Simply Magnificent

ONE

His presence filled the room as he descended the staircase, a discreetly manicured hand trailing the mahogany banister; glowing black boots ringing against white marble. His black leather pants and ebony shirt spoke of quality without bid for attention. Aristocratic features, made human by evidence of life, captured the appreciation of the men who stood throughout the entryway.

He paused several steps from the bottom, taking in the six who waited for their seventh. They were magnificent, all of them. Between them there was a look for every desire, a personality to fulfill every fantasy, and a friend to watch his back no matter what the occasion.

His lip quirked upward. The lazy drawl belied the sparkle in green eyes.

"Well boys ... ya ready to ride?"

Six grins answered.

All heads turned as the men strode into the ballroom as one force. One thread wove among them; raw sensuality.

Quickly peeling off from their vee formation, the blond--as usual--at point, they began immediately working the crowd. They expertly gauged who wanted what and made a beeline for their first dance partners. The hostess looked on with approval.

The second round brought the handsome boss to the woman responsible for the celebration. Taking her offered hand, he bowed over it slightly, brushing his lips over the delicate knuckles before stepping beside her and tucking her hand into his arm. Leading her to the dance floor, he fell into a graceful sway, holding her just close enough.

"You've outdone yourself."

Chris chuckled in response. "As have you, as usual."

She smiled up at him and blushed a bit, her vulnerability to his charm showing despite the look he called her "determined to be invulnerable" look. Giggling, she looked away from him in playful disgust.

"In fact," Larabee continued, "I'd say this is one of your best efforts."

Another long pause and she finally looked back into warm hazel eyes. Fondness was found there, along with an ember that seemed to come from within her from some primitive level.

"Why do you do it, Mr. Larabee?" Her gaze turned searching, looking for something he thought she already knew she wouldn't find.

"Barbara," he chided softly. "Haven't we been beyond last names for a long time?"

"Don't change the subject, Chris."

Chris shrugged nonchalantly, knowing his companion held no illusions about his work.

"Money, mostly. But it has other rewards."

"Like what?"

He pulled her against him gently, settling her into the cradle of his hips. His voice hummed against her ear as his fingers caressed her back slowly.

"Like seeing the light in your eyes and the flush on your face when your body clenches around mine for the third time in a night."

The lithe brunette closed her eyes and sighed. Her cheeks flushed and her body softened as the tell-tale signs of desire overtook her.

"Ah, Chris, you always know just what to say ..."

He chuckled in her ear, pressing her hard against his responding cock. "Well, Babs, ya bring out the poet in me."

Suddenly he swirled her around the floor in a grand waltz, commanding the spotlight and making certain she appeared better than the average dancer she was. Before moving on to his next partner, the woman in his arms was delicately begging to leave with him at night's end, and Chris agreed.

He saw her Cheshire cat grin as he walked away to get her another drink. He smiled to himself, knowing she'd be feeling quite proud. After all, Chris Larabee didn't go home with just anyone, anymore. No matter how much they offered to pay.

Chris found his way to the edge of the crowd, greeting women warmly as he went. The twice- yearly event was a staple in his standing calendar and many of the faces smiling at him hopefully had been individual clients when he still worked the field. Only a few turned away as he made eye contact. They had never accepted his semi-retirement and still considered it a personal insult that he no longer warmed their bed at beck and call. Most, though, knew his lack of "one on one" service would allow him time to concentrate on finding new blood and training them right. The single loss would yield a stable full of gain.

Finding Vin momentarily without a partner, he approached the chestnut haired young man and brushed a stray piece of lint off of the lapel of his bright blue shirt. The brilliance of his eyes, set off by the matching fabric, sparked with a different kind of interest as he met the hazel gaze of his boss, best friend and lover.

"I'm going with Barbara after the party."

Vin raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze back to the dancing crowd. A small smile hovered at the corner of his mouth. "So where ya takin' me with the tip?"

Chris chuckled and, very discreetly, brushed a hand over the sweet ass he loved to bury himself in on a regular basis. He leaned closer, barely stirring the hair at Vin's neck with his sweet breath. "That bed'n breakfast you love so much on the Vineyard."

Vin grinned at that, Chris smiling in rememberance as well over the last hot weekend spent in crisp white sheets, the ocean crashing just outside open french doors. His belly did a tiny roll and he cleared his throat, focusing back on the business at hand.

Vin was answering softly. "I'll count on that while I'm tryin' my damnest not to scare Natalie's daughter with her first orgasm."

"Becca has never had an orgasm?" Chris glanced at the beautiful blond hovering on the outskirts of the dance floor, looking as lovely--yet as fragile--as a rare orchid about to leave the safety of the hothouse.

Vin shook his head, a slight cloud darkening his eyes for a moment. "Husband used to beat her, accordin' to Natalie. Wasn't much fun in the bedroom, either."

Chris nodded and clapped a hand on Vin's shoulder. The tough cowboy facade hid a tender heart, and Larabee knew his best man would take his business seriously this evening, leaving Becca with an experience that might just begin to replace good memories with bad. He also knew Vin could sense when enough was enough, and if bed wasn't in the cards he would make the night special some other way.

With a quick glance at his lover that held more promises than a teenage girl on prom night, the leader of the seven most sought after studs in the escort business wandered away to check on his other charges. He was pleased to see they were all engaged with one woman or another and he smiled across the room at the hostess, who was grinning her pleasure at the success of the evening.

TWO

Chris walked into his suite at the converted hotel and tossed his jacket onto the coat rack just inside the door. He was tired, but pleased with the evening, and he looked forward to a cold beer, a hot sandwich and a long sleep.

Suddenly he was whipped around and slammed against the door, his cheek resting against the cold, smooth surface. Calculating hands--male, as far as he could tell--reached around him and deftly unzipped his pants, pushing them down his hips and out of the way of the hand's questing fingers that quickly, and without nonsense, parted the cheeks of his ass. Two of them, cool and slick with lubricant, slid into him and spread him enough to get the job done.

Fingers were quickly replaced with a cold, wet cock.

Both men grunted with the furious pace of the entry, and Chris moaned hotly as the burn of the intrusion finally gave way to sweet friction. Larabee's wrists were gathered in a single strong hand and pinned to the door above his head. Another reached around, palm to the blond's chest, pressing the Chris' back against a hard, developed chest.

"That's it, take it..." a voice, blessed with a hint of a southern drawl, hissed into his ear. "Take it all, hot and heavy, fast and hard, just like you like it. Take it. Just like that. Oh God..." he tapered off with a groan.

Chris emitted a sound curiously more like a whimper than a moan, the words and commanding tone working with the sawing in and out of the powerful cock to carry him into a frenzy. Hips bucked back against the pounding piston invading him and he felt the building buzz of impending orgasm. The hand at his chest moved down to his aching sex, gripping him expertly and taking him over the edge with a few practiced strokes. The pulsing inside him, along with the satisfied gasp of the mouth at his ear, testified to the completion of the man holding him tightly against him while pressing him hard against the wall.

Both were still, then, chests heaving in an effort to catch their breath. The weight that had been holding him still eased as both arms wrapped around Chris and tucked him back into his clothes. A scant minute later and the external evidence of the interlude was eradicated. All that remained was the tingle in Chris' backside and the warm ember of afterglow in his belly. The arms wrapped around his waist and the lips at his neck weren't unwelcome, either.

Chris chuckled softly. His words a bit shaky in the adrenaline dump that was just tapering off. "Damn, Ez ... I'd say you've been working on your conquering technique."

"As ordered, Sir." There was a smile in Ezra's voice as he answered against Chris' ear.

Stepping back Ezra steadied Chris with a gentle hand as he pushed off from against the door. Gesturing for Ezra to join him, he took the two steps down to the living area before he noticed the form leaning indolently in the doorway to the kitchen, an amused smile on his face. Settling onto the couch they waited for his inevitable comment.

"Well ... I'd say a performance like that deserves a beer. Wine, Ez, or you gonna be a man for a change?" Vin grinned at the rude, uncommon gesture the normally unperturbable gentleman threw at him and disappeared into the kitchen for cold bottles of Corona.

Chris chuckled as it seem to take Ezra a moment to turn his eyes from the delectable tight ass of his co-worker and focus his attention back on him. Quirking an eyebrow upward, Ezra waited for the feedback that usually followed an interlude of this sort.

"Well, Mr. Larabee. Does my performance meet with your expectations?"

Chris smiled and ran a gentle thumb over the knuckles of the finely manicured hand resting on the couch back. He stroked repeatedly over the sensitive flesh in the junction of thumb and index finger.

"Absolutely. That's exactly what I had in mind, Mr. Standish," he smiled. "Proud of ya. Do you think you're ready for David, now?"

"I believe I am. I intend to find my way into his office tomorrow afternoon. I would venture to assume he's not expecting me to act on his fantasy at this late date. It has been over a month since we talked about it, and we have had several dates since then."

Chris nodded and looked up as Vin wandered back into the room. Handing off the frosty bottles with a wink, he settled into a chair opposite the couch and listened quietly to the exchange.

Ezra glanced at Vin and blushed, but grinned. Vin grinned back and saluted him with his own beer.

"It was hot to watch." Vin commented.

"It was great," Chris said. "Ezra you have nothing to worry about."

Ez nodded and stared off into space for a few moments, before taking a sip of his beer and rising.

"I think I'll retire to my quarters, gentleman. It's been an ... active evening." A smile ghosted across the handsome features before disappearing again.

"Night, Ez." Chris said softly. "Enjoyed it."

Ezra nodded with elegant style. "Mr. Larabee. Mr. Tanner. Good night."

Vin watched as he disappeared through the heavy oak door. Turning his gaze back to Chris, he raised an eyebrow. Chris shrugged and took a pull from the bottle in his hand.

"Don't know, cowboy. But when he's ready he'll spill it."

"Hope so. Ya know how tight lipped he can be."

Chris patted the cushion beside him in answer, setting down his beer. Vin rose and stretched before dropping down onto the couch, his head leaning against the blond's shoulder, one long leg stretched out along the well-worn suede of the furniture. Larabee dropped an arm around the lean but muscled chest and kissed the top of the tousled brown head.

"Don't worry, Vin. I'm keeping an eye on him."

Vin nodded and closed his eyes, his beer forgotten. Chris took the bottle and set it beside his own, leaning his own head back against the sofa. "Been a long day," he commented quietly.

"Yep," came a sleepy reply

"I owe ya ..."

Vin smiled softly and playfully bumped his head against Chris' stomach. He yawned. "S'okay, Cowboy ... I'll collect in the mornin"

Chris leaned Vin forward and stood, turning to lift his lover into his arms with a grunt. Vin opened his eyes in shock and wrapped an arm around Larabee's neck.

"You're gonna hurt yourself, Chris!"

Chris didn't reply, carrying Vin into the bedroom and swiftly undressing him. Quickly divested of his own clothes, Chris laid down beside his lover and pulled the covers up over them, snuggling the younger man against him.

"I love you, Vincent Michael."

"Love you, too, Christopher."

They slept.

Riptide. His body seemed caught in a wave that lurched him up and threw him back, all the while flooding him with a warm feeling of flying. His hips rose again as the moist heat engulfed him once more, sucking and dragging him down. A moan rose in his chest and he reached out blindly as he woke up fully.

A strong hand engulfed his, interlocking familiar fingers in his grasp. He opened his eyes as a wild cry tore from his throat and he focused with effort on the blond head working over his paradise engulfed cock. Chris glanced up quickly before closing his hazel eyes again. His hand tightened against Vin's in reassurance.

"Chris!" Vin whimpered. His voice shuddered on a sob with the emotion and sensation pouring through him.

Chris moaned around him, drawing him deeper and swallowing. Vin arched, focusing on the swell of feeling building within him, seeking a new intensity by holding himself as still as possible.

Suddenly the flood overwhelmed him with an abruptness that tossed him into a maelstrom. His fingers clung to his lifeline and Chris responded, squeezing his hand again in reassurance. As his mouth wrung yet another cry Vin, his throat worked fiercely to swallow Vin's spill.

Chris gentled Vin with soft licks and nuzzles, bring him down slowly. Yet suddenly the Vin arched again, his throat wrapped around a growling cry.

Hips bucked as fingers clenched and wild blue eyes sought hazel. Again and again Vin's hips strove for an already met goal, his cock pulsing with an electric life of its own. Chris moved higher, settling beside Vin as he took him in his arms. He stroked Vin's hair and broad shoulders gently, calming him with soft murmurs.

"Shhh," Chris whispered. "Easy, baby."

Vin whimpered, his body caught in spasms of pleasure, rising yet again. He sought Chris' eyes, near panic and phenomenal pleasure beaming from his own. Chris changed tactics, employing the voice Vin was powerless to ignore.

"Vincent enough! Calm down!" He snapped harshly.

Vin gasped a final time and collapsed, his head buried in Chris' neck as he panted with exhaustion. Chris pulled him closer still, whispering nothing-words of comfort and love.

"That's it, baby, deep breaths." Chris kissed the top of his head softly. "Easy, now. You're safe."

Vin took a last shuddering breath and calmed completely, exhaustion causing his body to shake slightly. He moaned softly against the strong neck of his boss, his best friend and his lover and chuckled quietly.

"God, ‘ole man. What did you do to me?"

Chris smiled a sexy, self-satisfied smile and tugged at an unruly curl. Sliding his hand down to cup Tanner's firm ass, he sighed with satisfaction. "Nothing you don't do to me, kiddo. We inspire each other."

THREE

This time it was the phone that pulled Vin from a light doze. He snuggled closer as Chris reached over to answer his private line sleepily.

"Larabee."

"Chris?" A soft feminine voice asked softly. She wasn't questioning who, but how available.

"Hi Christy," the blond answered with a yawn.

"I'm so sorry to wake you." She was sweetly polite, as usual, but Chris knew where the call was leading.

"Never be sorry. I'll be right there, honey. You talk to Vin for a minute while I get dressed, `k?"

"Thank you."

Vin kissed Chris softly on the shoulder and took the phone from his lover. Larabee rose and headed for the bathroom, a quick shower, shave and sweats in his immediate future.

"Hey Christy," the Texan drawled, honeyed voice thick with morning sleep.

"Hi Vin," she answered shyly.

"Rough night?"

Vin could almost hear the nod and see the delicate throat swallow against looming tears. The pause spoke volumes.

"Yeah," she whispered brokenly.

"It won't take Chris long to get there. He's already out of the shower."

"I'm sorry to interrupt your Sunday."

"Christy, you're not an interruption. You're a friend."

"I'm a client, Vin."

"Yeah ... and a friend. Ya think all our clients have this number? Ya know how many do? One. Just one."

Vin smiled as he heard an answering smile in the young woman's voice. She had become a friend, and not for the first time did he wish she would allow it to be just that and not a business relationship.

"Alright, alright. You win."

Chris learned over his young lover, nuzzling his lips open for a short, goodbye kiss. Mouthing an "I love you", he motioned to the phone and left.

"He's on his way, Christy. He'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Vin. Thanks a bunch," she whispered quietly.

Chris reached the large converted townhome apartment building within fifteen minutes. Pressing the intercom, he juggled the bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates he was carrying as the front door buzzed open immediately in response. The door to the mall, yet tasteful, second floor apartment was opened as his foot hit the top step of the oak staircase.

A twenty-something, maybe thirty by now, vision of sweetness and light stood in the doorway, smiling ruefully at the huge bunch of color and even bigger box of her favorite addiction walking toward her. Her cropped t-shirt and drawstring lounging pants only served to emphasis her pixie quality, a cap of short, shining brown hair shot through with strands of gold completing the effect. She ducked her head right, then left, an amused frown wrinkling her brow.

"Chris? You in there?"

Reaching out, she took the flowers from the tall, handsome man, chuckling softly as he sighed with relief.

"Yup ... one whupped male, at your service," he winked playfully.

"Ha! Yeah, right. Whupped. That's why every woman in town wants you and none can have you."

Tossing the candy on a nearby chair inside the apartment, he lifted the relatively tiny bundle in his arms, and executed a smooth twirl into the room. Kicking the door shut, he hugged her close, catching her legs as she wrapped them around him and kissing her gently on the temple.

"None but you, sweetheart. And I'm yours as long as you want me."

Following a routine both knew as well as they knew their own heartbeat, she laid her head against his shoulder as he settled himself into the big, overstuffed chair by the window. Pulling the afghan her mother made for her around her tiny -- yet beautiful -- figure, he stroked her back and hair gently, planting small kisses on top of her head from time to time. No words were spoken and, in time, he felt the first of many sobs rack the small form.

Chris closed his eyes as he rocked her gently, wrapping his arms more fully around her and drawing up one leg so she would feel more engulfed. So many tears for such a vibrant, alive and beautiful lady. His thoughts traveled back to the first time she had called the service and he had learned the complexities of Christy Tauplin.

"Larabee Public Relations," the crisp female from the answering service answered.

"I ... I'd like ... public relations?" the hesitant female voice finished with a question.

"Yes, how may I help you?" the impatient woman answered.

"I ... is Mr. Larabee available?"

"No he is not, may I take a message?"

"Christy Tauplin 212-256-5685."

"Thank you, he'll be paged immediately."

Click ... Or so that was how Christy had described the conversation to him later. He had made it a point to find a new way to handle business from then on. She had been so hesitant, so sweet, and so completely obsessed with letting him know she was no hiring him for anything more than someone to talk to. He hadn't believed her at first. Had heard that too many times to take it seriously.

Chris had entered the neat, cheerful apartment unprepared for the sight of the small, adorable elfin woman wearing commando clothes covered in what his military background clearly told him was blood.

She had welcomed him nervously, but politely, suggesting he make himself comfortable while she cleaned up. Disappearing into her bedroom, the click of the door lock had answered the unspoken question of whether or not it had been a veiled invitation.

Minutes later she had emerged in her usual cropped t-shirt and lounging pants, her hair damp from the shower and a trash bag apparently holding the blood soaked clothes in her hand. She had tossed it into a trash can, turned eyes full of pain and sorrow to her hired guest and promptly broken into sobs of a hurt so intense he had immediately gone to her and lifted her into his arms.

Having settled into a chair perched by a window with a park view, he held and rocked her until she had fallen asleep in his arms.

They had finally gotten around to talking. As the sun had broken the clouds, bathing her hair in a halo of light, she had explained to him the blood and pain. Had talked of the Child Services Special Response Team and her role in accompanying the police to the most heinous of child abuse calls. She had spoken in a quiet, broken voice about the one she had lost the night before, and the need to - just once - feel arms around her that needed nothing, that asked nothing.

Chris had listened and was humbled by the courageous sprite. When he left, the cash she had laid on the chairside table was still there. Two days later she had mailed it to him via the answering service he employed. The note read simply, "This is the only way I can feel no emotional obligation."

Their relationship had continued since, Christy calling after a rough case, Chris responding without delay. They danced the money dance from time to time, him wanting to give to her without the transaction, her insisting it was the only way to keep this equal. So he took her money, at a cost that hadn't changed in years for her, and he began without her knowledge to establish a trust fund for abused children.

That was Chris ... the hooker with the heart of gold. He snorted silently at his thoughts and, making sure the lovely creature in his arms was asleep, carried her into the bedroom and curled her against him. Not once had sex entered the picture. It would have been like seducing a saint.

FOUR

Ezra strode through the lobby, looking neither left nor right and hoping to encounter no one. Disreputable jeans hugged his ass tightly, and the leather jacket hooked on one finger and trailing down his broad, t-shirt clothed back had seen better days. Almost to his apartment, he had a moment to relish his clean getaway before everything went south.

"Ez."

The tone was familiar and the gentleman gambler allowed himself the luxury of a silent sigh before turning to his boss and friend. His polished smile was more of an effort than usual.

"Mr. Larabee," he said, pleasantly enough.

"Where ya been, Ez?" The voice had dropped to a deadly purr.

"I doubt that my humble affairs would be of much interest to you, sir."

"Oh I'm interested," the blond drawled casually, using one shoulder to push away from his practiced lean on the wall. He approached the handsome Southerner, hands in his pockets, and stopped a breath away.

"So where ya been?"

"It was a magnificent morning. I went for a stroll."

Chris stared him down for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. Quickly twisting back, he caught a wrist as Ez moved toward his room, bringing the gambler's arm behind his back and pressing the hard body firmly against the wall. A soft grunt as his cheek connected gently with cool wall was Ezra's only reaction.

Chris began a thorough pat down of the man in his control, ignoring the flush that rose from neck to cheek, high banners of color accenting glittering green eyes. His mouth close to his captive's ear, he continued in a low, cool tone, more chilling for its control.

"Hate it when ya lie to me, Ez," Chris purred in the gentleman's ear.

His hand found what it sought, reaching deep into a hip pocket for the folded bills. Tens and twenties, a couple of fives, made a fairly impressive money clip. Chris weighed it in his palm.

"Not a bad night." The blond suggested quietly.

Chris felt more than heard the sigh as Ezra laid his forehead against the wall. Auburn hair stirred beneath the blonde's breath as he mimicked his friend … and employee's … actions, laying his own forehead against Ezra's shoulder.

He stuffed the neatly folded bills back into the tight pocket and released Ezra's arm. Running both hands down the strong, warm flesh of forearms, he interlaced their fingers, and sighed yet again.

"Why, Ez? I know it's not about the money." His voice pleaded for an answer he could accept.

"I don't know, Chris." Ezra admitted quietly. "I just … sometimes I get so restless I just have to gamble."

Chris slammed a palm suddenly against the wall, well away from Ezra's head.

"Then play poker! Or hit the track, damn it! Don't gamble with your fucking life!" He paced the hallway, raking a hand through his hair. "When I thinking of you puttin' yourself out there like that it makes me nuts! Anybody could pick you up!"

Ezra just stared at the floor, his eyes watching the pacing shadow of the man he respected above all others. Another, longer, sigh escaped him.

Chris stopped in front of him.

"Well?!"

"I'm careful," he said calmly.

"Careful." Chris snorted. "Careful is not going out there at all, Ez! Street walking is for drugged out hustlers that don't know any better or have no other choice! How many times we gonna have to have this conversation, Ez?"

There was a pause as glittering emerald eyes rose to meet smoldering hazel. His poker face firmly in place, Ezra answered with polished pride. "I suppose we will engender to discuss this until the day you terminate my position with the household, or you learn to accept it. Now I am tired, and I would like to go to bed." The Georgian accent was thick with the need to expedite the end to the conversation at hand. "Is there anything else, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris grew still and watched his friend for a heartbeat, his eyes narrowing into hard points. He shook his head.

"This issue isn't closed, Ezra."

"As you wish."

A weariness bled through the crisp reply that Chris knew went deeper than a few hours of missed sleep. He watched as Ezra turned and entered his apartment, running a hand through unusually tousled hair and closing the door behind him.

Chris swore softly and went in search of Josiah.

FIVE

Chris waited outside Josiah's door for his knock to be answered, knowing the big man could be in the middle of a myriad of activities. If anything, Josiah Sanchez was unpredictable. And, unlike some whos' predilections could be anticipated, Josiah was unpredictable in a very unpredictable way.

"Come." Came a pleasant voice from inside.

Opening the door to the suite, Chris was engulfed in the very embrace of tranquility. A hint of exotic spice hung in the air, neither obvious nor overpowering, and the mix of natural cultural textures and treasures created a feast for the eyes. Muted light, softened by the oriental shojis over the windows and colored by the myriad rainbow of silk collected from dozens of ports of call, created a haven for the gentle giant. Lounging on a huge, beam-strung hammock, Josiah held the latest romantic mystery and was in process of devouring a whole-wheat bagel.

"Hey, ‘siah." Chris said on a sigh. He straddled a large rock that sat in the middle of the room close to the big man's perch.

"Morning, Brother Chris. Bagel?"

Chris smiled and shook his head. "No thanks. Christy fed me."

"Ah, the little lark of your life. How is she?"

"Better, now. That woman is stronger than anyone I have ever met, except maybe you."

"She is an oak." He paused. "Something bothering you, brother?"

"It's Ezra."

Josiah's smile warmed and they shared a moment of contemplation as they reflected over the gentleman's presence in their lives. They locked eyes for a minute, grinning as the many exploits that played through their memories came around to chuckles.

"He is an original." Josiah said.

"But he won't stay put. Or at least he won't stay safe."

"There are no guarantees of safety in this life, my friend."

"Hell, I know that, Josiah." Chris stood and began to pace. His hand combed its usual path through his wheat gold hair. "But why streetwalking?"

"Adrenaline leads to rest," Josiah stated calmly.

Chris stopped and turned, willing him to continue. "Brother Standish is simply seeking oblivion in whatever way he can find it."

Chris again settled on the rock, his face pensive. His voice projected the pain he was feeling for their gambling, sweet-talking, sharp-dressing friend.

"Oblivion, huh?" Pause. "Well what the hell's he got to escape from?" He exclaimed in frustration.

"Loneliness?"

Chris raised his eyes, peering at the patient man before him through lowered lashes. There was no need to ask how someone who had mutiple partners and six good friends could still be lonely. There was only one answer … he'd been there himself.

Josiah swung his legs over the side of the hammock and looked at his friend. His voice was quiet and persuasive.

"Chris, you might want to give Ezra some space. Let him work this out on his own. I'm watching over him, and I won't let him fall."

Chris sat for a moment, hands clasped, watching the pattern of muted light on the floor. Finally, nodding decisively, he stood.

"Thanks, Josiah," he said quietly. "I won't worry so much knowing you're there for him."

Josiah chuckled a bit. "Yes, you will. But you'll be okay, too."

Chris smiled ruefully and left the room. He headed to the gym, determined to work off some tension before settling down to his paperwork.

SIX

Ezra sighed heavily and began to undress automatically. Slipping into the routine of his pre-bed preparations, his thoughts drifted to his favorite encounter of the night.

The puddle at his feet flashed green and red in synchronicity with the traffic signal. He took a deep breath, enjoying the damp, cool air, still scented from the rain.

The Taurus circled the block once, not slowing much. When it appeared again at the top of the block, Ezra's lip curled with predatory satisfaction. Slowing to a stop at the curb, the driver continued to look straight ahead.

Ezra pushed off the wall with sensual ease and shifted his stance slightly; waiting. "Timing, after all, is everything," he thought to himself.

The driver's gaze flicked to the right and Ezra saw him swallow. Recognition gelled within the Southerner. A virgin. At least to picking up hustlers. This would be fun.

The car changed its idle and Ezra stepped forward, deciding this mark needed encouraging. As the car began a slow roll forward, he held out a manicured hand slightly in front of the windshield, bidding the driver to stop. The stranger complied, yet his eyes still focused forward.

Ezra smiled a small, genuine smile and tapped on the passenger window gently. It lowered with an electric whir. Ezra bent slightly at the waist, cocking his head engagingly to the side.

"Good evening, sir," he said pleasantly. "Are you in need of directions?"

The stranger began to speak, his voice husky. He stopped to clear his throat, then tried again.

"I'm not lost."

Ezra leaned into the window, forearms on the door, his most disarming smile on display.

"Not the sort of directions of which I speak, I assure you."

The man, a pleasant enough looking blond, gripped the steering wheel tighter. Ezra reached out carefully, laying a gentle hand on the driver's tense forearm.

"Why don't you unlock the door and invite me in?" Ezra said patiently, allowing his prey to feel some semblance of control over his fate. The man nodded and hit the button. The soft "thud" of the lock disengaging seemed loud in the early morning silence.

Ezra slipped inside and closed the door, shifting slightly to face the nervous blond. His voice was quiet, yet casual, gentling the man and building a rapport.

"If you will proceed around the corner, there is a nice, cozy alley into which we can make our escape from this dreary reality."

The stranger nodded once again and lifted his foot from the brake. Easing into a right turn, he quickly glanced at the gentleman hustler.

"I'm Brandon," he murmured nervously.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Ezra. Just pull in right here."

As the vehicle glided to a stop, well hidden between two old buildings, Ezra shifted further toward his mark, arm laying across the back of the seat, fingers brushing lightly against the other man's shoulder.

"So, my friend. How long have you been a police officer?" Ezra inquired lightly.

The man snapped a shocked look at the bland expression on the handsome man's face and he stammered, several false starts included, before finally blurting out.

"How'd you know!?"

Ezra smiled softly. "It's my job to know, Brandon. Just like it's my job to know you are not here in a … professional … capacity."

The man's head fell under the weight of his secret revealed and Ezra shifted his fingers to lightly trace the muscles in the blond's neck. He cocked his head to one side and remained quiet, knowing the other would speak when he was ready.

"I … I'm just … curious."

Ezra nodded. His fingers began kneading gently, working the tension out of the strong shoulder closest to him.

"Brandon … may I call you Brandon? Brandon, darlin', you are cute as can be, and I would love to make you a happy man, but we are not gonna do this here, in this alley."

He purposely thickened his Georgian drawl to help put the man further at ease. "I did, however, bring you back here so I could at least do this."

Ezra shifted his fingers to Brandon's chin and turned his head. Catching his eyes and holding them for a moment, he finally brushed his lips across the trembling mouth of the mark. A soft hiss escaped his prey and he fought the smile that wanted to form.

Slipping his tongue gently over the rough surface of the dry lips, Ezra lapped delicately until they parted willingly. Barely raking the surface of his tongue over that of the shivering man, he gave him a bare taste of what was to come. Pulling back, his fingers slipped down to resume their soft massage of Brandon's shoulder.

"Darlin' child … I'm going to take your money, just as planned, but at a reduced rate. Then I'm going to give you a business card. I suggest, if you are wise, that you call me tomorrow so we can arrange your experimentation in a way that will be much more enjoyable … and successful. The first time will be ‘on the house', so to speak. But," Ezra cautioned systematically, "make no mistake … it will still be strictly business, and I shall be doing my best to addict you to me like a street drug in the hopes of securing future encounters."

Brandon watched the Southerner for a moment, licking his lips and taking a deep shuddering breath. He swallowed once, and nodded, his mouth kicking up in an uncertain smile.

Ezra named his price as he was pulling a card from his pocket. Brandon handed him the money quickly, taking the card and placing it almost reverently into his jacket pocket. Smiling once more, the handsome hustler leaned over, brushing his lips against the slightly rough cheek of the untapped mark.

"Good night, for now, sweet Brandon."

The Georgian slipped from the car gracefully, watching as the young man pulled out of the alley and disappeared. Sighing heavily, Ezra walked back out to the street and scanned the block. Turning his head to the left, his look became satisfied as he saw a much bolder driver approach.

Pulling up hard and fast to the curb, window opening simultaneously, the driver beckoned Ezra to him with a $50 in his hand and an impatient look on his face.

Ezra felt a chilling rush through his body, and he stalked toward the car. Leaning in, he snatched the money and accessed the man holding it.

"What for?" Ezra asked bluntly.

"Quick fuck," the man answered as carelessly.

Nodding toward the alley, Ezra pulled himself out of the window and said simply, "Meet you there."

Walking into the alley, he waited. The driver pulled in, turning off the headlights, but not bothering to close his door as he exited the car. Ezra walked deeper into the shadows, the big, dark man at his heels, and turned to face him when they were bathed in darkness.

"Uh uh," the anonymous voice directed. "Turn back around."

Again a frisson of excitement quickened through Ezra's body, manifesting itself as a tiny, outward shiver. He turned, bracing one arm on the rough brick of the building in front of him and lowering the other hand to release his jeans.

He heard the rasp of the zipper behind him, and felt rough hands jerking down his own denim. Lifting his other arm, he clasped his hands together, laying palms flat against the cold wall, and rested his forehead upon them.

Surprising him, a finger shot into his ass. He hissed and forced himself to relax. The surprise wasn't the penetration, but that the brute behind him would take any time at all for preparation. The finger dug and circled, widening him like perfunctorily.

Shortly after Ezra realized the reason for the short, but necessary, aid. The width of the cock about to impale him would never have fit without some sort of introductory breech. Reassuring himself with a glance that the stranger was properly covered in a layer of latex, he turned back too the wall, took a deep breath, let it out, and began pushing back to end the burning torment of the entry as quickly as possible. The huge dick popped through and Ezra couldn't stop the yelp of pain it delivered.

Not pretending a single concern for the person into whom he was buried, the mark began thrusting hotly. Ezra bit his lip against the pain, riding it and falling into it until the pleasure of it overtook him.

The anonymity, the danger, the endorphins released with the physical assault … all came together to overshadow the discomfort. Ezra lifted his forehead from his hands, bracing his arms full out against the wall and meeting the big man thrust for thrust. Reaching down he took his own cock in his hand, pumping and pulling as his insides were plundered and his mind was lost in a swirl of sensation. His shot hit the wall before him just as he heard a final grunt from the man behind.

There was no lingering. The cock left him with the same abruptness it had entered him and, it left him open and empty. Not allowing himself the luxury of a moment to recover, he resettled his clothing and turned, watching as the stranger slammed the door shut and squealed tires out of the alley.

Beginning to feel like he might just be able to sleep, he went back to the street, his ass still uncomfortably open and grasping, and waited for the next car. Perhaps one or two more and he would be assured of some rest.

It had taken five more tricks before he felt tired enough to make the journey home. Five more anonymous faces lying to themselves in the dark. Five more faces that weren't the ones that he wanted them to be…

SEVEN

JD pushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead as he walked into the lobby of the old hotel. Motorcycle helmet in hand, he stepped to the desk where mail and messages were sorted, quickly sifting through his stack. Grinning as he found the colorful envelope which he sought, he tucked the rest under his arm and tore into the letter from Casey as he bounded up the center staircase.

Tossing the helmet onto a chair in the cheerful sitting room of his suite, he plopped down onto the loveseat, kicked his boots up onto the coffee table and devoured his best friend's latest missive about life at a stuck up, Southern university. The havoc that the spunky, self-assured lesbian caused at every opportunity had him laughing out loud.

A quick knock followed by the creak of his door interrupted JD's second read through. He glanced up and smiled at a curious looking Buck.

"Casey's latest," the younger man explained, holding up the letter.

"Ah … wondered what all the cackling was about."

"Cackling!? Well, hell, old man, least I'm young enough to laugh!"

Buck's eyes narrowed and his grin became dangerous. He pushed the door open fully and began to stalk toward JD slowly. His voice was suddenly as playfully threatening as his expression.

"Old?" He growled. "I'll show ya old…"

Buck pounced, finding the handsome young man's ticklish spots with ease. The game was common between them, and it took only seconds for JD's howls to fill the second floor of the old hotel. Shrieks of laughter and equal amounts of pleading bounced from wall to wall until Buck chose to show mercy and the men collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor.

Shifting his position, JD laid his tousled head onto the washboard stomach of his friend and sometimes fuck-buddy.

"Ah, Buck… I miss the little psycho dyke."

The blue-eyed charmer chuckled and began carding his fingers through JD's thick dark hair. Deep brown eyes closed and he moaned appreciatively.

"So go see her, stud," Buck said encouragingly. "What good is makin' a lot of money if you don't spend it now and then?"

JD's eyes popped open and he looked up. His smile turned into a grin.

"I think I will, Buck. Surprise her and all. Wanna go ta Nashville?" "Well hell, why not? I could use a change of pace."

JD sat up abruptly and stretched.

"There is something I wanna do first, though," JD mused.

"What's that?"

Twisting his body and rising to his knees in one smooth motion, he straddled Buck's legs and dipped his head, taking a nipple in his mouth through the cotton of the dress shirt. Muttering through gently biting teeth, JD managed to make himself heard loudly and clearly.

"I wanna get fucked. Hard."

Buck laid his head back, a sound of arousal leaving his throat as the nipping turned to sucking. Supporting the smaller but hotly built tempter with one arm, he used the other to prop himself upright against the sensual onslaught.

JD nipped again and Buck arched into him, growling softly in his throat. The youngest of the group took advantage of the taut skin, running gentle teeth over the shadow-roughened jaw before him. Dipping his head again, laving at a nipple hungrily, he shifted to get a bit closer.

Buck hauled himself up further, bracing himself against the couch, and chuckled at the eagerness in the squirming, compact body in his arms. JD responded by shifting even closer, dragging his forehead hotly up the blue-eyed charmer's chest and latching onto the smiling lips as if he were drinking life-giving breath.

Suddenly the flame burst from the smoking flint that was their foreplay. JD's tongue sought the honeyed depth of his friend and sometimes-plaything, his hands whipping the silk shirt off the bigger man's torso.

Buck, similarly inflamed, dug long, tanned fingers into JD's hips, hauling him yet closer to his now pulsing cock, still trapped within black denim. Working as feverishly as the dark eyed confection in his arms, he bared the smooth, muscled chest of the young stud and reached up to tug at a nipple ring gently. JD issued an indistinguishable sound of approval from deep in his throat and tore his mouth away from the charmer long enough to gasp quietly.

Remaining clothes magically ended up somewhere within a five foot radius of the heavy breathing couple, and Buck pulled his mouth away from the smooth skin of the delectable bundle in his arms long enough to grin at him happily. Flexing powerful arms, he lifted the younger man and turned him 180 degrees, trapping him back to front.

Buck's teeth raked lightly over JD's favorite licking spot at the shoulder blade, and the writhing figure arched with a sharp moan.

"Damn, Buck!"

"Don't worry, kid," the husky voice murmured. "I'm gonna ease that ache right now."

Buck's left hand slid down to press squarely on the flat, hard plane of JD's belly as his right painted a trail with passion-shaking fingers to the cleft of the beautiful ass before him. Already wet from a small packet from JD's nearby stash, a single digit traced the rim of the tight aperture before venturing a tiny bit inside, drawing another hot moan from the now still bundle of passion straddling Buck's lap.

Taking the hot young thing by surprise, Buck impelled his finger into the snug burrow, supporting JD's weight against the sudden sensation with one strong arm around his chest. Surging upward, yet somehow driving downward simultaneously, the younger man cried out sharply, hips thrusting into the air.

In seconds Buck had replaced the tip of his finger with the head of his cock, breaching the taut opening with a masculine rumble issuing from deep in his throat. Once again JD's cry filled the otherwise quiet apartment, and Buck wrapped the previous occupied arm, now freed, around JD's waist.

Whispering encouraging nothings in his friend's ear, Buck fell into a rhythmic thrusting as he grasped JD's rigid cock and stroked in time with his movements. Both rode the edge as long as they could, then tumbled over, crying out with the abandon and joy that accompanied the security of friendship and the spirit of adventure.

JD allowed his friend to take his full weight, dropping his sweat-dampened head back onto Buck's shoulder. Wrapping both arms around him, the older man kissed his neck tenderly and leaned back against the sofa to catch his breath. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of heavy breathing slowly diminishing.

"Mmmmmm," JD finally spoke. "That was just what I needed."

Buck chuckled and pushed the younger man forward, withdrawing easily. Propelling JD even further against his legs, he popped him soundly on the ass, grinning at the surprised yelp, followed by the sensual purr that issued forth from the hot little body before him.

"Uh uh, little bit. Get up. I start spankin' ya and we'll be here for a week!"

JD grinned against Buck's leg, kissing the tender skin at the side of his knee before jumping up and strolling into the kitchen to get them both a cold beer. Returning as Buck was fastening his jeans, the unselfconscious young man handed him his beer and plopped down on the sofa.

"So when do ya wanna leave?"

Buck stood thinking for a moment and shrugged. "I'll check with Chris, but I don't think I have any scheduled appointments for the rest of the week. If you don't, we might as well leave tonight."

JD nodded. "Sounds good. Check with Chris for me, too, will ya?" He yawned widely. "I'm gonna take a shower and a nap."

Buck chuckled. "Wear ya out, did I?"

JD grinned back. "Nah. I had to go shopping with Pam Stofford this morning. But you helped," he added with a wink.

Buck laughed and headed out. "I'll make the arrangements, kiddo. I'll wake ya up a couple of hours before the flight."

JD nodded and hauled himself up off the couch, heading for the bathroom. Glancing around at the randomly strewn articles of clothing on the floor, he smiled.

Life was good.

EIGHT

Nathan closed the book he had been studying, yawned and stretched sinuously. Glancing at the elegant clock that complimented the stark, yet plush, décor to perfection, he realized he had been lost in the world of Grey's anatomy for over five hours. Suddenly he was hungry, thirsty and in need of some mindless activity. Grabbing a container of fresh vegetables, a V8 and a fluffy towel, he stopped to pick up the latest novel from the common library and headed to the roof for some sun and the pool.

Stripping to nothing, he broke the still surface cleanly. A long steady stroke carried him back and forth across the pool until his breath came labored and his body tightened with blood-stoked muscles. All thoughts of medical terms, body parts and diseases fled as he gave himself over to the endorphin rush.

Finally, water cascading off of him in a sheet of sparkle, he pulled himself up to perch on the side of the navy-tiled sanctuary. Grinning with the sheer pleasure of being alive, he gave in to a full out laugh and leaned back still further, languishing on the cedar deck surround and staring at the blue sky.

Shutting down his mind's attempt to draw him back into the central nervous system as efficiently as he applied himself to study it, he concentrated on pure sensation. His pumping blood and deep breaths coupled to bring an awareness of himself that always engendered to excite him.

His huge, dark cock pulsed with a life of its own and he brushed sensitive, well-manicured fingers over the tip to bring it to full mast. A feral smile graced the handsome face.

Rising with an amazing display of grace for such a large man, he moved to a heavily padded lounger and settled in for an hour of reading, sunning and stroking. He coated his hands with oil from an ever-present community bottle and began another thorough inventory of his body.

Each new inch of velvet skin stroked by strong, capable hands gleamed as sun and oil combined to highlight the cut of the carefully sculpted form. His stomach jumped with the tickle of a tender touch.

With a sigh Nate laid his head back and cupped his heavy sac, his other hand beginning a rhythmic milking of his cock. His hips flexed slightly with his movements, preserving wilder participation for the sensation to come.

Lost in pleasure and his own, private fantasies, he failed to hear the soft ‘snick' of the door to the roof. The lone form, dressed for a swim in nothing but a deep, golden tan and a raspberry colored towel, leaned against the wall with a smile and watched the hot performance before him.

Nathan's deep voice rumbled in a moan as his body came alive. Tanner tipped his head down to diffuse the sun's glare, watching the powerful man through lowered lashes. It always took him by surprise to see Nate like this. Each response to stimulation had the slip hips moving with a sinuous ease that paralleled a graceful, horizontal dance.

Moving with catlike stealth, Tanner made his way to his undulating friend and dropped to his knees on his folded towel. In one, smooth motion he bumped Nathan's hand aside and engulfed the large cock to the hilt.

Eyes flying open, back arching, Nathan clutched at Vin's hair as he registered the technique he'd come to know over the years.

Dark fingers buried in shining, chestnut silk, the beautifully defined body established a rhythm comfortable for both heavily breathing men. Not many could swallow his whole length, and when Vin Tanner volunteered it was seldom Nate could bring himself to refuse.

Vin groaned deep in his throat and held onto now bucking hips, mouth struggling to keep pace. Nate's body tightened and arched, spilling his seed onto his belly as Vin abruptly and artfully repositioned him and milked him fully with knowing fingers. He collapsed back against the lounger, heart pounding for the second time in a half hour. A clean splash cued him to Vin's new whereabouts and he closed his eyes and smiled.

After a moment, strength regained, he joined the tousle-haired beauty in the pool. They matched stroke for stroke for a while, finally bumping into each other and using the accidental contact as an excuse to start a splash war.

Finally settling into side-by-side loungers, Nate thanked Vin for his "assistance."

Vin smiled. "Anytime."

An easy silence fell over the rooftop as the men lay sunning. Nearly dozing, Vin blinked lazily when Nathan roused himself to speak.

"MCAT's in two weeks."

"Yup, I remember."

"Reckon I'm ready." A statement.

Vin nodded. "Sure ya are."

"Really think so?"

Vin turned his head and looked at Nathan squarely.

"Couldn't be any surer, Nate."

Nate smiled. "Thanks."

Vin grinned. "Anytime."

NINE

Josiah looked up into the bright sky and smiled with leonine pleasure. Slipping on his Ray-Bans, a single finger pushing them up securely, he stepped out of the hotel and into the limo waiting at the curb.

Pouring himself a finger of single malt, he settled his large, tuxedo-clad form comfortably into the far corner of the dark, plush vehicle. As the blocks slid by he sank further into his role.

Pulling the cell phone he reserved for work from his breast pocket, he summoned his evening's clients in the manner they preferred. His deep, distinctive voice held no room for negotiation, yet somehow still managed to stroke.

"I'll wait downstairs for three minutes."

"But Sir, we …"

"Two minutes and forty-five seconds, Brooke," he interrupted.

"Yes, Sir," the young woman pouted.

Josiah clicked the phone closed and chuckled.

Two minutes and forty-three seconds later, the young couple emerged looking proud, elegant and eager. He took a moment to appreciate them as they were; accomplished professionals, beautiful creatures, a husband and wife in love. With another sip from the crystal tumbler he held, his perception shifted to the man required for the fantasy of the night and he watched them approach the car with the eyes of a disciplinarian.

Brook's collar was slightly twisted, Stephen's shoes not shined to the mirror polish he expected. It was difficult to say whether or not they were intentional oversights. It didn't matter, really. He always found something to target. It was, after all, his job.

Breathless and laughing at something the young man muttered under his breath, they slipped into the car gracefully and smiled at Josiah, chirping happy hellos. The eyes behind the sunglasses watched them, cataloging each moment and waiting for the apprehension to set in. He was unsmiling. Seemingly upset. Laughter died and eyes lowered to the floorboards self-consciously.

Motioning for the driver to proceed, Josiah closed the partition between the spacious passenger cabin and the savvy chauffer. He tossed back the final sip of scotch. Silence permeated the air and the yuppie couple smoothed their clothes and sat quietly, eyes down, waiting.

Setting the glass into the bar rack, he removed the sunglasses and turned his gaze to the blonde in the gown that cost twice as much as his fee. A very substantial amount. She shifted nervously, feeling his eyes on her as much as seeing his perusal.

"Brooke. You questioned me."

"Yes, Sir."

"Please drop to your knees in front of Stephen. His shoes are not clean enough for my liking."

"Mr. Sanchez …" Stephen began.

"Did I ask for your input, Mr. Christian?"

"No." Stephen mumbled.

"Panties, Brooke." Josiah said sharply.

The blonde immediately responded, slipping pink and black lace panties down long, sensuous legs. Balling them into her fist, she glanced nervously at her husband.

"Give them to Stephen."

"Y … yes, Sir"

Gazing at the handsome blond to whom she had pledged her life, a tentative smile graced her face quickly as he returned her look with one of reassurance and strength. She gently pressed the delicate fabric into his hand.

"Brooke …" Josiah prompted.

The big man truly appreciated the grace the woman before him showed in difficult circumstances. He doubted, however, that her mother had had this particular scenario in mind when teaching her to be ladylike. But then, one never really knew.

The small, delicate body of the social butterfly seemed to tuck into itself as she bent to her task. Her quick, pink tongue began a thorough polishing of her husband's dress shoes and soon she was warming to her duty. A tiny moan escaped her and Josiah was quick to notice the impressive bulge now visible within the leg of Stephen's tailored tux pants. The fisted hands to either side of the patient husband testified to his desire to pull his wife to his lap. So far, so good.

Finally, as they neared the theater, Josiah's voice cut into the private, silent revelry the couple had begun to share. His voice was just the right amount of harsh and authoritative.

"Brooke, enough."

She moaned with loss, but complied, sitting back on her heels with trembling refinement. Stephen just managed to keep from smoothing the hair off of her face.

"Stephen, I was put out with Brooke's pouting when she answered the phone this evening, and disappointed in her lack of attention to detail when I noticed her collar askew. Please express my irritation to your wife."

Stephen cleared his throat quietly and looked down at the blonde who was suddenly near tears. He glanced at Josiah, who nodded, the scenario familiar to both.

Stephen's fingers nestled below Brooke's chin and raised her face. Looking sternly into her eyes, he began with a confidence it had taken Josiah weeks to coax from him.

"Brooke Helene, pouting is unacceptable behavior. It is your responsibility to do as you are told, without question. Furthermore, you followed that impertinence with a lack of caring for your personal appearance, which suggests a lack of respect for those to whom you say you willingly submit. Do you have anything to say to Mr. Sanchez before he chooses your punishment?"

The tears in the perfect blue eyes suggested that the attorney kneeling before her husband was already feeling punished by her own sense of responsibility. She swallowed precisely and bowed her head still more.

"Mr. Sanchez, Sir, please accept my humble, sincere apology for adopting a pouting manner with you when you called this evening. I am equally regretful of my own carelessness in dress. Please, forgive me."

Josiah cocked his head to one side and studied the girl for a moment. There was a tenseness of shoulder and neck that suggested she was not fully accepting of her role this evening. The tiniest smidgen of resentment hung in the air. Time to take her out of herself.

"Stephen, take Brooke over your lap, raise her dress and administer fifteen harsh slaps to her buttocks. I expect to see a pink glow with a bit of random red, and I expect her to feel it for at least the first fifteen minutes of the opera. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Sanchez. Brooke? Over my lap."

Brooke hesitated, then draped herself over the lap of her trim, well built husband and balanced herself carefully. Stephen slid the elegant gown up over her bottom, laying his hand on her flesh. She shivered.

The first slap caught her unaware and she jumped. Soon, however, their rhythm was established and a fine, pink glow was raised beneath Stephen's strong, capable hand. By swat thirteen the expected mottle of red was evident, and Josiah was satisfied that his wishes were being honored.

Brooke cried out each time flesh met flesh, and the sheen of tears on her face was satisfying. Looking into her eyes, Sanchez saw the surrender he sought. The final smack filled the quiet car and Stephen stopped, resting his hand on the small of his wife's back.

Josiah nodded once, expressing his pleasure in a job well done. He gestured for the handsome blond to replace his wife's clothing, and was pleased when Stephen complied with a mixture of tenderness yet censure. Josiah gazed into the yuppie's eyes, male communicating with male, and silently encouraged the man to take a chance, to see to his wife without prompt. It was, after all, their ultimate goal.

Stephen's eyes held the first spark of the understanding of his own power, and the big man in the corner smiled as he realized he wouldn't be needed to intercede in this relationship too many more times. He watched without comment as the couple played out a familiar ritual following a spanking.

"Brooke Helene," Stephen's voice took on a timbre of command. "You're to sit still when we enter the hall. No squirming and no sighs of discomfort. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Stephen." Brooke answered, her heart finally into her role.

"And do you understand the consequences if you do not?"

"Yes, Stephen. I will be brought back out to the car during intermission for another spanking, and a plug will be placed in my anus for the remainder of the performance."

"And that will be for what reason?"

"To remind me that I am not in control this evening, Stephen."

"Good girl."

Josiah nodded his pride in the blond man's performance and exited the limo, allowing husband and wife a small, brief moment of privacy. They entered the Opera House as they went everywhere, with Sanchez leading the way.

Josiah wore a small, satisfied smile as he climbed the stairs to the front door. The evening had gone exceptionally well, and Stephen had taken the lead without prompting. If the sounds of ecstasy that Brooke was keening as Josiah exited their home were any indication, Sanchez wouldn't be needed again.

Tux jacket slung over his shoulder, bow tie undone, he opened the door and was almost run down by a compact body in a major hurry. Reaching out to steady Ezra, he grinned widely.

"Whoa, Brother."

Ezra stopped short of the big man and smiled a bit sheepishly, raising eyes that showed a fleeting glimpse of unrest before the conman could drop his usual bland expression into place. Josiah caught the look, however, then took in the ragged jeans and tight muscle shirt beneath Ezra's jacket.

"Why, pardon me, Mr. Sanchez. I shall take better care in the future."

"Ez." Josiah greeted him with a nod. "Where're you going in such a hurry?"

"It is such a lovely evening, I felt that a short stroll was in order."

Josiah smiled widely. "Brother Ezra," he began as he deftly steered Standish back inside the house. "The good Lord abhors a liar."

Ezra glanced over his shoulder to the closing door and stopped, standing his ground. His body taut with restlessness, he adopted a wry smile.

"I assure you, Sir, that our Divine Father can articulate far better reasons to abhor me."

"I believe you may be projecting, Brother."

"Projecting, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Projecting. Assigning a feeling or thought to someone else that, in reality, is strictly. Your. Stuff."

The gentle hulk of a man punctuated the last two words by stepping as close to the Georgian as physics would allow. He gazed down into startled green eyes and gently brushed his lips over Ezra's forehead.

"Do you remember," Sanchez continued, "that discussion we had a few months ago, Ezra? I told you the next time you got self-destructive I was going to take you over my knee."

Standish's green eyes flashed with indignation and, Josiah noted, something else entirely. Ezra deliberately stepped back.

"I believe it is time for me to take my leave, Mr. Sanchez." The Southerner's voice held a hint of strain, and he swallowed, attempting again to close the shutters to his soul.

Josiah advanced as Ezra retreated, staying squarely in the younger man's space.

"And I believe it is time you and I have a reckoning, Mr. Standish. My place, ten minutes."

"I...Mr..."

Josiah stopped the flood of words before they could spill with a gentle, sweet kiss. His lips lingered on the surface of Ezra's moist mouth just long enough to whet the southern gentleman's interest.

"Ten. Minutes." Josiah stated succinctly.

Sanchez strolled toward the stairs, whistling a surprisingly on key rendition of Billy Joel's "The Stranger." Ezra stood in the center of the huge foyer, a look of confusion clouding his handsome features.

"What just happened, there?" The gentleman asked himself softly.

Ezra shook his head to clear it. He turned and headed back outside.

Somehow, he'd never be sure how, Ezra ended up in front of Josiah's suite exactly nine minutes later. So much for a clear head.

The older man opened the door to Ezra's knock, ushering him inside with a quietly spoken welcome. Standish relaxed a bit, calmed by Josiah's soothing manner. It wasn't to last.

Sanchez got comfortable on his oversize sofa and looked expectantly at the auburn-haired Georgian. A subtle, beckoning gesture caused the color to rise on Ezra's handsome face.

"Really, Mr. Sanchez, I hardly think that is necessary."

Josiah's smile never faltered as he raised an expressive eyebrow. Cocking his head to the side slightly, he simply waited.

Ezra shifted nervously, then shook his head and turned to go.

"I...this was a dreadful idea."

Those who had seen an example were always slightly amazed at how quickly and quietly a man Josiah's size could move. This time was no different.

Ezra sucked in his breath as one of the older man's hands captured both the Georgian's wrists behind him. Ezra jerked and tried to twist. Mouth next to Standish's ear, the gentle giant sent an inexplicable shiver down the young man's spine with a single command.

"Be still."

Standish complied, aware of the kick of his pulse.

"Now, Brother,' Josiah continued. "You and I are gonna dance. I'm tired of watching you risk your life out of restless hunger. So first we'll deal with the restlessness, then we'll talk about the hunger."

Walking Ezra back to the massive couch, arms still pinned behind him, Josiah settled back onto the wide seat. He pulled the now unresisting, though embarrassed, Southerner over his lap.

Ezra lay fully supported on Josiah's thighs and the deep, soft cushions of the couch; Sanchez pointedly guarded the Georgian's dignity by avoiding a precarious balancing game. He slipped a large pillow under Ezra's head and released his arms so the southerner could cuddle the colorful cushion.

Josiah laid a hand on the tight, round ass of the man he held. He smiled a bit as he realized how much he, too, was going to enjoy this. Ezra was already tensing beautifully, lying complacent and warm in wait.

Ezra turned his face to the side, shocked and confused by his presence on Josiah's lap, especially for the purpose in question. yet he couldn't seem to summon the will to get up. it was somehow...comforting.

Josiah's large right hand stroked Ezra's back and buttocks, petting and gentling him while his left carded through the auburn silk that masqueraded as the southerner's hair.

There was something intensely intimate about being held this way; protected and exposed. Ezra felt himself relaxing in slow increments, his mind drifting to what it would be like to be naked to Josiah's hypnotic touch.

The deep, silken voice, so unique to Sanchez, stroked as gently as the philosopher's hands.

"Lift your hips for me, son."

Ezra gathered himself, using arms and knees to raise his body slightly for ‘siah's manipulation. He felt a hand beneath him, carefully unfastening his tight jeans, brushing against his already responsive cock. Taking a slow, luxurious breath, Ez flexed against Josiah's hand subtly.

Sanchez chuckled warmly, "Patience, Brother, patience."

Ezra remained quiet, caught in the moment and suddenly feeling safe enough that clever banter wasn't necessary.

Josiah's smile grew as he felt the young man begin to let go of his usual careful control.

Ezra felt cool air against his skin as Josiah bared his beautiful ass. A barely audible gasp which Standish tried to conceal escaped his parted lips. Josiah rewarded Ez for the response with a fleeting caress.

Ezra thought briefly about trying to talk Josiah out of the action he feared the big man still intended to take. but he discovered he was beginning to crave the punishment, the intensity it would bring.

The muscles in Ezra's bottom began to flex almost imperceptibly, rocking the southerner back and forth so slightly Josiah had difficulty deciding whether or not it was actually happening. Ezra's burgeoning cock decided the issue for the gentle giant, and he closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure.

The first smack of ‘siah's hand against Ezra's upraised bottom surprised more than stung. The auburn-haired beauty jumped and cried out. Josiah smoothed a hand over Standish's hair, stroking and kneading the tense, coiled muscles. Sanchez's voice stroked in time with his hands.

"You yell if you want to, son. Cry out, yelp, whoop, holler, curse and scream if that's how you feel. You're loved here, Ezra. Accepted. Just like you are, any way you are. Any way you feel."

Sanchez again brought a flat palm against Ezra's buttocks, beginning the first of many rhythmic blows designed to tease, excite and build a hunger for more.

Ezra hugged the pillow to his chest and began to whimper slightly each time Josiah connected with his ass. The gentle philosopher tempered the spanking with mercy, increasing the tempo and power slowly but surely, an occasional lingering caress or squeeze providing respite from the sting of skin slapping skin.

‘Siah's free hand continued its calming contact while his eyes assessed the younger man's face. Beautiful always, now Ezra's angelic countenance - cuddled in the pillow, brows furled in concentration – took Josiah's breath away. The only element missing was tears.

Sanchez sighed softly. He knew he could take Ezra a long way, could even force physical tears, but only another could win the lonely Georgian's trust. For now, at least, ‘siah could give him some release.

Sanchez's strikes became harder and faster, his free arm now keeping Ez on his lap. The Southerner jerked and cried out, alternately pulling away and back toward each slap of the big man's palm. Cries became shouts, and the dance of pleasure and pain continued until both men were panting and covered in sweat. And still there were no tears.

Ezra's bottom was fierce red, the skin drawn dry and rough. Abruptly Josiah transferred Standish to the floor, guiding him carefully to his back. The younger man gasped harshly as the unforgiving fibers abraded his punished nerves, but Sanchez paid it no mind, lifting Ezra's thighs with his forearms and suddenly swallowing Ez's semi-hard cock.

There was nothing gentle in the sex. No teasing licks or caresses. Sanchez loosed his own passion , usually kept in check, and simply sucked Ezra's dick. Pulling at the smaller man's control with great suction and deep swallows, ‘siah gave no quarter until his throat was bathed in the hot, thick evidence of Ezra's release.

Standish's cry rocked the rafters of the old, Boston hotel, and he reached with hungry hands for the source of his ecstasy. Clutching at Josiah, he drew the older man over him, while swiftly shifting down and quickly dispensing of the clothing that impeded him. Wrapping eager lips around the big man's bigger cock, Ezra choked for a brief second on his enthusiasm before falling into a rhythm that quickly satisfied both men.

Ezra took all that Josiah offered, licking him clean and depositing a soft kiss on the tip of his dick when it was over. The southerner collapsed onto his back with satiated lassitude. Flinching as his tender backside hit the floor, he quickly flipped to his belly, grinning ruefully at the philosopher. Josiah grinned back; a huge, wolfish smile. Ezra, in a moment of playful innocence, rubbed his face against his arm shyly, one green eye peaking over his bicep at his friend.

Josiah's smile became pensive as he studied Ezra carefully. Seeing the relaxation steal slowly though Ez's compact body, Sanchez decided to handle a problem left too long unaddressed.

"Ezra, son," the gentle man rumbled quietly. "You can't keep going on like this. You've got to tell him, or make your own life elsewhere."

Ezra blinked slowly and transferred his gaze to a point over Josiah's head. He swallowed silently.

"I know I have to leave, ‘siah. Sharing my feelings would be foolish and accomplish nothing. But to leave you all..." Ez trailed off quietly, his eyes closing against the flare of pain that suddenly filled their green depths.

Josiah reached out and again began stroking the auburn hair softly, giving what little comfort he could. He tried once more to offer some hope.

"How do you know you can't tell him, Ez. We all live unconventional lives. Tell me ... I've never been able to tell. Which one is it, Vin or Chris?"

Ezra's body jerked slightly as an ironic bark of a laugh escaped him. He opened green eyes, now dark with hurt, and looked at the older man with ironic cynicism.

Ez sat up, gathering his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Resting his forehead on his arms, he sighed. "It's both of them."

Josiah remained quiet, processing that information. His heart ached for the man before him.

Ezra propped his chin onto his arms and focused piercing green eyes on his older friend. He smiled a slow, sad smile.

"In love for the first time in my life, Josiah, and with two men. Two men who are in love with each other with a depth I have never seen. Unconventional is one thing, but attempting to separate the moon from the night sky, that is something else entirely."

Josiah, his mind processing the situation with his usual calm, latched onto the analogy the southerner had given him. He smiled.

"Ez ... that same night sky is made up of stars, as well."

"Josiah, you have seen the two of them in a private moment? Seen their silent communication, their passion? There is not room for another."

"How can you be so sure, Ez?"

Josiah was flattered that Ezra allowed him to see the internal war that followed that simple question. Green eyes showed each battle as clearly as if Ez was voicing a blow by blow account. But it was defeat that settled when the battles ended, and Ezra closed his eyes, once more, against the pain.

"No, Brother. I won't let you give up that easily," Josiah stated matter-of-factly. "Either way you're going to leave us, why not take the one shot you have to stay?"

Ezra allowed a tiny spark of hope to ignite once more with Josiah's encouragement. He stood, adjusting his clothes and looking down at Sanchez with a shaky smile.

"If I do not do it now, Mr. Sanchez, I will not do it at all."

Josiah nodded once, sharply and stood as well. He walked Ezra to the door. "Straight there, Ez. Don't stop and think about it."

Standish turned and looked a Sanchez, smiling softly. "Thank you, my friend."

Josiah grinned. "Anytime, Brother. Anytime."

TEN

Ezra heeded Josiah's warning, walking straight to the apartment that Chris and Vin shared, forcing his thoughts to the sex he'd just had to push back the doubts with which his mind attempted to assail him. His hand swung up and knocked on the door before he could lose his nerve.

Chris answered fairly quickly, covered in sweat and wearing nothing but a form-fitting pair of work out shorts. He smiled at Ezra and stepped aside.

"Come on in, Ez. I just finished a workout."

Forcing his eyes away from the lean, muscled chest and Ezra stepped past him, just inside the door. He cleared his throat and broached the reason for his visit.

"I need to talk to you...Chris."

Chris, still riding a bit on his natural high, didn't even notice the informal name. He smiled again as he walked toward the bedroom.

"Then come on while I take a shower, sexy." Chris grinned.

"I...where's Vin?"

"Right here," the drawl came from the bedroom door, where he gripped the door frame above his head and smiled at the other two men. Sweatpants hugged his hips, riding low and allowing a tantalizing glimpse of the fine trail of hair that disappeared beneath the drawstring waist. Ezra swallowed yet again as Chris paused to kiss his lover hello. Larabee was always amazed at the thrill that shot through him each time his lips touched Vin's.

"I...I need to talk to both of you, and it's...rather difficult." Ezra still stood in the same spot, just inside the door, hands clasped nervously in front of him.

They broke the kiss off simultaneously, and turned with concerned looks. Moving back into the living room, Vin settled on the arm of the nearest couch and Chris stood next to him, waiting.

"Ezra, if it has anything to do with the fact that you're dressed for street whoring, I'm in too good a mood to call you on it right now, but you can bet..." Chris began.

Vin touched Chris' arm lightly, interrupting him quietly. "Go on, Ez. We're here for ya," encouraged gently.

Ezra smiled ironically. "For now, yes."

"Always, Ezra. You know that." Chris offered softly.

"Mr. Larabee," Ez began, clearing his throat on a breath. "Mr. Tanner...I find that my feelings for you are...well...I am..."

Vin smiled. "Come on, Ez, we don't bite ‘less ya let us, and nothin' can be bad enough to make us walk away, so just out with it."

Ezra raised his chin, disappearing behind his mask of a dignified gentleman, and looked Vin squarely in the eye. "I'm in love with you, Mr. Tanner." He turned his eyes and engaged Chris' startled hazel gaze and repeated the words the same way, "and I'm in love with you, Mr. Larabee."

There was a startled silence, and Chris and Vin went still. Ezra dropped his eyes and swallowed harshly, then squared his shoulders and disappeared behind his familiar wry smile.

"Well, gentlemen, now that I have played my hand and found it lacking, I shall fold and leave the table. It has been wonderful working with you, but I find it is too painful to continue. Goodbye, my friends. I wish you all happiness."

He turned and walked out the door. The ‘snick' of the latch seemed louder than it should have in the heavy quiet of the room. Vin and Chris looked at each other in stunned confusion for a moment before Chris shook off the bewilderment.

The thought of Ezra leaving left a very bad taste in Chris' mouth and reminded him that something had been brewing between them all for awhile. The night that Ezra came to him for a "technique check" in preparation for his date with David, Chris had found himself feeling something for the man that he hadn't wanted to examine. He knew that Vin loved to watch Ezra and him together, and he couldn't think of a good reason not to explore the possibilities of a polyamorous relationship. He knew nothing could damage the love he had with Vin, and he suspected that – rather than cause a rift – Ezra would fit within their lives like the missing piece of a puzzle. He laid a hand on Vin's arm, seeking permission and agreement. Vin nodded and smiled.

"Might as well give it a try, cowboy. It's been comin' on for awhile."

That was all it took, and Chris rushed out into the hallway. He looked toward the elevator and noted with relief that Ezra was still on the floor.

"Standish! Get your sorry ass back here!" Chris ordered to the man's retreating back. Ezra paused for a second, then continued his steady, dignified flight. The unusual slight slump of his shoulders the only indication of his distress.

"Ez, please," Chris said softly. "Let's talk. You, me and Vin."

Standish stopped, chin still high and set. "And the point would be, Mr. Larabee? I do not need to be let down gently."

"Hell, I don't know, Ez," Chris answered with honest frustration. "But I do know you can't just drop something like that on us and walk out before we have a chance to think!"

Ezra turned around, green eyes filled with conflict, and focused his gaze on his boss and friend. He swallowed deeply and closed those eyes for a moment, trying – and failing – to staunch the hope that rose.

"Come back, Ezra, please. Let's figure this out, together. We don't wanna lose you." Chris' voice was gentle and, as usual, persuasive.

Ezra stared at him, trying to take courage from the fact that he hadn't been dismissed with pitying smiles and conciliatory excuses. He blinked, his heart overriding his head, and he took the first step back toward the apartment before Chris fell in beside him. Allowing each other the comfort of silence, they made their way back to Vin.

Larabee settled on one couch as Vin sat next to Ezra on the other. They both looked at Standish, not quite sure where to start a discussion that would most likely change things forever, one way or another.

Ezra cleared his throat and spoke up, still wearing a protective cloak of dignity in effort to exact some damage control. "The situation is not that complicated. My heart belongs to both of you, the two of you love each other and I need to extract myself if I have any hope of maintaining a part of said heart. Do you gentlemen actually have a response to that declaration that does not end with ‘however...'?"

"Like I said, Ez, I'm not sure what the answer is," Chris said, his tone growing in frustration as he continued. "You blindside us and then wanna leave before we even have a chance to think."

"Chris," Vin said quietly, a gentle warning for his lover to calm down.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Chris said on a huff. "I'm not mad at you Ez, I just don't know what to say!"

"Which is why I thought it best to take my leave quickly, Mr. Larabee. And perhaps that is what I should have done, after all.

Vin's hand settled on Ezra's arm, his voice soft and soothing. "Ez, please don't go. What Chris is trying ta say is, I don't think either of our first reactions was ‘so what?' or ‘that's too bad'. We...well none a'us live typical here. It's not so easy ta know what's possible like it would be with other people."

"Yeah!" Chris piped in.

There was silence for a second before all three chuckled at that, Chris having the decency to look a bit chagrinned at his outburst. The tension eased tremendously, and Larabee suddenly began to smile, the grin taking on wicked proportions before the blond chose to share the thought behind it.

"You know...we're ignoring the use of our greatest communication tool."

Vin grinned back at his lover, blue eyes sparkling and turning to Ezra. "He's right, Ez." And he leaned toward the Southerner, his lips playing softly over his ear. "We get some'a this tension ta go ‘way and we'll all be able ta think better."

Ezra's breath caught, his eyes fluttering closed, but he tried, feverishly, to keep his wits about him. "I...I do not think.." a small moan escaped as Vin's teeth nipped quickly at the tender skin of his neck. "Mr. Tanner, I think..."

"That's your problem, Ez, you're thinking too much." Chris purred, moving to the other side of him.

"N...no, Mr. Larabee, I just..." Ezra groaned again when Chris' lips found the pulse at his throat, and Vin began nibbling at his jaw.

"Touch me, Ez," Chris whispered encouragingly, the tip of his cock in full display as it burgeoned above his shorts.

Ezra moaned once more before giving into his desire, reaching for the Chris' sex and rubbing it with a thumb. Chris took a deep, heavy breath, catching a gasp in his throat when Ezra got impatient and abruptly cupped the blond's balls in his hand.

"Bedroom, now!" Larabee said. He left no room for argument and Ezra chose to obey, glad that choices weren't an option now.

Clothes were shucked quickly, the two established lovers tugging the skin tight jeans off of their new partner with a chuckle. Vin and Chris settled Ezra on the bed, looking at each other over his now gloriously naked body. Vin's eyes asked a question that Chris' promptly answered, and they smiled at each other and then down at Ezra.

"Ya know, Ez, we're pretty fond a'ya."

"And...I...I fear you know how I feel about the two of you." He groaned from deep in his chest as the men on either side began a subtle assault on his nipples.

Chris spoke up in his overly reasonable voice, "You might even say that we love you, too, Ezra."

Standish turned his gaze to the blond who was now gazing down at him tenderly. His expression asked for caution.

"Please, Mr. L..." He paused. "Chris, please don't say things we'll all regret."

Chris shook his head. "I'm not, Mr. Standish. It's true." His voice became gentle, soft and stroking. "We do love you, Ez. We love being with you, and there's no reason we can't all work this out. Hell, to tell the truth, Ezra, I think both of us are a little bit in love with you already."

Vin nuzzled the hair at Ezra's neck and murmured his agreement with his lover. "Mm hm. That's why it scared us so much when ya said you was leavin'. We don't wanna lose ya, and it's not just cause ‘a this."

Vin's hand slid down the Southerner's belly, resting gently but firmly on his cock. Ezra gasped, as much due to his ever-strengthening hope as to the physical sensations Chris and Vin were causing.

"So what ‘dya say, Ezra? Will ya stick around for awhile? Let's see where all ‘a this might take us?" Vin asked, placing a quick, affectionate quick on his temple.

Ezra's soft "yes" bathed Vin's cheek, as he was turned to his side, coming face to face with the man, and he moaned his consent when Chris bumped against him, only vaguely wondering when Larabee had had time to lube up. The push inside was slow and smooth and Ezra groaned with each new inch. Vin took advantage of his position, and captured Ezra's lips with his own. His hand continued to play Ezra's cock, and he soon slid down for a taste.

The room was filled with the quickened breath of the three passionate men as they explored the possibilities between them. Chris laid his forehead against Ezra's back as he sank fully into the tight, warm channel. Ezra's head fell back onto Chris's shoulder. He panted harshly and fought to hold back.

"God, Ez... so tight. So good."

Vin moved up, capturing both men's mouths, one after another, rubbing his cock against Ezra's and sinking a hand in Chris' hair. A moan became a whimper as pressure built in Vin's belly and he drew his head back to look into two beautiful sets of green eyes. Larabee-jade had turned almost emerald, Standish-emerald, almost black. And simple sex had slowly twisted into sweetly complicated emotion.

Cries filled the air as they reached their peaks together, slick, salty cream bathing groins, bellies and chests. Chris brought his head up and turned Ezra's face to him, capturing his smile in a kiss.

Three spent bodies relaxed into a puppy pile as the lovers sought their breath and gave thought to the situation in question. Chris caught Vin's eyes over Ezra's shoulder and his doubts eased still more when he took in Vin's sated, lazy smile.

Ezra's head still lay back on Chris' shoulder, eyes closed, and fists clenched, though it was likely he wasn't even aware of his tension. Chris slid his fingers down the smooth, tanned arm and closed them around the tightly clenched hand. Vin leaned forward and kissed Ezra on the forehead, brushing an unruly lock of hair from his face. His voice was husky, soft with satisfied passion, as he urged Ezra to relax and open his eyes.

"Look at me, Ez."

Standish's lids fluttered, then slowly raised, his gaze following shortly behind. His breath caught at the tenderness he saw in Vin's face and the ember of hope he'd been protecting began to grow into a small, steady flame. Vin smiled and nodded lazily, chuckling when it caused an answering grin. Chris, too, broke into a wide smile and they all hugged tightly before drifting off.

Tomorrow the whole household was leaving for Nashville, joining Buck and JD on their visit to Casey, a much needed rest on the agenda as well. Chris smiled to himself just before sleep claimed him as he realized they'd need one less room.

The End