ever?" Buck murmured.

"Even with McConnell?" Chris blurted and Buck could tell that he was torn between wanting to know the answer and dreading what he would hear.

"Sometimes he likes to see me come," Buck replied, measuring how deeply Chris cared by the tiny muscle twitches that marred his carefully schooled expression. "But like everything else with Winston I have to earn it, and I have to work for it myself. He doesn't think he has to help me get there."

Buck saw the release of tension in his lover's body and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It's business, Chris. He's just a trick, like all the others." Except Caroline Wallingford, a voice in his head prompted. His Sarah clone isn't just a trick; ask him whether he gets off when he fucks her.

He shook himself, shunting the thought aside. He and Chris had been on shaky ground for a couple of days, but that was behind them now.

So he summoned up a smile, pushed all thoughts of Winston McConnell and Caroline Wallingford down deep inside and said, "Let's go up on the roof. Take a blanket and curl up together. Get some sun."

Chris nodded. "Sounds great."

7 - 7 – 7

Chris rubbed a towel vigorously through his hair then pulled on his jeans and a clean sweatshirt. It was only when he caught a glimpse of himself in the steamed-up bathroom mirror that he realized he had a stupid grin plastered on his face. Which made sense, because he was deeply happy.

Things between Buck and himself had gotten off track for a few days. Buck had let a trick intrude into their lives together, allowing Winston to do things that belonged to them alone. But that was history. Buck was going back to his regular dates with Winston, straight fucking and sucking, and nothing else mattered.

Last night had been fantastic, a combination of make-up sex, forgiveness sex, and desperately in need of each other sex, made all the sweeter for having been put off until they could enjoy it together. Vin had slipped into the room after he'd gotten home to watch for awhile, which was a turn on in itself. Buck had worked him so slowly, so lovingly, had kept him floating between states of blissful arousal and soul-deep satisfaction. As soon as he had started to come down, Buck had licked and sucked and fucked him again until all he was aware of was wave after wave of pure, intense pleasure. He hadn't failed to notice how skillfully Buck kept his back from view, gently maneuvering them so that they remained face to face, or with Chris belly down on the bed. Chris was so mindlessly intent on their mutual pleasure that he hadn't realized at first what Buck was doing. But later in the night, when he tried to get Buck to roll up onto his knees so that he could take him, his lover had rolled instead to straddle him and they had rubbed off on each other, eyes locked, hearts open. When he was finally able to think after that, he realized that Buck was purposefully keeping his back hidden so that Chris wouldn't see the marks Winston had put there.

This morning Buck had provided a wake-up call of a hot mouth sucking powerfully, rhythmically up and down his solid erection, then they had gone down for breakfast and a run in the nearby park, Buck complaining only mildly until he worked out the stiffness that Winston had worked in. This afternoon his lover had coaxed him into the shower and pressed him against the tiles for a slow, deep fuck that had had him practically climbing up the shower wall, so patiently and carefully had Buck played him.

Chris walked out of the warm, steamy bathroom into the cool of their bedroom, heart constricting when he saw Buck dressed for work. Charcoal gray slacks, a deep blue shirt open at the collar, a gray jacket, looking every inch as if he had just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine. Chris couldn't resist crossing the room quickly and wrapping himself around Buck, tipping his head up to capture his lover's mouth, tasting spearmint mouthwash, licking deeply to capture the man's own flavor. Buck groaned and took a step back.

"Don't get me worked up again, stud," he murmured. "Gotta save some of it for the paying customers."

Chris sighed, then breathed in deeply.

"God, you smell good," he said. "I love that cologne on you."

Buck smiled. "I guess you do. You bought it for me."

Buck reached out to the dresser and pulled on his Rolex, then put on the heavy gold ring he always wore, also gifts from Chris. Although Buck was stupidly generous when it came to buying for other people, he only spent on himself for appearances, for the clients. When they were kids Chris had thought Buck didn't prize things because he was poor. It had taken time to realize that Buck never thought he'd be able to hold on to anything. Too much living in flop houses, sleeping in hallways, and coping with his mother's world had taught him that anything could be taken away, so he just didn't amass possession s himself. But that was okay because Chris loved to buy things for him, and he wanted Buck to have the best. He watched as Buck picked up his wallet and began to put it into his jacket pocket.

"Check your cash," Chris reminded.

Buck opened his wallet and looked up sheepishly. "Ten bucks," he said. Chris sighed dramatically and shook his head in fond exasperation. "How is it you make so much money and you never have any in your wallet?"

Buck shrugged. "Don't know. I just give it all to Dorothy to stick into our account. Besides," he said, flirting, "I know you'll take good care a' me."

Chris smiled. "Well, I won't be with you this afternoon so let's get you some cash. Can't have you walking around with only ten dollars in your pocket. Come down to the office, then I'll drive you to the new guy's hotel."

They started to walk out of the room and it was only when they were half way down the stairs that the penny dropped.

"I thought you said Mike had to come with me on this date," Buck said.

"Changed my mind," Chris replied.

Buck snorted. "Bullshit, Larabee. Spill."

Chris chuckled. Buck knew him too well. "I had Jennifer check him out. Mark Ryan. He's at college, father's a stinking rich banker. The kid's nice, harmless, clean-cut. Nothing to worry about."

Buck eyed him suspiciously. He pasted on his best poker face, using all the techniques Ezra had taught him in bed one afternoon several months ago. But Buck wasn't fooled. His eyes narrowed. "And?" he asked.

Shit. "And I sent Mike to his hotel room yesterday to make sure the kid knew the ground rules."

"Jesus Christ," Buck spluttered. "The kid's probably terrified now. Won't even be able to get it up. You know how Mike can be sometimes."

Chris walked into his office, laughing. "Relax," he said, clicking through the combination of the wall safe and pulling open the door. "This kid's lonely and he's shy. He just needs a little TLC -- Wilmington style. Pretend he's JD and you'll be fine."

"We should have sent JD," Buck mused. "It'd be nice for the kid to trick somebody his own age for a change instead of the types he seems to attract."

Chris nodded. "I thought of that, offered him up. But the trick ate up your Navy SEALs story, thinks military guys are hot. Give him a good time but don't let him fuck you. And don't let him see your back; that will scare the shit out of him."

"Yes, boss," Buck sighed.

Chris handed him a fist full of notes and reached to grab a pen off his desk to write down the details so that Dorothy could keep the books balanced. He noticed the light flashing on the answering machine.

"Buck, hit the button will you? Might be a cancellation."

Buck walked around the desk and pressed the message button. He grinned at Chris when a tentative voice began to stammer.

"Hey, it's my virgin," he said. They listened as the man spent a couple of minutes obviously trying to pluck up the courage to ask for another date.

Chris shook his head in amazement "Where do you find the patience to deal with them, Buck?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"He's coming along nicely," Buck laughed. "A few more dates and I'll have him all trained up. He'll be the perfect trick. Dinners at expensive restaurants, that fake romance thing. " Buck's wide grin stretched his mustache. "He's a great tipper, too."

Chris rolled his eyes and closed the safe, stepping around the desk to stand next to his lover. "Okay, I'll find him a place in your schedule next week. If he ever gets around to actually asking for a date." He opened the schedule book and flicked through until he reached Buck's appointments for the coming week. He cocked an ear, listening to the trick's voice. "Ah, there it is. " He smiled at the veiled language, but he had no trouble figuring out that the man wanted some company one afternoon mid week. Chris penciled him in and grimaced when he continued to ramble.

"Christ, Buck. Skip to the next message. I'm getting old here."

Buck grinned and pressed a button on the machine, and Chris watched as the grin froze and faded when the next caller's voice filled the room; "Hello Chris. It's Caroline Wallingford. Can you give me a call when you get this message? Ciao."

The two men looked at each other as the machine clicked off. The color drained from Buck's face and it was obvious he was trying to maintain a neutral expression. Chris reached out, but Buck shook his hand off.

"You'd better call her," he said, and Chris heard the crack in his voice.

"It's fine," he said, wary all over again. "I'll call her when I get back."

"No," Buck snapped. "It's business. Call her now. " He started to walk out of the office.

"Just give me two minutes," Chris said. "I'll be right behind you."

Buck didn't stop walking, just muttered, "Whatever," and left the room.

Chris frowned at Buck's back even as he reached for the phone. What did Caroline want? No way she wanted to set up another date, not so soon after the last one; he wasn't that lucky. He flicked through his rolodex until he located her card, and quickly dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Yes?"

Damn, she sounded so much like Sarah... Chris closed his eyes. "Hello you. It's Chris. What can I do for you?"

Ten minutes later Chris ran down the hall and hurried into the kitchen. He pulled up short when he found only Vin, Ezra and JD.

"Where's Buck?" he asked.

"He had a date. He took the keys and left," Vin said.

Chris shook his head. "Huh uh," he corrected. "I'm driving him. I just had to make a quick call to Caroline, so he came here to wait for me."

"Caroline Wallingford?" Ezra asked. "What did she want?"

"She's sending business our way," he replied absently. Ezra's barely disguised relief at that news ruffled him.

"Maybe he's waiting in the car for you," JD suggested softly.

Chris turned a smile on his youngest member. "Yeah, JD. You're probably right. You've got the new client, Ezra," he said shortly, and walked out of the building but he stopped before he'd gotten more than five steps out the back door. The BMW was gone. Frowning, totally confused now, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed his speed dial. But the call went directly into Buck's voice mail.

Walking slowly back to the house, he climbed the stairs to his own suite and settled down to wait for his lover, glad at least that tonight Buck would be home early.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris glanced at his watch again, knowing that only five minutes had passed since he'd last looked at it. He debated calling Buck's cell phone again, but dismissed the idea. Buck hadn't picked up the last two times he'd called, no reason to believe he would pick up this time. He breathed in deeply, trying to get his worry and anger under control. Buck had said that he'd be home by ten and it was now after midnight. So where the hell was he?

He had gotten bored and restless waiting in their suite by himself and had wandered back down to the den to seek out a little company. He nodded coolly to Ezra, smiled more genuinely at Vin and sat on the couch idly watching as his two friends flicked through the channels and argued about what to watch. He didn't realize he was drumming his fingers on the arm of the leather couch until he noticed that both men were staring at him. Shrugging, feeling a little guilty, he stilled his hand and let his attention drift to the sitcom the two had finally settled on.

His heart surged when the door to the den slid open and Buck walked in. But something was wrong. Buck ignored Vin's greeting, didn't even make eye contact with Chris, went straight to the bar and poured himself a large whiskey. Chris frowned. Buck's gait was stiff and graceless, and when he sat down on a barstool, he remained tense, awkwardly poised. Chris climbed to his feet and crossed the room.

"You're late," he said, carefully.

Buck gave him a black look. "I have a curfew now?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I meant," he said softly. "I just thought you'd be home earlier."

"I was working," Buck muttered.

Chris drew in a deep breath and tried again. "Everything went alright?" he asked, stroking a hand gently down his lover's arm.

Buck shrugged him off. "Back off, Chris. I'm not in the mood for a fucking interrogation."

Chris was startled by the ferocity. He walked around the bar and began to pour himself a drink, hoping to give Buck enough time and space to get over whatever was eating at him.

JD sauntered into the room and crossed to the bar. "Hi guys," he grinned and slapped Buck on the back. Buck flinched sharply, spilling the contents of his whiskey glass onto his pants.

"Goddamn it JD!" he roared. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

JD stepped back, his eyes round with surprise.

"I'm sorry, Buck," he stammered.

"Look at this fucking mess," Buck shouted. "Why don't you watch what you're doing?"

The kid shrank back, throwing a confused glance at Chris. Chris stepped out from behind the bar and put himself between JD and his lover. "You wanna calm down?" he said quietly. "It was an accident."

For a moment it looked as if Buck would continue his rant, but he pulled in a deep, shuddering breath and dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, JD," he whispered. "I lost my temper, I didn't mean to shout at you."

JD gave him a weak grin. "It's ok, Buck," he said. "I know I'm clumsy."

"No," Buck said. "It isn't your fault. I'm just not fit company tonight." He turned and walked out of the room, and JD cut a look over at Chris, who shrugged.

"He's just tired, kid. Don't take it personally."

Chris made himself stay where he was, refusing to follow Buck. He really didn't want to crowd his lover. But after ten long, hard minutes, he gave up and left the room.

Buck was in the bathroom. He'd changed into a pair of thin sweatpants and a tee-shirt and was swallowing down a handful of pills. Chris frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Headache," Buck said, but Chris could tell he was lying. For being as good a prostitute as he was, Buck was a lousy liar. His lover pushed past him into the bedroom. Chris followed him. He reached out and had barely touched the tee-shirt Buck was wearing when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist in an iron grip.

"Leave it alone," Buck growled.

Chris looked up at him, startled. "I just want to check on you."

"It's none of your goddamned business, Chris," Buck snapped.

Chris' eyes widened in surprise. "Everything about you is my business," he said, no longer able to ignore what he'd known since Buck had limped into the house earlier. "Turn around. Take off your shirt," he ordered. "I need to see what he did to you."

Buck stepped back. "I'm okay. Don't fuss."

"I didn't ask how you were," Chris said tightly. "I told you to take your shirt off."

Buck looked at him hard and for so long that Chris thought he would refuse the order, but he finally muttered a soft curse, stripped off his tee-shirt and turned around.

It took him a minute to absorb what he was seeing. Fresh belt marks and abrasions peppered his back, and deep bruises stood out where he'd been struck over the marks that Winston had put there on Friday. Chris pulled Buck's sweatpants down over his hips and hissed out a curse when he saw that the damage snaked down over Buck's ass and thighs.

"He belted you again? I'll fucking kill him," he whispered with cold rage. He turned to storm out of the room but Buck grabbed his wrist again.

"I let him," he said simply.

Chris stared at his lover, trying to make sense of the words. "You let him? You allowed him to take a belt to you again? For Christ's sake why?"

Buck pulled his clothing back into place and turned to face his lover. "For ten grand every time I do it. And you'd best get used to it. We'll be doing a lot more of that from now on."

Chris' mouth fell open. "No fucking way am I 'getting used' to that. Either you go back to tricking him the way you used to, or you drop him as a client."

"It's not your decision to make," Buck said, his voice oddly devoid of emotion. "He's my client, I make those decisions, not you."

"You forget who runs this business?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice even; he could feel it wanting to drop to the back of his throat, like a growl.

"That might work with JD but it won't work with me," Buck said, his voice menacing. "You do not get to tell me who I trick or how. The agency will get its cut. That's all that matters." He started to walk towards the door but Chris grabbed him and spun him around.

"I don't give a shit about how much the agency makes," Chris snapped. "I can't stand seeing you marked up by him."

Buck blanched. "He pays me ten grand a session. Ten grand. And you expect me to give that up because you can't stomach seeing a few belt marks on me. You like 'em well enough when you put them there yourself. If you hate seeing them so much, don't look," Buck said flatly, and walked out of the room, leaving Chris open mouthed in shock.

Later that night, Chris heard quiet footsteps pad across the bedroom floor; Buck climbed up onto their bed and lay down on his belly, still fully clothed. Chris watched the twitching shadow as he shuffled about, trying to find a comfortable spot. Buck smelled of whiskey, and was obviously more than half drunk. Chris sighed and reached out to gather his lover close, but Buck shrugged him off and moved to the edge of the bed, as far away from Chris as he could get.

Chris rolled onto his side to prop himself up on his elbow and tried to peer through the darkness. "Why are you doing this to us, Buck?" he whispered, not even sure if his lover was awake.

Buck shifted slightly. "I c'n take it for some society bitch, I c'n take it for ten grand a session," he mumbled. He raised his head a little off the pillow and muttered, "So Car'line called today. When do I have to get my ass whipped for her again?"

"Get your--nobody said you ever have to," he said carefully.

Buck's laugh was short and dark. "Yeah, right."

"She was sending us a client," he said, sidestepping the issue.

For a moment Chris saw Buck stiffen, before a muttered curse landed in the pillow as he dropped his head to the bed again. "It doesn't matter," Buck mumbled. "Doesn't make any difference now."

"What doesn't matter?" Chris asked, in the dark in more ways than one. But his lover only turned his head away.

Chris rolled onto his back and listened as Buck's breathing evened out and he fell asleep, then determinedly sidled up close. Buck stank of booze, but he responded in his sleep like he always did, and within a minute Chris had him wrapped securely in his arms. This wasn't like them. They got mad, they blew up at each other, they got over it. In fifteen years together they had never fought for this long, had rarely gone to sleep with an argument unresolved between them. What the hell was happening to them?

7 - 7 – 7

Chris woke up, knowing immediately that he was alone in bed. He raised his head, cocked an ear towards the bathroom but couldn't hear anything. Suppressing a surge of fear at finding himself unexpectedly alone for the second time this week, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went in search of Buck.

Vin was sitting alone in the kitchen, sipping coffee.

"Hey, Vin. Have you seen Buck this morning?"

Vin nodded. "He was up early. Left without car keys. I guess he went out for a run."

Chris sat at the kitchen counter, rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache begin to flare behind his eyes. He looked up and nodded his thanks when Vin pushed a cup of coffee across the counter to him.

Vin looked at him for a moment, and Chris could see a question forming. "What are you two fighting about?" Vin finally asked.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know anymore," he said tiredly. "He won't do what I tell him, he's going out of his way to piss me off. I don't know half the time if I want to fuck him or strangle him."

Vin grinned at him. "Nothing new there then?"

Chris smiled reluctantly. "Guess not."

"Seriously," Vin said. "Is it this Winston thing?"

That was the problem with this house. Everybody knew each other's business. "Yeah. He's driving me fucking nuts over it. We've argued before, Vin. Had some real knock down, drag-outs…"

Vin's mouth quirked up into a smile. "I remember a few months back when you turned up with a black eye," he recalled.

Chris smiled ruefully. "Yeah. I pushed him too hard. He slapped me back down. But that was the end of it. It was over. We've never been on each other's bad side like this before and I don't know what the hell to do about it."

Vin stood up and went to put his mug into the sink. He started to walk out of the room, surprising Chris when he paused to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Well, I hope you straighten him out soon. Buck's been a real irritable bastard recently. It ain't like him," Vin said softly.

Chris finished his coffee, getting more annoyed as time passed and Buck didn't return home. He was about to go and find his cell phone and call his errant lover when the door opened and Buck walked in.

"Where were you?" Chris demanded, unable to keep his irritation under control.

"Out," Buck said simply.

"I don't like it when you disappear like that," Chris grumbled.

Buck quirked an eyebrow. "It was only an hour," he said.

"I woke up and you were gone. I needed you," Chris said.

Buck shrugged. "This is a house full of whores. Don't tell me you couldn't find somebody to help you out. " He started to walk past Chris and out of the room, but Chris grabbed his wrist and jerked him up close.

"I don't want anybody else. I want you."

Buck pulled his wrist away "What about what I want?" he said, hostile.

"What about what you want?" Chris fired back. He'd be damned if he knew, and it was getting pretty clear that Buck didn't either. When Buck's eyes cast left and right, finally ending up staring at the floor, Chris said softly, "Get your ass up to our rooms."

"Forget it!" Buck snapped.

Chris felt his anger coiling like a snake, and he was not going to let it strike. "Don't fuck with me, Wilmington," he said quietly. "Just get your ass upstairs."

Buck bristled for all of three seconds before Chris snapped, "Are you mine? Do I own your ass, or don't I?"

The dark look cracked, and the tiniest and most vulnerable of looks slipped out. "Yeah, you own it," Buck whispered.

Chris quieted his voice, stepped up close enough to smell the familiar tang of his lover's sweat. He stared until he wanted to fall into those wounded eyes, and finally breathed, "Then get it upstairs like I said."

Buck licked his lips and nodded. Chris reached out and cupped his chin, stroking a thumb gently over his lover's cheek. "I know you're hurting, Buck," he murmured, and saw a look of embarrassment flare in Buck's eyes. "I just want to take care of you. You not letting me do that anymore?"

Buck lowered his gaze, and shrugged. "You said you couldn't stand to see me like this," he said, his voice low and strained. "I thought you needed a break from me while it heals." He glanced up, and Chris saw wariness in his lover's eyes that he hadn't seen in years.

He reached out and circled Buck's waist, careful not to irritate his back, and pulled the man tight and close. "I never want a break from you," he said fiercely. "Never. You belong to me."

Buck smiled tentatively. "Will you come back to bed with me then?" he asked softly.

Chris kissed his lips gently. "Thought you'd never ask."

Buck slipped a hand in his and led the way back to their suite. When they reached their living room Buck turned and wound his arms around Chris, leaning heavily against him. He looked exhausted, lines of fatigue and pain etched on his face. Chris knew he shouldn't give voice to his thoughts, but he couldn't stop himself from asking again. He needed to understand.

"Why're you doin' this, Buck?"

Buck's eyes darkened, and Chris could see tendons tighten, widening the line of his jaw. "He's my trick, and it's my choice," he said flatly. Chris knew there was nothing he could do or say that would change Buck's mind about this because he had seen that implacable look before. It could be over the smallest, most trivial thing. Buck would shake his head and say "Nope. " Nothing about him would change, he'd be his usual good-natured self, but he would be adamant in his defiance. Or the refusal could be over something more important, a whole lot less good-natured, sometimes even painful for Chris, especially when he pushed too hard against the inevitable. Buck wouldn't hesitate to augment his refusal with a well aimed blow if he thought Chris wasn't learning fast enough, or listening hard enough. And it was in those moments that Chris was forced to acknowledge the extent to which Buck permitted Chris' ownership of him and how quickly and completely Buck could withdraw that permission when he wanted to. So he had learned, through years of staring into the face of Buck's stubbornness, and from nursing the occasional black eye, that there were times his lover absolutely could not be pushed.

"You don't run everything about me, Chris," Buck continued.

"I used to," Chris blurted, and ground his teeth together before he could continue on. He sucked in a breath, tried again, and pushed Buck square in the chest. When the bigger man fell back onto the sofa, Chris eased his thighs outside his lover's, glared hard, and cupped the obstinate chin in a carefully gentle palm. "I thought you weren't gonna do this anymore," he whispered.

Buck licked his lips, and his eyes darted away nervously. "We both thought a lot of things," he said, voice careful, flat.

The conflagration of feelings that dead tone brought up was too much for Chris to look at head-on. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, we did."

Chris couldn't say what passed between them, only that flashes of memory too bright to look at flared in his head and in Buck's eyes. Of times they had been so down and not even known it; of times they'd both been so high they'd thought they could take on the world. Of times they'd seen the world slip through their fingers, cold ash.

"Come here," he heard himself say, and leaned forward. But even leaning against the cushions was too much for Buck's back, so he drew Buck toward him, and before he knew it Buck was pushing him onto his back on the carpet, stripping him down and pounding into him. The bright sparks of pleasure inundated Chris, overwhelmed the flashes of old pain, and his world comprised only the look and smell of Buck, the soft scratch of carpet fibers against his shoulders and his fingers where he dug in to brace himself, the fullness of Buck's deep thrusts and the tension-filled, whispered words of love.

His wrists corded with the effort of clenching the carpet, of keeping his arms from wrapping around Buck and pulling him in tight. But in the end, he failed. As his seed spilled between their bellies, he slipped his hands up his lover's thighs, just touching, feeling the muscle ripple and shift with Buck's last, desperate thrusts inside him.

"Come on," he urged, "Come on. " Buck grunted, long and low, and fell heavily against him. Chris eased his fingers up his lover's spine, barely touching, afraid to touch like he hadn't been in a long while.

Then Buck started whispering. "I don't know, all right? I don't know what's happening." Long silence, panting breaths, then Buck pulled out of him and rose to his hands and knees over him. Buck's eyes were filled with a confused tangle of emotion. "I just--" Buck's jaw worked, but whatever he'd been trying to say was lost behind a mask of pain. Buck crawled off him and up to his feet.

Chris rolled up after him and followed as far as the bathroom door, which Buck had closed and locked. "You just what?" he asked, staring stupidly at the doorknob.

"Leave it, Chris," Buck called through the door, and damned if he didn't sound pissed again. "Walk away."

He'd never walk away. Not ever. But for now, he could give his lover a little breathing room. Only a little. "All right," he whispered, and left Buck alone.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck sipped the strong black coffee and waited for the caffeine jolt to take effect. He was dog tired. Winston had paid him enough to get him to stay over again last night and then kicked him out before six this morning because he had an early meeting, the damned ungrateful bastard. His ass was killing him. Winston had a particular fondness for hitting him there, and no matter how many times Buck told him to give it a rest, he returned to it over and again. Last night he had actually said, "What the fuck do you think I'm paying for?" when Buck had told him to take a break, and Buck had barely restrained himself from decking the asshole. Fortunately Winston had been a little more conciliatory this morning, probably sensing how close Buck was to telling him to shove his money up his ass. He had slipped Buck an additional thousand dollars, although right now, leaning gingerly against the counter because he couldn't sit down, Buck wondered whether any amount of money was worth the shit he was putting up with.

He glanced up when he heard laughter and groaned silently when Vin and JD all but bounced into the room. They had been to an all-night horror film fest at the local flea-pit cinema and were wound up on too little sleep and adrenalin surges. In another life, Buck might have gone with them; now, he hoped that they would just grab a coffee and leave. He wasn't in the mood for their high spirits.

"Hey Buck," JD grinned. "We had the best night. You should have come."

"Some of us have to work for a living," Buck growled, instantly regretful when he saw the hurt look on JD's face.

No point saying sorry. He'd been saying that so much lately that he was sure his friends were sick of hearing it. He almost groaned out loud when Chris walked into the kitchen, a frown on his face. Why on earth had everybody chosen this day to get up early? Chris, worse and worse as the days went by, didn't waste any time letting him have it.

"Where the hell were you last night?" he yelled.

"Working. I left a message."

"On the goddamned business line. You didn't call me on the cell. I didn't think to check the other lines until after two."

Buck swallowed down on the knot of anger sticking in his throat. "It was late. I didn't want to wake you." A lie. He hadn't wanted to talk to Chris directly because he wasn't in the mood to be ordered home.

Chris stepped closer and stood, hands on hips, looking down at him. "Bullshit. You know the rules of the house better than anybody. Do it again and there'll be a fine."

Buck looked up into hostile eyes, his increasingly short supply of patience long since exhausted. "Set a fucking fine. Winston will pay it," he snarled, and saw the anger boil over, a record even for them. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Vin and JD standing as still as statues. Probably afraid to move in case they drew fire from either Chris or himself. Buck couldn't blame them; they'd seen more honest to God fighting in the past couple of weeks than they'd seen in the entire time they'd been here. Chris was a damned ungrateful bastard, he didn't appreciate what he had, always had to push, always had to demand more, set more limits.

"You tell that asshole that next time he wants to book you he makes it clear from the get go how long he wants you, or I swear to God I'll send Mike over there to tell him for you. Now go get some sleep and get cleaned up. You look like shit and you've got a date at noon."

"Damn it! Since when?" He was exhausted and sore as hell, and a noon date hadn't been on his schedule yesterday.

"Maybe if you'd bothered to call in last night you'd have found out," Chris snapped. "And another thing, keep your goddamned cell phone turned on. What's the point having it when you never turn it on?"

Buck had just about reached the end of his rope for today, and it wasn't even eight a. m. "It's pretty hard to talk on the phone with Winston's cock in my mouth," he said, and watched in a kind of detached fascination as Chris' face went red and a vein began to throb in his temple.

There was a blur of movement and suddenly Vin was standing between him and Chris, holding Chris back, and Buck realized how close he'd come to one of Chris' more violent reactions. He pushed unsteadily away from the counter, refusing to let Chris see how much pain he was in. "I'll be out on Sunday. All night. Don't expect me 'till late on Monday."

"Buck, no…" He glanced over and caught the heartbroken look on JD's face. "Not Monday. We never work on Monday," JD whispered.

"We're whores, kid. We do what the client wants," he muttered darkly. And he walked out of the room, cursing silently with every painful step.

7 - 7 – 7

Ezra was in the garage putting the finishing touches to polishing his Porsche. It was the only manual labor he ever indulged in. Vin always laughed at him and told him that there were plenty of places that would clean and detail his car for him, but Ezra shuddered at the thought. No way he was going to let those yahoos get their hands on his pride and joy. Besides, he found it surprisingly soothing to let his mind drift while he ran a cloth over the red paintwork, polishing until he could see his face reflected in the finish.

He turned his head when he heard the jangle of car keys and watched as Buck shuffled into the garage. He frowned. The man was obviously in pain. Again. He had spent the last few weeks getting the living daylights knocked out of him by his trick and Ezra was having a harder and harder time understanding what was driving the man. He knew Buck was making a fortune, but not even Ezra would put up with that kind of torment just for money. Not to mention the impact it had on his friends; the whole building seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next explosion, waiting for the outburst that would bring everything they had built together crashing down. And Chris had lost all perspective, refusing to look past what Buck was doing to find the why of it, sticking to his tried and true--and useless--method of trying to control Buck the old-fashioned way.

Everybody in the house had heard these two shouting at each other lately, their arguments so loud that they had even penetrated the superior sound-proofing in the apartments. Just last night he and JD had had to close his sitting room door because they could hear Buck and Chris screaming at each other from the floor above. Ezra was the first to admit that he was consumed with amassing money, but there wasn't a trick rich enough to make him accept the amount of pain Buck was putting up with from Winston McConnell.

"Hey, Buck," he called out.

Buck peered into the gloom and smiled faintly, and Ezra realized that it had been too long since he'd seen one of Buck's genuine smiles or heard his rowdy laughter. He'd missed both.

"Ez," Buck replied, walking past the BMW and the Mercedes to lean carefully on the seat of JD's motorcycle.

"You know Chris is looking for you?" Ezra said, and was unhappy to see the dark look that briefly crossed his friend's face.

"Not in the mood for him right now," Buck said shortly.

Ezra shrugged. "I think he was just a little worried because he couldn't find you this morning."

Buck waved him off. "Worried that I'd slipped his leash, more likely."

Ezra frowned and decided to change the subject. "Are you planning on taking a drive?" he asked, indicating the keys in Buck's hand. Maybe he and Buck could take off for a few hours, try for a little normal interaction away from the house, away from the fighting.

"Going over to Winston's," Buck said, and Ezra felt his nose wrinkle in distaste. He would never dream of interfering in the business affairs of his colleagues, but Buck was getting in way too deep with McConnell.

"It's strange," he mused aloud, because he was sincerely concerned, "I never figured you for this S&M scene. I thought you disliked that side of the business."

"I hate it," Buck said quietly, and Ezra flinched in shock. He was about to ask for clarification when Buck continued, unprompted. "I never thought I'd ever let anybody near me like that again," he said. "Except Chris, but that's different." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and Ezra maintained his silence, judging that Buck wanted to talk about this.

Buck dragged up a deep sigh. "I had some bad times when I was a kid," he said softly, and knowing how Buck always played down the ugly side of his past, Ezra inferred that 'bad times' were probably fraught with suffering and misery. "Got hit a lot. Didn't think I'd ever let anybody hit me again, except for Chris."

"Why is that different?" Ezra asked gently, then wished he could take back the question when Buck's head reared and his eyes flashed in anger.

"Because that's not about him," he said, low, "that's about me. " Buck frowned. "Him and me. Us. He's not just fucking with me, it's… it's more than that."

Ezra remembered the morning in their gym, and Chris getting just as tongue-tied trying to explain himself, but sounding every bit as sincere.

"Of course," Ezra soothed, hoping that Buck would continue with what he'd been saying. He needed to bleed off some of the tension. He breathed in a small sigh of relief when Buck relaxed his stance and continued to talk.

"What me and Chris do, some of it is play, some of it isn't," he paused as if considering what he'd just said. "But it's always about us. That's why I hate it when Winston does it to me, when he does things that belong to Chris and me."

"Then why do you let him?" Ezra asked, trying to keep the note of exasperation out of his voice. "And don't tell me it's for the money because I know you don't care about that."

Buck shook his head, looking genuinely puzzled. "I don't know, Ez. I don't know how I got myself into this mess, and now I don't know how to get out of it."

"Talk to Chris," Ezra urged. "Tell him how you feel."

Buck looked up, and the hurt in his eyes was almost painful to look at. "I can't. I try and we end up yelling at each other and making things worse. Chris gets pissed at me, I lose my temper, we yell the house down. Don't tell me you haven't heard us?" A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips and Ezra's mouth quirked up in response.

"Half the neighborhood hears you," he drawled honestly. "JD wanted to call the police on you last night for disturbing the peace."

Buck winced a little, looking down sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"Maybe you need to take a break from Winston. Try to get your head together," Ezra suggested.

Buck laughed, a dry humorless sound, "Sometimes I think I've traded one leash for another," he said. "If I'm not being shouted at by Chris, I'm being smacked around by that bastard. Maybe I need to take a break from both of them."

Ezra dismissed that comment. Buck without Chris, unimaginable. Or at least, it had been up to now.

Buck shook himself and stood up. "Well, might as well go take a little of McConnell's cash," he said. "At least he pays to make my life miserable."

Ezra watched as Buck climbed gingerly behind the wheel of the Mercedes and slid the machine out of the garage. He briefly considered whether he should talk to Chris about what Buck had said, but decided against it. He honestly didn't understand what was going on here, he didn't want to make things worse.

Giving his baby one last wipe, he headed back to the house. At least with Buck gone it would be peaceful for a while.

7 - 7 – 7

It was Thursday evening, and Chris poured himself a whiskey and smiled as JD bounced into the room, just returning from one trick and ready to go to another. By some strange synchronicity all of the team had free hours scheduled tonight, either just coming in from an early evening date, or about to go out for the night. It was uncommon, but Chris figured a little team bonding was in order, what with him and Buck so messed up lately.

Chris glanced at his watch, trying not to be irritated. Buck was late. He was with Winston again tonight; the man was taking more and more of Buck's time, booking him almost constantly. The amount of money coming in was mind boggling, but it didn't make up for his lover's mood or condition. Chris was never sure when Buck came back from the dates whether his lover would welcome his touch or flinch away from it; whether he had let Winston belt him or just fuck him. He was beginning to hate hearing Buck's footsteps on the stairs up to their suite, dreading the moment his lover came into the room and he had to guess at how much pain had been inflicted. Buck had taken to sleeping in a tee shirt, refusing to expose his marked body to Chris' disapproval and Chris could hardly remember the last time they had made love, really made love, not the desperate blow jobs and punishingly frantic hand jobs that had become the only physical contact between them. Buck didn't even fuck him any more. And Chris was sure it was because Buck couldn't stand to be fucked himself, not after the way McConnell left him raw and hurting.

Buck had promised faithfully that he would get back in time for the meeting. But then Buck had made a lot of promises recently.

One thing he had sworn was that Winston would not be hitting him tonight, that the date was a regular fuck, but Chris didn't trust Winston to stick to the plan, and it was obvious that Buck was letting the man do whatever he wanted and couldn't be counted on to hold the line.

Chris had spent the last few days trying to steer clear of the Winston issue altogether. But he knew they could no longer avoid the discord that had grown up between them, or its increasingly negative impact on the gang. Chris knew Buck was in pain and had tried to cut his lover some slack, but there was only so much slack he could give, and so much torture Buck could tolerate.

Josiah wandered over and sat on a barstool next to him. They watched as JD pulled out the PlayStation and turned a grin to the gathered men.

"Who's feelin' lucky?" he smirked. He spent hours of his down time playing his favorite motorcycle game and was the acknowledged champion.

Nathan grinned at him. "I'll give it a go."

Ezra immediately began to take bets on how long it would take JD to kick Nathan's ass. Nathan usually made a point of telling JD how he was wasting his life spending so much time hooked up to a machine so most of the men placed their bets with JD. However Josiah called out in favor of Nathan.

"You owe him or something?" Chris asked, surprised.

Josiah blew out a long, slow breath. "He's been playing that game on the sly for weeks. Hell, he's almost as addicted as JD."

JD grinned in ignorance. "Bring it on, Jackson," he crowed. "Show me what you got."

Chris couldn't help laughing at the spectacle of four grown men so intent on a kid's game, but it was nice to see them all so relaxed.

Josiah glanced over at him. "Buck out tonight?"

Chris felt his good humor fade. "McConnell," he said shortly.

Josiah shook his head very slightly. "You sure it's good for him to get so tied up with that man?" he asked softly.

"I'm sure it's not good," Chris said sourly. "But I have no say in the matter. He's doing what the fuck he wants, and I can't stop him."

Josiah looked at him, and Chris could tell he had something else to say. He quirked an eyebrow, encouraging the man to spit it out. "I don't think Buck is thinking straight right now," Josiah murmured.

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair and stifled the urge to say no shit. "I'm open to suggestions, Josiah."

"Well," Josiah said, sounding like he was just musing out loud but Chris knew him better than that, "human interaction is built on a series of agreements, most of them unspoken. If you want my professional opinion..."

"Go ahead," Chris muttered, steeling himself for it.

"He's never let anyone else treat him this badly?"

"Not since we were kids," Chris confirmed. "And things were a whole lot different then."

"Because you won't allow it, right?"

Chris nodded, not sure where this was going, even less sure if he liked it. "Yeah."

"Then I'd say he's acting like you've broken a promise to him."

Chris looked over at his men. He could see the underlying tension in all of them, to greater or lesser degrees; Buck was affecting everyone, like the high-pitched whine of an old TV. "Nothing's different," he continued in a whisper. "Nothing but the fact that Winston saw the marks I put on Buck. Buck--" Chris swallowed as a wave of old fear rolled through him, "Buck didn't think he could cancel the date. Said he wasn't going to take another fine. He told me that Winston got out of control from seeing what I'd done. God, I should never have let him go out, marked up as bad as he was. "

Josiah frowned, obviously thinking it over, and pronounced, "Winston's the effect, not the cause."

Chris looked up, startled.

"He's letting the man do something he knows makes you crazy, something he's only ever accepted willingly from you. Why?"

"That what I've been trying to figure out, Josiah," Chris snapped, frustration boiling over. "But he won't listen to me…"

"Have you tried listening to him?" Josiah asked.

Chris closed his mouth with a snap. "I've asked him a hundred times why he's doing this," Chris answered tersely.

Josiah shrugged. "That's not the same thing, son," he said quietly. "You need to let him talk about what's in his heart, not what's on your mind."

Josiah looked at his watch and Chris was grateful when the big man changed the subject. "Probably want to get this show on the road," he advised.

He couldn't wait any longer for Buck. "Yeah." Chris stepped away from the bar.

"Okay, settle down for a minute," he said. The noise level subsided and a couple of the men turned their attention to him.

"Wait, Chris, I've almost got him!" This from Nathan, who miracle of miracles, was ahead. Chris found the remote and turned off the TV and Nathan groaned, while JD laughed in delight.

"Jennifer called this afternoon," Chris began, "She's coming downtown on Sunday with some friends she wants to entertain, and has asked us to make some time for them. I know some of us had the day off but I need to load up the schedule. Anybody mind?"

"Are you kidding?" Vin asked with a laugh. "Jennifer's friends? Big tippers, mostly women, easy money. And fun," he added introspectively.

"I'm for it," JD said. "Especially chicks. I can handle the guys all right, but it's nice to do it with girls. "

Chris made a mental note of that, and decided to try and push more of the female clients the kid's way. "Nathan, JD, Vin, you'll all have one of your regulars. Ezra, Jennifer requested you specifically for two of her close friends."

"Two?" Ezra repeated, raising his eyebrows. That ironic smile of his surfaced. "I do love a challenge."

The men were signaling their consent when Buck walked into the room. He didn't come over to greet Chris with a kiss, and it turned something in his belly, something frightening. Making the decision and giving more ground, he walked to his lover and tipped his head back, pressing his lips to a stiffly downturned cheek. "I'm glad you're home," he whispered.

Buck just stared at him.

Chris watched as he crossed the room and leaned against one of the armchairs. He moved carefully, but that was to be expected. McConnell had been getting more and more harsh with his fucks, pounding away for what must have felt like hours, with little concern for the pain he was causing and Buck was always sore lately.

Buck closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Chris felt like shit having to ask Buck to work on Sunday when the man was so obviously in need of a day off. But one of his regulars was in Jennifer's weekend party and had specifically requested Buck. As he had booked himself to attend to Jennifer's needs, he determined to keep an eye on his lover and to send him home as soon as he had serviced the client.

"Buck," he said.

"Huh?" Buck's eyes flew open and he looked around, momentarily confused, before focusing his attention on Chris.

"I have to put you on the schedule for Sunday."

Buck shook his head. "I can't. Winston asked me to keep the weekend free for him."

"Well Winston doesn't run this business. I do. And one of Jennifer's friends asked for you. It's a woman," he said, trying to make light of it. "Big hips, you'll love her."

"Winston's paying for the time," Buck said tiredly. "You won't lose any money."

Chris took a step closer. "So is Jennifer," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "So tell Winston that you're not available then you can get your ass to Jennifer's house on Sunday and do your part with the rest of the team."

Buck stared hard for a moment. "I've whored for you for four years, Chris. I've done whatever you told me to, and let you run more of my life than anyone. And I've never refused you. I'll only ask this once. Will you take me off the schedule on Sunday?"

"No," Chris said flatly. "It's Jennifer. You know how important she is."

"Important to you, Chris," Buck said softly, like that explained everything.

Chris was vaguely aware of the discomfort in the room. JD had shrunk back slowly on the couch, and Nathan looked calm, but wary, as if at any moment he'd get up and leave the room. The others weren't doing much better. "Important to everybody, Buck. I want you there on Sunday. Everybody else is pitching in," he added, hoping to reach Buck's guilt if not his reason.

Buck nodded grimly. "I hear you. Now listen to me. I'm working for Winston this weekend." And he walked out of the room.

For a moment there was absolute silence, then Chris muttered a curse and began to follow him. Josiah stood up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Give him a little time to settle down," he said gently.

"I could be old and gray before that happens," he muttered. Then, with greater determination, "I've handled him for fifteen years, Josiah. I'm not going to stop now."

"Still, your usual methods aren't working now. Try something else."

Chris grit his teeth and looked around the room once more. Buck was out of control. But he'd climbed up Buck's ass more than once lately and it had done no good, so he forced himself to focus on doing his own job properly and walked back to the bar. "That went well," he said, glancing around to meet everyone's eyes.

Vin and Nathan actually smiled.

"So where were we?" he asked, running fingers through his hair. "Sunday." He glanced once toward the door Buck had exited, said, "I guess maybe the schedule's gonna change again, but for now... " and he proceeded to outline the people, the requests and the tips they could expect; Jennifer had promised to be generous. "They're Jennifer's friends, so most of them will be specific," he finished. "Anyone who isn't, just romance her."

"I haven't romanced in awhile," Josiah said thoughtfully.

"Well start practicing," Chris smiled, although the smile faded quickly enough when he stepped closer to the taller man and turned to face the team. "Anybody object to me doing whatever it takes to get Buck away from this sadistic prick?" he asked, carefully.

Vin met his eyes squarely and shook his head.

"I'd say it's time," Josiah said.

"Thank God," Nathan muttered.

"I'd certainly like to see things return to their twisted version of normal around here," Ezra commented.

JD just looked at the floor.

"I'm not sure that normal is what we'd end up with," he warned. He didn't say it, but he'd been thinking it for days; the money wasn't worth it. The struggle wasn't worth it. He'd get out of this fucking business and find a twenty dollar an hour job before he'd watch Buck slowly eaten alive. Keep the doors open for the guys, let them do what they wanted and use the building as a base of operations, pay rent to cover the mortgage. He could do it.

Ezra's eyebrows rose, and it was clear he was the only one who was thinking in terms of worst case scenario. "Still," Ezra said slowly, "it needs to be handled."

Chris nodded decisively. "All right then. Everybody have a good night."

Josiah watched as Chris turned and left the room. "I'm afraid we might have trouble ahead of us," he said quietly.

Vin shook his head. "Chris is serious. Buck might try to argue, but in the end he'll back down. He always does when it's important."

"Chris has been serious for weeks," Ezra said pensively. "Can't you see it? There's something else going on here."

"Yeah, Ez," Vin said slowly. "Buck's lettin' a goddamned trick beat the shit out of him. I'd say that was different enough."

"But why?" Ezra asked, frustrated. "There has to be a reason. He didn't just wake up one day and decide to trick like that, not when he knows Chris hates it, not when he hates it so much himself. So why?"

Josiah frowned, trying to chase down a thought niggling at the edges of his brain. "Something's eating at them," he said slowly, unable to pinpoint the stray idea before it slipped away. "Something he's done, something Chris has done, something to change things between them."

"But 'siah, if that's true, how come Chris doesn't know what it is?" JD asked, genuine anxiety written on his face.

Josiah sighed, giving up for the moment. "I don't know, son. I just don't think it's gonna go away by itself. So until either Chris or Buck figure out what's gone wrong, nothing will get settled, and we'd better prepare for a bad time."

7 - 7 – 7

When Chris walked into his suite he found Buck standing by the window, head pressed to his folded arms, looking down onto the street below. All Chris could think was that Buck looked lost, and hadn't looked so bad since his mother was killed.

Buck turned when he came into the room. "I'm not arguing with you," he said shortly. "I'm with Winston this weekend."

"Why?" Chris asked, eyeing him closely; he looked bad, faded, ghost-like, and Chris wasn't sure it was because Buck was that bad off, or just Chris' own sense of him slipping away.

"Because I said I was!"

"What about the rest of the guys?" he asked. "Damn it, you're usually the one who worries most about whether your fuck-ups land more work on them."

"It's not about them," Buck said, low.

"Then tell me what it is about," Chris coaxed, remembering Josiah's advice.

Buck just looked at him, and Chris watched, as anger rose; tendons stretched taut beneath the skin of Buck's jaw, and his nostrils flared. Without a word, he turned back toward the window.

"Okay then," Chris said, holding his temper by a thread, "I'll tell you. It is about them, and all of us, and the fact that this is a business you said we could handle. But you're not handling anything; you're running off like some half-cocked kid and letting that fucker beat the shit out of you. You're disobeying the rules you and I sketched out together, and something's got to change."

Buck's shoulders hunched up, drawing his whole frame tighter. "Guess again."

"All right," he said, feeling a throbbing in his temple as his pulse began to pound, "I'll guess again. You're messed up, and I don't know why. You don't know why. I'm your boss and I've made a decision, I'm your lover and I've made a decision, and--"

"It's not your decision to make," Buck interrupted, voice hard.

"Always was before," Chris pointed out, trying to do something different besides blow his top and have another useless shouting match.

"No," Buck said, so softly Chris barely heard, "it wasn't. I know you thought it was..."

His gut spasmed in a cramp so bad Chris wrapped his arm around his belly. No time for it; Buck was still staring out the window and hadn't even noticed. No time for that kind of fear. He clenched his jaw and tried to focus. Get Buck away from the psycho, get him somewhere safe with people he trusted, make it okay. Chris had done it before.

Try something new... He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Okay. What about the business? You're always too banged up for your regular clients because of what that bastard does to you."

"What the fuck do you care?" Buck challenged. "You've made plenty of money off my ass, what does it matter where it's coming from?"

"Are you serious with this shit?" Chris demanded.

"As a heart attack. I'm paying my way. Pimp the others if they need the help, but I'm doing fine."

"No," he said, feeling a vibration running through his body, a warning bell that his anger was riding in. "You're not fine. For Christ's sake, take a look in a mirror, Buck! You look like hell. He's hurting you, and he couldn't give two shits about you. I can't even touch you half the time but you let a fucking trick do whatever he wants to you, whether you like it or not, whether you say you want it or not..."

Buck finally turned again, but his face was down, in shadow, and Chris couldn't read it. He edged sideways, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and bleed off some of the tension; he felt like he was drowning, falling. Dying.

"You're mine," he said, barely mouthing the words. "You're mine and you're putting me second to a trick."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Buck demanded, outraged. "Do you know the number of times you've put other people before me? And have I complained? No!"

Chris didn't know what the hell Buck was talking about. "I put you first. I always put you first, because I own your ass and it's mine to keep safe and it's time you remembered that. " He reached down and began to unbuckle his belt. "Is this what it's gonna take?" he demanded, watching as wide eyed shock turned into real dread in his lover's eyes. He pulled the belt out of its loops and held it up. "I need to hit you like he does just to get your attention?"

Buck swallowed hard. "Don't, Chris," he barely breathed.

Chris threw the belt down, sickened. "You actually think I would, you bastard, with you messed up like that. That's how I know something's wrong with you. Maybe I should just pay you, what is it, ten grand? That what it costs to fuck you these days?"

Buck's lips compressed into a thin, hard line. "I am not your whore," he hissed.

"No, you're his," Chris snarled. "You're covered in that bastard's marks. You can never get him off you. And I fucking hate it."

Buck had gotten more and more tense, until now he stood rigidly in front of Chris. "I've spent fifteen years taking everything you've ever dished out but I'm not going to dump my best client just because you can't screw me whenever you feel like it. Fuck that. You don't make decisions for me anymore."

Even guarding against it, Chris hadn't realized how angry he was. He hadn't realized it until he felt the sting on his knuckles from where they had impacted with Buck's jaw. Buck's head jerked back with the impact, and he took an involuntary step back in surprise, hand flying to his face. Outrage sparked, just for an instant, before Buck's face went devoid of emotion.

"Winston's never punched me," he said flatly.

Like he was sitting in a movie house watching himself onscreen, Chris saw events careening out of control, and couldn't stop them.

"Ask him how much it's worth to him," Chris sneered. "You've sold him everything else. You've whored away everything that's between us. You wanna make a decision? Here's one. Decide whether you still belong to me."

For a brief moment the blank mask slipped and a look of pure shock flared in Buck's eyes.

"If you're mine, that bastard never marks you again, do you hear me?"

Chris watched as Buck swallowed hard. When he spoke his voice was shaking. "You know what, Chris? There are five other men in this building who haven't been touched by Winston. Find one of them to fuck. Because you sure as hell won't be fucking me anytime soon. I'm not your lap dog and I never was."

And he walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Chris stared at the open door. He hadn't even gotten around to telling Buck he wouldn't take that bastard's money anymore. Hadn't gotten around to threatening to stop them both from tricking, drag Buck off... it looked like a fantasy, out of reach, the two of them in an old beat up car like the first time they'd run away together, drifting without a care in the world. Things had seemed so simple then. It should be so fucking easy. Frankly, he didn't care what they did, as long as Buck was away from that bastard's influence.

He kept staring at the open door, waiting for Buck to walk back in, and slowly, painfully, the realization sunk in; Buck wasn't coming back. Buck had just told him to fuck off.

Chris didn't know what to do.

7 - 7 – 7

On Saturday morning, JD found himself sitting on the bench by Josiah's little raised bed garden in back of the building, trying to take his mind off his worries. He had a motorcycle magazine spread across his knees, but even the pictures of the classic Nortons couldn't dispel his fears. Things were going badly with these men he was rapidly coming to depend on, quickly coming to think of as family.

And of all of his new family, none was more important to him than Buck.

Buck didn't talk much about his early life with Chris. Hell, none of the guys spoke much about their younger days. But some of the comments Buck or Chris let slip made JD think that Buck had lived through some dark times, possibly even shared some of JD's own experience of street life. And Buck had turned out okay. That was a part of why JD had come to care for him so deeply.

JD didn't really understand the relationship between Chris and Buck. Chris seemed almost insanely possessive sometimes, weird considering the way they made their living. And Buck was usually so easy going that JD didn't know how he put up with Chris' demands. Buck sometimes made a joke about it, talking about the leash Chris kept him on. But JD didn't think it was so very far from the truth. They were certainly closer than anybody he had ever seen before.

One thing he knew for certain was that they loved each other. Even with all the hurt and pain between them now, there was also something there JD had never seen between two people. He didn't have much experience with love, nothing outside what his mother and sister meant to him, but he recognized it in these two in a way that made him glad and hopeful and that made him feel safe in a way he couldn't explain.

But that was being threatened.

He knew from talking with the other guys that this fight was different from any others they had had. Even when Chris had gotten moody and mean and had taken out his bad temper on Buck, JD hadn't felt this bad. And now Buck had moved out of the suite he and Chris shared, sleeping in one of the two spare apartments. JD hadn't seen that in the months he'd been here, and careful questions revealed that it hadn't happened before, as far as anybody knew.

The thing that twisted the fear tight inside him was that they were both so unhappy with the situation.

A voice boomed, "Are you alright, son?" Josiah, and JD had almost jumped out of his skin.

He smiled up at the tall man. "I'm fine. Just wanted a little peace."

Josiah sat on the bench seat next to him and glanced sideways, as if weighing him up.

"You're worried about Buck and Chris," he said, a statement not a question.

JD nodded. "Don't know what will happen if they don't mend things between them," he said, quietly.

Josiah shrugged. "This world is an uncertain place, JD. We can't predict what's going to happen." JD felt Josiah's eyes on him, could almost feel them drilling into his soul. "Does that scare you?" he finally asked.

"Kind of," JD muttered. He looked at the ground, glanced up to find Josiah still watching him. "I keep thinking Buck could leave. And if he does, Chris won't stay. Then what will happen to the rest of us? This building belongs to them," he whispered.

"I can tell you two things for sure, JD," Josiah said. "One; you have a family now. No matter what happens between Chris and Buck, you'll always have a place to go. And two; whatever those two are going through right now, I've never seen two people need each other like they do. I have a lot of faith that they'll get through this. A lot of faith."

JD nodded, hoping fervently that Josiah was right.

7 - 7 – 7

Somewhere near noon, Buck glanced up when he heard footsteps, relaxing when he saw Ezra enter the kitchen.

"Lord Almighty. Look at you," Ezra said. "When's the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

Buck shrugged and muttered into his coffee cup. "I can't sleep properly without him. Haven't been able to for years. " He kept to himself the fact that his nightmares had returned, that even when he was able to catch a few minutes of sleep the old anxieties rose up to haunt him. Chris was the only one who had ever been able to keep the deeply ingrained, age-old fears at bay and he and Chris had barely spoken to each other, let alone touched each other, in days. He had taken to keeping himself awake with endless cups of coffee and had scarcely even lain down since he had stormed out of their bedroom two days ago.

Ezra poured himself a coffee and sat at the kitchen table opposite his friend. "Good God, man. You can't go on like this much longer. You look terrible."

Buck raised a half smile. "Thanks, Ez. Way to make a man feel better."

Ezra waved him off impatiently. "This is getting ludicrous. You're both walking around like zombies. Why can't you patch up this ridiculous fight and let us all get back to our lives?"

Buck's eyes narrowed. "Sorry this is such a fucking imposition on you, Ezra. Guess if you don't like it you can find yourself another agency to work from."

Ezra froze for a moment. "I'll put that remark down to fatigue, Mr. Wilmington," he said softly. "But you might want to remember that we're your friends, your family. You're not the only one suffering here. " He rose and left the room quietly, and Buck groaned and hung his head. Christ Almighty. He was making a total fucking mess of everything, couldn't open his mouth these days without pissing somebody else off. He had to get out of here, while there were still a couple of people willing to speak to him.

7 - 7 – 7

Vin watched Chris for a second, measuring his friend's receptiveness. "You've got to figure out what's wrong, Chris."

"How the hell should I know?" Chris said, deflecting like he always did.

Vin had gone to Buck's room after his Friday night trick, somewhere around three a. m. He'd found Buck sitting upright in bed, lights on, eyes wide and red-rimmed. He had eased into the bed and pulled Buck up against him, and Buck had lain there like a corpse, his body stiff in Vin's arms. It was frightening that Winston, or anyone, would pay for him in this condition. More frightening that Vin didn't know the cause, or how to help.

Vin hadn't understood before just how much Buck relied on Chris, nor how much Chris gave. He'd been privileged to learn a great many of their secrets, but none of it gave him a clue to what had caused this nightmare, or what drove it onward.

All Vin could say about Chris was that he looked worse than Buck. He hadn't worked, weirdly counterbalancing the fact that Buck was out so much of the time. He roamed the building like a ghost, waspish, tension the only thing holding him together. He looked like he'd aged years. That was bad for business but so much worse, it was bad for this family of friends.

"You've known him forever," he finally prodded. "He's acting like he could give a shit about what you tell him. Has he ever done that before?"

"Leave it, Vin," Chris said tightly, and Vin wondered why he couldn't. Or wouldn't.

"So what's different?"

"I don't know, all right?" Chris muttered, and dropped onto the couch, bent forward over his knees. Once more, a shaking hand combed through lank hair. Vin started pacing, noticing the blanket on the overstuffed armchair and looking through to the bedroom. The bed was made, tight as a drum, and Vin figured it hadn't been slept in since Buck had left. Buck was in pain and needing to take, only from Chris who he denied; Chris was worrying himself sick and needing to give, only to Buck who denied him. It was a sad fucking state of affairs.

"I always thought you were the only one he allowed to hit him."

"I thought that too," Chris said, his voice thin and brittle and helpless. Vin felt his body stiffen in response to that sound; Chris was their boss, Chris was the reason they were all together now, the reason he'd been pretty much happy for going on three full years. He couldn't stand hearing his friend sounding like that.

"Anything I can do?"

Chris looked up at him with bloodshot, exhausted eyes. "I have no idea," he said shakily, and dropped his head again.

Vin sighed and shook his head, then joined Chris on the couch, sitting close but not touching. "What goes on between you two, I can't say I've ever understood it. But up until now, it worked for you both. Maybe this is something that comes with the territory between you two."

He stiffened in surprise when Chris collapsed sideways, leaning heavily against him. "Never did before," Chris muttered without heat. Then, "He's been in some bad places in his life. Hell," and the laugh was weak, tired, "I met him because of a fight he was about to get into, five against one."

The voice faded, but Vin didn't even breathe, waiting for more words.

"That day, he let me stand by him. On the days he didn't... we were just kids." A pause, filled with memory so palpable that Vin could almost feel it. Chris' quiet, measured words were hypnotic. "I don't know how we got out of the shit we got into. Buck tricked sometimes, for quick cash, in emergencies. But I always managed to get him out. Even from the worst of it, I managed to get him out. " A pause, and Vin ached with the pain in his friend. "Now we both trick, and I thought it'd be okay. But I can't get him out, Vin. He's falling into something, and I can't get him out."

Vin let his arm drop around Chris' shoulder, squeezing gently. "We're all here, Chris. We all want to help."

Chris rolled his head against Vin's shoulder, his mouth coming into contact with the bare skin of his neck. "But nothing's working," he mumbled.

A few things added up just then, that Chris hadn't taken clients for days; that he'd isolated himself just as much as Buck had, walling himself off alone in these rooms; that Chris hadn't slept since probably Thursday.

"Come on," he soothed, and pulled his friend a little closer against his side. "It'll be okay."

The puff of air could have been laughter or denial or helpless rage, but Chris didn't move, and his breathing evened out for long minutes. Vin wondered if he'd fallen asleep, knew for sure when Chris jerked awake ten minutes later. His friend stood up and stood still for once, not the pacing that was his habit lately.

Vin couldn't say for sure that the rest had helped. It didn't seem to have hurt. Chris had a little more energy, and used it to push himself along now. When Chris looked down at him, Vin read so many things there, so many fears, but underneath it all was a tightly focused need.

Vin nodded.

Chris turned away. "I have to go find Buck."

"I'm gonna hang out in here, in case you need anything, okay?" he asked, even as Chris stood up.

"Yeah Vin, sure."

"Good luck," Vin called after him.

The atmosphere in the house was poisonous. Everybody was tense, walking on eggshells, waiting for one or other of them to explode. And Chris admitted that they had given their friends plenty to be tense about. On the few occasions he and Buck had ended up in the same room together, they had fought like alley cats, the ferocity of their abuse stressful to all those who heard it. He'd been caught off guard himself at how viciously his lover had torn at him and had reacted in kind. They had said so many damaging and hurtful things to each other that he was beginning to wonder if they'd ever be able to get back on track.

Best not think about it like that. He couldn't think about it like that, not after everything they'd survived. Winston McConnell? A prick. A worthless trick who shouldn't be causing so much fucking trouble.

Chris was determined to find Buck and follow him down, if he couldn't drag him back up. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do. He was more than willing to pull Buck and himself out of the business, and the only thing that held him back from threatening it was that he knew Buck so well. He wouldn't tolerate pimping other people without participating. It was too close to acting like the bastards who had run his mother, and later, Buck himself. He had to find his lover and make sure they didn't walk away from each other until this bullshit was buried or... He shook his head. He couldn't contemplate any other option right now.

He searched the house, first the spare room he knew Buck had been staying in, then the other apartments. None of the men had seen him since this morning, when he and Ezra had had words at the breakfast table. He went into his office and scanned the schedule, noting that Buck was booked out for the afternoon with one of his regulars. He was just coming to terms with the fact that he would have to postpone his confrontation when the business line rang. He picked up the receiver and felt a shiver of pure terror run down his spine when Buck's client reported a no show.

Where the hell was the man? What had happened to him? Chris forced himself to calm down and think this through. His eyes drifted to the coded rolodex of client names and he realized that he knew where Buck was after all. And maybe he didn't want to know.

7 - 7 – 7

He'd had to escape, so he had gone up to the roof of their building, leaning on the low ledge that encircled it and staring down at the street, then out further, past the water to the harbor. He couldn't believe how pissed off he was.

Buck had dumped a client without so much as a phone call and they had most likely lost the client for the agency. Chris had tried to salvage something by calling the trick back and offering a discount on a makeup date. But the client had been pissy and foul tempered and Chris had ended up telling her to go fuck herself if she didn't want to fuck any of them. He didn't expect that particular trick to call back anytime soon.

It hadn't taken any work to figure out where Buck probably was but after half a dozen calls and ever-shorter voicemail messages to Buck's cell, Chris had sucked down his pride and called Winston's place directly. Buck had taken the date without logging it, without telling anybody, had broken the most fundamental rule of their trade.

When Saturday night rolled around and Buck still wasn't home, Chris had offered to cancel appointments for everybody who wanted time off--the men looked at him like he was crazy.

After a minute JD shrugged. "Staying here worrying about it isn't gonna make anything better," JD muttered. "Might as well get some work in."

Chris wished he felt the same. Instead he had settled in alone to wait and worry.

Buck hadn't returned home that night, had stayed away all day Sunday and hadn't shown up last night either. And he hadn't called in once. Not to Chris, not to any of the other guys.

He heard a noise on the fire escape and turned, surprised when Nathan's head popped up over the edge.

"Something wrong?" he asked when Nathan got closer.

The dark man shook his head, his face calm, worried but still cool, solid, and sat down beside him. "Just wondered where you'd gotten off to," he said.

Chris smiled, glad for the quiet company, wishing it could take his mind off everything else.

Chris couldn't believe Buck could be so irresponsible, not with all he knew about this business. It was one of the most important rules of the house; always let somebody know where you were, who you were with, when you expected to be home; always let Chris know if the terms of the date changed. This business was too fraught with potential danger. If Chris didn't know where his men were at all times, he couldn't figure out if they might be in trouble.

Buck knew that. He had no excuse for what he'd done.

The only reason Chris knew that his lover wasn't lying beaten up and bleeding to death in some alleyway was that he had called McConnell's house again last night. The man's butler had confirmed that Buck was still in the house, although it had taken a not so veiled threat from Chris to get that information out of him.

And now it was mid-morning on Monday; their day. And still no word from Buck and no indication that he intended to return home today.

A dog barked, obviously a stray, trotting up the street below with its tongue lolling out in the heat. The sun off the water hurt his eyes. The sun on his shoulders had brought out a sweat in him, and he could feel his neck cooking under the UV.

Buck hadn't used such bad judgment with a trick in--hell, Chris didn't know if he had since they were teenagers.

In other circumstances Chris wouldn't have hesitated to take his belt to Buck's ass and impress upon it the seriousness of his lover's defiance, if only to make himself feel better. But Buck was so banged up that there was no way he was going to add to that. Hell, he didn't even know if Buck would pay a fine he levied. He didn't know anything, except that the level of abuse Buck was allowing Winston to get away with was going to kill one of them.

He was definitely going to pull Buck out of the schedule for a while. One of the most endearing things about his lover when he was in his right mind was the degree to which he gave his heart to his friends. Buck would hate the thought that he'd let them down, that they had to cover for him. Perversely, what anybody else would see as an easy ride, a few extra days of vacation, was one of the most effective ways of punishing Buck. If he could keep Buck in the damned house for a week or two, out of that prick's influence and watching his friends picking up his slack, maybe that would get through to him

If.

If Buck came back at all.

If Buck would even listen to him.

And all of that crap was about work. That didn't mean shit. Right now, Chris was much more worried about his place as Buck's lover.

He just couldn't see where they could go from here. And that thought turned his stomach in abject fear.

"Chris?"

He'd almost forgotten Nathan was there. "Yeah?"

"You know what I think?" He sounded philosophical, a sure sign he had been pondering the subject long and hard, or spent too much time today with Josiah.

"What?" He wasn't proud. He'd take any help he could get.

"I think we're gonna get through this. Somehow."

Chris shivered even though the sun was warm. He was glad somebody thought that.

"I've decided not to take any of the money he makes from this trick," Chris offered up. "Maybe if he understands that he's really not pulling his weight, that the company can't handle what he's doing to it, that'll make a difference."

"Maybe," Nathan said softly, but he didn't sound convinced.

Chris wasn't either.

7 - 7 – 7

Ezra had retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, tired of the terrible tensions that pulsed through the house. Everybody was in a flap over Buck's disappearance and he couldn't go anywhere without somebody wanting to talk about it or pretend they didn't. He was avoiding Chris as completely as possible. The man had a black cloud over his head that seemed to spread throughout any room he was in, and it was impossible to talk to him without getting snapped at or tongue-lashed. Ezra was heartily sick of it.

He had no sooner stretched out on his couch than he heard a tapping sound at his door. Sighing in frustration, ready to tell whomever it was to go away and leave him in peace, he opened the door and for the first time ever words failed him.

Buck was standing in his doorway.

"You mind if I come in for a while, Ez?" Buck said tiredly, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

Ezra opened the door wide and stood aside and Buck stepped in and dropped his overnight bag on the floor.

When Buck didn't make a move Ezra waved him towards the couch. "Sit down, Buck. Before you fall down. You look exhausted."

Buck smiled half-heartedly. "Can't sit, Ez. You mind if we crank up the air conditioner a little? I'm kind of hot."

Ezra looked more closely at his friend. He'd thought Buck was a wreck Saturday morning, but that was only because he didn't have this to compare to. Buck's skin had an unhealthy gray-tinged pallor although his cheeks were flushed red, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was trembling as though chilled, even though the room was pleasantly warm. "Buck, are you feeling alright?"

Buck considered the question for a moment. "You know what, Ez? I don't really feel so good."

Ezra stepped closer and reached to lay the back of his hand across the man's forehead and cursed quietly. "Buck, you're burning up. Come and sit down." He touched Buck's back to guide him to the couch, and Buck flinched away from his hand. Ezra saw thin lines of blood seeping through Buck's shirt.

"Christ, man. What happened to you? You need to lie down." He led Buck into his bedroom. "Get out of these clothes and get into bed, I'll go find Chris."

Buck stopped him. "Not Chris. Nathan."

Ezra felt a tingle of dread crawl up his spine. Buck wasn't exactly a willing patient, he hated anybody fussing over him. For him to request Nathan's attention must mean that he was in bad shape. He nodded, made sure that Buck was okay by himself, and left the room at a run.

Ezra returned a few minutes later with Nathan, to find Buck undressed and up on the bed. He was lying facedown, uncovered. Ezra was about to snap at him to tell him to pull the blankets up over himself when he caught sight of Buck's back and hissed in a breath. The man was a mess. Covered in broad, red bands that indicated that a belt had been used on him, cuts up his side and over his ass. The marks were bruised and discolored and the cuts were seeping blood.

Buck flinched when Nathan began to prod at the various marks on his back and buttocks.

"You let the trick do this to you?" Ezra asked, incredulously. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"You wanna drop it, Ez," Buck snapped tiredly. "You don't think it's enough I have to explain myself to Chris all the time? Fuck, Nathan," he hissed, "that hurts."

Nathan pursed his lips. "It would. Some of these marks look infected. Didn't you clean them properly? Didn't you take the pills I gave you?"

"Winston wasn't exactly in the mood to play nursemaid to me," Buck said, sarcastically. "I think he enjoyed making me bleed."

Ezra's eyebrows rose in alarm. "Do you have any idea how Chris is going to react when he sees this?"

"Well he's going to have to wait before he starts shouting the house down," Nathan cut in. "I need to clean him up and he needs to get some rest. Ezra, can he stay here for the night, he shouldn't move around once I've fixed him up, and I'm going to give him a sedative so he'll probably sleep for a while. Is that okay?"

Ezra nodded. "It's fine. " He turned his attention back to Buck. "I'm going to find Chris, tell him you're home, let him know about this mess."

Buck shrugged, then winced. "Don't think he cares much right now," he muttered darkly.

"Oh for God's sake," Ezra exploded. "You can't seriously believe that. You know how he feels about anybody getting hurt. And especially how he feels about anybody mistreating you, his--"

"Personal property," Buck cut in, bitterly.

Ezra shook his head. "I was going to say 'lover'," he said. God these two were in a really fucked up place with each other.

Buck waved him off. "Whatever you want, Ez," he said. He dropped his head, moaning when Nathan began to clean the cuts.

Ezra left the room, not looking forward to facing an irate Chris Larabee, wondering how on earth the men in this house were able to persuade him so easily to do such unlikely things.

7 - 7 – 7

Ezra found Chris sitting in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee. He was glad to note that Vin was with him. Somehow he felt as though he might need the man's more calming influence. Chris looked up, and Ezra winced to see hope flare and die in his eyes. Chris seemed so lost without Buck, somehow smaller, more vulnerable. Terrified.

Ezra paused for a second, trying to formulate the right words and not send Chris into a frenzy.

"Buck's home. He's in my room."

Chris' mouth set into a grim line of determination. "I want him out here. Now."

Ezra frowned. "Not possible. He's a little … messed up. Nathan's seeing to him."

Which proved to be the wrong choice of words because Chris shot up and grasped the edge of the counter, a mix of fear, pain and worry clear in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he growled.

"His back is really torn up, some of the wounds are infected…" he trailed off when he saw that the blood had drained out of Chris' face, and that he was shaking. "Winston took a belt to him again, it looks like he went overboard this time."

Vin swore out loud, and Chris looked as if he would happily strangle Winston with his bare hands if he was anywhere within striking distance.

"I'm going to see him," Chris said.

"No you're not," Nathan said, walking into the room.

Chris' head reared and his eyes flashed in anger. But he got himself under control quickly.

"How is he?"

Nathan walked up to the counter and stood opposite Chris. "He's bleeding, he has an infection, he's covered in bruises, that's the damage I can see so far," he said, his matter-of-fact tone doing nothing to provide comfort. "I've cleaned him up and given him pain killers, I've called one of my clients, a doctor, he's sending over a prescription for some antibiotics. I've also given him a strong sedative. He needs to sleep. He doesn't need to deal with you right now."

Chris hung his head, and it was easy for Ezra to see both the weight of anguish that Nathan's words caused, and the effort Chris put into pushing down his anger. When he spoke again it was in a pained whisper that the others had to strain to hear.

"I just want to see him, Nathan. I'm not gonna argue with you about it."

Nathan seemed to consider for a moment and relented. "Okay. Give it a couple of minutes. I want to be sure he's asleep first."

Chris nodded. "When can we move him? I want him back in our bed."

Nathan shook his head. "I don't want to risk waking him. He's going to have to stay where he is for a while."

Ezra glanced over at Chris and the man had such a look of anguish on his face that Ezra took pity on him. They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but Ezra was not a man who liked to see others suffer.

"You're welcome to use my room as long as you need," he said, glancing over at Nathan to ensure he approved. Chris looked at him, startled. "If you need to, you can sleep in my room with Buck tonight, I'll crash on your couch."

Chris gave him a look of such profound gratitude that Ezra was actually stunned for a moment. "Thanks, Ezra," Chris stammered.

Nathan nodded. "Alright. I want to check back on him. Come with me and I'll tell you what he needs if he wakes up."

7 - 7 – 7

Chris followed Nathan into Ezra's bedroom and his breath caught in relief when he saw Buck lying deeply asleep, face down on the bed. Nathan reached over and pulled the sheet off Buck, and it was only when Nathan turned to look at him quizzically that he realized that he had gasped out loud. He clamped his lips together, afraid that Nathan would try to make him leave, and moved a little closer to look at the damage that had been done.

The marks from the belt were obvious and Chris could actually count the number of times his lover had been lashed, and the places Winston had returned to over and again. How fucking stupid was that bastard, anyway? And how fucking stupid was Buck, for taking it? It's not as bad as four years ago, he told himself, trying like hell to rationalize what he was seeing.

Chris became aware that Nathan was talking to him, and he shook himself and tried to tune in to what the man was saying.

"He probably won't wake, but if he does you need to make sure he doesn't move around too much and that he drinks as much water as he can. I'll also leave you some more pain pills. He should only take them every four hours because they're strong. Ok?"

Chris nodded. "I'll take care of him, thanks Nathan," he whispered.

"Come find me if he wakes up and needs anything. " Nathan twitched the sheet back up over Buck and paused. "And find me if he wakes up and you two start in on each other, all right?"

"Thought you liked to get out of the way of that," Chris said, no judgment in his tone; he was too distracted, and Nathan too supportive for Chris to feel anything but gratitude.

"I do," he answered honestly. "Just, now isn't the time."

"Okay. He needs anything, I call you. He gets mad, I call you. I get mad, I call you. That cover it?"

"Thanks," Nathan said softly, and walked out of the room.

Chris stepped closer to the bed. He put out a hand to touch Buck's hair, but pulled it back, worried that he might disturb his lover's sleep. He sat gently on the edge of the bed then slowly swung himself further into the bed until eventually he was lying beside Buck, although he kept far enough away so that they didn't touch. He watched his lover breathing, hearing a tiny hitch every time Buck breathed in, noting the slight frown that marred his face.

He was getting them out of this damned business. That was all there was to it.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris woke with a start to find himself in a strange, empty bed, and he couldn't tell from the light outside if it was dusk or dawn, or why that mattered. It took a few seconds to focus and to realize the implications. He shot upright and called out, "Buck?" and scrambled to his feet when he heard a sound coming from Ezra's bathroom.

Buck was standing in front of the toilet bowl and when he turned his head to meet Chris' eyes there was a look as close to fear as Chris had ever seen.

"You okay?" Chris asked, worried by the uncharacteristic look.

Buck tried to smile, and shrugged. "Might be in a bit of trouble here, pard," he said softly.

Chris felt a sharp stab of dread, then a tingling as panic rose up in him. He followed Buck's gaze and saw that the toilet bowl was awash with a diluted pink--Buck was pissing blood.

"You hurtin'?" Chris demanded, anxiety making his voice harsh.

Buck didn't speak for a moment, and Chris knew he was trying to think up a way to answer the question that didn't inflame Chris' already raw nerves.

"Buck," Chris snapped, not needing to hear the prettied up version right now.

"A little," was all Buck would concede although the admission, trembling on a hitched breath, spoke volumes.

Chris almost shouted in relief when he heard Nathan's voice in the bedroom next door.

"Nathan, in here," he hollered.

Nathan appeared at the door, took one look at the scene and elbowed Chris aside.

"Go get him a blanket, he's freezing," Nathan ordered. Chris hurried into the bedroom and stripped a blanket off Ezra's bed. When he returned to the bathroom Buck was kneeling on the floor by the bathtub, shivering, his face drained of color, his breathing loud and harsh.

Chris wrapped the blanket around his partner, careful of his raw back, and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"What's wrong, Nathan?" Chris asked, sliding a hand across Buck's neck. Buck leaned forward so that his forehead rested on Chris' chest.

"He's a damned mess, that's what's wrong," Nathan muttered, then raised his head to speak more distinctly. "The area over his kidneys has been hit too often and too hard. Might be some kidney damage."

Chris swallowed down hard, trying not to let fear overtake him. "Okay, so we get him to a hospital and I--"

Nathan must have recognized his distress because he reached over and ran a soothing hand down Chris' arm, as though he was the patient instead of Buck.

"We need to get him back into bed, Chris. It looks worse than it is."

"He's pissing blood, Nathan, how bad does it need to be?"

"You can take him if it'll make you feel better," Nathan admonished, "but the best thing for him now is lots of rest. I'm going to call my doctor friend, check on treatments. You get him back into bed." He patted Chris' arm again and left.

Buck raised his head and met Chris's eyes and there was exhaustion and pain and a flare of anxiety in the cloudy blue gaze. Chris reached to stroke a hand gently down his cheek. "You need to get back into bed, stud," he murmured.

Buck licked his dry lips, cleared his throat and whispered, "I want to come back to our room, Chris." Chris felt a deep throb of elation, strangely at odds with the panic and fear and sheer terror pounding at his nerves.

"Of course you're coming back to our room," he said gruffly. "It's where you belong. Can you stand?"

Buck nodded and rose shakily to his feet. Chris bore as much of his weight as Buck would let him and together they shuffled slowly down the hallway, up the flight of stairs that Chris cursed with every step, and into their own apartment. Chris noted that Ezra wasn't sleeping on their couch and figured he must have gone out for the night. He led Buck into the bedroom and helped him to climb up onto the bed, shuddering anew when the blanket covering his lover slipped down to once more reveal his back.

Buck settled onto his belly with a loud sigh, and Chris pulled up sheets and blankets and tucked them as gently as he could around his lover's damaged body. He sat on the bed and stroked a hand through the unruly dark hair, watching hawkishly as Buck gasped in short, shallow breaths, a sure sign of pain.

He felt so much at this moment that he could scarcely untangle his jumbled emotions. He wanted to gather the man up and hold him tightly, create a shield against all that was ugly and painful; he wanted to recapture the absolute conviction that Buck belonged to him - unquestioningly, entirely, body, heart and soul. A conviction that he had felt slipping away in the past few unbearable weeks; he wanted to wrap his hands around Winston McConnell's throat and squeeze.

Buck burrowed deeper under the covers before raising his head. His eyes held a question that he seemed reluctant to put into words.

"What do you need?" Chris asked.

Buck ducked his head and mumbled, "Will you get in here with me?"

Chris opened his mouth to answer but paused when Nathan walked into the room and deposited a handful of pills onto the nightstand.

"Give me a little room here, Chris," he said, and Chris slipped off the bed and stepped back, hovering watchfully while Nathan spent the next few minutes poking and prodding his lover, coaxing pills and a large glass of water down him, smoothing an ointment over his back, all the time giving instructions in a low, soothing voice. When he was finished he tucked the blankets back around Buck and bent to brush a kiss on his cheek. Chris saw a brief smile tug at the corners of Buck's mouth, before he nuzzled his face back into the pillow.

Nathan indicated with his head, and Chris bent to whisper in Buck's ear, "I'll be right back," before following Nathan to the door.

"How is he?"

Nathan paused for a moment. "You can see for yourself, Chris. He's banged up. This time he was lucky but you cannot let this continue."

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been trying--"

Nathan held up his hand. "Handle it," he ordered sharply. "I don't care what you have to do. Lock him in a cage, call the cops, press charges on McConnell, I don't care what, but you can't let that trick keep doing what he's doing."

Nathan turned and walked out of the room, and Chris stifled the scream of frustration that threatened to tear from his throat. He had cajoled and demanded and whined and ordered; he'd ignored the situation for as long as he could to give Buck room for whatever the hell was going on inside his crazy head; he'd screamed and cursed and done every fucking thing he could think of to make Buck see reason and still the man was lying in bed beaten into a bruised bloody mess and pissing blood.

Pulling in a deep, shuddering breath, Chris tried to force himself to calm down before he returned to the bed. Buck was spooked enough without him adding fear and anger to the mix. As it was Buck raised his head and looked over at him, and his eyes were once more shaded with anxiety and an apprehension that was so foreign to his normally self-assured lover. Chris attempted a smile, but knew it was a pitiful waste of time. Buck wouldn't be fooled for a second. Instead he crossed back to the bed, stripped down quickly and slipped between the sheets.

He couldn't trust himself to speak, but he could offer the comfort and warmth of his body. And Buck clung to that with all his might, burying his face against Chris' chest, clutching tightly with both hands. They lay quietly, gripping each other so strongly that Chris couldn't see how Buck would ever relax enough to sleep. But gradually the grip loosened and whether through sheer exhaustion or from the drugs Nathan had dispensed, Buck finally drifted off, twitching nervously, but eventually settling into a deeper sleep.

Chris continued to hold Buck tight and close. But sleep eluded him. Handle it. He really had tried everything he knew, everything he'd ever done in the past to keep Buck in check or bring him back into line. But Buck had never disregarded him like this.

Handle it. there had to be something he could do to stop his lover's seemingly endless rebellion. Handle it. Maybe handling it didn't mean what he wanted it to mean.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, leaning to kiss and soothe Buck back to sleep when he moved restlessly. He had woken a couple of times in the night, and Chris had fed him water and more antibiotics. He'd been fretful, plagued by nightmares, and Chris had petted and stroked and whispered to him until he had fallen back to sleep. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Buck had settled down more fully.

Chris pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt, checked his lover one final time, then crept quietly downstairs and knocked on the door of Josiah's suite, hoping that the man would be awake this early. He stepped into the room when he heard his friend's deep voice bidding him to enter. Josiah was sitting cross-legged on the floor, possibly meditating.

"Got a minute, Josiah?" Chris asked, hovering in the doorway.

"Always, Chris. Come on in. Sit down."

Chris walked in and sat on Josiah's couch. No way he was putting his ass on the carpet when there was perfectly good furniture to park it on.

"I need professional advice," Chris said. He hesitated, wondering where to begin. Josiah just waited patiently, head cocked to one side and Chris couldn't help smiling to himself. Something about the man was just so encouraging, so supportive, even the most uncommunicative people seemed to want to open up to him.

"I guess I need to know what you do when somebody's boy doesn't have any boundaries. When he takes whatever is being dished out."

Josiah seemed to consider for a moment. "I usually deal with equal partnerships, Chris," he said quietly. "There has to be something mutual there, otherwise it doesn't work."

"Yeah, but still. What if the one taking it just never says no?"

Josiah shrugged. "Then I'd work with the one giving it."

Chris clenched his fist. He knew he'd been right, but it fucking sucked. "Damn it, 'siah. I can't control Buck. I can't make him stop. So if Buck won't listen to me on this, I have to figure out a way to control Winston."

Josiah said, slowly. "There are ways of doing this without so much pain, without the damage and the danger. You know that, son. The kind of things I showed you and Buck a few years back."

Chris nodded, and the nausea chewed at him, deep in his gut, as he saw where this conversation was going, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

"That the only way?" he asked quietly, scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to banish fatigue and swallowing the bitter taste of bile.

Josiah simply nodded. "Unless you've got the magic words that'll make Buck change his mind on this."

"I was thinking I'd stop taking on clients," he confessed. "Maybe if I do, Buck'll quit too."

Josiah shook his head. "It's not in his nature to let others do work he won't do himself. I d on't think you can stop him unless you shut down the whole operation."

Chris gave his friend a small, rueful smile. He struggled to come to terms with what Josiah was telling him.

"In the end you gotta ask one simple question," his friend said. "How much do you love him?"

The doubt, the hesitation, the uncertainty was swept away. Chris stood up.

"Josiah. I need to hire you."

7 - 7 – 7

Chris lay on his side, Buck snuggled up against his chest, an arm thrown over his waist. His soft steady breathing was the best sound Chris had heard in three days. After monitoring him carefully and consulting with his doctor friend, Nathan had declared that Buck's kidneys were merely bruised, but he was still pretty messed up and he had other difficulties. He'd continued to piss blood for a day and had been in constant pain, his sleep had been disturbed by nightmares, something Chris hadn't seen in years. At times his breathing became harsh and erratic, making Chris panic and call for Nathan who soothed him like a frightened child and told him it was to be expected from someone in Buck's condition.

Buck shuffled a little, and Chris resisted the reflex to tighten his grip. Buck was safe, back in his bed; back in his arms. He was going to tread very carefully. He wasn't going to fuck it up this time. So instead of holding on tightly and pulling Buck into the shelter of his overwhelming need to protect, he took a deep breath and let go, defied a lifetime of instinct and relaxed his hold on his lover. And despite the fact that his stomach clenched in anxiety, he forced himself to believe that this was for the best.

They had both spent the better part of the past three days drifting in and out of sleep, Chris almost as exhausted as Buck after so many sleepless nights apart. He had awoken yesterday to find Buck watching him intently with an obvious question in his eyes. Chris knew what the question was without it being articulated. The exact same question had been repeating itself over and over in his own mind since Buck had come home. Are we all right? The bullshit with Winston didn't matter, the business didn't matter; all that mattered was the answer to that question.

He thought of the many ways to ask and answer; all the things that needed to be said between them. But in the end, he opted for the most truthful. Cupping his hands to Buck's face he said simply, "I love you," and watched as Buck's eyes softened and a confusion of emotions swept across his lover's face. Buck buried his face against Chris' shoulder and Chris held him while a brief storm of tears wracked his body, before he drifted back into a deep sleep.

Buck stirred again and Chris watched as his eyes fluttered open and he licked his lips. Before he had even raised his head, Chris had reached over to the nightstand to grab the glass of water and pain pills Nathan had left there earlier. He held them out wordlessly and Buck smiled a little at him before swallowing down the pills and draining the glass.

Buck eased carefully onto his side, facing Chris. "God, I have to have a shower," he said.

Chris pushed a lock of lank hair off his face. "Nathan says you can probably get up today for a couple hours. I'll check, make sure it's okay. You hungry?"

Buck grimaced and shook his head. He had barely eaten anything the last couple of days.

"You have to eat something soon, Buck," Chris chided. "The guys have been bringing up food all day."

There had been a constant stream of visitors to the room, all carrying things they thought might be useful; books, magazines, endless bowls of chicken soup. Buck hadn't been awake to see any of his friends, was spared their looks of concern and their whispered questions about the state of his health. Chris had done his best to be civil, knowing that they were all just worried about their friend. But he didn't want any of them seeing Buck in this condition so had kept them out of the bedroom, and he resented any time away from his lover, even the few minutes it took to reassure the others.

Buck moved slowly to swing his legs out of bed and Chris immediately rolled off the bed and went to help him. Buck stood, groaning a little, letting Chris steady him.

"Bathroom?" Chris asked.

Buck nodded. He allowed himself to be helped to the bathroom, a lot steadier now than he had been yesterday. He paused at the door and glanced over at Chris.

"I can take a piss by myself," he said.

Chris smiled ruefully and moved away. A step. Buck shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door slightly. Chris waited for Buck to come out but when he hadn't appeared after a few minutes, he pushed the door open. Buck was busy brushing his teeth, and steam from the running shower was beginning to fog the bathroom mirror.

Buck finished brushing his teeth and walked to the shower stall, especially constructed to be big enough for a party. The contractor who had modified all of the bathrooms in the apartment building hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow at the very particular requests of each of the occupants of the six apartments, extra large shower stalls, double sinks, Jacuzzi tubs, massage jets -- all in a very lucrative day's work for him.

"Need a little help?" Chris asked, and Buck smiled gratefully at him. Chris stripped down quickly, determined that this would be nothing but an exercise in getting Buck clean. He stepped under the hot water and reached for the shampoo, rubbed a little into his hands to work up a lather, then began to stroke his hands through Buck's soft dark hair, massaging his scalp gently until he had worked up a mass of soapy bubbles. Buck pushed against the stroking hands, eyes closed, a look of bliss on his handsome face. Damn but the man was receptive to anything even vaguely sensual. And Chris loved it.

He tipped Buck's head back under the spray and helped him rinse off the suds, and when Buck shook his head and opened his eyes, Chris couldn't help letting his hands slide down to cup his lover's face and gently draw him forward. Their mouths met in a soft, wet kiss, and Chris didn't resist when Buck slid both hands to cup his ass and pull him closer. Chris had been hard since stepping into the shower stall, and his erection rubbed up against his lover's groin. But Buck's body didn't respond in the usual way, too fatigued, too much in pain. Buck reached down automatically but Chris stopped him with a hand circling his wrist. Pulling his head back a little, he looked into his lover's tired eyes and whispered, "Not until you're feeling better," and Buck didn't try to argue with him, just leaned a little closer, held on a little more tightly.

Chris raised his mouth for another kiss, and whispered, "Still mine?"

Buck stroked a hand down his back, looking deeply into his eyes. "Still want me?"

"Always."

They pulled apart, and Chris grabbed a bar of soap and washed his partner quickly and efficiently. He wrapped a towel around himself, and used another to gently pat Buck dry, kneeling to finish, brushing a kiss onto the man's soft cock, smiling at how it tried to respond. He glanced up Buck's long body and saw the emotions in his lover's intent gaze, such passion, such love, such devotion; feelings he hadn't seen there for so long. He also saw exactly how exhausted Buck was, how he tried to mask the pain that still obviously coursed through him. He rose quickly to his feet. "I'll bet you could stand another painkiller, huh?" he asked and Buck, after a long hesitation, nodded. "Come on stud, let's get you back to bed. Nathan will have my hide if he sees I've let you up like this."

But Buck shook his head. "Gotta shave, Chris. Can't stand the beard anymore."

Chris frowned. "You sure you're okay?"

Buck smiled. "I'm fine. Just need to get this itchy mess off my face. Ruins the look."

Chris kissed his cheek. "Okay. Holler if you need anything."

He padded into the bedroom, feeling better than he had in days. He quickly stripped the sheets off the bed, sweat soaked, splattered with spots of blood where the cuts on Buck's back had rubbed against the cotton. By the time he had replaced them with fresh sheets, Buck had finished shaving and walked back into the bedroom. He looked happy but tired and Chris held out a hand and guided Buck to sit on the edge of the bed. He picked up the jar of salve Nathan had left and climbed up onto the bed to settle on his knees behind his partner. Buck half turned and threw an anxious look over his shoulder. "Chris, you don't have to…" he began.

"Let me?" Chris asked quietly. Buck weighed up the request for a moment, then gave a slow nod, turning around, exposing his injuries. Chris leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on one of the more livid bruises, hating Winston, hating the reason it was there, then scooped a generous amount of the salve out of the pot and began to work it in with quick, light strokes. Buck trembled under his hands, whether from fatigue or pain he couldn't tell. When he was finished he wiped his hand on the discarded sheet and leaned over Buck's shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked. This was the longest period of time Buck had been awake in the past three days and the tight lines marring his lover's usually smooth complexion betrayed his state.

They both slid under the sheets, luxuriating in the clean fragrance and soft feel of the linens and of their bodies. They rolled to face each other again, Buck's arm automatically falling around Chris' waist, shifting until they were glued as closely as they could get.

Chris stroked through Buck's wet hair, expecting to see his lover's eyes close. But Buck remained awake, looking at him, a half smile on his lips.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Just thinking 'bout the time you fell off that bronco and Sarah wanted to put a salve on you but she grabbed the horse liniment instead. Boy you stunk to high heaven for days." He chuckled when Chris made a face at him.

"Worked though, didn't it?" he pointed out.

"Yeah. And all the fillies trotted after you for the rest of the week. You were like the Pied Piper to them damned horses. Sarah thought it was the funniest thing she ever saw."

Chris smiled. "She seemed to think most things I did were a riot. Whether they were supposed to be funny or not. Seemed to think you were God's gift to just about everything, though."

"Shows she was a woman of discernment," Buck smiled.

Chris frowned, something surfacing that had been nagging at him for days now. "Buck, you really believe I put you second to Sarah?" he asked quietly, and stroked a soothing hand down Buck's cheek when the man flinched.

"That was just bad temper talking," Buck mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

"Had to be some truth to it."

Buck didn't answer, which was answer enough.

Chris tipped his face up, with a gentle hand cupping his chin. "You were never second, always equal," he whispered. "I loved her, loved you just as much; but different. You see?"

When Buck would have pulled his head away, Chris held it tightly. He wouldn't let this go until he knew Buck understood.

Finally Buck looked him in the eyes. "Didn't always feel that way," he said quietly and it was Chris' turn to flinch. He wondered what else he had taken for granted with this man, whom he had thought he knew so well, but who had been such a mass of contradictions and surprises these past weeks. Pulling Buck a little closer, he settled his lover's head against his chest wondering how he could prove that Buck was his life; first, foremost, forever.

7 - 7 – 7

By Thursday Buck was dressed and on his feet. He looked so much better; his color had returned, the black shadows under his eyes had faded away, the tight lines of pain and fatigue had smoothed out. Chris and Buck went downstairs at their version of lunchtime to find most of the men gathered at the kitchen table and the relief was so palpable that lunch took on a festive air and quickly become high-spirited and riotous. Chris actually persuaded Buck to eat a little and when things quieted into content, mellow conversation, and Buck was chatting happily with JD about the kid's never-ending plans to buy a new motorcycle, Chris sat back on his chair and blew out a slow, deep breath. A hand rubbed at his back and glanced up to see Josiah standing behind him. He smiled up at the big man.

"Everything okay?" Josiah asked quietly.

"We're getting there," Chris replied softly.

"Let me know when you need me."

Chris nodded, trying to keep his thoughts focused. He was going to change. If Buck couldn't, or wouldn't, he had to. And looking around the table at these men, all of them with a place in his life now, he couldn't stomach the idea of disbanding the business, of everyone going their separate ways. Not unless he had to, and there were a couple of options left just yet.

He stood up and went to get a refill of coffee then stepped up to Buck. "I need to go downstairs and sort some things out with Dorothy."

Buck stood too, "I'll come with you. I should drop by and say hello to Dotty. Haven't seen her for a few days."

They went down the hall and into Dorothy's office. Her face lit up when she saw Buck and she handed Chris the schedule with barely a word to him and proceeded to smother Buck with attention. Chris winked at his lover, who grinned back at him, shrugged and eased down into a chair to let Dorothy mother him for a while.

Chris took the schedule into his own small office next door and spread out the sheets on his desk. The first thing that caught his eye was a yellow sticker with a single question: Winston McConnell? Quickly scanning the sheets Dorothy had given him, he saw that Winston had been penciled in for Friday. Tomorrow. He drifted to the window and looked out. His first instinct was to cross the man's name out of the book, to tear up the note, to call him up and tell him he would never, ever touch Buck again as long as Chris drew breath. But he ruthlessly suppressed that line of thought. He was going to change.

Buck walked into the room, chuckling.

"Dorothy says we need a vacation. Says we've been working too hard and need to get a little sun and sea air. Apparently that cures all known ailments."

Chris turned and tried a smile, but he obviously failed because Buck frowned and said, "What's up?"

Chris pushed the schedule and the note across the desk and Buck glanced down at them, then raised his head and for the first time in a long time Chris had no idea what he was thinking.

"Tomorrow?" Buck said. "What do you think?"

Chris bit down on his immediate response and shrugged. "I think he's your client, Buck," he said softly. "It's your decision."

He saw a flare in Buck's eyes that he did recognize; surprise, then gratitude. Buck stepped up closer to him. "I haven't handled this very well," he said, his tone quiet, conciliatory.

Chris took a deep breath. "If you have to do this, just --- just remember that you don't have to take everything he dishes out. You have to tell him to stop when it gets too bad."

"What was it Josiah called it?" Buck asked. "Setting boundaries, right? Winston isn't much for being told he can't do something, especially something he thinks he's paying for."

Chris sighed, not yet comfortable in his new role. "Why don't you give it a try?"

Buck nodded then turned back to the desk and picked up the phone. He punched in a number and waited a moment then spoke into the receiver. "Winston? Yeah, it's Buck."

Chris turned away but he couldn't help listening to the one-sided conversation taking place behind him.

"Yeah, well you did a real number on me, Winston. Some things are easier to bounce back from than others." (pause) "Nope, can't. Not tomorrow." (pause) "You're not listening to me. I said I can't. Doesn't matter how much, I'm not ready." (pause) "Maybe." (pause) "Okay Sunday. But you're gonna have to be more careful, man." (pause) "Yeah, if you say so. Sunday then."

He heard Buck replace the receiver and turned around again. "So, Sunday?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

"Sunday. But don't worry 'bout it, Chris. It's gonna be fine."

Chris dragged up a smile and wondered whether Buck had any idea how many times he'd heard those words in the years they had been together, and how many times they'd turned out not to be true.

Later, when he had persuaded Buck to lie down and rest for a while, he sought out Josiah.

"He's going to Winston's on Sunday."

Josiah nodded gravely. "You still want to go through with this?"

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Unless you see any other way?"

Josiah shook his head slowly, ruefully. "For whatever reason, Buck seems to have dug his heels in. And since we can't modify his behavior, we have to try to moderate McConnell's. It's the only way I see to keep Buck safe."

Chris nodded, resigned. "Will you call him, 'siah, and set it up for tomorrow? I'm not sure I can even talk to that prick right now."

"Sure, Chris. You thought how you're gonna explain this to Buck?"

"Christ, right now I can only think of one thing at a time. Let's deal with this. I'll figure out the rest later."

7 - 7 – 7

The car drew up to the discreetly expensive townhouse and Josiah and Chris climbed out. For some reason, Chris had asked Mike to drive them today. It wasn't that he expected trouble, certainly nothing he and Josiah couldn't handle. He just somehow felt better knowing that Mike was sitting in the BMW outside waiting for them.

They were let into the house by a man Chris presumed was a butler, shown into a drawing room and asked very politely to wait. Josiah settled himself into a chair, but Chris didn't feel like sitting down as if waiting for an appointment with a doctor or a lawyer. He wandered around the room, noting the expensive furnishings, oil paintings and art objects. Everything about the room indicated the status and power of the man who lived here, and the kind of money he commanded.

Chris had known Winston was rich. His address in one of the best neighborhoods in the city told Chris everything he needed to know about Winston's place in Boston society. But Buck had never spoken of his client's prosperity before. Buck was one of the very few people Chris knew who had no regard whatever for status and wealth, often saying that underneath their expensive toys the rich were more fucked up than most other tricks. Buck had said more than once that the only people who had ever really injured his mother were pimps and rich people, and he had a quiet disdain for their society clients that Chris had never developed.

The door opened and Winston walked in. "I appreciate you coming, gentlemen," Winston said. "Where would you like to do this?"

"It's probably best if you take us to the room you usually use when you have a date," Josiah said.

Winston laughed. "Oh I've fucked your colleague pretty much all over this house," he said.

Chris felt himself stiffen. Josiah cleared his throat and Chris glanced over, seeing a look of warning flash across the man's usually impassive face. He gave Josiah a small nod.

"Well then, why don't we just choose somewhere a little more private," Josiah suggested amiably.

Winston nodded. "This way, please."

Chris followed Winston and Josiah up a curved staircase and into a spacious, richly decorated bedroom. He noted the large four-poster bed and shunted aside the sudden image of Buck spread-eagled across it.

Josiah dropped his bag on the floor. "Could I see the belt you've been using?" he asked.

Winston shrugged. "I pretty much use whatever I'm wearing at the time," he said. "Is there a preference?"

Chris watched for a moment as Josiah opened his bag and began to pull out various implements, including two thick, well-worn leather belts. He wandered over to the window, leaving the two men to discuss the merits and drawbacks of the tools of Josiah's trade.

Chris could easily imagine Buck in this room. Despite the fact that he had no affinity for the moneyed class, Buck was actually easily accepted by the society clients the agency catered to. Maybe it was his easy-going nature, maybe even his very disdain for these people, which echoed their own distaste for most other levels of society. Whatever it was, Buck was neither intimidated nor impressed by Winston and all he stood for.

Chris felt his hatred of the man deepen, and the fact that he controlled Buck for at least the times his lover was in this house made Chris sick to his stomach.

He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard Josiah call his name. He stepped away from the window and walked back across the room to stand in front of Josiah. "Can you turn around, please?" Josiah instructed, and Chris complied.

Josiah began to point out areas on his body that were safe to hit, and areas that should be avoided. Josiah stroked a hand over his kidneys, advising Winston how to avoid striking that area. This was all so clinical, and Chris had to push down his anger when he remembered that Josiah was teaching this man how to beat his lover.

"Chris, we're ready. Can you take your shirt off?" Josiah asked, quietly.

Chris hesitated for a heartbeat before slowly pulling his sweatshirt over his head. Josiah took another moment to explain to Winston the correct technique for holding a belt, how to wrap the buckle into the palm of his hand so that it wouldn't work free and have any chance of injuring his partner. Chris tried not to wince at the word. It was more disquieting for him than he'd thought to hear Buck spoken of as anything other than his own.

"Ready, Chris?" Josiah asked.

"Go ahead," Chris replied.

He tensed involuntarily and waited for the first blow. Even though he was expecting it, and even though it wasn't particularly hard, Chris still jumped when the belt landed across his shoulders. Josiah took a moment to adjust Winston's stance slightly, then the belt whistled through the air again and landed with a loud sound. It stung because it hit almost the exact spot the first blow had covered, and Josiah explained to Winston how he should vary his aim so that his partner wouldn't be too badly hurt too soon and the session could last longer. Chris ground his teeth together and tried to clear his mind, but it was impossible not to listen as Josiah instructed Winston on how to prolong his lover's pain.

Eventually Josiah stepped away from Winston, walking around to stand in front of Chris and monitor his reaction. For a moment nothing happened, then the belt whistled again and the beating began in earnest. It was slow and thorough and although it wasn't as painful as Chris had thought it would be, nevertheless each stroke stung, and by the end Chris was sweating and trembling. After a dozen strokes Josiah called a halt and Chris flexed his back muscles tentatively, feeling the burn, feeling the pull of tight, hot skin. Chris was surprised when Josiah leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Okay?" he whispered softly.

Chris raised his head and did his best to smile.

Josiah's eyes lifted, looking over Chris' shoulder. "Do you have any questions?"

"I wouldn't know what to ask, would I?" Winston said coolly, and Chris could easily identify the edge of arousal thick in Winston's voice.

"Well, there's at least one other issue. The backs and insides of the thighs and the lower part of the buttock are particularly sensitive areas, and the skin especially fragile. You want to limit the number of times you strike your partner there."

"I hit Buck's ass all the time. He never complains."

"While I've come to doubt that," Josiah said, his voice wry, "it is a part of why we're here. Chris won't see him hurt, Mr. McConnell, and you've gone beyond any appropriate limits on more than one occasion."

"Show me," Winston said.

Chris saw a look on Josiah's face that he recognized: the man was barely suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. For some reason, it was funny, seeing Josiah treating this prick like an inane five year old. "It's okay," he said with a small smile for his friend.

He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them halfway down his thighs, and before he'd registered the look of alarm on Josiah's face he heard the whap and felt the burn across both cheeks. He hissed and jerked forward, couldn't help but do it under the shock of the blow. Jerking around and opening his mouth to curse the fucker out, only Josiah's intervention stopped him. The big man put himself between them and grabbed Winston's wrist in an obviously painful grip.

"You want to give your partner a few seconds to get prepared," he said, still in that even, lecturing tone. "And you never want to surprise him like that in the beginning of a session."

Wilson frowned, obviously irritated. "I pay Wilmington thousands of dollars, I'd think that's preparation enough."

Josiah shrugged, and let go Winston's hand. "Even so, we're done with the hitting part of this session." He turned his back to Winston and gave Chris a reassuring wink. "Chris, turn around once more, if you would."

Chris presented his back again and stood still under Josiah's hand, even when it tickled the crease between buttock and thigh. The hand left him and Chris just stood there, drifting a little, until it came back, stroking gently over his back. He jerked and stepped away, tugging up his jeans as he realized that the hand wasn't Josiah's. He heard Winston's rapid breathing and turned to face the man. The first thing he saw was the glitter of power and lust in the man's eyes, then he noted the prominent erection pushing against his pants.

Winston threw down the belt, unzipped, and began to stroke a hand down his cock. No wonder Buck came home sore, if Winston kept that monster up for hours.

And this fucking prick didn't even know how to be careful, probably didn't like being careful. Taking care of your partner was for people who gave a damn, or people who couldn't afford to do otherwise. Winston McConnell could afford anything.

"I presume we finish this now," he said softly.

Josiah stepped forward. "Chris, you can wait for me in the car."

Chris turned to pick up his shirt but found his progress arrested when Winston reached out to grab his wrist. "I want you to do it," he said.

"It's not on offer," Chris said tightly.

Winston leaned in close until his mouth was beside Chris' ear. "It's impolite to wind a man up and then leave him hanging. In your business, I'm sure you know there can be repercussions."

"What are you saying, Winston?" he asked, steely.

McConnell shrugged. "Just that if you walk out that door, I'll call Buck. And you know he'll come. I consider what you've shown me today an option, not a rule. He gets me so hot when I'm fucking him, I'm afraid I might lose control."

Chris jerked his head back. McConnell was wrong. Buck wouldn't come, not today. Not after what had happened, but did this fucker even know what he'd done?

"You know a little something about losing control, don't you?" Winston said, in an almost conversational tone. Then he dropped his voice so that only Chris heard him. "I saw what you did to him. I know how much he'll take."

Chris looked deeply into Winston's eyes. Despite the veneer of civility, he had hurt Buck badly, more than once. Chris didn't want to take any chances, couldn't risk Winston taking out his displeasure on Buck's body.

"Josiah, I'll finish."

A look of triumph flashed briefly across Winston's face and Chris felt his hatred of the man course through him. Josiah gathered up his supplies and started to leave the room, but Chris refused to feel anything but disgust. If this prick thought he'd spend more than a minute on this, he was insane. "Stay, Josiah," he said flatly. "I won't be that long. " Chris quickly dropped to his knees.

This is the cock your lover sucks for ten thousand dollars a session, he thought, rolling on a condom and taking it in for free. That was the worst violation for Chris, worse than letting this bastard hit him; there wasn't enough money in the world to send him to his knees for this asshole, but here he was, doing it for nothing, to try and protect Buck. But there was nothing that said he had to do it well. So he worked the man as quickly as he could, no tricks, no finesse, refused to respond to a single one of Winston's cues to speed up or slow down. When Winston dropped his hands on top of Chris' head, he shook them off and spit out his cock. He looked up, staring hard until Winston slowly put his hands behind his back, then he bent his head and took him back in again, sucking hard and fast until he felt Winston tense. He easily read the signs, and pulled back just as Winston began to come, jerking him off the rest of the way as he climbed to his feet.

Chris stood in front of Winston, watching in a detached way as Winston shuddered in completion. Then he stood back while the man stripped off the condom, throwing it on the floor, no doubt for one of his staff to take care of. Chris grimaced in distaste.

"I've given Buck a lot of latitude with you, because you were a preferred client," Chris said. "But that stops here. You send him home bleeding again, this arrangement is over."

"You sent him to me bleeding," Winston countered, and Chris ground his teeth together. This was his fault, and he hated himself, the man before him, maybe even Buck, for putting them all in this position.

"He was doing you a favor," he said mildly. His shoulders were hot and his ass stung. He concentrated on wondering how he was going to keep this from Buck. "And you and I both know that was a mistake on his part."

"He does do his job well for me," Winston said, a sort of amused satisfaction in his voice. Chris looked up, caught Josiah's eye. Josiah's look was cold and hard, practically ordering him to stand down.

"Yeah," Chris said. "He does. And if you want him to keep doing it, you'll remember what you've learned here today."

Sighing, tucking his still-firm cock back into his pants, Winston said, "Hard to believe you make your living this way. You're no Buck Wilmington."

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, wondered if there was any Listerine in the car somewhere, and reached for his sweatshirt. That was the goddamned truth.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck wandered into the kitchen in search of company. He'd spent too long cooped up in the house, and wanted something to divert him. Nathan had given him the all clear two days ago, but Chris had insisted that he take another couple of days off to recover completely; which meant no clients, and precious little fooling around. Chris had left the house a couple of hours ago on a job and he needed somebody to talk to, maybe somebody to play with. Chris had been handling him as though he might break and although he appreciated their tender, loving time together, he was getting a little itchy for something more adventurous, although right now he'd settle for anything that would distract him until Chris got back from his date.

His eyes lit up when he found Ezra and Vin.

"Afternoon, boys. What's happening?"

Vin smiled over at him as he perched on a stool by the kitchen counter.

"We're just trying to decide if we want to go to a movie, or go to the Saloon and tie one on. You want to come out to play, or are you still grounded?"

"Funny man, Tanner," Buck said. "Count me in."

"Well that's decided then. Buck you can't drink while you're still on antibiotics. So a movie it is. Now all we have to do is decide which one. " Ezra picked up the newspaper and flicked to the entertainment section.

"Nothing foreign, no sub-titles," Vin warned. "I'm not going to the movies to read. And make sure there's action in it. I want at least one car chase."

"Philistine," Ezra muttered.

"Maybe we should wait for Chris to get back," Vin said after a second. "You know he'll worry if he finds you gone."

Buck sighed and shook his head. "Ever heard of the cell phone? I'll leave him a message. Come on guys, let's decide. I need to get out of here for a few hours."

"I don't suppose he'll be in much shape to sit and watch a movie for a couple of hours anyway. Not after this date," Ezra mused, still scanning the newspaper.

Buck frowned. "What date?"

Ezra looked up. "I'm beginning to think I don't know anything about you two. First you take up S&M tricking, now he's doing it. Personally, I think you're both insane."

Buck shook his head. Now what was Ezra talking about? "Ez, he won't even let most of the clients fuck him. What makes you think he's gonna let one of 'em hit him?"

"Well he went out with Josiah. And I think we all know what kind of dates he handles."

Ezra had to be mistaken. No way Chris would go out on a date with Josiah. Not without talking it through with him first. No fucking way.

The front door of the house slammed and Buck listened to the footsteps on the stairs, and heard two familiar voices. The anger began to simmer when Chris walked into the room, right beside Josiah. One look at the guilty expression on his lover's face was all it took for Buck to realize that Ezra had been right.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice sounding harsh in his own ears.

Chris winced a little at the tone. "Told you. I had a date," he said. He moved to walk past, but Buck reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

He saw Chris swallow, watched as he tried to maintain control. Josiah walked past them around the kitchen counter to sit opposite Buck, and he was aware that Ezra had sat down next to Vin and that they were both watching silently and intently. "Go on to the movie, guys," he said, low.

"What, and miss the drama here?" Ezra demanded, mock aghast.

He shouldn't be surprised, the way he'd been acting lately, but for the sake of his friends he tried to rein his temper in. "I asked where you'd been," he growled at Chris.

"Josiah needed somebody for a demonstration. I went," Chris said, his voice low, pitched to carry to Buck only.

"You did what?" Buck exploded.

"It wasn't anything heavy, Buck…" Josiah began.

"Stay out of this, Josiah," Buck snapped. "This is between me and Chris."

Josiah shrugged and subsided and Buck dropped Chris' wrist. "Get up to our rooms," he ordered. "Now."

Chris hesitated for a moment.

"We can do this down here if you want," Buck threatened and Chris shook his head and turned on his heel, leaving the room quickly. Buck scrubbed at his face and turned to his friends. "Sorry guys," he said quietly.

"What, no movie?" Vin asked, trying and failing to keep things light. Buck shrugged, half ashamed of himself. "Nah. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Sure. " Ezra watched Buck stride out of the room and breathed a sigh of relief. "What the hell was that about?" he asked. But the tide was turning, Buck making demands of Chris again, and Chris backing down. Somehow, the tide was turning.

Josiah sighed. "Chris didn't tell Buck about this date," he said. "I guess Buck isn't very happy about it."

Vin and Ezra exchanged glances. "Now what?" Vin asked.

Josiah shrugged again. "You know how those two deal with stress."

"Shit!" Vin cursed. "Are they ever gonna get back to normal?"

Josiah actually smiled. "They'll be fine," he said, sounding more confident on the subject than he had in awhile. "They'll deal with it and move on. Their kind of normal."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ezra mused. He glanced over and saw Vin looking at him quizzically. "Movie," he said brightly, refusing to let another dark mood settle in. Magnanimous, he even offered, "You choose."

7 - 7 – 7

Chris waited for Buck in the living room of their apartment, wondering if he had even the slightest chance of distracting his partner.

A minute later the door swung open. "Take off your shirt," Buck demanded.

"Buck…"

"Take off your fucking shirt," Buck repeated harshly.

Chris sighed and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, dropping it on the floor at his feet. He heard Buck gasp and felt a hand ghost over his back. Buck's hand traced the marks down as far as his waistband, then a hand snaked around his body to undo his belt and tug his jeans away from his back and Buck's hand slipped down and pressed against the welt on his ass. He hissed. It didn't exactly hurt, but Chris couldn't stop himself from flinching away from his lover's touch.

When the examination was finished, Buck turned him around slowly and Chris caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, before his head snapped back as Buck backhanded him sharply across his face. And all he could think was damn! that hurt; and damn! that's the second time today somebody had hit him.

Chris' hand flew up to cover his blazing cheek. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"How dare you," Buck fumed. "How dare you agree to work that shit with Josiah without talking to me first."

Chris' own anger began to rise. "What about you?" he shouted.

"That's completely different," Buck retorted.

"Bullshit."

Buck bore down on him and Chris scrambled to back away. Buck pushed at him until he felt himself slammed up against the wall, hissing as pain flared in his back. Buck jabbed a finger into his chest. "Listen up and listen good cause I'm only saying this once. You ever go tricking with Josiah again and I'll do a whole hell of a lot more than give you a slap, you hear?"

Chris clamped his lips together. No way Buck was going to treat him like a damn disobedient kid.

Buck took a menacing step forward.

"You don't wanna fuck with me on this, Larabee," he growled. "Because you will be so goddamned sorry if you do. Now, do you understand?" and each word was underscored with a hard jab of Buck's finger.

"Yeah, I think I've got it," Chris spat. "You fucking asshole."

Buck glared at him and backed away a step. "Go wash your face. Your lip is bleeding."

Chris shrugged and looked up at his lover from under his lashes, trying to gauge his mood. He couldn't believe Buck had let him off this easily. He started for the bathroom.

"And Chris…"

Shit.

He turned and looked back at his lover. Buck walked deliberately over to the cupboard in the corner and opened the door. Chris watched, wide-eyed, as Buck turned with a crop in his hand.

"When you're finished I want you face down on the bed, bare-assed," Buck said quietly. "Let's see how much you really wanted to play this game tonight."

Chris swallowed down a moment of sheer panic, then he nodded wordlessly. And even though he knew that this would be part punishment, he still found that his cock was so hard he could scarcely make it to the bathroom.

Two minutes later Chris adjusted his erection, which had refused to go down, as he spread himself across the bed. Buck just stood there, still dressed, his face an angry mask, but Chris knew him better than that, and read him better; he was about to be Buck Wilmington's personal stress-relief system, and if that was what it would take to help Buck, then it was fine by him.

He turned his head so he could watch his lover, dread and anticipation running through his body like alternating current.

"Watching isn't gonna help," Buck said quietly, and then he raised his hand high. The crop landed hard, damned hard, and Chris felt his whole body tense with the pain. Again, and again, faster than he could think about, until his ass was a searing mass of fire and his cock had wilted in defeat. He focused on getting air in, sucking it up through the pillow he'd buried his face in, grateful when the strikes stopped as abruptly as they'd started. He didn't move, though, didn't turn to look, just waited for whatever Buck was going to do next. Maybe he really was a fool to have gone to Winston's. He could have begged one of the other guys to do it maybe, or gotten Josiah to find somebody...

The next strike was softer, almost meditative, and Chris jerked; he hadn't been listening, hadn't heard it coming.

Another long pause gave his mind plenty of time to wander, and it cast back over years, decades, the first time he'd seen Buck hurt, the first time they had hurt each other, all unawares. The next strike was easy, almost tickling in the face of the pain already burning his ass. Then the strikes changed, in intensity and speed, until Chris was groaning, real tears spilling now--of stress and sexual tension, as the pain mingled and started to turn into something else. He was hot, thrilled, and that strange humiliation deep in his gut that always accompanied tears did nothing to keep his body from begging for it. He heard Buck's soft chuckle, and realized he'd been raising his ass to the rhythm of the strikes... and that he had gotten off easy, really easy, for what he'd done.

Buck was too good to him.

The crop disappeared and Buck lay down beside him while Chris buried his face in the pillow and sniffed deeply. "I shouldn't mix this up," Buck murmured, as a hand stroked meditatively down and over his ass. "I shouldn't. You're the one who mixes this up." He sounded almost as if he was talking to himself.

Chris tensed, but said nothing. Tensed more when Buck squeezed his burning ass cheek, then dipped his fingers into the sweat-slicked crease and rubbed teasingly at his asshole.

"I won't, anymore," Buck said, some kind of distracted promise. "Next time I want to kick your ass for some damned fool thing you do, I'm just gonna drag you into an alley and kick your ass. You got it?"

Sniffing, Chris nodded against the pillow.

Buck's fingers pressed into him, driving deep, tickling the sweet spot inside him, making him arch and moan. "I can't believe you let somebody do this to you," Buck went on, and the anger still colored his voice. "I'm not kidding, Chris, you ever do this again..."

"I won't," he promised, turning his face toward his lover. "I won't. Now don't just leave me here!"

Buck smiled. "You're such a slut, darlin'," he whispered, tension still drawing tight lines around his eyes.

"I've got a good role model," he shot back.

Buck chuckled and rolled off the bed. Chris watched, twitching in anticipation as Buck undressed. He climbed back onto the bed, grabbing the lube and Chris groaned and ground his erection into the mattress as Buck coated himself quickly. He had been so intent on watching his lover's hand as it slid up and down his cock that he hadn't noticed Buck's other hand, pulling back to deliver a stinging slap across his ass. He jumped and swore, but Buck just laughed and said, "Up on your knees, now."

Chris pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, groaning as Buck pushed two slick fingers deeply into him, scissoring them to loosen him up. He pushed back when Buck added a third finger, his cock already burning for attention, hoping, but not expecting, that Buck would attend to his own needs quickly so that he could get relief for the fierce ache in his cock.

Buck pulled his fingers out and Chris had barely dragged in a steadying breath before Buck was shoving himself deeply in with one hard, sharp thrust. Chris growled and arched his back, his backside stinging every time Buck drove in. Buck rode him hard, punishingly, and pleasure combined with pain and dragged him right to the edge. Just when he thought he would explode into orgasm without any other stimulation than Buck pounding into his ass, his lover froze, and dropped his full weight on Chris, bearing him down onto the bed, capturing both his wrists and pinning them above his head. He tried to writhe and work his cock against the hard friction of the sheets, but Buck let go one of his wrists, pulled back slightly and delivered a slap to the side his ass.

"Not so fast," Buck breathed into his ear, and he stilled, panting for breath. A pause, a powerful swivel of hips, and Chris tried to arch again, almost lifting Buck's weight as his pleasure forced his body to react. "Not fast at all, Chris. We're doing this my way."

And Chris groaned into the pillow, long and loud, because he knew exactly what Buck was going to do to him. He wasn't going to be coming any time soon.

Buck pulled him back onto his hands and knees then, and worked him deliberately, relentlessly, held him teetering on the brink, sweating and whining and desperate.

"How's it look, Chris?" Buck asked, voice dark and rich with the sexual power that infused him.

Obediently, Chris dropped his head, looked down at his straining cock. It leaked profusely, a thin thread of pre-cum drawing a line of spider's silk between its dark-flushed tip and the bed, where older droplets had stained and darkened the sheet. It twitched as he watched, as Buck thrust again hard and deep.

"How's it look?" Buck repeated.

"Ready!" he tried to shout, but it came out more like a wheeze.

Buck paused, and while Chris kept watching, a hand slid around his hip, reached to the base of his cock and touched it gently, feather-light. His belly spasmed, making his cock jump in agonized pleasure. Chris felt like high tension wires were strung through his extremities; his fingers tingled, his forearms burned because he held his muscles so rigidly tight. Buck's hand dipped lower, fondled his balls, rolled the testicles around in their heavy sac.

"You're not ready," Buck decided firmly, and Chris dropped his head to the mattress and sobbed as the thrusting began again, so good, so deep, so purposely unfulfilling. Buck could hold him here all day, if the bastard decided to. Buck could keep hammering into him, giving him plenty of pleasure but never enough, prolonging the anticipation and winding him up until he was begging. He'd begged before.

After what felt like hours, Buck finally manhandled him onto his back and shoved his legs wide apart, then thrust back in. Those big hands grabbed his welted butt and squeezed, and when Chris reached for his own cock Buck snarled, "Don't even think about it. " Chris had to tangle his fingers in the sheets and hold on as Buck's hands squeezed rhythmically at his burning ass cheeks, as the smooth palms made the welts that had risen on his ass so obvious to them both, as Buck's cock spitted him and found its way so deep inside him, he thought he'd go insane with sensation. And finally, finally, Buck paused.

Buck rose up on his knees and dragged Chris' ass up higher, so that Chris' belly curved, concave, and his shoulders pressed hard into the bed. "Look, Chris," Buck whispered.

Chris did as he was told, staring down at his cock so blood-heavy it looked bruised, at the pooling pre-cum that had dripped onto his belly and through which his cockhead dragged each time Buck thrust. He watched Buck's cock where it spitted and stretched his ass, its base dark and thick, and the tendons in his wide-stretched legs. The thrusting began again, hard, deep and slow, and Chris watched that pole of flesh pull out, shining with slick, then slide back into him.

He was mesmerized, frozen and utterly under Buck's control. When the soft voice reached him, he was almost startled.

"You can come now," Buck said gently, and as simply as that, his cock began to jerk. It twitched, spat once, and his belly and back convulsed in pleasure. Buck's cock pulled out and pushed in again, so slowly, and Chris' body was now so attuned to it that his cock waited, the welts throbbing with the building orgasm, until Buck was fully seated again, then twitched again, spat again. Like the cum shot in a porno movie, his climax spilled in slow motion, dragged out not in a bang but in a dramatic series of whimpers, the spurts of semen short and slow, timed with each re-entry of his lover's cock deep in his ass.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck walked purposefully towards the den. He had dealt with Chris. He had left his lover sprawled across their bed, thoroughly fucked, his ass burning under a pattern of thin welts that would remind him for awhile where he could go when he needed that kind of thing. But Buck wanted to make sure Josiah knew how he felt.

He walked into the room and found Josiah sitting in a chair, head thrown back, eyes closed as he listened to classical music on the stereo. He stood in front of his friend until Josiah opened his eyes and looked up.

"Buck, what can I do for you?" Josiah asked.

Buck came straight to the point. "I don't want you taking Chris out on any more of your dates," he said.

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "And what does Chris want?" he asked quietly.

"He'll do what I tell him to do or he'll suffer the consequences," Buck said, low. "Now you and I are friends, Josiah and I respect you and what you do. But get one thing straight, Chris is not tricking with you again."

Josiah was not a man easily intimidated. "Tell you what, Buck," he said, no change whatever in his voice or demeanor. "I won't ever ask him to come out with me."

"Good."

"But," Josiah continued, "if he offers, I won't say no. We're all adults here. We've all made our own choices."

"Fine," Buck said tightly. "But he won't be offering again. Not if he knows what's good for him."

Josiah looked at him, long and hard. "That's between you two son," he finally said.

Buck nodded curtly. "As long as we understand each other. " He looked up as Chris walked into the room, a slight stiffness of gait the only indication of what had happened between them. Chris stopped when he saw Josiah and Buck facing each other down. "What's up?" he asked.

Buck ignored the question and turned away to walk to the couch and stretch himself out on it.

"Josiah?" Chris asked.

Josiah cleared his throat. "Buck was just telling me you wouldn't be working with me again," he said carefully. "I told him I would respect both your wishes."

Chris ducked his head momentarily. "I reckon he speaks for me on this, Josiah," he said quietly.

Josiah smiled a little. "That's fine son," he said. "Don't expect we'll be needing a repeat engagement anyway." He winked at Chris, who smiled gratefully before following Buck to the couch.

Josiah watched out of the corner of his eye as Chris climbed between Buck's legs and lay down on top of him, face nuzzling into his lover's chest.

Buck dropped a hand to slide it past the waistband of Chris' sweatpants and cup his ass. Josiah noted the slight tensing in Chris' body, heard the hiss of a sharp intake of breath, and let his experience fill in the rest. It looked as though it had been hard-fought and painful, but these two had obviously weathered the storm and reached an agreement.

Chris turned his head and laid his cheek on Buck's chest and Buck brought up his other arm to wrap around his lover and hold him close and tight. By the time JD came into the room several minutes later, the two of them were fast asleep.

7 - 7 – 7

Chris sat at his small desk in the living room of his suite, half an ear on the muffled sound of the shower and Buck's voice mangling the words to the song he was loudly singing.

Sunday.

The day he'd been quietly dreading since Winston McConnell had called on Thursday. He quickly pushed away all thoughts about that prick. He couldn't think of it and stay sane.

The shower stopped and the singing turned to a tuneless humming and a few minutes later Chris heard Buck walk into the bedroom. He stood up, wincing a little, the welts on his backside stinging, his ass sore from having been lustily fucked by his lover for the better part of the morning. Buck could get as turned on as he did by the marks and since laying down the stripes he had had Chris almost continually on his hands and knees or straddled across his lap. Not that Chris was complaining. He had missed the feel of giving it up, of his ass filled by his lover's thick cock, of surrendering everything he had to this man.

And he had done some reclaiming of his own.

After days of the most tender lovemaking, refusing to penetrate his partner for fear of aggravating his wounds, Chris had finally deemed Buck ready to be taken. He had moved slowly. Preparing the way, stretching with gentle fingers, slicking with his tongue and generous amounts of lube, taking Buck higher and higher until he was shaking and moaning. Then positioning them face to face, a pillow under Buck's hips to take the strain off his back, legs pushed back and opened wide, and pressing slowly, slowly, past the tight ring of muscle, then gliding down the slickened channel, drinking in the gasp of pleasure. Panting with exertion and fighting the urge to drive in mercilessly, throwing his head back as Buck clenched his muscles and squeezed hard, rhythmically, pulsing waves of ecstasy through every nerve end. Then thrusting, slow and steady, until his lover was moving with him, meeting every driving advance, urging him deeper, faster. Eyes locked on each other, fingers threaded together tightly, breath coming in sharp bursts, Buck had finally jackknifed off the bed and arched his back as he spilled between their bellies, and Chris shooting deep inside his lover, half pleasure, half pain as Buck grabbed his welted ass and ground down onto him.

They had drifted in a blissful haze, lying tangled together, breathing in the heady smell of sweat and semen, a desperate joy between them, unexamined fears and hurts buried though not forgotten.

Chris walked into the bedroom in time to see Buck pulling a tee-shirt over his back. The cuts had almost healed, the bruising had faded, the pain had receded. And it was about to start all over again.

Chris banished that thought. Not the same. Not this time.

He watched as Buck dressed; a stunning suit Chris had persuaded him to buy, matching shirt and tie, his Rolex, his ring, raising his head to smile at Chris as he slipped it on. Chris couldn't resist the look, and found himself smiling back, despite the way his stomach churned and rolled as the time to leave got closer.

"C'mere," he said quietly.

Buck crossed the room, achingly beautiful to Chris, a playful smile on his lips. Chris wanted nothing more than to grab him up and hold tightly, to beg him to stay or forbid him to go, to make him promise, to plead for assurances. Instead he said, "Check your cash."

Buck opened his wallet and showed him the contents. "See, I've learned," he grinned.

Chris nodded. "You get Mike to drive you?"

Buck shook his head. "Nah, I'm taking a cab. I'll see you in the morning. I'll be back early," he said, and his eyes darted nervously between Chris' face and the floor, obviously expecting an outburst.

"Maybe we'll go out for pancakes," Chris said, wondering if it sounded as banal to Buck as it did to his own ears.

Buck looked up startled, and nodded slowly. He leaned in for a kiss and Chris carefully took him in his arms and pressed their mouths together. He tried to keep his grip light, tried for a gentle, warm kiss. He let go before Buck was finished, afraid that if he prolonged the contact he would betray his desperation. Buck pulled back, looking a little surprised as Chris stepped away.

Buck walked out of the bedroom and had almost reached the door to their suite when Chris heard himself call his lover's name. Buck turned, a question in his eyes.

"Don't let him hurt you again," Chris blurted, and could have kicked himself for blowing his cool.

"Chris…"

"We're not kids anymore, Buck," he said. "Nobody's forcing you this time. This is a choice. Your choice. Just -- just remember I'll be here waiting for you. Whatever happens. I'll be here."

Buck nodded. He hesitated for a moment longer, and Chris thought he was going to say something. But in the end he shook his head and walked out of the room.

Chris stood absolutely still, listening to his lover's footsteps receding down the stairs, and resolutely suppressing the memory of Winston McConnell with a belt in his hand.

7 - 7 – 7

The cab pulled up to the curb, but Buck didn't get out. He sat looking up at Winston's townhouse and wondered how in the hell he had gotten to this point; tricking a man he had diminishing regard and precious little respect for, letting that man do things to him that belonged only to his lover, betraying Chris every time he let this guy mark him or hurt him. He shook his head. He could barely remember how all this had started, or why. Was it just for money? When had he become so consumed with amassing wealth that he was prepared to risk his relationship with Chris just to earn a few dollars? A few tens of thousands of dollars, he amended. There had been a time when that kind of money was the difference between life and death. But now it meant nothing. He and Chris had survived poverty, and a whole lot worse, and they had never been so close to losing each other as they had these past few weeks. Why?

He glanced at his watch. 7:45. He was late. Winston would be pissed. Tipping the driver and climbing reluctantly out of the car he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked on the door. The butler opened up and ushered him into the drawing room where Winston was on the phone, talking animatedly. He waved Buck forward, frowning a little as he looked pointedly at his watch. Then he dropped a hand to unzip his fly and crooked a finger in Buck's direction.

Sighing, sliding out of his suit jacket, Buck dropped gracefully to his knees and began to earn his money.

7 - 7 – 7

Vin knocked on the open door and popped his head inside. Chris was standing by the window, staring out. He turned his head and gave Vin a half smile, waving him in.

"You want a little company?" Vin asked.

"I don't know how fit I am to keep company tonight," Chris said.

Vin regarded him for a moment, weighing up what the man was saying against what he probably needed, and decided to stay. He sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. Chris walked over and sat down, hissing and wincing.

Vin hid a smirk. "Buck really did a number on your ass, I reckon," he said.

Chris smiled ruefully. "It's why I usually try to stay in his good books. He isn't a man you want to really piss off too many times."

Vin cut a glance over at his friend. "He's at Winston's tonight?"

He saw Chris wince and wished he hadn't reminded the man. But that was stupid. No way Buck wasn't going to be on Chris' mind tonight of all nights.

"You figure out why he's doing this?"

Chris sighed and raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "Don't know. Don't think he knows. Just praying he doesn't let that prick hurt him again tonight. Don't know what I'll do if he comes home like last time. " He shuddered and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Vin reached out absently and smoothed Chris' hair back down. He allowed his fingers to drift down the man's cheek and stroked gently. "How 'bout I help you take your mind off it?" he asked softly.

Chris looked over at him. "Don't think I'm up for anything too strenuous. Buck -- er, Buck…"

"Fucked the ass off you," Vin supplied.

Chris laughed. "You sure have a way with words, Tanner." He said dryly.

Vin grinned. "Hanging 'round with Ezra. Teaches a man a thing or two. " The grin faded and he leaned to plant a soft kiss on his friend's cheek. "Hell, Chris," he murmured, "it doesn't always have to be about sex does it? Ezra's got a wicked game of poker going on downstairs. Everybody's in. Even Nathan. High stakes. A dollar ante. Come down and join us. Spend a little time with the family."

He watched as Chris considered the offer, and saw the moment when he decided that brooding alone was useless. He looked up and grinned.

"That'd be real nice, Vin. Count me in."

"Come on then pard," Vin said, standing up and offering his hand to his friend. Chris took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Vin couldn't resist giving his boss a swat on the backside, just to see the usually stoic man squirm a little. "Reckon you should hire Buck out with Josiah? Hate to see those talents put to waste," Vin teased.

Chris shot him a black look. "Hiring out with Josiah's what got my ass whipped in the first place. But you're welcome to suggest it to Buck."

Vin laughed. "No way, man. I was at the New Year's Eve party. I know what he's capable of."

And he walked out of the room, Chris snapping at his heels demanding to know what he'd missed.

7 - 7 – 7

Buck flexed his shoulder muscles, feeling heat flare across his back and his ass. Heat; a throbbing warmth with a stinging edge, but no real pain. He waited, tensed, for the next strike, but all he felt was a hand drifting down his shoulder to his cup his ass and press almost gently against the stripe the belt had laid down. He resisted the urge to turn around, knowing that Winston was just warming up, knowing he would soon be pushed down onto the bed and that the whipping would begin in earnest. Winston would have him spread-eagled across the mattress, his hands fisting into the covers, face buried in the blankets to stifle the urge to scream. The belt would come down over and again, the blows random in speed and intensity, but always punishing. He would hear Winston winding up for the next strike, listen for the belt to whistle through the air, then hear them both expelling a grunt of air as the belt connected. Winston might stop for a while, when his lust to fuck overcame his lust to hit. But as soon as he had pumped deep into Buck's burning ass, he would pull out, pick up the belt and begin again.

Where to stop him? he wondered, trying to think it through. Where to sell back the money for the boundaries? When had he given them all up?

He felt Winston step back away from him and he resumed his position, legs spread, hands locked behind his neck, some kind of personal fantasy Winston liked him to play out. The belt whistled again and landed across his ass, but higher than the last strike. Buck could hardly believe it. Winston hadn't hit him in the same place twice, hadn't let the buckle slip out of his hands to bite into Buck's flesh, hadn't once hit him so hard that he was rocked forward off his mark, hadn't even fucked him yet. The stroking hand returned and Winston smoothed a palm over his burning backside.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered and bent Buck forward until his hands splayed across the bed. Tensing again for the rough fuck he was used to from this man, he jerked in surprise when Winston slid a well lubed cock into him and began to thrust, but slowly, carefully. Buck had relaxed completely before Winston really started hammering, and by that time he was able to ride it out with hardly any discomfort at all.

After Winston came, he cupped Buck's ass to steer him forward, urging Buck to lift his knees and crawl up onto the bed until they were both sprawled, face down, Winston's cock still firm and still buried in him.

Any minute now, the other shoe was going to drop. Buck breathed deeply, deciding to enjoy the respite from routine, still absolutely certain that Winston would return to it soon enough and wondering exactly how, or if, he could object. Tricks never wanted to hear about the hooker's discomfort. But Chris couldn't stand seeing him in pain, and there had to be a way to thread this through the eye of the needle, get Winston off, pocket the cash, and walk away unharmed.

He still didn't know why the fucker mattered.

After a couple more minutes of just lying between Winston's weight and the bedspread, Buck broke a fresh sweat and wriggled a little to encourage Winston to get off him.

"Shh," Winston said idly, and Buck stiffened. Shhh?

Hands cupped his ass again, kneading softly, nothing that would leave even the most minor of bruises. "I'm only just beginning to understand the appeal of finesse," Winston said. The hands squeezed again, pressing his cheeks together around the cock in him.

"Finesse is good," he agreed, as confused as he was relieved. "Oxygen's good too," he added. "Let me up for a minute."

Winston pulled slowly out of him, and Buck rolled onto his side to watch the removal of the condom. Winston's dick was still hard, and they sure as hell weren't done yet.

"Let me hit the john, I'll be back in a minute. " Winston sprawled out on his back and nodded. Buck closed the bathroom door behind him and turned around to get a good look at himself in the full length mirrors. His shoulders were an even pink, his butt not much darker, and the only livid mark on him was from that last stripe with the belt. He touched it gently, pressed his finger against it and released quickly to see the skin pale before the blood rushed back in. Yeah, he was absolutely fine. Surprisingly fine. Not hurt at all.

Chris was going to be proud of him.

The evening continued the same way it had started, and by midnight Buck had surprised himself by wanting to come. Winston didn't stop him, just held him by the hips and fucked him through it while he jacked off, and after they had both spilled, Winston pulled out of him and situated himself at the head of the bed, propping against the headboard.

"So this really arouses you, doesn't it?" he asked, patting the bed beside him.

Obediently, Buck stretched out on his belly, close enough so Winston could touch him. "Nope," he answered honestly. It never did, except with Chris. "But getting fucked for hours without you pile driving the whole time can wind anybody up."

The stroking hand paused, then Winston laughed lightly. "You're each as stubborn as the other, you know."

"Hmm?" Buck asked, hoping to catch a little nap before Winston wanted to start up again.

"You and Larabee." Winston's fingers carded through his hair, and he chuckled lightly. "You should have seen him, so prideful, so inflexible. No more stubborn than you though, in your way. You don't give an inch whilst all the time pretending you do--"

Buck felt his brain hitch, heard a distant roaring in his ears.

"--whereas he doesn't pretend at all," Winston continued. "It was oddly exciting. There's a thrill about men like you surrendering yourselves to the belt." Winston snorted, then sighed, a deeply satisfied sound. "Though I hope he's a better cocksucker than he pretended."

Buck backed up onto his knees and stared at Winston's dark eyes, peering inside the man for answers.

Winston looked first startled, then wary. "What?" he demanded.

"You're the one who took a belt to him?" Buck growled, determined not to fly off the handle without all the facts.

"You didn't know?" Winston asked, looking first shocked, then delighted. "Oh, that's delicious!"

"That is not for sale, Winston; Chris is not for sale, not for that."

"This was a demonstration, he called it," Winston replied dryly. "He complained about my lack of finesse in my dealings with you."

Buck realized, with a perverse combination of nausea and elation, exactly why Winston's act was so different tonight. But that didn't overshadow the underlying fact. Buck ground his teeth together, felt a tic start in his jaw. "He let you belt him?" he snarled.

Winston nodded, and smiled haughtily. "He didn't even ask for a fee."

"Yeah?" Buck asked and he began to back toward the end of the bed. "How much do you think it cost you?"

"I just told you, it didn't cost anything," Winston repeated.

"Guess again," Buck said coldly. "It cost you this."

He slid off the edge of the bed and landed on the floor by his overnight bag, digging in for his cell phone even as he scanned the room for his suit pants. He hit the speed dial for Beacon Taxi and Limousine. "Yeah, I need a limo please, Buck Wilmington with Access 7 Services, we have an account," he said, holding the phone in the crook of his neck and shoulder while he dragged on his pants. He gave out the address while he continued to pull on clothes, confirmed a pick up in ten minutes' time, and turned to find McConnell still on the bed, gaping like a fish.

"What the hell are you doing?" Winston demanded archly.

"What I should have done a month ago," he snapped, barely stopping himself before adding, you prick. "Leaving."

"What? Why? I've been damned generous with you!"

"And I've been too generous with you. We're through here."

"You're insane," Winston said, low and angry. "I'm paying for you, and you will not walk out that door."

Feeling sane, really sane, for the first time in weeks, Buck just shook his head. "Sorry Winston," he said, smiling a real smile, of relief and excitement and a need to get home and be with his lover. "See you around. " He wasn't even angry at the man anymore; it had flared up and passed through like lightning, and all he felt was gratitude, and awe, and abiding love that Chris had done something so hard, all for him. Shoes in one hand, bag in the other, he walked out the door.

7 - 7 – 7

It was beautiful out, the rich residential neighborhoods quiet on a Sunday. Buck rolled down the taxi window to let the damp night air roll in, and laughed out loud he felt so giddy. He'd have to think of a way to apologize, a real way, a way the guys would understand. He'd said "I'm sorry" too many times, and too hollowly, for that word to have any value anymore.

When they neared the apartment building, Buck tapped the divider. "Stop here." He'd get out, walk the last block, slip in the back and shower off the trick, then find Chris. Maybe grab a couple of beers...

He dropped a twenty dollar bill through the slot as a tip; the company tab would take care of the fee. Standing on the curb a block from his home, he spun in a slow ecstatic circle...

Inside, Chris glanced around the table, taking in the faces of his friends, his family, and was glad that he had chosen not to spend the evening alone in his room. The poker game had become rowdier as the evening wore on and beer and bourbon flowed more freely. Chris had found it surprisingly easy to lose himself in the easy banter of his friends, in their careful avoidance of certain subjects, in the company of those who played this game in earnest and those who considered it merely a diversion.

Buck never left his mind, but he was able to bury those thoughts behind the challenges of the game; bluffing JD, trying to outmaneuver Josiah, trying not to lose his shirt to Ezra. The level of noise had steadily risen but an abrupt silence fell over the room when a distinctive voice said, "Deal me in next hand. " Chris turned his head, in time to see Buck bending down towards him, hair damp, smelling so damned edible... He scarcely had time to form a thought before his lover's mouth was covering his own in a long, sweet kiss. He pulled his head back, sucking in a lungful of air, and pulled Buck back down, one hand tangled in his thick dark hair, the other sliding over his hip to grip tightly. The kiss lasted, seemingly endless, long enough to have the other men bitching and catcalling.

"And they've gone for the record," Nathan began, in the voice of a sports commentator. "The clock is running, and soon enough one of them will have to come up for air..."

Buck's laughter, explosive and sweet, filled his mouth, tickled his lips.

When they were breathless, and JD was grumbling good-naturedly, complaining, "C'mon guys, we're trying to play cards here!" Buck pulled back again and threw Chris a wink.

"Jesus, Larabee," he said, walking around the table and pulling up an empty chair opposite his lover. "You can't expect to win against this crowd when all you're holding is a pair of threes."

Chris practiced his best poker face, and never quirked a muscle.

"A pair of threes," JD crowed. "What a loser!"

Ezra shook his head. "Think, my young friend," he admonished. "Why would Mr. Wilmington give the hand away? It's a bluff. Look at the pair of them."

Chris continued to look across the table at his lover, face impassive, secretly thrilled when a slow smile spread across Buck's face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw both JD and Vin's heads swiveling between himself and Buck.

"He's right JD," Vin declared. "Pair of chiselers, trying to cheat honest folk out of their hard earned pay. No way Larabee's betting like that with just a pair of threes. I fold." He threw his hand on the table, and sat back, arms crossed.

"Aww hell. Me too," JD said, laying his cards down.

Josiah and Nathan had already folded, so the next move fell to Ezra. Chris kept his eyes on his cards as Ezra looked hard at him. But his mind was racing. Buck looked fine, a slight wince every now and then when he shifted his weight on his chair, but nothing more than that. So why was he home early? The date was supposed to have been an overnighter. He couldn't help looking up again, checking on his lover, looking for clues as to what might have happened.

"Fold," Ezra sighed, and Chris looked at him, startled. "You don't bluff that well Mr. Larabee," Ezra explained, reverting to polite formalities as usual, where money was concerned. "You must have a winning hand."

Chris glanced back at Buck, and a matching smile spread across his face. He threw his hand face up onto the table.

"A lousy stinking pair of threes!" Vin yelped.

"Told ya," Buck smirked, as Chris leaned over the table to rake in the few dollars in the pot.

"Good Lord," Ezra huffed. "Chris, you've been practicing your poker face," and he actually looked impressed.

Josiah dealt the next hand, including Buck in this round, and the seven men spent the next half hour in a happy, boisterous, exhilarating run of games. When JD gave Buck the finger after he had made a joke at the kid's expense, Buck grinned; a full-on, high voltage Wilmington grin that lit up the table and caused a chain reaction between the men so that soon they looked like a Cheshire cat convention. That was one of many things Buck offered this family; the simple, unadulterated joy of being alive. Seeing the grin, pure and uncomplicated, rapturous and filled with pleasure, gave Chris as much of a high as the relief of seeing Buck home early, and unharmed. With barely a glance at his next hand he folded and rose to his feet.

He walked to the refrigerator and grabbed up two beers, wondering if anybody at the table would be fooled by his cover, wondering why he was even bothering. He needed to touch his lover, not something he had to hide from these men. He walked around the table and handed a bottle to Buck, then stood beside his chair and let his hand tangle through the dark hair, and stroke down his neck to eventually rest on his shoulder.

Buck made his bet, then threaded his fingers through Chris' and tipped his head up. Chris leaned down for a kiss and before he knew it Buck had scraped his chair back a few inches, and had pulled him around to straddle his lap. Chris settled his ass more firmly over Buck's cock, rubbing up against the hardness he knew he'd find there. He cupped his hands to Buck's face and they began to kiss again, tongues gliding in and out of each other's mouths, so deep, so good. He felt Buck's hands settle on his hips, and soon he was lost, in the smell of Buck's freshly washed skin, in the taste of beer and toothpaste in his mouth, in the shift of Buck's erection under him. It was only when he heard Vin shout Buck's name that he realized he had been all but riding his lover, dragging his ass back and forth across the hard cock, letting Buck's strong grip on his hips guide him.

He pulled off Buck's mouth with a sigh and resisted the urge to throw his head back and howl. His own cock was rock hard, his breath coming in gasps, and Buck's soul-baring smile was playing havoc with his senses.

"Wilmington, either play the goddamned game or fuck Larabee. You can't do both," Vin groused.

Buck quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna bet, slick?"

"Do NOT take that bet," Ezra warned, and Vin grinned over at them and winked.

Buck stood up and Chris scrambled to his feet and slid his arms around his lover's waist. "If those are the options, I choose fucking," Buck declared, to hoots from his friends. He grabbed Chris' hand, and Chris allowed himself to be pulled towards the door of the den.

"Nighty night," Vin crooned. "Give him one from me, Buck."

"Fuck off, Tanner. Find yer own piece of ass," Buck threw back over his shoulder with a friendly smile as the two men disappeared.

From the hallway Chris heard Vin's sultry invitation, "So, any takers?"

As soon as they entered the living room of their apartment, Buck paused and started to strip off his shirt. "Hey, look at me," Buck said with a smile and let the shirt fall to the floor, then dropped his head, almost coyly.

Chris had promised himself he wouldn't ask, but if Buck was going to make it this easy he wasn't going to resist what he needed most--to make sure Buck was okay. He strode up to his lover, steeling himself for the worst even though everything in Buck's manner tonight had told him different, and rounded the man's body.

Buck's shoulders were barely marked, pinkish and the slightest bit mottled. He stepped up, had to touch, to be sure, and ran the flats of his palms from shoulder blades to waist.

"Uh," Chris said, hating the tension in his voice.

Dutifully Buck opened his pants, letting the weight of the belt drag the material down to his ankles. He toed off his shoes, scrambled out of his socks and pants and stood, naked and on display.

Chris knelt down, just to be sure, touched the barely risen welts, noted carefully all of the places that were completely free of marks or redness, and breathed a sigh of relief so great he felt light-headed. Buck was safe. He leaned to place his lips against one of the welts, tongue licking along the line of it, tasting the warm, fragrant skin. He heard Buck's gasped breath, and the man half turned. A hand tangled in Chris' hair, pulling his head away, tilting his face to stare into his lover's shuttered gaze.

"See?" Buck whispered, stroking fingers down his cheek. "You did a good job. He did exactly what you and Josiah showed him."

Chilled suddenly, Chris rocked back on his heels and looked up as his lover turned around fully, expecting anger or betrayal, but seeing only love, unceasing and boundless.

"I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you," Buck said, amazement in his voice. "To let him do that to you for me."

Chris reached out a tentative hand and stroked it over his lover's hip. "It wasn't hard," he said sincerely. "He was hurting you. I couldn't let that happen." In retrospect, it was true; letting Winston do those things to him meant nothing, not compared to safeguarding Buck. He was prepared to sacrifice all pride, do whatever it took to protect his lover. Even if that meant kneeling to a prick like Winston McConnell.

He leaned back up and pressed his cheek to Buck's flat belly, his arms winding around his lover's hips to hold him tightly. After a moment he felt Buck's hand once more tangle into his hair and hold him close, and they stayed like that, clinging together, Chris sure that Buck was trying as hard as he was to gather up the scattered threads of control.

A minute longer and Buck pushed him back gently and knelt with him. Chris eased them both onto the floor, wrapping his lover in his arms. On the thick pile carpet, holding Buck, feeling the heat and the thrum of energy and aliveness that had always defined this man, Chris knew that what he had done had been worth it. The seriousness of his thoughts translated into his touches. Kisses became urgent. Desperate. Imperative. Buck drew away a little, and Chris reached up, following the contours of the handsome face with a fingertip.

Buck drew in a slow breath, then said, "I'm done with him, Chris."

He felt hope flare in him, sharp and intense.

"I didn't mean to put him ahead of you," Buck continued, a small frown clouding his expression. "I never meant to do that. I don't know how I let it get so out of control."

Chris cupped a hand behind his neck. "It got away from both of us," he breathed. "Neither of us was thinking straight." And though it made his stomach clench in agitation he sucked in a deep breath and offered, "If you want to go back to regular tricking with him…"

Buck shook his head. "He's gone," he said firmly, holding Chris' gaze with his own, showing him the truth of the statement. "God, I hated it," he said heatedly. "I hated him hitting me. I hated seeing the hurt in your eyes, fighting with you all the time…" He buried his face in Chris' shoulder and sucked in a few deep, shuddering breaths.

"Hush," Chris soothed, stroking through his hair. "It's over. We're good." Maybe they were better than they'd ever been.

Buck pulled back and looked at him, the gaze so intense, reaching into his soul for reassurance. He took Chris' face in two big, warm hands and Chris opened his mouth to the plundering, reverent kiss, feeling his chest constrict with emotion. He allowed Buck to undress him, arching and moaning when his lover pressed ardent kisses against each part of his body as it was revealed. He felt cherished, treasured, worshipped and when Buck laid him back against the carpet, spread him and pushed up into him, joining them completely, he knew from the look in Buck's eyes and from the feeling coursing through his own body, that they had never owned each other so absolutely as they did now.

7 - 7 – 7

Jennifer's impromptu party the following weekend had been a surprise and Chris had had to scramble to change his men's schedules in order to make it work. He hoped that Jennifer would appreciate the efforts he had made on her behalf, smiling to himself when he remembered the sum of money she had agreed to pay. Yeah, she appreciated it.

A party atmosphere was already evident in the limousine. He gave his usual speech about not getting drunk, aware of the rolled eyes, thinking that he should probably change the script before the next party. Then they were all piling out of the car, spirits high, determined to enjoy themselves, even though this was mostly work.

They followed their usual pattern, Chris walking in first, acknowledging Jennifer discreetly, then taking up position to watch his men fan out and swing into action. He put in time briefly with Jennifer, checking in to see whether she wanted him to suck up to anybody in particular. But she was unimpressed with the company tonight and didn't have any specific instructions so he started a slow circuit of the room in order to mingle while he checked on his men.

He had covered most of them, been pleased with the progress they all seemed to be making with a couple of real potentials and now only needed to check on JD and Buck. He caught sight of a shock of dark hair and smiled. He'd tracked one of them down. But he frowned when he moved closer and saw Buck crowded against the back wall of the room, Winston blocking him in.

Chris tried to stay calm. Buck could look after himself, he could handle Winston, he'd proved that. He did not need Chris interfering in this. Chris watched with a deep feeling of satisfaction as Buck pushed past Winston and started to walk away, but when Winston reached out and grabbed Buck by the wrist, stopping him, Chris suddenly found himself moving quickly across the room to stand in front of the two men.

Buck had already shaken Winston off, but Chris didn't care. Buck was his to defend, and he had the right to do that again. He stared hard at Winston. Never taking his eyes off the man he said, "Buck, go find JD and check on him."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Buck draw in a breath. He glanced at him once, a distinct command, and Buck subsided, nodded curtly and walked away.

Winston tugged at his suit jacket, straightening it. "Buck and I were just discussing when he'd come back for another date."

Chris cocked his head to the side. "And what did he say?"

Winston smirked. "He didn't seem inclined to negotiate the details. But you and I both know that he'll do what you tell him to. So name your price. Then send your boyfriend to my house tomorrow at 8. I want him there for the night."

It was almost surreal, how little he cared about this prick, now that Buck had gotten rid of him. When Chris spoke, he sounded business-like and calm. "Buck tells me he no longer considers you one of his clients."

Winston laughed. "God, that's what I like about him. He is the most insolent whore I've ever fucked. I know how you handle him, Mr. Larabee and I don't care what you have to do to persuade him to do his job. I won't be offended if he's marked before he arrives. Just as long as he can still perform."

Chris felt an acid wash of rage roll through him. This asshole had no clue who they were, and the fact that he thought Chris would beat his lover, for some trick--he sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. Jennifer didn't need a scene, and he didn't need to lose control in front of clients. He leaned in close, close enough to smell the man's cologne.

"He's not for sale," he said tightly, "not to you."

Winston just smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "That's the line Buck used, just before he hit me up for ten grand a fuck. I know how this works, just tell me what it'll cost."

Chris gave him a hard look. "I will never again allow a trick to hurt him."

Winston recoiled slightly, but he recovered quickly enough and snarled, "Don't bullshit me, Larabee. All I need to buy him is a healthy bank balance, and I have that. I told you, whatever it costs."

Chris shook his head, because the man genuinely believed that he could buy anything, and because for a while there, Chris had too. "Mr. McConnell," he said, almost kindly, "there isn't enough money in the world to buy a man like Buck Wilmington. Take some comfort from the fact that you got more of him than most people get." He began to turn away, then stopped momentarily. "That's over now. Your business is no longer welcome with my agency."

He didn't even take the time to savor the look of shock in McConnell's eyes, or the taste of triumph that welled up in him. He just wanted to get as far away from this prick as he could.

He found Buck talking to JD and waited until Buck had whispered something into the younger man's ear, sending him on his way, before he joined his lover.

"Everything okay?" Buck asked, a little warily.

"Everything's fine. He won't bother you again." Chris would have to talk to Jennifer to make sure of it; she was the only kind of person with enough power to make a man like Winston see reason.

A small smile of relief crossed Buck's face. Chris reached out and stroked discreetly across the back of his lover's hand.

"Can't wait to get you home, stud," Buck flirted. "I'm thinking, you bent over the back of the sofa and me buried in you. How does that sound?"

Chris pondered the image briefly but shook his head. "Buck, no games tonight."

Buck frowned at him. "Huh?"

"I want to make love to you, I want to hold you," Chris said fervently. "No rough stuff, no athletics, just you and me. Okay?"

The small frown faded, replaced by a tender smile. "Whatever you want, darlin'."

The party progressed in the same way these things always did. Delicate hors d'oeuvres, endless trays of champagne, the same faces, the same polite conversation, trying to frame carnal requests in sophisticated language. Occasionally, when he was tired or bored, longing for home and the company of his family, wanting nothing more than to tuck himself up in the arms of his lover, Chris saw the games being played out at these functions and felt his stomach churn. In the end, they were a part of the game too, something to make the life of the rich and the powerful a little easier, something to provide distraction and relief. Something to be bought.

He heard a familiar laugh and lifted his head; Caroline Wallingford had slipped in when he wasn't looking. He started to walk towards her, but stopped when he caught sight of Buck, laughing at something a pretty young woman was saying. Buck was lit up, jubilant, his head thrown back in genuine pleasure. Buck glanced over as though he knew Chris was thinking about him, and smiled. The look bared his soul and offered everything, all passion and devotion and commitment; Buck held nothing back. Not just through the good, easy, sweet times, but through the bad, bitter, acrid times when life was hard and painful, when there seemed to be no future worth fighting for. He glanced back at Caroline, watched as a smile widened her mouth that didn't quite reach her eyes. So unlike Buck. And so unlike Sarah.

Chris felt a twinge of unease, intuition suddenly screaming at him.

As he watched Caroline, glided away from the group she was with and began trading courtesies with Winston McConnell. Her false smile widened, her white teeth flashed. When he glanced back at Buck, he saw that his lover was watching those two and that he had stilled, his face going smooth and blank. And something turned in his stomach, something agonizing.

Chris stared hard at the pair of tricks, both renting substitutes for what they couldn't otherwise hope to attain; both thinking money would buy them happiness. And most revolting of all, both were instruments for causing Buck pain. Winston had thought he would beat Buck over a trick--and with a sickening feeling of self-loathing, Chris admitted that Winston had been right.

Caroline had brought it all back: the grief, the remorse, the love, the pain of loss. And Chris had taken out all of that on the one man who would bear up under it, on the man who would take anything Chris needed him to. When are you going to learn, Larabee? he castigated himself. Caroline was nothing more than a trick, wealthy, detached, paying for his cock. At least Winston had been honest in his dealings with Buck. No complications, a simple, ignorant business transaction. Chris had deceived himself in the same way plenty of tricks did, pretending that Caroline meant something even after the money was pocketed.

What would Sarah have said to him, for the stupid mistakes he'd made lately? Caroline looked like her, had some of the same mannerisms, but she was nothing more than a pale imitation, not even a ghost. What he had wanted so badly to be tenderness and fragility, he now easily read as the boredom it probably was. Where was the warmth, the ardor, the love of life that Sarah had? Where was the kindness, the compassion, the enthusiasm? Would this woman make the commitments Sarah had made, sacrifice for love, care for those who needed to be nurtured? Chris couldn't imagine it. Only one other person he knew was capable of all those things and did them on a regular basis: Buck.

He had to get out of here before he puked or passed out. Pushing his way through the crowd, he found the bathroom and ducked in, splashed water on his face and stared hard at the stranger in the mirror. "You're one lucky sonofabitch," he told his reflection.

He needed to go and tell Buck that.

When he returned to the party, he swept the room, but didn't see Buck anywhere. Josiah hadn't seen him. JD had no clue. Ezra was in full business mode and probably hadn't even looked up from the woman he was currently reeling in.

Vin had seen him, though. "He left a few minutes ago," he said, his voice soft and concerned. "Everything okay?"

Chris squeezed his friend's arm. "It will be." Then Chris all but ran out of the building.

He tried to steady his nerves, gulping down lungfuls of cool night air. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Buck's number, not surprised when the call went directly to voicemail. He looked around desperately, spotted Mike in the front seat of the limo, a newspaper opened on the steering wheel.

He crossed quickly to the car and leaned into the open window.

"Hey, Mike. Have you seen Buck?"

Mike closed and folded his paper. "Yeah, Mr. Larabee. He came out a few minutes ago. Really looked like he needed a drink. I recommended a little bar I know around the corner."

"Where, Mike?" he asked, listening intently to the instructions, then tracing the path Buck had taken until he came to a small bar about three blocks away. He pushed the door open, let his eyes adjust to the smoke and gloom, and spotted Buck sitting alone in one of the booths in back.

God, the man looked so heartbreakingly sad. So unlike his usual boisterous self, reminding Chris with another nauseating twist in his gut, of the way he had sometimes looked when they were kids and life had given him yet another kick in the face. The thought that he was responsible for that look almost made Chris lose his nerve. But he liked to think he rarely failed Buck when the chips were down, even in the face of his colossal screw-ups of late. Walking up quietly, he slipped into the booth beside his lover, doing his best to smile when Buck raised sorrowful eyes to his face.

"Hey stud," he said softly. "Didn't we have a discussion about how you should always carry your cell phone 'cause that's the point having one?" he said.

Buck looked away and shrugged. "I remember less of a discussion, more of a lecture. Besides, I have my phone."

"Helps to pick up your calls when it rings," he continued.

Buck smiled a little and glanced over at him. "Maybe. Sometimes."

Chris smiled. "What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey. Don't fine the team, Chris. I'm the one outta line."

Chris waved him off. "Relax." He caught the waitress' eye and indicated that he wanted two more whiskeys brought to the table. They waited in silence until the drinks arrived and when they did, Chris took a large swallow from his glass, feeling the heat spread through him.

"Why'd you leave the party?" he asked quietly.

Buck licked his lips and glanced away nervously and Chris waited for the lie.

"Dunno. Too hot, too crowded. I'll go back in a minute. Just needed a break."

Chris brushed his fingers over Buck's hand, distressed when his lover flinched away.

"Will you go home with her tonight?" Buck suddenly blurted, and there was no longer any pretending.

Chris reached out and this time he refused to let Buck pull away from him. He grasped his lover's hand, squeezing tightly until Buck looked up. "Never," he promised. "I am never touching that woman again."

Buck looked at him, uncomprehending. "What?" he whispered.

"I admit it, okay? I'm slow. It hurts you. I never meant to hurt you, not like that," Chris said. "Not over a trick."

Buck opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Chris gripped even harder, wishing they were someplace private, someplace he could gather Buck up into his arms and hold him tightly, help him weather the storm that was breaking.

Buck reached for his whiskey glass, hand trembling as he tossed back the contents. "You said she was like Sarah," he said. "But she isn't. Not really. Sarah was everything. Caroline's nothing, Chris."

Chris smiled ruefully. "I know that. Now. Why didn't you tell me?"

Buck shook his head. "You wouldn't have listened," he said and Chris wondered if it was true. Probably. No sense lying to himself anymore, he'd been fucked up about the woman.

"I'm listening now," he murmured.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I couldn't figure it out, you know, why I let that fucker hit me, why I let somebody pay for something that's ours."

Chris frowned, wondering where this had come from. But if it was what Buck wanted to talk about, he was damned well going to listen. He squeezed his lover's hand in encouragement.

"Then I saw them together, tonight, at the party. Caroline and Winston. And it was so obvious."

Chris waited, hoping Buck would explain what he found so obvious, hoping it was the same conclusion he'd just reached himself.

"I decided to let him hit me after the thing with Caroline. After the last time you were with her. When you…" he stopped, swallowed, hung his head and Chris felt the big body beside him tremble. "You let Caroline pay for a piece of you that never should be for sale. You let her pay for something that's mine, and I didn't realize it until I saw them standing there tonight. Guess I was being an idiot, trying to hurt you back," he whispered, his voice soft and low and filled with emotion.

"Aww Buck," Chris breathed, throat aching. "Just like you," he chided, trying to keep them both from bawling like kids, "hurting yourself more. You really suck at punishing me, you know."

Buck shook his head. "You've been hurt enough."

"Shit. Look who's talking."

Buck winced, and Chris realized that he had been squeezing Buck's hand so tightly that he was hurting his lover. Again. He relaxed his grip, brought the hand to his lips and kissed it, watched as Buck glanced around nervously in this place neither of them knew.

"I guess in my own fucked up way I was paying you back for what I thought you'd done to me. You let her put me into second place with you, you let her into a part of our lives I thought was private, ours. I did the same with Winston. I let him mark me up, even though I know it makes you nuts; I let him do things that were only between us."

Chris allowed the words to burrow deeply into his heart, let them wash through him, let himself float on the truth of them. Buck was right. Caroline Wallingford and Winston McConnell were two sides of the same coin.

He let a silence stretch between them, still gently kneading the hand he held. "Do you feel like getting the hell out of here?" he asked.

Buck looked up, startled. "Time to go back to the party?" he asked.

"Fuck that," Chris said. He paused, swallowed, looked up into questioning eyes. "I need you, Buck," he whispered. I need to be with you. I want to go home, want all of us to go home. Play poker, make love in the den, watch JD's movie again. Whatever you want."

Buck looked at him, seemed to consider for a moment, then smiled. The smile that meant everything to Chris, that held his life together, gave it worth and value and its truest meaning. "Yeah, let's go," Buck said softly. " I have a few things I need to show you. Some apologizing I need to do."

"Nah," Chris shook his head, "don't even go there, or we'll spend the rest of the night arguing over who needs to apologize more."

They left the bar and walked slowly back to the party, shoulders rubbing, hands touching briefly whenever they could. When they walked up the stairs to enter the hotel, Chris impulsively reached out to thread his fingers through Buck's and held tightly when they walked in together. Buck tried to pull away before they reached the ballroom. "Come on, Chris. It's business," he muttered.

Chris turned towards him, still holding tightly. "Screw business for once. Right now it's about you and me, that's all I care about. Any of those motherfuckers object, too bad."

He pulled Buck gently into the room, intent on finding Jennifer, though aware of the interested glances sent their way. Fuck it. If these assholes hadn't figured out by now that they were entitled to find their own happiness, well, that really wasn't his problem.

He caught sight of Jennifer, watching them from across the room, a slight look of curiosity in her otherwise bored expression. He leaned up to Buck's ear. "Go round up the others."

Buck nodded, and Chris walked up to Jennifer, hoping she wasn't going to give him a hard time. "I'm sorry, Jennifer. I'm pulling my men out for the evening."

Jennifer arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

Chris considered an excuse, and in the end opted for the truth. "Couple of people here I don't want Buck around," he admitted. "People I don't want to be around either. It's personal. I just need the guys together someplace where it's not about work, so I'd like to take them home."

"I see," Jennifer said, slowly. "And if I told you it wasn't convenient?"

Chris sighed. Losing Jennifer would be a huge blow to business. But they'd survive. And nothing was more important right now than Buck and the family. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I won't charge you, of course."

Jennifer tilted her head, weighing him up. "Forget about it," she finally conceded. "If you must, you must. Besides, the party is practically over. And it was a colossal bore. Not up to our usual standard, I'm afraid."

Chris smiled, kissed her chastely on the cheek and turned to go. "Chris." He turned back. Jennifer's cool detachment had slid back into place. "I expect this to be the last time you walk out on me. We wouldn't want to make a habit of it."

"No ma'am," Chris said, glad of the reprieve.

He walked towards the door, aware of his men converging from all sides of the room. He slowed his pace to gather Buck up, slipping an arm around his waist, and they led the way out, the others following close behind.

Epilogue

Vin was in the kitchen setting the table in readiness for delivery of their Chinese food when JD and Ezra wandered into the room.

"Why are you setting seven places?" Ezra asked.

Vin looked at him, eyebrows furrowed into a small frown. "Because there are seven of us," he ventured, wondering if this was a trick question.

Ezra snorted. "You're not expecting Chris and Buck to join us are you?" he asked. "They've been locked in their suite since Friday night, I doubt they've even gotten out of bed."

JD started laying out cutlery. "They sure do fuck an awful lot," he said, clearly impressed.

"Make love, JD," Josiah corrected, coming into the room. "Chris and Buck make love."

JD paused for a moment. "Maybe. But they fuck a lot too."

Nathan walked into the kitchen with the Chinese food delivery. "Who fucks a lot?"

"Chris and Buck," JD said.

Nathan put the food containers on the table. "They make love, JD. That's what Chris and Buck do."

Vin grinned as JD sighed. "Okay, 'make love'. All I'm saying is that they do it a lot."

Ezra went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a sake bottle. He waved it around, received a nod from Josiah and Nathan, and proceeded to heat up two sake containers. JD went to the fridge and pulled out Cokes for himself and Vin, while Josiah brewed green tea. Ezra went to the refrigerator and grabbed a handful of beer bottles, handing them to Josiah who popped the caps and put them on the table.

The men had all just settled into their seats when Chris and Buck walked in. Their wet hair and freshly scrubbed faces attested to the fact that they had just had a shower. The happy, sated, expression on their faces told its own story.

Vin and JD grinned at each other and in unison mouthed, "fucking".

Buck reached out to tousle JD's hair on the way to his seat. The kid ducked but didn't escape. Chris and Buck took their seats and began to pile food onto their plates.

Ezra said, "So, what did everybody get up to on their day off?"

Chris and Buck exchanged a look and a smile.

"Not much," Chris said neutrally. "We took it pretty easy."

There was silence for a moment, then all the men burst into laughter.

"Alright," Chris growled. "We fucked each other's brains out all day."

"Told you," JD muttered.

Buck leaned over and placed a kiss on Chris' cheek. "Best day off I've had in weeks," he declared.

"Me and Vin and Ez spent the afternoon at the Harley showroom," JD said, eyes bright, practically bouncing in his chair."

"Not willingly," Ezra muttered.

Vin smiled and winked at JD. "Come on Ez," he teased. "You loved every minute of it." Ezra just rolled his eyes.

"How 'bout you, Josiah?" Buck asked.

"Nathan and I caught Citizen Kane at the Review cinema," Josiah replied.

"What's that?" JD asked.

"Son, it happens to be the greatest film ever made," Josiah said.

JD shook his head. "Nah. It can't be 'siah. 'Cause the best film ever made is …"

"The Great Escape," all the men chorused.

"And no we're not going to watch it later, so don't ask," Ezra added.

Chris cleared his throat. "Speaking of The Great Escape, I'm going to clear your schedules for week after next," he said.

Everybody looked at him confused, expectantly. Buck reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handful of envelopes, handing one to each of the men at the table. He leaned back, propped his arm over the back of Chris' chair and began to slowly stroke his thumb up and down his lover's neck. Chris pushed his plate aside and sat back, tucking himself close to Buck.

"Go on, open 'em," Buck laughed.

The men glanced at each other, then tore into the envelopes.

"We're closing the place down for a week," Chris said. "We're gonna get the hell out of here and take a vacation."

"All of us?" JD asked.

Buck smiled and dropped his arm over Chris' shoulder. "That's right, kid. All of us."

Vin leafed through the contents of his envelope, then looked over at Buck, amazed. "What's this?" he asked, although it was pretty obvious.

"Plane ticket, hotel, little cash to put in your pockets…"

"Five grand, Buck!" JD spluttered.

"We've booked a resort in St. Lucia. A little fishing, some snorkeling, lots of sunshine. We'd be glad of the company if you want to come along."

"Don't you two want a little private time to yourselves?" Nathan asked.

Chris smiled and turned his head to catch Buck's eye. "We're gonna take next week off too," he said. "Catch up on a little R and R."

Buck pulled Chris closer to him. "We've talked to the travel agent. If you don't want to come with us you can transfer the tickets and go where you want, or you can just cash them in if you prefer. Whatever you decide, it's on me."

The men exchanged incredulous looks, all except Chris who was obviously in on the plan.

"Buck, you can't pay for all of us," Josiah said. "We'll all contribute."

Buck shook his head. "Nope. The money came from Winston. The tips he gave me, some of the fees he paid to the agency. Chris and I decided we wanted to use the money for everybody."

Nathan frowned. "Your tip money, Buck? That belongs to you, not to the agency."

Buck shuffled in his seat. "I don't want his money, Nathan," he said quietly. "It just caused a lot of trouble. For me and Chris," he paused for a moment while Chris leaned up and brushed a kiss onto his lips. "And for all of us. I know I was a real pain in the ass, a downright irritable bastard. And I'm sorry. I just want to make things right."

JD stood up and walked around the table, bending to kiss Buck's cheek. "I've never been on a plane before," he said, awed. "Never been on a vacation, neither."

Buck snaked an arm around his hips and scooped him up, depositing him in a straddle across his lap. "So, that mean you're gonna come with us, squirt?"

"Yeah, Buck, Chris," he said, a waver of emotion in his voice. "That'd be real nice."

"Well, reckon I better come too then," Vin drawled. "You know all Chris and Buck will do is fuck from one end of the island to the other. Somebody has to keep JD from trying to worm his way in the middle."

"I believe it is a beautiful, unspoiled place," Josiah said. "Count me in."

"And I could use a little sunshine. Work on my tan," Nathan deadpanned.

"Ezra?" Buck asked.

"Do they have any gambling establishments?" he asked.

Chris smiled and nodded.

"Deal me in," Ezra said. As if there had been any doubt.

Buck hugged JD. "So, that makes it one big happy family."

And after all the turmoil of the last weeks, it was about time.

---

*Author Stan Lee is deceased