It was perhaps a bit early, Ezra thought. Barely the New Year; not yet Epiphany. Nevertheless, it seemed high time, or even a little past.
He had just brought out the last of the cardboard boxes designated for the Christmas decorations that currently festooned his townhouse. Ezra was paused to look about the room, remembering all the effort he had made, all the time he had spent, achieving the most aesthetic display.
"And aesthetics are everything," he muttered with a sigh. Unless, of course, there is no one to appreciate them. "Ah well. No point in dwelling upon the unalterable," he thought.
Ezra moved the empty box marked ornaments over toward the tree, but before he could even open the box, he was interrupted by a knock upon his front door.
"Buck?" Ezra was surprised to see his teammate standing on his porch; seemingly both sober and of his own volition. Buck sauntered in, as if he'd been invited, and Ezra took the opportunity to surreptitiously glance outside, but the man appeared to be alone.
"Damn," Buck breathed. He was standing in the middle of the living room, turning in a slow circle. Ezra watched as the man's eyes traveled from the large wreath on the front door, to the Birchwood reindeer beside it, to the garland of holly twining the staircase banister, up to the lights that hung from the picture molding encircling the room, down to the poinsettias lining the mantle, and finally to the tree that reached from floor to ceiling in the far corner.
"Ezra," Buck said. "This is...."
"Going to take me forever to clean up. Yes, I know."
"I was going to say," Buck corrected, " that it all looks amazing."
"Yes, well. Thank you. I was actually hoping to impress my mother."
"And did you?" Buck asked.
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply: her plans changed. She decided to remain in New York."
"You mean, you did all this for Maude and she couldn't even make a three-hour plane flight in order to share it with you?"
Ezra shrugged. "It's fine. She's a very busy woman. I understand perfectly."
"It's not fine, Ezra. It's not right, either," Buck said. He reached out, placing a hand on Ezra's shoulder and giving a small squeeze. "So you spent Christmas alone?"
Ezra shook his head. "On the contrary. I shared it with a lovely rack of lamb and a bottle of Cristal."
"Ez.... You could have spent Christmas with JD and me. You know that, right? It would have been great."
"Thank you." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this to be true, but at the time ... well, he hadn't wanted to intrude. Certainly not at the last minute, which, unfortunately, had been all the notice Maude had so thoughtfully given him. Ezra swallowed hard.
"So, Buck, uh ... may I ask? What brings you here this time of night?" It was just past seven.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Yeah, pretty much. No date ... JD's with Casey.... You know."
"Yes. Everyone else already had plans." He was Buck's last resort, just one rung up from a solitary evening of watching reruns on the television. Typical.
"I don't know what anyone else is up to," Buck replied. "I came here first."
Ezra just nodded, not sure if he believed the man. "Well, I'm afraid I don't have a very interesting evening planned: just packing away the Christmas decorations. Not my favorite activity, but a necessary one. You're welcome to stay, of course. But, I'll understand if you'd rather call upon one of your other friends."
Buck gave a quick glance about the room before saying, "Sure, I'll stay. It'll go faster with two. Might even be fun."
"Fun?" Ezra laughed, but it wasn't from disbelief so much as surprise.
"Sure. Won't be the same as putting them up, but ... my mom used to tell me, if you put your imagination to work, you can make a game out of just about anything."
Ezra smiled now, finding that he was indeed happy for both the company and the assistance. "Your mother does sound remarkable, Buck."
"She was something, all right," Buck agreed.
"I'm sorry that I shall never have the honor of making her acquaintance."
Buck nodded, as he turned away, seemingly to look over the decorations again.
"Well, then, Buck. Perhaps you would be good enough to show me one of those games you mother encouraged you to play."
"My pleasure," Buck replied. He took two long strides toward the Christmas tree, and then plucked off one of the antique, blown-glass ornaments.
"Catch," he said. Then he tossed the very delicate and very expensive ornament at Ezra.
"No!" Ezra shouted, but too late. Reflexively, he reached out and caught the perfectly aimed lob. He breathed a sigh of relief before saying, "And just how is this particular game supposed to be considered fun?"
"You wouldn't ask that if you'd just seen the look on your face." Buck was smiling wide, but Ezra was not amused.
"Mr. Wilmington. The ornaments that you are so desirous of tossing about the room, which are both hand-blown and hand-painted, are irreplaceable heirlooms."
"Sorry, Ezra," Buck said, and he did look truly chagrinned. Then he shrugged and turned around, scanning the room again. "Guess I'll just have to find something else to liven up the work."
Ezra almost cringed. Perhaps this wasn't such a wise idea after all, allowing Buck to stay and keep him company; maybe solitude was his best friend after all.
Buck was now standing in front of the mantle, apparently examining the stocking that hung there. While it appear old and delicate, it wasn't; it had been purchased expressly for this season's holiday decorating. Ezra just couldn't bear to have his mother whinge again about his old stocking, the one appliquéd with an angel in a now-yellowed, lace gown, which had been given to him by a very caring great aunt he'd once had the fortune of spending a holiday season with.
"Nice stocking, Ezra," Buck said. It was dark red satin with an off-white collar. Other than the few sparkles of gold thread, it was a rather plain looking stocking -- a beautiful accent on the mantle, but nothing particularly special or unique about it.
Buck turned the stocking upside down, emptying the contents onto the wingback chair that sat beside the fireplace, and then put the stocking on his head like a hat.
"Don't suppose this makes me look like Santa?" he asked.
Ezra rolled his eyes and then nudged the empty ornament box with his foot; if they were going to start disassembling Christmas, then they'd better stop goofing around. Buck grinned and then nodded, apparently understanding the hint. He did, however, leave the stocking on top of his head while he kneeled down next to the tree and began removing the ornaments. Ezra noted how carefully he wrapped each in the provided tissue paper before tucking it into its individual cell inside the cardboard box.
"Thank you, Buck," he said after a while. "I do appreciate your assistance with this."
"You're sure welcome, Ezra. But, I warn you, we're gonna have some fun just as soon as we tuck away all this breakable stuff." Buck grinned and the look gave Ezra a decidedly unsettled feeling.
Less than an hour later, while Ezra was kneeling beside one of the boxes, winding up strands of shiny gold beads, he was caught from behind by a wide satin ribbon that had been used as a garland on the tree. Buck gave a quick jerk and Ezra fell off his heels onto his butt. Buck was standing above him, laughing.
"Again, I ask, this is your idea of fun?"
Buck just smiled. Then he headed back to the tree. "Actually, Ez, I was just wondering what to do with all these lights." He pointed to the tangled mess on the floor in front of the tree.
Ezra sighed. If Buck had simply wound them onto the plastic racks as he'd removed them from the tree, they wouldn't now be staring at hour's worth of needless work. He came over to stand beside Buck, to glare down at the pile of wired lights on the floor. Buck put a hand around Ezra shoulder.
"Looks pretty bad, don't it."
"Yes, indeed," Ezra had to agree.
"What say we take a quick break and deal with it after?"
"Very well. May I offer you ... a brandy? Or, perhaps a hot buttered rum?"
"Those holiday traditions in your house?"
"I suppose they are," Ezra said. As close to traditions as the Standish family managed, what with their poor record of actually being together for the holidays and all.
"Then I'll have whatever you're having."
Ezra nodded. The brandy would be faster, but perhaps the hot buttered rum would be more ... fun?
Ezra led the way into the kitchen and Buck followed. He removed the cider he'd mulled on Christmas Eve from the refrigerator and filled a small saucepan. He added several pats of butter and then turned the burner on the range to medium. While the liquid was coming to a simmer, Ezra gathered the glasses and the rum from the cupboards.
Buck was leaning on the butcher board island in the center of the room, watching. "I never noticed what a fancy kitchen you have, Ezra."
"All the better to cook, Mr. Wilmington."
"I get the feeling you don't eat as many frozen dinners as JD and I do."
Ezra nearly shrugged. "I don't use the kitchen as often as I would like. The company I keep tends to prefer outdoor barbeques with ribs and corn-on-the-cob to more formal meals requiring silverware and china."
"You sure about that, Ezra? I don't recall ever being given the option."
Ezra stared at Buck for a moment, wondering if he was serious. Then an image of his six teammates popped into his head -- the very men who had, not two months prior, destroyed a section of fence and a barn door during the last cook-out at Chris Larabee's ranch. Ezra could only imagine what destruction they might do to his home, to his china!
"And I don't believe you ever will. I believe the tendency toward testosterone overload is simply too high when the seven of us are together."
"Well then, maybe you oughta consider limiting the number of guests at your next soiree."
"My next soiree? Are you suggesting that you'd be interested in such an event?"
"Maybe. If I was invited. If there weren't too many other people there. I'm best in more intimate settings."
Ezra raised a single eyebrow. He'd seen Buck make an intimate setting out of a crowded room, and it was quite the thing to observe. As wild as he sometimes behaved, Buck could also be calm and tender.
The man, however, was always intense. Not in the same way that Chris Larabee was intense, no; their team leader saw everything as a challenge to win, as an obstacle to overcome, as an opponent to defeat. For Chris, it was the outcome that mattered the most. For Buck, on the other hand, it was all about the journey, the chase, the battle; the man lived for the action, not the result.
Oddly, Ezra had never thought of Chris and Buck in these terms before. It reminded him of his mother and himself. Maude was ever at him to tie up loose ends, to finish up and move on, to look to the future and the next big thing. To be honest, however, Ezra was most content living right in the moment.
He poured the warmed, mulled cider into the glasses containing the rum and then added a dollop of whipped cream to the top of each. He added a dash of nutmeg before handing Buck his glass.
Buck took a sip and Ezra watched to see if he would like it. After a moment, Buck smiled and nodded, then took another sip.
Ezra leaned forward against the side of the island opposite Buck. Their postures brought them to eyelevel with each other, and only a few feet apart. Buck had just the slightest hint of cream on the edge of his mustache. For some odd reason, Ezra didn't find this repulsive, simply unsightly. He grabbed the tea towel from the counter and handed it to Buck.
"You have a bit of cream ... just here." Ezra indicated the location to Buck by brushing a fingertip across his own upper lip.
Buck smiled, and then wiped the cream away. "Thanks. Don't suppose that made me look like Santa either."
"No. I'm afraid not. Actually...." Ezra straightened, and then came around the island to take a good long look at Buck, from head to toe and back again. "Actually, I don't think there's any hope for you at all. And all that red ... it wouldn't impress the ladies."
"Who said I was out to impress the ladies?" Buck asked. He finished off his rum with one last gulp, and then handed the empty glass to Ezra. Ezra took it and moved back to the stove where he refilled it warm cider and rum.
"Whipped cream?" he asked.
"Naw. It's apparently not flattering on me."
"Now, I didn't say that. Simply that it didn't lend itself to the traditional 'jolly fat man' image. Perhaps if you were to consume the entire bowl of whipped cream ... well, then you might see some progress around your mid-section."
"I think I'll pass."
"That's probably wise. Besides, what good is a pick-up gimmick if you can only use it once a year?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
"Would I?" Ezra said. He started in on his second glass of hot buttered rum, trying to keep pace with Buck.
Buck smiled, but Ezra was suddenly unsure why. "Ezra? Wanna get back to those lights? I think it's about time we started having some fun with those decorations of yours."
"Very well," Ezra replied. He'd blissfully shoved the thought of the tangled lights into the back of his mind and wasn't relishing the idea of returning to them. "But, are you certain you can make it fun? And I mean, fun without actually breaking anything?"
"Trust me," Buck said. He grinned again, in the same way he had earlier, in the same way that gave Ezra an uneasy feeling deep in his gut.
He was now wondering if he was going to live to regret this night.
They both sat down on the floor next to the tree. Buck started pawing over the lights until he found an end.
"Okay, Ezra, hold this."
Ezra took the end with the plug in his one hand. Buck reached out and grabbed his other hand, lifting it up so that both of Ezra's hands were out in front of him. Buck lifted the mass of lights and began slowly untangling them as he wound them around and around Ezra's wrists, rather the opposite motion of balling a skein of yarn.
The process was going a good deal more smoothly than Ezra had imagined, and while that wasn't exactly fun, it certainly wasn't a bad thing. Still, he found himself asking, "And the fun, Mr. Wilmington? I distinctly remember you promising a bit of fun."
"Oh, we're getting to the fun part, Ez. Real soon now. I asked you to trust me, remember?"
"I remember."
"And do you? Do you trust me, Ezra?"
"Normally, I would say yes. I would trust you with my life, because, normally, such trust would involve watching my back in a firefight, as I would watch yours. However, there is little risk of gunplay here in my living room, amongst the Christmas decorations. So, I believe the real question is, Mr. Wilmington, with what are you asking me to trust you?"
"There!" Buck suddenly declared.
Ezra blinked. While he'd been talking, Buck had finished untangling one of the strings of lights. That string was now wound around Ezra's two wrists into a neat skein. Buck had taken the plug end that Ezra had been holding and had connected it to the plug on the opposite end of the string. But, he'd also wound that opposite end around the center of the skein of lights, in essence, securing the ring of lights quite firmly around Ezra's wrists.
"Buck?"
"Oh, wait just a second...." Buck reached forward and grabbed the plug from another string of lights. He brought it over and piggy backed it to the plug on the lights binding Ezra's wrists. The strand lit up and the myriad of festive colors dazzled Ezra's eyes.
"Amazing as this may sound, Buck, I find myself asking once more: how is this supposed to be fun?"
Buck smiled. Then he turned and reached, stretched, to grab something from the chair beside the fireplace.
"Do you want a kiss," Buck said.
Ezra raised both his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" He thought Buck a handsome man, of course; it was quite obvious. In addition to being personable. However, Buck loved the ladies. It wasn't possible that Buck was sitting here in his living room, making a pass at him. Was it?
Buck held out his hand. In his palm was a single silver-wrapped Hershey's chocolate kiss.
Ezra smiled and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He nodded and Buck unwrapped the candy for him. Ezra opened his mouth as Buck held up the piece of chocolate between his two fingers. When the chocolate met his tongue, Ezra closed his lips, but Buck's fingertips remained inside his mouth for a moment.
Buck pulled his fingers away, and then touched them to his own lips, as if to lick off a bit of melted chocolate. Ezra suddenly bit down, crushing the Hershey kiss, the chocolate flavor flooding his mouth. It wasn't the finest chocolate in the world, but there was something special about it. Another holiday tradition; Hershey kisses in his stocking -- even if he was the one who had to buy them.
"I was also wondering," Buck said after a few moments. "Can I have this?" Buck held up a peppermint stick.
Ezra had found a confectioners shop in downtown Denver that hand-made these very peppermint sticks, and only at this time of the year. It looked nothing like the traditional candy one might buy at the supermarket -- it was neither thin, nor bent in the shape of a cane. Instead, it looked more old-fashioned, like something reminiscent of the turn of the century, and that's precisely what had appealed to Ezra. He'd bought the confection simply to accent the decor.
"You have a fondness for peppermint candy?"
Buck nodded. "Nothing quite like it. And it's not just the flavor; I mean, something like peppermint gum really doesn't do anything for me."
"Well, then, by all means. Nibble until your heart's content," Ezra graciously offered. Besides, they were packing up the decorations and it wasn't as if the peppermint stick would keep until next year.
Ezra now had his hands in his lap. He hadn't forgotten they were bound, but he figured he wouldn't get anywhere with Buck by being impatient. Whatever little game they were playing, it was Buck's game and it would remain so until he was good and ready to explain the concept; Ezra didn't know Buck as well as he might -- as well as, say, JD did -- but he knew that much about him. The man could keep a secret and he could keep information close to his vest, until the right moment to reveal it came along.
Buck had eagerly unwrapped the stick of peppermint and was now sucking on the end. It was a large stick -- in length as well as circumference -- the largest one in the shop. Ezra had bought it with the express purpose of placing it inside the stocking, while still having several inches of the end remain above the cuff. Aesthetics. It really had been everything this year.
After a few minutes, Buck held the peppermint stick out to Ezra. Ezra declined the offer with a shake of his head.
"Go on, Ez. Have some." Buck smiled encouragingly.
"Very well," Ezra gave in. He stuck out his tongue and took a lick. It tasted quite good, actually -- as well it should, for what it cost. He was suddenly glad that Buck liked peppermint candy; at least the confection wouldn't go to waste after all.
As he took a second lick, Buck gently pushed the peppermint stick forward, against Ezra's lips and then into his mouth. Ezra jerked his head back at the unexpected intrusion, but Buck did not pull the stick away. After a moment, Ezra closed his lips around the candy and took a long, slow suck. It wasn't just good, he decided. It was very good. Ezra couldn't remember ever enjoying a peppermint stick more, not even when he was a child.
Buck was now rotating the candy stick inside Ezra's mouth, turning it to reveal a new section to his tongue. Then he started to pull the stick away and Ezra was going to release it when Buck began to push it back into his mouth. Ezra hadn't been looking at Buck, not until this moment, but now their eyes locked.
Buck was pushing the candy in and pulling it out of Ezra's mouth. Ezra was sucking hard on the stick, not able to remember anything ever tasting as fantastic. The sugar rush was making him heady or perhaps it had been the two glasses of hot buttered rum; he wasn't sure.
Ezra's eyes wandered down Buck's face, down his nose, over his bushy mustache, to his moist lips. There was a fleck of red dye from the peppermint stick just to the left of center on his lower lip and, as soon as Ezra noticed it, the tip of Buck's tongue flicked out to lick the spot clean. Ezra nearly bit down on the candy still in his mouth.
"You like this?" Buck asked.
Ezra nodded.
"You want more?"
Ezra nodded again.
Buck pushed the candy stick a little deeper into his mouth. Reflexively, Ezra closed his eyes as he made a conscious effort to relax. He felt the rounded end of the stick just barely touch the back of his throat before being drawn slowly away. He swallowed the peppermint flavor building in his mouth, and then tried to draw in the aroma filling his nostrils by breathing in a deep lungful of air.
"Ezra?" Buck's voice gently touched his ears, causing Ezra to open his eyes. "I've got another string of lights to untangle."
Ezra blinked, not knowing what Buck was asking.
"The lights, Ezra. Can I?"
Ezra nodded. He licked his lips, missing the peppermint stick and not knowing where Buck had put it. Then he felt Buck tugging at his shoes.
"Mr. Wil-- uh, Buck?"
"Yeah, Ez?"
"What are you...?"
"Thought you'd be more comfortable without them."
"Oh. Well. That's very ... considerate...." Ezra replied. He licked his bottom lip, still tasting the lingering peppermint, while Buck made quick work of his shoes.
"Yellow socks, Ezra?"
"I like yellow. I am a 'summer', after all."
Buck just nodded and smiled. Ezra could have taken it as mocking, but he had the distinct feeling that it was nothing more than amusement. A moment later, Buck bent his head, and Ezra followed his gaze.
The man's hands were now on Ezra's ankles, summarily wrapping the string of lights around them. The line wasn't nearly as tangled as it had appeared when it had been lying on the floor.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ezra was beginning to think that perhaps he shouldn't be allowing this ... this game of Buck's own devising to continue. Not until the man had the decency to explain at least the intent, if not the rules themselves. However, the remainder of his mind seemed content to simply watch Buck's deft hands as they continued to wrap the string of lights around and around.
A few minutes later, Buck raised his eyes, catching and holding Ezra's. Ezra forgot to breathe. Then Buck was leaning forward, pushing against Ezra's legs, causing him to bring his knees up close to his chest. Ezra swallowed hard. He didn't know what Buck was doing -- oh, he suspected, but he didn't know -- and he was afraid both that he would find out for certain and that he wouldn't.
Buck's nose was so close to his then. Ezra could almost feel the hairs of the man's mustache tickling his face. Still, their eyes held.
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! the back of Ezra's mind was suddenly screaming, but he found he could make neither sound nor movement to appease the demand; whether it rational or not never occurred to him.
Suddenly, the light from the strand wound around his wrists went dark and Buck's eyes turned a smoky gray. Then the light between them flared again. Buck was too close for Ezra to see anything but his eyes, but he knew Buck was smiling, just from the small crinkles in the corners.
Buck pulled back slightly as he ran his hands over Ezra's wrists and ankles -- both were now securely bound with the illuminated strands of Christmas lights. A section of wired lights ran between, tethering Ezra's ankles to his wrists, preventing him from straightening his legs. Buck seemed pleased with his handiwork.
Buck leaned forward again, this time pressing his lips full against Ezra's. Ezra gasped, not truly believing it would actually happen. Buck took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, to tease and taste Ezra's own tongue.
Ezra closed his eyes. He could feel the urgent pressure of Buck's tongue caressing his own; he could feel the hair of the man's mustache pressed against his upper lip and idly noted how much softer it felt than he would ever have guessed.
As they continued to kiss, he felt Buck's hands slip under his arms, into his lap. The man seemed to be undoing Ezra's belt, but to what end, Ezra couldn't imagine. In this position, bound as Buck had him, there was little to be done, little which could be reached. Buck was then tugging at the waistband of his pants -- undoing the button, easing down the zipper....
Then Buck pulled back and Ezra let out another unconscious gasp. A moment later, Buck was holding up the peppermint stick. He licked the end before dragged it slowly across Ezra's lips.
"You know," Buck began. "I've always thought you had a sweet ass."
"You, uh ... y-ou have?"
Buck nodded. "I know how to make it sweeter."
"You ... d-do?"
Buck pushed the peppermint stick into Ezra's mouth and twisted it slightly as Ezra began to lick. He then began thrusting it slowly in and out, over Ezra's tongue and lips. Ezra found himself suddenly trembling as Buck smiled at him. There was a gleam in his eyes that couldn't be attributed to lights binding Ezra, and this made Ezra nervous.
Nevertheless, Ezra's eyes rolled back. A moment later, the peppermint stick was gone, replaced by Buck's lips and tongue. Then he felt Buck's hands on his shoulders, easing him down onto his side, onto the floor.
Then Buck was gone. Ezra opened his eyes, but all he saw in front of him was the mostly naked Christmas tree. He lifted his head when he felt hands on his hips. He saw Buck behind him; he felt the man's hands tugging the pants off his hips, down his legs, until the material was bunched up behind his bent knees. Ezra couldn't help thinking that a bit more planning on Buck's part would have had Ezra divested of burdensome clothing prior to the binding; but perhaps Buck hadn't thought that far ahead, perhaps Buck was taking this moment by moment, exactly as Ezra himself was experiencing it.
"Buck," Ezra finally said, finding his voice at last. "Is this the, uh, fun you had in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, Ezra, it is."
"And, what is it that you call this game we're playing?"
"Christmas Goose," Buck replied after a moment. "Because I've trussed you up like one" -- Buck then leaned forward slightly, holding the peppermint stick out for Ezra to see -- "and you're about to get stuffed."
Ezra shivered, but before he could do anything else, Buck was rubbing the peppermint stick over his lips again. Ezra's pushed his tongue out to lick at it, to wet it. He couldn't even think to believe that he was actually allowing this, let alone wanting it.
Buck pulled the sweetness away and Ezra lifted his head enough to see Buck place the candy inside his own mouth. Then Buck moved out of his line of sight. A moment later, Ezra felt something slick between his ass cheeks. He could only imagine that it was the peppermint stick being rubbed up and down his crack.
Ezra closed his eyes, placed his head on the floor, and forced himself to relax. Then he felt the firm, rounded end of the candy cane being pressed against his hole. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and tasted peppermint as the stick breached the ring of muscle. He felt the candy being pushed into him -- deeper and deeper, until it struck something inside of him that caused a flood of pleasure to wash through him. He tensed for a moment, but then relaxed as he felt the candy cane moving past the ring of muscle, rubbing against his prostate, thrusting into his body.
Ezra licked his lips again, desperate for more taste of peppermint. His eyes were closed, though he wouldn't have been able to focus had they been open; his mouth gaped as he panted in time with the incursions; his limbs spasmed and tugged against the strong, restraining strands of glowing Christmas lights.
Then he felt Buck changing positions as he removed the peppermint stick. The man lay down behind him, spooning behind his body. Ezra then felt himself being entered again, but it wasn't quite the same as before, it was ... more sensual, more pleasurable -- though he hardly believed that possible. He thought, perhaps, it was the different angle, but then, as Buck began thrusting, he realized. He felt the man's thighs contact his own, felt his hips pressing against his cheeks. It was Buck's shaft inside of him now, not the sugary peppermint stick.
Buck's hand came up around his waist, slipping into his lap, though there was little room with Ezra's knees pulled up toward his chest. Still, Buck managed to wiggle his fingers between, to slip them around Ezra's hard shaft. He didn't think he needed the added contact in order to come, but he was grateful for it all the same. Buck's hands were softer than he thought they would be, not in the least bit calloused. He didn't stroke Ezra's erection, instead merely squeezing gently while running his thumb enticingly over the head.
Ezra leaned his head back. Buck began nuzzling his neck, pressing kisses against the exposed skin, tickling him with his mustache. Ezra laughed suddenly, then tensed. He sucked in a breath of air as his nerves started to buzz. Buck was licking his ear now, teasing the lobe; his fingers were stroking over his glans; and his shaft was pushing deeply into him, rubbing again and again over that sweet spot inside.
Ezra's entire body quaked and spasmed as he came; he clamped down tightly on Buck's shaft, but the man only pumped into him harder and faster, each thrust re-igniting a small flicker of his orgasm. Then Buck was holding him, hugging him so close, with his hips pressed tightly against Ezra's ass, his shaft buried still and deep.
Then he felt Buck relax and Ezra allowed himself to do the same.
After a long stretch of silence, of just lying sated and content in Buck's arms, he heard the man's voice softly in his ear.
"So, did you have fun, Ezra?"
Ezra nodded; he'd never enjoyed anything more, in his entire life. "To the extent that I believe this ought to become a new Standish family tradition. That is, if you'd like to be a tradition."
"A tradition? Hmm," Buck muttered against Ezra's shoulder. "I think I'd rather become a habit."
Ezra smiled. As dismal as his Christmas had been, it was all but forgotten now. "Then, Buck, I believe it shall be my New Year's Resolution to accommodate you."
~ The End ~
On The Tenth Day Of Christmas...
January 2, 2003
Comments would be most welcome if sent to: C.V. Puerro
Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.
Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way
signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc.
The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it.
The story itself belongs to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.
My thanks to Charlotte for kindly beta-reading this piece. I appreciate her time and generosity!
Quoted lyrics are from "My{Dsmbr" written by Linkin Park.
Background graphics courtesy of Snogirl and Absolute Background Textures Archive.
