Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me. I only like to take them out once in a while and make them do things.
Comments: Well, you all know by now how much I like to have feedback, so need I even say it? I hope I was able to write a halfway believable C/E story. They're not the easiest couple in the world to write. <g> And is it just me, or do I seem to be getting smuttier with each ensuing story? That's gotta be somebody's fault. Cause it certainly couldn't be my doing. Uh Uh. No way. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy.
Pain led to anger. Anger led to action. Action when he was angry usually led to regret. Right now, Chris Larabee was still working on the first of these steps. Translating this gut wrenching pain he felt into anger. The pain would go away then. For a while. The bottle of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him wasn't helping him along anywhere near fast enough to suit him, though. Grimly, he kept drinking. Sooner or later he'd get there.The gunslinger sat by himself in the saloon. A dark, brooding figure, surounded by an almost palpable aura of danger. Even his friends were giving him a wide berth tonight. Giving him time to cool his head down before they "bearded the devil in his den". He'd overheard Josiah saying that to the others. And that suited Chris Larabee just fine. He didn't like sharing his pain. Opening his soul. Not to just anyone. He'd pushed Buck away, after the death of his family, for that very reason. And Buck had been his best friend. No. The only people he'd ever revealed himself like that to had been Sarah. And then Vin. But Sarah was dead. And the tracker wasgone. So now Chris was alone with his pain. Like he'd been for so long. Like he'd recently begun hoping he'd never have to be again.
The night wore on and still Chris sat there. Thinking. About what a damn fool he'd been. About how love and friendship could turn so easily to hate and betrayal. All it had taken was three simple words to change everything. How could he have been so wrong? Made such a colossal error in judgment? He'd thought the tracker had felt the same way. Felt the soul deep connection that seemed to bind them tighter with each glance. Each touch. Each day. That Vin was also just waiting til they'd wrapped up the loose ends of their old lives before starting anything new.
I love you. That's what Chris had said. He hadn't meant to say it. Not yet. But they had been sprawled out in front of their campfire, just the two of them. They'd been fishing earlier so the gunslinger's belly was comfortably full and the fire had taken the chill out of the early autumn air. He'd been as relaxed as he ever got these days. Staring at the play of shadows on the tracker's face. At the glints of gold and red in his hair. Imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through it. Feeling as if he'd finally found home again. Then Vin had asked him what he was thinking about to make him smile like that. And, without thinking, his guard down, Chris had told his companion the truth.
Vin had stared at him in horror for an endless minute, before jumping to his feet and grabbing the reins of his nearby horse. He'd practically flown into the saddle in his hurry to mount. And except for that first horrified stare, he hadn't looked at Chris once. Nor did he do so now.
"Ya shouldn't have said that, Chris. Ya just shouldn't have." Those had been Vin's last, his only, words before wheeling his horse around and riding off as if he had a bloodthirsty lynch mob hot on his tail.
Chris had remained sitting there, frozen in utter shock, for several minutes after Vin had ridden out. Never in a million years had he envisioned the tracker reacting as he had. The gunslinger had been so certain Vin returned his feelings, that he had never considered any other possibility. Pain and humiliation began to well up inside him. Tearing him apart. Choking him. Burning their way through every part of his body. Leaching their way into his soul.
He didn't know where Vin had gone. Wasn't sure when, or if, he was ever coming back. So Chris had done the only thing he could think of. Headed towards town. Towards the saloon. And woe to any man, woman or child who tried to get in his way.
Chris was barely aware of the activity that had swirled around him in the saloon all evening. Didn't notice as, one by one, his friends left the saloon until only Ezra remained. Wasn't conscious of the gambler's green gaze on him. Shaded with a hint of sympathy. Of understanding. Of pain.
All the gunslinger knew was that the anger wasn't coming. Just the pain. He didn't know why. It had never failed to arrive before. It had been there when Sarah and Adam died. It had been there when his father disowned him. When his brother had been killed in the war. Why wasn't it coming now? He needed it. The pain was too much. It was eating into him like acid. If it kept on, there would be nothing left of him. Nothing left of Chris Larabee. Just a hollowed out shell of a man who was of no use to anyone. Scowling, he took another drink of whiskey.
With each hour that passed, Chris became more and more certain that Vin was never coming back. It was what the tracker would do. Travel light and never look back. Hell, that's what Chris would have done up until he'd let himself get tangled up in the needs of this godforsaken town. And the needs of the other men. And his own damn needs, most of all. His need for friends. His need for a long haired, blue eyed, ex bounty hunter. Damn it anyway. How the hell could this have happened? Damn that cowardly bastard for leaving Chris to explain everything to the other men. To explain why they no longer had a sharpshooter watching their backs. Why Vin's sure, steady presence would no longer be guiding their path. Would no longer be guiding him.
There. He'd felt it. The first flicker of anger. Yes. His breathing eased a bit. Everything would be so much easier now. He just had to nourish it along a bit. Remind himself of Vin's betrayal. For that's what it was. Those soulful blue eyes looking into his. The funny little lopsided grin that he reserved especially for Chris. The honey sweet tone his voice took on when it was just the two of them. Where did he get off looking so horrified? So shocked? What the hell was Chris supposed to have thought? He didn't know what the tracker's game had been. But whatever it was, Chris wasn't going to play it. He'd find a new game. With a different partner. And he'd forget all about Vin. Grind his memory into dust.
The gunslinger's hand tightened around his glass. He wished the tracker were here. So he could kill him. Or fuck him. Or both. Neither. Hell, he didn't know. He just knew he needed something. Some way to channel the anger he was beginning to feel. It was dangerous if it wasn't used. Focused. He was dangerous. Where were all the goddamned bad guys when you needed them?
A shadow fell across the table and Chris glanced up, hoping it was trouble looking for a place to happen. Instead, he encountered a pair of emerald eyes, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.
"Go away, Ezra." He growled.
"I am afraid that is impossible. Much as we both might wish otherwise, I have been elected to play nursemaid this evening." The red coated gambler sighed dramatically.
"I said go away. If you know what's good for you. I aint in the mood tonight, Ezra. And I don't need a nursemaid." Chris' voice had dropped til it was little more than a deadly whisper. A definite danger sign.
"I beg to differ, Mr. Larabee." Ezra sat down at the table and abruptly changed the subject. "Where's Mr. Tanner? He is usually to be found lurking in your vicinity."
At those words, Chris felt his rage erupt. He'd tried to warn the gambler. Now, if Ezra didn't know enough to get out of the way, that was fine by the gunslinger. He didn't much care who he hurt at the moment. He leapt to his feet and grabbed the other man by the front of his jacket. He slammed him back against the bar, relishing his stifled cry of pain. He pressed close to the gambler, still holding him by his jacket.
"Don't ever fucking "differ" with me, Ezra. And I aint Vin's goddamned keeper. You want to know where he is, I suggest you ask him yourself. Got it?" Chris snarled the words, punctuating each one with a shake which banged the other man against the edge of the bar each time.
"Crystal clear, oh fearless leader." Ezra managed to gasp out. His green eyes were full of anger, shame anddesire?
Abruptly, Chris became aware of the heat of the gambler's body. The scent of his cologne. The intimacy of their positions. He felt a stir of desire in response. But what if he was wrong? What if he was misreading the look in Ezra's eyes? Like he'd so obviously misread Vin. There was only one way to find out. And if he was wrong, well, he could always shoot the gambler. That way no one would ever know. This bit of grim humor brought a small smile to his lips. He leaned over and whispered in the gambler's ear, ignoring the curious looks from the few remaining patrons in the saloon.
"I see something else that's crystal clear. You want to continue this conversation upstairs?" He licked the tip of the other man's ear as he waited for an answer. And felt the gambler's body quiver against him in response.
"Up the stairs and come into my parlour" Ezra had regained a bit of his composure when Chris released him and now he stood at the foot of the stairs, gesturing grandly upwards as he murmured his invitation.
"Said the spider to the fly." Chris said softly in reply. Wondering for a brief moment just who had been caught in whose web. Then he decided he had better things to think about. Like how he was going to erase every thought of the tracker from his mind. How he was going to lose himself in the arms of another. And how he was damn well going to enjoy it. He could feel the weight of the southerner's gaze as he ascended the stairs. He found it to be an oddly erotic sensation. Knowing what the other man was thinking about. What he wanted. With a woman, you were never really certain. They always retained that element of mystery. It was part of their charm. But tonight he wanted no uncertainties. No illusions. Just release, pure and simple. He didn't know what Ezra wanted. Couldn't bring himself to care right now. It was enough that they both wanted each other. For tonight.
Chris stood back and let Ezra unlock his door. Then he followed the gambler in, kicking the door shut behind him with one booted foot. He quickly locked it, then turned to watch as the other man began pulling off his coat and removing his various guns. As soon as that task was accomplished, Chris reached out and pulled the gambler into his arms. He pressed his lips down on the gambler's ruthlessly, demanding a response. With a sound that was half sigh, half moan, Ezra opened his mouth and wrapped his arms around the gunslinger.
Chris darted his tongue into the other man's mouth. He plundered it mercilessly. Sucking at his companion's tongue, licking at the roof of his mouth. Nibbling on the soft lips. He ran his hands down the gambler's back, until he reached the firm rear. He cupped his hands around the cheeks and squeezed gently.
Ezra leaned into him, making little moaning sounds in the back of his throat. Chris felt a surge of triumph. He could feel the other man's erection pressing against his thigh. Evidence of his arousal. The gunslinger's own pants were starting to feel uncomfortably tight. Chris was surprised by how much he was enjoying the feel of the other man. The sound of him. What had started out as merely a way to satisfy a physical need for release and an emotional need to somehow punish the tracker, was quickly turning into something else entirely. Pleasure for its own sake.
He slid the gambler's vest off, kissing along the smooth jaw and grazing a small, well shaped ear with his teeth. Too impatient to undo the many buttons of the gambler's finely textured shirt, he gave a quick, sharp tug. Pushing the ruins of the shirt off his companion's body, Chris stilled Ezra's automatic protest by biting down hard on the tender flesh of the gambler's neck. With a moan, the gambler subsided, digging his fingers into the gunslinger's back.
Chris was surprised at the warmth of the other man. The gambler's lips were hot under his and the hands clutching him so tightly felt almost feverish.in their heat. He'd always thought of Ezra as cool. Remote. That certainly didn't describe the man writhing desperately in his arms. He unwound himself from the gambler's embrace long enough to pull off his own shirt and remove his gunbelt. Then he looked down at Ezra, who was standing there watching him with an expression Chris couldn't quite fathom.
"Take them off for me." Chris ordered the silent gambler. He indicated Ezra's remaining clothing. "I want to see what I'm getting." He felt a moment's shame as he saw pain flare briefly in the other man's face before he narrowed his eyes and began slowly complying.
First, Ezra turned around and bent over to remove his boots, making sure the gunslinger got an eyeful of his nicely rounded posterior. He straightened back up languorously, letting Chris see the play of muscles in his back. Then he turned around again to face the gunslinger, hands lingering near the waistband of his pants.
The gambler lifted one hand and lightly ran it up and down his chest while the other began gently unfastening his pants. Ezra wiggled his hips slightly, sending the pants slithering to the floor. He then stepped gracefully out of them and turned in a slow circle.
"Do I meet with your approval, Mr. LarabeeChris?" The gambler's husky drawl was an intoxicating sound.
"Damn you, Ezra." Chris growled before taking two quick steps and sweeping the gambler off his feet and back onto the bed behind him. Ezra lay there looking almost bemused for a moment. Then those emerald eyes began to darken as Chris quickly stripped off his own clothing, freeing his insistent erction from its confines. The little show Ezra had just put on had him so hard it was bordering on the painful.
"I fear I already am." The gambler's soft reply was lost as Chris began laying siege to his body. Kissing, stroking, nibbling. The other man's skin felt smooth and warm beneath the gunslinger's hands. He found he couldn't get enough of the feel. Of the taste. The smell. Brandy and soap and a hint of muskiness. They all combined to make something uniquely Ezra. Something the gunslinger found he was enjoying far more than he'd expected to. Far more than he wanted to, even.
The gunslinger rolled them over so that the smaller man was on top of him, raking his fingers down the gambler's back as he did so. Every moan, every gasp, the other man made served to drive him into a further frenzy. He wrapped his fingers in his companion's hair, pulling him down for a fierce kiss. He sucked on the exposed neck, traced the ridge of collarbone with his tongue. Then he abruptly flipped back over so that he was once again on the top, covering the gambler with his body. He lightly tweaked a nipple with his fingers and Ezra twitched involuntarily, moaning slightly. Chris did it again, a little harder this time. He then flicked it experimentally with his tongue. The gambler arched his body off the bed. So Chris did it again. And again. Until his companion was writhing mindlessly on the bed, gasping incoherently.
Deciding it was time to turn his attention elsewhere, Chris began working his way down the ridged muscles of the gambler's abdomen. When he reached his companion's groin, he hesitated. The gunslinger had only been with a man once before this. When he was little more than a kid. And until Vin, he'd never thought about another man that way again. And now here he was, about to take another man into his mouth. Was hot to do it, as a matter of fact. To a man who was not Vin. Chris braced himself for the flash of anger or pain that was sure to follow the thought of the tracker. But unexpectedly, all he felt was a desire to continue doing what he was doing. With the person he was doing it to.
"Chris. Don't stop. Please." There was a barely discernible note of vulnerability in the gambler's voice. Chris felt a rush of tenderness when he heard it. A feeling of protectiveness that he'd never before felt towards the gambler. He didn't know what kind of pain Ezra was trying to forget in his arms but he was going to try his damndest to make sure that, for tonight at least, there was nothing but the two of them. In each other's arms.
Chris lowered his his head and began licking along the underside of his companion's quivering erection. When he came to the tip, he wrapped his lips around the hard length, sucking gently, while Ezra arched and bucked beneath him. Chris felt a surge of satisfaction as Ezra called out his name. The bitter, salty taste of the gambler's seed filled his mouth. It wasn't unpleasant. Just different.
Chris' own erection was still throbbing with a need for release when Ezra crawled over him to reach into the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. He withdrew a small bottle and held it out to the gunslinger.
He reached out a hand to accept the bottle. Ezra peered searchingly at him for a moment before releasing it.
"I know I'm going to hate myself for asking this. But I'm afraid I need to know." The gambler hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Who will you be seeing when youwhen we?" The usually glib, never at a loss for words gambler was nowhere in evidence. Chris found that he rather missed that Ezra.
"For tonight, there's just you." Chris answered softly. He hoped it was enough to satisfy his companion.
"Then shall we proceed?" Ezra asked with a twist of his lips. Apparently, Chris' answer had been enough to fulfill whatever need the gambler had.
Ezra took the bottle back out of the gunslinger's hands and poured a small amount of the liquid onto his hand. Chris gasped as he felt warm hands encircle his erection, smoothing the oil over the throbbing flesh. He quickly poured some of the stuff onto his own hands and rubbed some of it onto his fingers. He began gently rubbing his fingers along the entrance to the gambler's body, easing a finger inside. The gambler tensed for a brief moment, then he relaxed, pushing back against the gunslinger's hand. Chris thrust another finger inside, more hurriedly this time. Then another. The feel of Ezra's hands on his aching cock was about to drive him over the edge. He prayed the gambler was almost ready, because he didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
"Now. God, now." Ezra tone was half command, half desperate plea. Whatever the case, Chris was only too happy to oblige. He grasped the gambler gently by the shoulders and began easing himself slowly inside the other man. Chris bent his head and kissed the back of his companion's neck. The sensation of that hot, tight flesh encircling him was nothing like he remembered form his previous experience. Nothing like he'd ever felt before. He was burning up. Being consumed. And it felt so damn good. Ezra pushed back against him, urging Chris deeper, and the gunslinger tightened his grip on the other man's shoulders. He began thrusting himself in and out faster and faster. He could feel himself getting close. He reached around and began stroking the gambler's renewed erection in time with his own thrusts. Release, when it came, was hard and furious in its intensity. As if all the pain and anger he'd been feeling earlier had been drained out of his body along with it. Chris knew those feelings would be back. But for now, all he felt was blessed relief.
They lay there for a minute, both of them panting. Sated. Then Chris silently got up and found a cloth, which he wet in the basin of water on the bureau, before going back and tenderly wiping all traces of their lovemaking from the gambler's body first, then from his own. Ezra didn't say a word. Just watched him with those green, green eyes. And then he looked at the empty spot next to him in quiet invitation.
The gunslinger curled back up on the bed and pulled the gambler close.
"Goodnight, Ezra." He whispered, brushing a kiss across the other man's cheek.
"Goodnight, Chris." Ezra spoke sleepily. Contentedly.
Chris lay there until he was sure the gambler was asleep. He ran his fingers regretfully over the bruises on Ezra's back. The ones Chris had put there, slamming him against the bar earlier.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to his sleeping companion. He knew he was apologizing for more than the bruises. He was apologizing for taking this night, knowing it would change nothing. For knowing he would look at the gambler tomorrow as if tonight had never happened. For betraying himself and the tracker and Ezra. Apologizing for not feeling more regret about that. Apologizing for pretty much everything it seemed. Ezra deserved better. Chris still didn't know what kind of pain drove the gambler. But he hoped this one night at least, Ezra had found peace from it. Just as he had. But now it was time to go. Time to find his own peace, if that was even possible. He thought that perhaps it might be. One day. He had the gambler to thank for that.
Chris quietly crept out of bed and got dressed. He leaned over and gently brushed his lips over the sleeping man's mouth. Ezra smiled slightly and rolled over in his sleep. Chris took one last look back and then he walked out the door and straight into the arms of Vin Tanner. The echo of the closing door was nowhere near as loud as the sound of three hearts breaking.
THE END