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.