Back to: Between A Wink And An Earthquake
Chris didn't mean to start drinking so heavily. Well, to be more precise, he didn't mean not to stop. But the repetitive action of pouring a drink, sipping it a few times then drinking it down was as familiar as it was numbing. Thinking about the events of the previous afternoon, he wanted familiar. Numbing he could take or leave.
While his plan to get Ezra's mouth on him didn't turn out a complete disaster, it had been pretty close. At one point, he had felt like kicking Ezra off the bed and forgetting the whole exercise. Ezra's admission afterwards hadn't exactly helped matters either but, to tell the truth, Chris had suspected it all along. Unfortunately, suspecting it and actually thinking about doing it were two very different things.
Letting Ezra fuck him, getting fucked by Ezra: it amounted to the same act in the end.
The worse that could happen is that he'd hate it and they'd never do it again. The worse that could happen is that Ezra would go fuck someone else....
Chris' gaze narrowed as he considered the idea of Ezra with someone else. While in theory it shouldn't have bothered him, in reality it did. Who Ezra fucked was his business just as what Chris did was his own. Or was it? Chris knew he didn't want anyone else. He had considered it, but after being with Ezra, his appetite for others had waned. Although men were expected to want to do it with anyone possible, and for the most part most did, Chris had lost the urge to fuck anything that moved a few years back. Well, perhaps not the urge, just the inclination to do much about it. When he wanted to do something, he did it. That was about it.
When it came down to it, he supposed he was getting too old and short tempered for spreading wild oats. So, what did that make Ezra? A wife with a cock?
Chris swallowed the remaining whisky in his glass in one gulp. No wonder he was drinking.
Just as he decided he'd had enough whisky, Vin slipped up next to him at the bar.
"Evenin', Chris," he said softly while helping himself to a drink. "Yer thinkin' keeping the roof on?"
Chris smirked back at Vin's smile. "Maybe."
From across the saloon, Ezra watched Vin approach Chris at the bar, saw Chris' body move subtly in welcome. It wasn't much but it was enough to let Ezra know Chris wasn't planning on getting blind drunk that night. Despite his relief, Ezra couldn't quite dampen down the flare of jealousy that followed. The way Vin could just ease up beside Chris and be immediately appreciated never failed to draw Ezra's attention, and a few emotions he wasn't proud of. But, on the other hand, he would lay healthy odds that Vin never admitted to wanting to do to Chris what he had the previous afternoon.
As the last of his players left the poker table with a groan, Ezra raked the cards up from the tabletop and felt like banging his head on it. What on Earth had possessed him to say such a thing? Not only that he'd like to do to Chris what Chris didn't want done, but that at times he couldn't believe the rest of the world didn't want to do it too. It probably made Chris think that Ezra thought that the whole world lusted after him. The fact that it was the truth offered little comfort when that uncomfortable silence grew between them.
Shuffling the deck, Ezra watched Chris and Vin talk, wondering why he couldn't say what he wanted to say to Chris yesterday. While he had managed to convince Chris he thought the whole world wanted to molest him -- that definitely wasn't a problem -- he had somehow neglected to mention the fact that sometimes all he wanted was to feel Chris thrusting inside him for about, oh, eternity.
All right, so maybe that admission wouldn't have helped matters either but he could have thought up something a little more subtle, surely? Something that didn't involve the rest of the world lusting after Chris' shapely attributes?
But that, Ezra guessed, was the problem. Even if the offer had been delivered like a punch to the side of the head, Chris had still offered. Thinking about Chris moving willingly onto him made Ezra light-headed, and it wasn't just because his blood was rushing elsewhere. Part of him didn't care why Chris had decided to make the offer; it just wanted to feel that sure, lean strength writhing in pleasure beneath his strokes. But most of him knew that wouldn't be the case, didn't want to take such intimacies so grudgingly offered.
The problem was if Chris said he'd do it then he would. The man had a mind like a steel trap and he wouldn't forget it even if they both preferred that he did. The only question was how to go about coaxing a more willing response -- and the devil, as always, was in the details.
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