by
Farad
Authors Notes: this was written for one of the March, 2011, WEC Challenge to "take a scene you've already written and write another version from a different character's POV." As I've already started working on a follow-up story to Forging Copper, this seemed like a really good opportunity to get into Ezra's head.
As an explanation and warning, "Forging Copper" was one of my first stories in Mag 7 fandom. It suffers from 'new writer syndrome', both in style, which is laden in places, and in characterization. I apologize to Ezra-fen for how poorly I treated Ezra in this fic and how his character, the one who has the most complicated part in the story, is given far too little attention. The POV rewrite, and the second story, which I hope to get written soon, are an attempt to give the concept more balance between the characters and to the whole of the story.
The original scene, from Vin's POV, is included after Ezra's scene. As a point in note: the dialogue, having already been 'published' is 'fixed'; what was already written is what is here in Ezra's POV.
Warnings: extreme angst for all of them, poor characterization (angry!Chris, Saint Vin, Devious!Ezra)
Ezra sighed, appreciating this instant, his body sated, the echo of pain making the contentment all the more real. Chris sat on the chaise lounge, looking through the book Ezra had offered to loan him. He looked comfortable, at ease, as relaxed as Ezra believed the man could be.
In this moment, Ezra thought he himself might be happy; but he didn't have enough experience of the sensation to judge, so he didn't let himself dwell on it, just allowed himself to feel it. In the back of his mind, he knew it was almost time, that Vin would be here shortly. Part of him, the part that was enjoying what he had right now, hoped that Vin's courage would desert him; not that Ezra wanted Vin to suffer, despite how it appeared. But he knew that Chris Larabee was no more able to love Vin the way Vin wanted than the proverbial leopard was to change its spots. Chris Larabee might once have been the sensitive, giving lover, perhaps in the halcyon days of his marriage to Sarah Larabee, but the way that had ended had changed the man forever. No matter how much Chris or Vin wanted to believe otherwise.
He stood near the night table, ostensibly cleaning himself up, but in truth, he was watching Chris. All that fury, so beautiful when it was released. Such power.
There was nothing this man couldn't do if he put his will behind it. Except be what Vin Tanner wanted.
He heard the clink of glass outside the door, signaling Vin's arrival. Ezra thought about ignoring the sound, waiting to see if Vin would have the courage. But he knew better than to hope otherwise. Vin had made it this far, past Inez and the trap Ezra had set with her, up the slender staircase, down the long corridor, and here he stood. He'd made it past every stumbling block Ezra had put in his path.
Ezra walked easily to the door, the carpet keeping his steps silent so that he didn't draw Chris' attention.
"Well! I was beginning to despair!" he said as he pulled the door open. His unexpected welcome startled Vin, and Ezra took the other man's appearance in one sweep; he'd bathed, but Ezra had expected no less. His hair was still damp, curling more than usual in gentle ringlets that brushed along the shoulders and collar of his worn calico shirt. The heat, perhaps, or perhaps he'd actually given this due consideration; whatever the case, Vin wore fewer clothes than usual. He had shaved, his skin as smooth as it could get here in the desert air - or as smooth as a man like Vin Tanner, unaccustomed to lotions and unguents, would have. He was sweating, his forehead shiny and even though it was partly the heat, especially up here, Ezra knew that more of it was nerves. It made him look younger, smaller, more fragile.
The image was reinforced by the unusual wideness of his eyes as he looked at Ezra.
Strangely, it helped reaffirm to Ezra why he was doing this. Vin deserved better than the likes of Chris Larabee. Or Ezra P. Standish, for that matter, but that wasn't the issue here.
"Please, dear sir, come in!" Ezra gestured, his arm sweeping toward the inside of the room. It pulled his shirt open and he felt a flash of self-consciousness as he remembered that he wasn't dressed, remembered what Vin would see.
What he did see, as he stood there, staring.
Ezra didn't flinch away from the look on the other man's face. Instead, he stepped back, the movement drawing Vin slowly into the room. Vin's gaze left him, which was almost a palpable relief, traveling around the room, taking it all in. He saw the flickers of curiosity and disdain, Vin's eyes losing some of their youth and discomfort.
The idea that Vin wasn't impressed with the efforts Ezra had put into his home, the sacrifices he'd made to surround himself with the best that he could find in this barren frontier, stripped away another layer of doubt about what he was doing and why.
"Vin? What the hell - "
Ezra looked over to find Chris staring at Vin, his expression almost comical.
Until it wasn't. Chris rose in one fast, fluid movement, the book he'd been browsing falling to the chaise lounge. Ezra barely had time to register it, barely had time to actually see Chris move the short distance to where Vin was standing. Chris grabbed up the bottle and glasses Inez had sent up by way of Vin, snarling, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Ezra couldn't see Chris' eyes, but he could imagine them, could call the image from his memory of not so very long ago: cold fire, a flame of gold under jade green. They went with the heat of his voice, the low, rumbling fury that stirred something deep and wicked in Ezra's very core.
It was instinct to answer, a compulsion to feed the fire of that anger, and he spoke before he even thought about what he was saying.
"Well, well, well," Ezra laughed as he clapped his hands together, feeling the brush of his loose cuffs against the skin of his wrists, soft and fine and such a perfect contrast to what he wanted. "Why am I not surprised that Sweet Vin neglected to mention this part of the afternoon's entertainment?"
He turned in hopes of actually seeing Chris' face, the fire, the anger, but it also served the purpose of letting him push the door closed. Without a thought, he locked it, the metal clicking shut with ease, and he saw the look that passed over Vin's face at the sound of it.
Before Ezra could feel pleasure or remorse, Chris turned, placing everything he held onto a small marble and cherrywood table. Fluidly, he used his bare arms to brush Vin to one side, out of his way, as he turned to face Ezra. The curve of his arm, the stretch of long, defined muscles, took Ezra's breath, so that it took him a second to register what Chris said.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" he snarled in a voice so primal that even Vin took a step back.
The motion, the sense of wariness that it evoked from Vin, told Ezra that he'd been right all along - this anger, this passion, was a side of Chris that Vin, so cool and calm, didn't know how to appreciate. Ezra, however, knew exactly how to appreciate it, how to use it, how to make it work for both Chris and himself. With no thought whatsoever, he smiled slightly and tilted his head to one side, the flutter in his stomach growing larger and warmer as he met the deep, flashing green of Chris' gaze. "By now, Christopher, I should hope that you know that I play at nothing. Nothing." He shrugged lazily, appreciating the slide of the cool cotton cloth of his shirt along the sensitive flesh of his chest, the swollen points of his nipples.
Behind Chris, Vin's eyes widened again, and Ezra felt the weight of his gaze. This time, though, it made him bold. This was what he was here to show Vin, this was what Vin needed to understand: Chris Larabee was not to be tamed. The anger, the passion, these were the things that made him who he was, and to try to curb this was a wrong in too many ways.
"No, my dear man, this time I would have to suggest to you that the man that you . . . love is the one who toys with your emotions." He gracefully waved one hand toward Vin, knowing that the white cuff was like a flag, drawing Chris' attention to Vin, to the man who, despite his suicidally stupid belief in the value of honesty and soul-bearing confessions, had shown himself to be a perfect hypocrite, keeping this secret, this arrangement, from Chris. From the man he swore that he loved enough to sacrifice everything for.
Chris still snarled, his face locked in a masque of fury that brought Ezra's cock to unrepentant awareness even as he turned the full force of his scowl on Vin.
Ezra suspected that Vin, consummate hunter that he was, had never had that particular look turned upon him, certainly not by Chris. His suspicions were confirmed when Vin's hand fell instinctively to his gun, even as the realization flitted across Vin's face that any such effort to pull a gun would be too little, too late.
For the first time since Ezra had come to this town, since he had met these men and let himself give in to whatever this collective insanity was, he saw an expression on Vin Tanner's face that he would have bet - gambled hard currency on - was outside of the man's capacity: fear.
And not just fear, but fear coupled with the annoyance that only came when one realized one had forgotten something very elemental.
Ezra almost laughed out loud as it came to him: Vin had been so caught up in the mechanizations, in the efforts and arguments necessary to get Chris to come here, and in his own justifications for himself as to why this had to happen, that he had neglected to consider how he was going to explain to Chris that he had manipulated the entire thing.
That he had agreed to do what Ezra asked.
Had Ezra needed proof that Vin was too innocent for this game, this was it. The boy couldn't even remember to protect himself.
What the hell did Chris Larabee see in him? The curiosity was so strong that Ezra almost asked it out loud - but he caught himself, his own sense of self-preservation finely tuned. He had no doubt at all about who Chris would hold accountable. It hardly mattered that Vin had come to him, that Vin had orchestrated all of this, agreed to the terms - sold himself to Ezra despite every effort Ezra had made to make Vin understand how very stupid this was.
Chris would hold Ezra accountable. Chris, who was deluding himself about his ability to love Vin, would hold Ezra accountable for trying to show Vin the truth of this, for trying to protect Vin from the pain of the truth of this.
While Chris, of course, would shoot them both for the mere suggestion that Vin owed Ezra anything for this.
No, Ezra corrected, Chris would shoot Ezra and Chris - and that, truly, was the thing that he and Vin shared, this deep fear of what Chris could do to himself in the name of his collection of guilts. They'd watched him try to come to terms with the guilt of losing his family, watched him slowly move past his sense of failure and shame. If Vin were right - and Ezra didn't doubt that Vin believed what he thought he saw - then Chris would punish himself with the same ferocity that he would punish the person he held responsible for hurting Vin.
And this would not be a punishment that Ezra would appreciate.
Vin wasn't self-protective - in fact, as he spoke up, Ezra thought he might actually be suicidal. "You get to sleep with two of us," Vin said softly, his voice remarkably level given the paleness of his face. "Why don't we get the same thing?"
It wasn't want Ezra had expected. He blinked, stunned at the implication. Vin didn't seriously think that Ezra would - Vin himself couldn't possibly be interested in -
No, he didn't, Ezra could see it in his eyes when they glanced to him. It was a ploy - and a surprisingly good one, all things considered. His estimate of the other man went up a fraction.
Chris stilled completely, his head turned just enough that Ezra could see his face slacken with surprise, before it closed in.
Vin either didn't notice or didn't care. He went on, his voice still even. "Thought it'd be nice to see . . . " He stalled, as if he didn't know what it would be nice to see. He waved a hand, the gesture unsure and clumsy.
Ezra chuckled despite himself, but in his amusement, he found sympathy for the other man, coupled with a reminder of his own vulnerability. If Chris were as jealous as he appeared at this moment, then Ezra needed to make his position known. "Mr. Tanner and I had a negotiation of our own about this little . . . venture," he said, stepping forward.
He extended a hand, catching Vin's wrist. Vin flinched at the contact, proving the lie of any desire between them and Chris' glare eased just a little.
But his words were hard and dangerous. "This ain't no goddamned 'venture', you bastard." He reached out, in turn, and caught Ezra's wrist, his fingers so tight Ezra knew he'd have a ring of purple spots to hide. Chris pulled, forcing Ezra's hand away from Vin as he hissed, "It's - it's - it's - " He flushed with frustration, and Ezra could smell the rage in him, the heady mix of sex and sweat and man. Barely aware of what he was doing, he stepped forward, into the flames of the fury, wanting what he knew he could readily have -
Vin touched Chris' chest, and Chris stilled. The electric tension in the room receded, as if a cool blue ocean wave had rolled through. Even Ezra's own desire ebbed as the very air chilled.
The change angered him, reminding him of the power Vin had over Chris, this power to temper, to rein in something that should be left unchecked.
Annoyed, he cut in, "What, then, is it, pray tell?"
Chris glanced toward Ezra, his face pinched.
"It is what it is." The words were soft and slow, and it took Ezra several seconds to realize that Vin had been the one to answer. Chris was looking once more at Vin, as if he were the only person in the world. Vin's hand rested over Chris' heart, and Chris let go of Ezra so he could cover it. He caught Vin's arm, drawing him closer, and Ezra knew that as far as they were concerned, he wasn't there.
Chris swallowed and started to say something, but Vin eased just a little closer and suddenly, they were kissing.
It was natural, smooth, something they had done so many times that neither of them thought about it. Watching Chris' arms slide around Vin's waist stirred another emotion in Ezra, one he couldn't put a name to. While it was dark and swirled in his belly like desire, it didn't bring the same anticipation. Instead, it made him feel ill.
The feeling grew stronger as he watched Chris' lips part to admit Vin's tongue, the two of them seeming to fight for control - but it was a sham; Chris Larabee was playing at some game, Ezra had no doubt. He might let Vin think he had some power, some control, but when Chris pulled him closer, bending him backwards as he dominated the kiss, there was no question of who was in charge.
As if to make his point more clearly, Chris tangled his fingers in Vin's hair, pulling Vin further back; he drew away from Vin's mouth, but he continued to kiss along the sharp lines of Vin's jaw. He was speaking, Ezra could tell by the movement of Chris' lips but the words were for Vin alone. The dark, swirling thing in Ezra's belly moved faster, the nausea building.
Vin gasped as Chris' teeth flashed in the soft light, grazing under Vin's ear. He arched against Chris and Chris made a low noise before asking, audibly, "Then why?"
Chris pulled up, still holding Vin close but staring into his face.
"Don't," Vin whispered. His arms were around Chris neck and he tried to pull Chris back to him, but Chris' grip in his hair apparently tightened as Vin winced and stopped.
"Why, Vin?" The tone was harder now, louder, and Chris' upper arms flexed as the muscles bunched, holding Vin still.
Vin didn't answer, though, frowning.
They stood that way, locked in a battle of wills, until Ezra couldn't stand it any more. "Because he loves you more than he should," he snapped, wanting to end this charade, wanting Chris to finally understand this fantasy he was constructing around his relationship with Vin. "Because I wanted to see if he did, indeed, love you as much as he claims."
Chris head turned quickly to find Ezra. "You had no right - "
Ezra cut him off, angrier. "You did not come to me, Christopher, he did. To save your relationship, perhaps, I suspect, to save your life - "
Chris straightened, bringing Vin against him in a parody of some exotic dance before he released him. But even as Ezra smiled wider, anticipation overcoming the darker coil of want in his belly, Vin's hold on Chris tightened, and he shifted so that Chris couldn't be free of him. "Don't," he said, rushing the words. "It ain't nothing, Chris, just one time, just - "
"He loves you," Ezra said, trying to shut out this defense, this interruption, wanting Vin to simply go away. Wanting Chris all to himself again. "Do you love him?" he goaded. "You say you do, but I fear that I would never believe it possible - certainly not for your definition of the emotion and his to be anywhere similar enough to survive for more than - what, a month or two? Given your predilections, I would anticipate boredom on your part quite soon. Innocence can be so . . . predictable."
Chris pushed at Vin, trying to break his hold, but Vin clung like English ivy, trying to get between Ezra and Chris. "Chris, no - dammit, Ezra, shut the fuck - "
"Why, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra cut him off, holding Chris' attention. He spoke slowly, letting the words roll of his tongue, knowing that he had Chris' full concentration despite Vin's antics. "It would seem that I am quite correct in my assumptions. Here he stands with you in his arms, you who are willing to do more than should ever be asked of anyone one loves, and all he can think of is hurting me. Your affection for him, however intense it may be, however sacrificing, is obviously not reciprocated."
He almost laughed out loud when his words hit their mark, and Chris finally shoved Vin away and stood before Ezra, tall and proud and so passionate.
"What?" The voice was a rumble, the vibration tingling in Ezra's groin, making his cock weep.
"I thought it was clear," Ezra sighed, feigning boredom. He stepped backwards until he felt the brush of his favorite chair which he easily slid onto. "But perhaps you were distracted by your anger, so I'll repeat myself: Mr. Tanner does, indeed, love you. He is willing to," he paused, calculating the effect of the word before he used it, "whore himself to protect you in the only way he sees to save you. You, on the other hand, when faced with the prospect of demonstrating your affection for him, would rather work yourself back into an anger that will compel you to me - away from him - instead of showing him that you can sacrifice for him in return."
The argument was one he'd considered for so long that he was hardly aware of it - which was good as he was so distracted by the sight of the man before him that he was barely aware of what he was saying. He stared at Chris, taking in every detail - the way his bare chest rose and fell with each fast breath, the way his arms flexed as his fists clenched and unclenched, the force of his will, so clear in the brilliant green of his eyes, the gold flecks that sparkled as if lit by an internal fire. He was glad he was sitting as the blood rushed into parts of his body that would have made it impossible to stand.
"It ain't that way," Vin said from very far away, so distantly that at first, Ezra barely heard it.
But Chris did, his breath catching, and Ezra forced the words to replay in his head and to recognize the damnable voice. "Isn't it, Sweet Vin?" he asked, trying to curb his growing bitterness at the man's presence. It was, after all, why he had arranged this, to force the divide between the two of them, so that Chris would come to terms with his true nature. "Oh, I have no doubts as to your feelings in this - but at this point, isn't it up to Christopher to explain why he'd rather work himself into another fit of pique - and have his way with me, than take advantage of the large, soft bed - softer than I know you are used to, and you, more than willing in his arms, for an afternoon of sensual pleasure? Why, if nothing else, I would think that he would be enamoured of the idea for the sheer pleasure of proving me wrong." He sighed, uncrossed his legs and pushed himself to stand. "Perhaps it is better to discover this now? Before you sell some other part of yourself for him, some part of, perhaps, your soul that is unrecoverable?"
The words, while directed at Vin, were for Chris. Ezra knew what the man needed to hear, what he needed to understand about himself: that he would never be happy trying to be something he wasn't.
"No," Vin cut in, the word hard and fast. He stepped forward, trying to draw attention with his body, since his words weren't working.
It worked, and Ezra felt helpless as he watched Chris catch Vin once more, pulling him in close. "It's bullshit, Vin, don't listen to him - "'
"And why shouldn't he?" Ezra countered, taking a step forward himself, trying to get Chris to look at him again, to hear what he was saying. For an instant, his gaze caught Vin's; what he saw in those blue blue eyes was unsettling - love and desperation and things that he knew this man - this tracker, this Indian lover, this wild man - should know better than to show, much less feel. For a few seconds, something stirred in him that he tried to ignore - compassion, sympathy, some other thing he couldn't define. He rushed on, avoiding the disquiet he felt. "What have you done to prove your love for him - hurt him one time, so that in the throws of some melodramatic angst, you could threaten to end your life, thus freeing him of the burden of your accursed love? Shakespeare would be envious of your creativity, your pathos. Only it would seem that your love for him, apparently, is just strong enough to bend him to your desires, such as having two lovers, as it were, but not strong enough to prove to him that your love for him, if not equal to his for you, is at least more than your affection - or need - for me."
Chris glared, reacting just as Ezra wanted, just as he'd expected. "Goddamn you, Ezra, you're twisting everything around - "
But his words sputtered out as Vin pulled away and Chris turned to look at him.
Ezra started to speak, to fill the silence, to continue his argument and keep the passion alive, but something in the way Vin was moving stopped him. Vin walked slowly, his face scrunched in concentration, his eyes distant and vague. He stepped between Chris and Ezra as if he had forgotten they were there, as if he couldn't hear the argument - or as if he didn't care.
He stopped before a large painting of a fox hunt. It wasn't especially good, but the price had been right; Maude had left it in the basement in the hotel when she had sold it off and the new owners had put it out to be burned. Now, it served to give the room a certain panache, at least until he could afford better - or moved on from this town.
Vin seemed to have found something in the fox, though, his eyes unmoving as they fixed on it. Somehow it seemed fitting that he would find the target, the hunted. As if he had some honed instinct for finding prey.
But he wasn't thinking as a hunter; his eyes were too wide, his expression too vacant.
Chris turned, his voice sharp but more with worry. "Vin, you know - "
Vin didn't turn but he held up one hand. Chris fell silent, but Ezra felt the change in him, desperation filling in where the anger was leaking out.
Watching Vin, the uncomfortable thoughts returned. He knew with no doubt that what he was doing was for Vin's own good; he was rough and tough and wild, but under it all, he was vulnerable to Chris, to what he felt for Chris - and what he thought Chris felt for him. Better that Vin find out now. The pain of it would only be worse the longer he lived in this delusion. The compassion Ezra had repressed returned, and this time he let it.
But for the first time, the idea niggled at the back of his mind that he could be wrong, that this side of Chris that Vin believed in might be there. That Chris could care about Vin as much as Vin believed he did.
Chris was watching Vin, too, his expression softened to the point that Ezra barely recognized him. The niggling doubt grew stronger, stirring a different sort of guilt but also that low, deep unease that made him want Vin gone, out of his house, out of this whole scenario.
It was that uncertainty that drove him, once more, to speak, to pull Vin back to them - or, better, push him finally out. "Vin?" His voice was dry and uncertain, even to his own ears, and he drifted forward until he was standing behind Vin, looking at the painting over the other man's shoulder.
Vin's voice was slow, languid, as if he were half asleep. "I came here because I said I would. I asked for your help, Ezra, and that was part of the price of my asking. I didn't come here for Chris to have to prove anything or show me anything - least, I didn't think of it that way." But there was a note of doubt in his voice, too, enough to make Ezra feel the slightest bit victorious, and even more relieved.
"I didn't come here with that in mind," he repeated. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I been stupid about it all this time."
The euphoric sense of success washed through him, making him almost giddy. Vin finally understood, finally saw that Chris wasn't his to have. For a second, something warm and welcome drifted through Ezra's awareness, a passing sense of happiness that he cast away as soon as he recognized it. He couldn't allow himself to show such - and for himself, he couldn't afford to feel such.
But as he heard Chris move behind him, he turned to find himself captivated by the sight of the bare skin, hard muscles, and compact build of the man he wanted.
Vin's voice drew him out of the fantasy. "Ezra don't believe in love, Chris - that's what this all comes down to. He don't believe that someone other than a complete fool, like me, could care about another person enough to put their own wants aside, just to make someone happy - because he don't understand how making someone else happy can make me - or you, or anybody else happy."
It seemed to be an effort, but Vin finally turned from the painting to look at Chris. "Never thought I'd ask this - never thought I'd want it." He shifted a bit, letting his weight rest on one hip, his arms crossing over his belly. "But I'd like . . . I'd like for you to love me."
Ezra stared. The words made little sense at first, contradicting everything Vin had said before, everything Ezra had wanted to hear.
Chris sounded as confused as Ezra felt. "For him?"
Vin tilted his head. "Maybe. But mostly . . . " He stopped, working his jaw as if the words had to be birthed. "For me."
Ezra swallowed, uncomprehending. He turned to find Chris also looking at Vin as if he were a stranger.
But then, suddenly, as if some sort of clarity had come to him, Chris' lips twitched and turned up slightly, into the grin that Ezra saw most often just before Chris pulled his gun. Without thinking, he stepped aside - which was just as well, as Chris stepped toward Vin at the same instant that Vin stepped forward. Ezra expected Chris to lash out, expected the two men to clash with all the force and strength of their immovable wills.
Instead, in the blink of an eye, he lost his sense of reality yet again. They stood together, in a clench, but it wasn't the clutch of anger. Instead, Chris was cupping Vin's face in his hands as he kissed him, slow and gentle. As the kiss progressed, Vin gave into it as it had earlier, arching into Chris' touch which soon became an exploration that removed any idea of anger between the two.
Why should they be angry? Ezra wondered passingly as Chris' mouth moved over Vin's neck, nipping and teasing, one hand holding his ass while the other twisted in Vin's hair again. Insanity was enough - and clearly they both were. Not only were they both lunatics in trusting in this perverse notion of love, but here they were, in his room, doing this to each other as if they were safe. As if he, Ezra, could be trusted to protect them.
Idiots. Both of them. He might have expected such stupidity from Vin, who seemed unable to accept the fact that 'love' was a fantasy for children and giggling girls. But - Chris? Chris who had shown such anger, who knew first-hand the dangers of love, who had suffered the worst that any person could suffer at the merciless whims of Fate - he should know better.
But even now, he was running his hands over Vin's body, carefully, possessively.
Damn him. Damn them both. The idea of opening the door and yelling for someone - Buck? Josiah? - anyone to come see what the two of them were doing caught his attention; in this town, these two could be strung up, which would, if nothing else, prove the stupidity of this very idea of 'love'.
But as he thought it, Chris pulled Vin closer, rubbing against him even as they continued to fondle each other. It was graphic, obscene and despite every effort to feel disgust, all Ezra could feel was his blood heating. Chris was an image of perfection, his bare upper body reflecting the spare light of the oil lamps and candles, sweaty and taut, sharp lines and blunt curves where the muscles flexed. Ezra could see nothing but him, nothing but his barely controlled need, the desire that made Chris tremble, that made him lose his iron will - or, perhaps worse, made his will all the stronger.
Vin's shirt fell away, victim of Chris' nimble fingers, and Ezra saw a second expanse of skin, this one darker, the soft brown of skin exposed too long and too often to the desert sun. It created a nice contrast to the pureness of Chris' skin, to Chris. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Chris Larabee was elegant and elite, a prince hiding among the common, sun-drenched masses.
It was him that Ezra wanted to watch, and despite everything Ezra wanted to believe, even now, Ezra knew that he cared about Chris. Damn him.
Ezra concentrated on the movement of Chris's hands as they moved erotically over that other, alien body, then on the way Chris' mouth moved, biting, teasing, latching on to one dark nipple, suckling it to hardness in a way so familiar that Ezra's own chest ached for the contact.
Then Vin was on his knees, tugging at the buttons of Chris' pants until Chris' erection stood free and proud, Chris moaning with need.
Ezra tried, truly, to watch nothing but Chris, but as Vin's lips opened and he moved with practiced ease, taking Chris' cock deep and true on his first attempt, Ezra found himself mesmerized. For so long he had worked to convince himself that Chris' need for Vin was based in some sort of protective innocence that he'd allowed himself to believe that the wild, Indian-loving tracker was stupidly ignorant of sex and its subtleties. Watching Vin, he knew he'd underestimated the other man in this, too. Vin might not have appreciated the uses of pain and danger but he knew how to give other forms of delight, other forms of decadent pleasure.
Chris was coiled, the muscles of his thighs like marble under Vin's hands as Vin took him all the way. Chris was trying not to move, trying to control the instinct to thrust, while Vin, damn him, was using his lips and his tongue and even his the strong muscles of his throat to taunt Chris' control.
It was mere seconds, before Chris' tightened his hold at the base of Vin's skull, his fingers like claws in the thickness of Vin's damp hair. His thumbs dug into the hard curve where Vin's jaw was locked, and he pulled back, jerking his cock from Vin's mouth. Almost. Before it was out, Chris snapped his lean hips, driving forward again. There was a noise, as if Vin were gagging, but he didn't pull away, taking it all as he had before.
Taking it over and over as Chris thrust repeatedly, determinedly, with the same demand he demonstrated in everything he did.
In a move that made Ezra's breath catch, Chris jerked at Vin's hair, guiding him as if he were a horse. He pulled Vin away then caught him up, pulling him to his feet with a strength Vin wasn't prepared for.
Just as he wasn't prepared for the demand of Chris' lips and tongue as they drove deep into his mouth, laying claim. Or affirming his claim, his tongue working to taste himself. Ezra knew the feel of this possession, of this control.
"Bed," Chris mumbled and before Ezra could blink or Vin could move, Chris caught Vin behind the knees and lower back, lifting him with surprising ease. Quickly, Chris crossed the space into the sleeping area. As he set Vin on the bed, the flicker of the candles that lit the area burnished Chris' skin to a shimmering gold. They caught the brighter colors in his sun-bleached hair, so that it seemed to shine as he bent down, taking off his boots and stripping off his pants.
He moved with the grace and speed of a wild cat, agilely pouncing onto the bed and over Vin. He was already working at Vin's pants before he was settled, his fingers so practiced that Ezra found himself looking at Vin's erection before he was even aware of it.
It was just a glimpse though, gone even as Ezra's brain identified it, receding into Chris' fist and into shadow as Chris leaned over Vin, kissing him once more. Vin's hips arched and the bed bounced as Chris set a tempo with his hand and tongue. It was mesmerizing, watching Chris this way. Ezra knew it was what they looked like together, knew the feel of that hand on his own erection. Even now, it seemed to draw at his cock, tugging and twisting, pulling him to release.
It was both a disappointment and a relief when Vin pushed against Chris, breaking the rhythm. Until Chris drew back and reached for Vin's pants, pulling them off his body.
"Want you," Chris said, his voice deep and desperate. "Want to take you."
Ezra had heard the words before, knew the power of those words - he felt it now, the words cutting through his mind and down his spine, into his belly and lower. But they were wrong now, too distant, too - too - too needy. Too emotional.
This wasn't the Chris he knew, not the man he bedded. This Chris was weak, attached, committed -
This Chris was the Chris he feared. This was the Chris who would do something stupid, the one who would lose sight of the goal because - because he cared too much about what was at risk.
This was the Chris Ezra knew he would never have. The one he believed did not exist.
Chris' hand traced along Vin's thigh even as Vin shook his head. "Not this way, not this time." His words sounded sharp to Ezra, commanding, as if he were the one in control.
Chris frowned, looking confused, and Ezra wondered what game Vin was playing at - some sort of dominance? Some sort of one-upmanship?
The candles had been arranged for a specific purpose, to light the bed, to set it as a stage where Ezra could see everything about Chris that he wanted. But the light of the flames created a nimbus, one that reached back to where Ezra was standing and as he glanced up, he caught Vin's gaze. He hadn't intended to - he didn't want to be aware of Vin.
Vin stared at him, the damnable clearness of his blue eyes so vibrant in the spare light that Ezra could no longer pretend, no longer concentrate on Chris alone.
"From behind," Vin said, glancing to Chris. "Wanna feel you as deep in me as you can be. Want all of ya."
Ezra agreed; it was the best way for him to see Chris, perhaps to even hold Chris' gaze while this was going on. He looked toward Chris, annoyed to find Chris and Vin kissing yet again, but Vin's hand was once more working Chris' erection, a sign, perhaps, that Vin wasn't as confident of Chris as he pretended.
"Christ, Vin," Chris groaned, " stop or - or - "
Vin stopped, leaving Chris trembling, his face taut as he willed himself not to spill. After a few seconds, his shoulders slumped and he panted, leaning against Vin.
"You sure about this?" Chris' voice was like gravel, so rough and gritty that Ezra thought at first that Vin had spoken, voicing second doubts. But Chris pressed something into Vin's hand and Ezra caught the glint of metal in the soft light, the curve of a saddle oil tin. He knew that container, the one Chris kept in his saddle bags or next to his own bed - the one they used when they weren't here.
"Vin?" Chris prompted, when Vin didn't move.
Vin tilted his head up, his lips covering a place at the base of Chris' neck that Ezra knew from his own experience to be sensitive. But as the lid finally came off and Vin's fingers delved into the soft, slick oil, he said, "Yeah, I'm sure." He pushed Chris back and got to his knees. "Get behind me," he ordered, setting the tin on the bed close, and reaching behind himself.
Chris frowned again, his hands coming to rest on Vin's shoulders. "Just turn - "
"No," Vin stopped him, even as he angled his body forward to get a better reach. "Want him to have a good viewing," he said, cutting a quick glance to Ezra. "Want him to know how you make me feel."
Ezra stared at the other man, his irritation warring with a deep, ironic humor. The words were on his tongue - 'I know how he feels, you idiot' - but he caught them just before they flew free, his gaze drawn to Chris and his reaction.
Chris' jaw clenched. "Vin, it ain't about - he doesn't need - "
Vin straightened so that he was almost eye to eye with Chris. He spoke slowly, and though he looked at Chris, Ezra knew the words were for him. "He don't think that you love me enough not to hurt me. He won't ever know better if he doesn't see you have the best chance you could ever have to do that - and not do it." He paused, drawing a deep breath. "I trust you. You're the most gentle man I've ever been with. You ain't never hurt me, even by accident - not in the bed. I wanna show him now that someone can care that much - that they - you, can care that much about me. 'Cause if you can be that gentle and patient with me, someone can be that way with him."
It was one of the longest speeches he'd ever heard Vin give, and it confirmed that it was for him, not Chris. It did nothing for the balance of power between Ezra's anger and amusement, but it did seem to have an immediate effect on Chris.
Chris stared at Vin as if he'd sprouted wings and a halo - an image that flashed though Ezra's mind and made the laughter bubble in his throat. Naked, erect, and on his knees ready to offer his ass, Vin Tanner was hardly an angel and certainly not one that would be drawn to a man like Chris Larabee.
But the laughter drained away as Chris leaned forward and kissed Vin, before leaning against him, their foreheads together. He spoke, his words too soft for Ezra to hear, and when he finished, they kissed again. This one wasn't sexual though, which was far worse. It was intimate and familiar, and as he drew back, Chris whispered something that sounded like, "You don't have to - "
"I'm dripping this stuff all down my ass," Vin cut in, his tone just sharp enough to carry clearly. "This sheets is slidey enough as it is, Chris, you want me falling out of the bed before we can enjoy 'em?"
Chris' laugh was light and easy, so unexpected that it made Ezra start. His surprise grew as Chris settled in behind Vin. Vin's eyes closed and his broad brow crinkled, his nostrils flaring. He shifted, his hips flexing, and Ezra didn't need words to know what Chris was doing; he'd flexed his own hips that way, suspected that he'd had that same look on his face - part discomfort but more pleasure.
Vin started to go to his knees and elbows, then without turning, he stretched his hand backwards, finding Chris' erection. For a few minutes, they touched, not looking at each other, not talking, not even kissing. Just touching. Ezra thought he should be bored, thought he should turn away, find a book or something else to pass the time - but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The same words played through his mind again - 'intimate', 'familiar' - and a new one: 'content'.
The word made him shiver, but before he could consider all its implications, Chris gave a low, long moan then bent forward, pushing Vin down. Vin didn't resist and in fact he made more accommodation, drawing his knees up to offer more of himself.
Chris took the invitation, running his hands over Vin's body as he positioned himself. Ezra's eyes fluttered, almost closing as his body remembered, from less than an hour ago, the feel of Chris pressed against him, the feel of the warm head of his cock sliding into place, pulsing as if it were asking for permission to enter . . .
A sound drew him back, and he caught Vin's gaze watching those wide eyes grow wider, watching Vin as Chris pushed slowly but unrelentingly forward. His body tingled with the knowledge of what Vin was feeling, with the want of it. When Chris reached around, catching Vin's cock, Ezra's own cock twitched, leaking into the fabric of his pants. When Vin pushed himself up, spearing himself more firmly on Chris, Ezra's gasp was mirrored in Chris'.
Chris was one of the smartest men Ezra knew, and he knew how to get what he wanted; a few well-timed manipulations of Vin's erection and Vin was leaning back against Chris, his head on Chris' shoulder and his arms around Chris' neck as he held on, moving in a perfect accompaniment to Chris' thrusts.
He still looked at Ezra, when he wasn't distracted by what Chris was making him feel, and Ezra waffled between his belief that Vin was unable to appreciate what Chris was giving him and the possibility that Vin had a self-control that was preternatural. In Vin's place, Ezra knew that he could not have been as focused.
When that possibility skirted through his awareness, he forced himself to look away from Vin's stare. He looked to Chris, drawn to him as if he were the center of the universe. Ezra tried to search him out, tried to see Chris behind the curve of Vin's cheek and nose, through the veil of his hair and the shadows in the room, but when he couldn't, he looked away. His gaze, trying to avoid Vin's, skirted down the wealth of flesh Vin presented, his broad chest that gave way to a slender waist. There was little hair, but there were a collection of random scars. They caught at Ezra's attention, prompting vague questions about the mystery of Vin's past, the things that had happened to him before he arrived in this town.
The scars, coupled with what he was learning now, made Ezra wonder if everything he thought he'd known about Vin Tanner was wrong or inaccurate. Or incomplete. How could he have misjudged him so spectacularly?
"God," Chris moaned, his pattern breaking. "Close, so close, gonna - " He pushed slightly deeper, and Vin arched against him. For a second, Chris was visible, the hard lines of his face, the sharp lines of his arms, the angle of his lean body as he balanced on the edge of release.
But try as he might to see only Chris, to think only of Chris, it was impossible now to ignore the effect that Vin had on Chris, the role that Vin played in the character of Chris Larabee.
Chris kissed along Vin's neck, finding the places that Vin felt keenest, and Vin gasped and writhed, craving the attention, the affection. The intimacy.
And Ezra felt low, and deep, and with no question, the jealousy that he had ignored, denied, and refused to accept. Because to acknowledge it would force him to have to acknowledge the emotion from which it stemmed, an emotion he no more believed himself capable of than he believed Chris Larabee able to love without violence.
On the bed Vin had angled himself so that he and Chris were kissing, but it was distracted, their rhythm growing more erratic as they grew closer to climax. Vin's eyes closed and his long body tightened just as Chris gave one long, deep thrust -
The jealousy gave way before an icy wash of desolation as he watched the two of them release together, knowing that both of them - that Chris - had worked just for this, for Ezra to see.
That was enough to prove how greatly he had misjudged Chris' ability to love, but as if to hammer the point home, in the aftermath, Chris gathered Vin close, easing them both into a sitting position, Vin settled on Chris' lap. Chris nuzzled against Vin, saying something that Ezra couldn't hear, and Vin smiled, turning to Chris.
Lovers. Ezra knew it to be more than that even though what it was, what it truly felt like, he wasn't sure he would ever experience. This feeling he had for Chris, this possessiveness that brought forth jealousy - he could not, would not, call it by any name, and even if he did, to suggest that it was the same thing that these two felt and shared -
He shook his head, looking away from the bed, unable to bear the sight anymore than he could bear his own thoughts. It could not be. It was the moment, the heat of passion. In small bursts, at certain times, Chris Larabee could feel this intensity of affection that might, maybe, be equal to what Vin, the fool, felt for Chris.
But it could not be sustained. The fact that Chris kept returning to Ezra demonstrated that, did it not?
It was that consolation that reassured Ezra that while he had been wrong, he hadn't been completely wrong.
He repeated it to himself as the soft whisper of the satin sheets drew his attention and he looked to find Chris settling Vin back in the pillows, both of them stretched carelessly. He repeated it again as Chris turned familiarly to the bedside table and caught up the damp washcloth there, using it to carefully clean up Vin first, then himself.
Vin seemed to be drowsing and Ezra wondered again at the extent of the man's stupidity, laying here naked, in Ezra's bed, the room smelling of sex. Vulnerable, stupidly vulnerable, trusting in Ezra and Chris to protect him.
As if sensing Ezra's thoughts, Vin's eyes blinked open, those damnably wide, clear eyes struggling to focus. It was only as they did, drifting over Ezra, that he realized his hand was on his groin. Where it had been for God knew how long.
It was an effort not to flush with embarrassment, as if he'd been caught out like a schoolboy unable to control himself. It was, however, his bedroom, and at its basest, coarsest level, these two had just put on one hell of a show for him.
"Ezra?" Chris asked and there was the faintest hint of challenge in his tone. "Get what you want?" Chris propped himself on his side, angled so that he was looking over Vin toward Ezra. His arm fell easily across Vin's stomach, comfortable and possessive and familiar.
Had he? He glanced to Chris then back at Vin. He still felt desire but now he wasn't certain for what. Chris, definitely - desire and anger and still, more strongly, the jealousy. Damn him.
But something else was spiraling around all the other things, something that kept him from being able to look away from Vin.
Vin pushed up just enough to block Ezra's view of Chris. "That bad?" he asked quietly. "I know I ain't much to look at, but you were the one who wanted this."
Ezra straightened, pushing off the wall. He wasn't sure how to answer this - wasn't sure he had an answer. His mouth, though, seemed not to need his brain. "Actually," he heard himself say, surprised when his voice caught, "it was exquisite - you underestimate yourself, my friend. At certain moments, you are . . . . stunning." The disbelief grew as he realized that he was telling the truth, one unadulterated by any sarcasm or condescension.
Vin swallowed, and in the low light of the candles, he might have blushed, Ezra couldn't be certain. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but Chris cut him off with a low noise that sounded almost feral.
"Watch yourself," Chris said flatly, rising so that he was looking over Vin's head at Ezra.
Previously, that snarl, that command in Chris' voice, would have left Ezra's legs weak with want, his whole body yearning for Chris' touch. Now though, while it did make his cock pulse and leak again, the desire was overcome by a new and different anger. An anger for Vin.
He spoke before he gave himself a chance to think about the implications, to think about the long-term effects of his words. They rolled out of his mouth with an abandon he had known very few times in his life: the afternoon he had run into the heart of a gunfight to climb an armored coach and drop a bottle of whiskey into its stove pipe, the time he had ridden into that railroad camp to find the second set of books, the first time he had taunted Chris to violence. He felt that same giddiness now, that same reckless stupidity. That same perverse sense of satisfaction. "How charming, Christopher," he said, the sarcasm as natural as breathing. "So possessive of him, while he so reluctantly shares you because you want it."
Chris arm flexed, tightening the hold on Vin and Ezra saw Vin wince.
"Chris," Vin started, "it ain't no - "
But Chris cut him off, or perhaps ignored him - which soothed Ezra some. "He doesn't want you, Ezra, and you've forced him to do enough." Chris voice was growing harder now.
"Stop it," Vin said sharply, closing his eyes. He pulled away from Chris, rolled away, and sat up.
"Vin," Chris started, but Vin held out a hand, covering Chris' mouth as he looked at Ezra.
Ezra looked back at him, still angry but also uncertain as to what Vin was doing - and what he wanted Vin to do. Did he want Vin? He hadn't before now, certainly not before this incident, and maybe not before this exact moment. Chris' presumption, though, for Vin and for Ezra both, was quickly making him think again. The way everything was happening, the way he was seeing everything, and had seen everything . . .
Chris jerked as if to break from Vin's hand but Vin pressed harder. Chris' eyes blazed with anger, but Vin wasn't looking at him, he was looking at Ezra. He didn't say anything but he held out his other hand, palm up.
Ezra looked at it, too many things warring for his attention - no, just one thing. Disbelief. Disbelief that Vin was sincere, disbelief that this could be happening, disbelief that he, himself, could even entertain this absurd notion, much less want this -
But he did want it. Even as he knew it was the stupidest thing he could ever do.
He didn't take the offered hand, but he crawled up onto the bed, sitting on his knees. He stared at Vin, searching his face for some sign that this was a joke. He knew, though, that it wasn't. Vin Tanner would not offer something he wasn't willing to give.
"I have to admit," Ezra said softly, speaking only to Vin, "that I didn't believe you - not about you. I knew you loved him - any fool can see that, I saw it from the start." Vin's eyes widened, anxious, but Ezra kept talking. "Never fear, no one would know it if they didn't know what to look for. But your love is simple." He smiled slightly, hoping to take the sting from his words.
"Yours is the kind of love," he went on, picking every word with more care than he had ever used before, "that finds itself trampled, the kind that gives and gives because it doesn't know how to do anything else. Because it's pure, I suspect, or some such thing. It's the kind so very few people are actually worthy of." He pitched his voice softer, as afraid of this truth he was voicing as he was of the ramifications of admitting it to Vin. "I won't pretend to any great charity - we all know that would be false, but I did consider that part of what I thought I was doing here was protecting you - again, that was not by any stretch my primary purpose, but I was not averse to using it as a justification as well. I am not immune to the beauty of such devotion. But even I do not like to see it shattered for so little, and my fear was that Chris could never return that love to you, not in a form that wouldn't ultimately destroy you."
Behind Vin, Chris shifted, even snorted a little, but Vin tapped his lips and he remained quiet. Vin's eyes never left Ezra.
Ezra shook his head, not sure if he'd lost all sanity. He looked at Chris, still weighing his words. "You're not worthy of him, you're hardly worthy of me." He tried to keep his voice even, pleasant, but he knew there was still an edge to it, sharp with the awareness of his own torn feelings for Chris. With the pain of what he knew now was truth, his own and Chris'. "But it would appear that I am wrong about your capacity to love. Insofar as you are able, I do believe that you love him - and that you will try to be what he needs." He looked back at Vin, ignoring the bile rising in his throat. "And you, sweet fool that you are, will take what little he has to offer and treasure it, won't you." He leaned forward then, reaching out and slowly, cautiously, placing one hand lightly on Vin's bare leg, just above the knee. The skin was warm, the muscle taut. "You do know that you are worthy of the same love that you give, do you not?"
Vin blinked then he smiled as if Ezra had told some bawdy tale. "Don't know what I'm worthy of, Ez," he answered, and the fingers on Chris' lips lifted to stroke Chris' face instead. "Don't rightly care. Just know that he's all I want."
It was so simple and so honest and Ezra knew it was completely true. He shook his head, a new cause for disbelief added to the list. "You are an extraordinary person, to give so much and ask for so little in return."
"Maybe you're not looking it right," Vin countered. The hand he had been holding out to Ezra dropped slowly to rest on top of Ezra's. "As I said before maybe I like giving for its own sake."
As had happened too many times today, Ezra could not make the words make sense. Another to add to the list of insanities, another that was impossible to fathom.
It was Chris who laughed, a short chuckle that broke Ezra's reverie. Chris shook his head as he said, "You've already torn out the foundation of his world, Vin. Don't try to help him rebuild it with frames that are invisible to him."
Vin inhaled sharply, as if he would rebut, but Ezra found himself laughing, too.
"I do admit that it is difficult for me to accept that someone could do things because the actual act of doing them is more fulfilling than what they get in return - but then, it's just another variation of selfishness, is it not?" He laughed again, sure that Vin was, indeed, insane, and even though Vin's hand still lay on his, he slid his hand higher along Vin's thigh. "You are a genuine treasure. I suspect that had it been anyone else, my own estimate of Christopher's behavior would have been - dare I say - right on the money."
"Don't know," Vin shrugged. "It is what it is."
The words were truer than anyone Ezra could counter with. "Indeed," Ezra agreed. He looked at Vin for several long seconds, feeling the heat of the flesh under his hand, remembering the look in Vin's eyes as he had held out his hand in offering. His erection had waned but not disappeared, and now, it conjured memories of the intimacy between these two men. Without a conscious thought, his hand on Vin's thigh moved a little, the thumb stroking slowly.
He watched Vin's face as he touched, watched for some sign that Vin's offer had been in jest.
Vin held his gaze and he saw many things cross Vin's mind. Consideration, desire, warmth, friendship - but never rejection or derision. No, those were not Vin's way.
But as he sat, watching Vin, touching his bare flesh, Ezra's passion began to wane. He would enjoy sex with Vin, he did not doubt that, not now. But sex was not what he wanted. He wanted what Vin and Chris shared. He wanted it with Chris, mostly, because he thought, now, that what he felt for Chris might be something like this strange, stupid emotion that Vin felt for Chris.
And it was possible, probable, maybe, that he wanted the feeling, that infatuation and devotion, so much so that he could want Vin - because Vin Tanner was so willingly giving his devotion to Chris.
Oh, yes, he could easily bed Vin and luxuriate in being the center of his attention.
But it wasn't vin that he wanted. What he wanted was to be the center of that love - and to be able to offer that same love to someone else.
And he knew that could never happen, not for him.
He wasn't aware of drawing away from Vin, of the slide of his hand from Vin's leg, all he could think was that as much as he wanted this - he didn't want this. But as his fingers drew off, Vin reached out and caught them.
"Don't," he whispered. He tugged at Ezra's hand, lifting it to his mouth. He kissed Ezra' fingers, then slowly drew first one, then a second, into his mouth.
Ezra's breath caught, and he ran a tongue alone his lips as he watched. Oh yes, he could have sex with Vin, and it would be very very good sex. Of all the things he had been wrong about this day, the most obvious one was the idea that Vin Tanner was ambivalent about sex.
He rubbed his thumb over Vin's lips, keeping his touch light. Vin licked along the fingers, sucking just enough to tease. Ezra leaned closer, thinking about that mouth in other places -
Something caught his wrist like a vise, bruising and pressing so hard that he felt his bones grate together.
"No." Chris' voice was cold and sharp, and Chris was between them, pushing Vin back against the headboard and Ezra down toward the end of the bed.
Chris was on his knees facing Ezra, his back to Vin, but he rested one hand on Vin's shoulder, keeping him back.
"Chris," Vin started, but that was as far as he got.
"You got what you wanted," Chris said, glaring at Ezra. "But you don't get any more. Not from him."
Ezra blinked, at a loss for words - there were too many but there were too few that he was ready to stand behind. The best he could manage was a shrug as he moved off the bed. Still trying to sort through his own confused thoughts, he reached down, gathering up the clothes Chris had dropped earlier. When he finally sorted out something to say, he turned, putting the clothes on the bed in front of Chris, and said quietly, "I should thank you, I suspect, for letting me have that much. But as you so pointedly observed, it has shaken the foundation of my world. I envy you for what you have - but I still do not believe that it is as secure as you think."
He glanced past Chris to Vin, then back to Chris, putting a little more force behind his next words. "His love may be simple and very giving, but it is not endless, I suspect. He does deserve better than what he has now."
Chris' shoulders drew back. "You think you can give it to him?" he asked, his tone threatening.
Ezra barely managed to curb his laughter at the absurdity of the idea. Instead he shrugged, trying not to sound too amused as he answered, "Probably not much more so than you can. I have been quite candid in my statements that I have little interest in innocence - and even now, with the memory of the beauty of it etched clearly in my mind's eye, I can want to possess it, but once acquired, I suspect that I should place it on a shelf, looking at it every now and then, but unable to give it the attention it would need to thrive." He shook his head. "I would like to try, but unlike you, Christopher, I know better than to do so."
He straightened, looking at Vin as spoke as honestly as he was able. "I shouldn't want to destroy such a thing of beauty."
Vin stared at him, his face scrunched as if the words made no sense to him - perhaps they didn't.
Before he could betray himself any farther, Ezra left the room.
He barely made it into the small room he thought of as his study, and the door was not quite sealed before his throat closed and his eyes stung. He closed his eyes, groping to find the nearest seat, but his eyelids could not contain the flood of emotion that escaped them, dripping down his cheeks and onto the fabric of his shirt. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees so that his hands could cover his face, help to stifle any of the unwanted noises trying to break free of him. Once, long ago, he had thought that opening his mouth to let those horrible noises escape would also free the emotions that drove them, exorcising them from his body.
It hadn't taken him but once to learn the error of that thinking.
Now, he sat, searching through the wreck of his beliefs to find anything that he could use to rebuild his world. He was hurt, but the irony of it, and the worst part, was that he had been hurt most by himself, by his inability - or, more like, unwillingness, to recognize his own feelings.
How odd, he observed in the small part of his mind that was always watching, how odd that he had seen Vin Tanner so clearly. And how odd that Vin Tanner had seen him so clearly, for he knew that everything Vin had said about him today was true. Vin had seen his love for Chris as clearly as he had seen Vin's.
And how ironic that neither of them could see the whole of Chris Larabee, but only the parts they wanted to see.
Which left him - where exactly? He had fled the battlefield, a battlefield of his choosing, of his very making. And if he were wise, wiser than he had been in any part of this, he would flee this war, call a truce and let Chris Larabee find other outlets for his needs.
But as he sat there, listening to the movements from his very own bedroom, knowing that the other two were dressing, talking, preparing to leave, he knew that he could no more walk away from this than Chris could. He could continue to ignore his feelings for Chris, and, as the onslaught of emotion passed, leaving him tired and empty, he suspected that that's part of what would happen.
In this moment of clarity, all emotion razed away, he knew, too, that there was a new factor at play: this new understanding of and with Vin. This new respect.
If he walked away, Chris would eventually do something he would regret, either with someone new and far less patient than Ezra. Or, worse, he would do it to Vin.
And now, in the aftermath of what he had seen of Vin, what Vin had offered, Ezra knew that he could not let the man suffer such, physically, but even more so, emotionally.
This irony was perhaps the greatest of all - that he would continue on, as much now to protect Vin as in hopes of getting what he, himself, wanted. No, that wasn't right; he could never have Chris all to himself, he knew that. But he would have what he could of Chris, and he understood that Vin would accept that, too.
It wasn't ideal, but it was the best he would get. For now, anyway.
And even more ironically, it put him in the same position that Vin was in: taking what he could, taking what was offered.
There was a soft knock at the door. He scrubbed at his face with his hands, then cleared his throat before calling out, "Yes?"
"Ezra?" Chris.
He wasn't sure which of them he would least have preferred to talk to right now and for a second, he thought perhaps the closed door would prove some sort of protection, but manners had never been Chris' strong suit, at least not where Ezra was concerned. Chris pushed the door open enough to look in, frowning when the light from outside the door filtered in and he saw Ezra sitting in the chair. Ezra knew he must look a mess, but he had hoped the lack of light in the room would give him some cover.
Chris frowned, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. After a few seconds, he nodded. "We'll see you downstairs for dinner," he said, a command.
Ezra straightened, finding a spark of irritation that was trying to flare into anger. But even as it flickered, he understood something else. This was Chris' acceptance, too, of the strange dynamic that would be the three of them. He had said, 'we' - not 'I', but 'we'. It was as much an invitation - perhaps more of one, really - as a directive.
He wasn't sure if he would accept it - he still needed to think. But he nodded, and Chris nodded back before pulling the door closed. Ezra heard Vin speak, but the walls, so solidly built, muffled the actual words. He could well imagine them though. Vin wanted to know if Ezra had agreed.
Vin would worry, and that, oddly, was more comforting than anything.
Below is the original scene, the one that is published in "Forging Copper". It is from Vin's POV. As it was already published, the dialogue is locked into place, so it was what I had to use above, in the Ezra POV part. I tried on the rewrite to leave some of the more personal stuff between Chris and Vin between them, so there are places in the Ezra POV section where he doesn't hear what Chris and Vin are actually saying (which might be good, in retrospect, as it's pretty, um, sappy).
He stood long enough for the sweat to affect his grip on the glasses he held, and there was the faintest sound of glass tinkling as he adjusted his hold.
It was enough; he didn't hear footsteps, but the light coming from the partial opening wavered just before the door was pulled open.
"Well! I was beginning to despair!" Ezra stood before him, dressed - sort of, pants on, but bare feet, and his shirt, while on, was completely unbuttoned , the cuffs fluttering loosely around his wrists.
His hair was mussed, his eyes were heavy-lidded, but it was his lips that drew Vin's instant attention. They were swollen - not just passion-swollen, but literally swollen, larger than they should be. Bruised, and in some places, still seeping blood, the crimson a contrast to their usual brown color.
"Please, dear sir, come in!" He gestured, his arm sweeping toward the inside of the room, and it was then that Vin caught the other marks, the bruises on his ribs and chest, the bites on his shoulders and nipples. Nothing obvious, a part of him realized, nothing that anyone else could see. That was how he had missed it. Him, the tracker who saw everything.
He stepped into the room slowly, his senses alert in the aftermath of their previous failing.
His first thought was one of disdain and dislike of the patent extravagance that was so terribly like Ezra. The walls were deep wood, strong and thick and probably more solid than any of the walls in the lower floors. He suspected that the floors were the same, but they were covered in rugs so thick that Vin felt his boots sink into them. The furniture was equally as nice, slender, carved woods with thick cushions in light colors that made Vin feel like he could break it just by getting too near.
"Vin? What the hell - "
He turned quickly to find Chris right at home here, sitting on some sort of chair that was also sorta like a couch, the back kinda dropping away as it got close to the near side. Like Ezra, Chris was partly dressed, his pants on, but not his shirt.
Like Ezra, his lips were swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded, but not from any violence. Vin knew this look, so familiar, and he felt the awful blow to his gut that this day kept giving.
But Chris' eyes widened quickly, and he was on his feet so fast that Vin worried that he might lose his balance on the thick carpet. Something fell to the couch he had been sitting on - a book, of course, one that was probably Ezra's, that Rome book that Vin knew he'd never be able to read.
Chris was in his face, grabbing at the bottle in one hand, the glasses in the other. "What the hell are you doing here?" Chris snapped, his eyes hard, the color of cedar under ice. Green. Purest winter green.
"Well well well," Ezra almost sang, then laughed, clapping his hands together. "Why am I not surprised that Sweet Vin neglected to mention this part of the afternoon's entertainment?"
Vin heard the door close, heard the lock catch and felt a pang of honed fear. But before he could do anything, Chris turned, placing everything he held onto a small table, then used the momentum of his arms to brush Vin to one side, out of his way, and out of the path between him and Ezra.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" he snarled in a voice so primal that Vin actually took another step back.
Ezra, however, smiled slightly and tilted his head to one side. "By now, Christopher, I should hope that you know that I play at nothing. Nothing." His shoulders rose in a lazy gesture that shifted the cloth on his chest. Vin noticed that his nipples were hard, seductively half-hidden as they were under the stark white cloth of the shirt. "No, my dear man, this time I would have to suggest to you that the man that you . . . love is the one who toys with your emotions." He gracefully waved one hand, the white cuff trailing as if on a breeze, accentuating both his words and the implications.
The snarl still held to Chris' face, but he looked to Vin.
The look was intimidating, as ferocious as any wild animal Vin had ever had the luck - or misfortune - to corner. His hunter's mind recognized 'wolf', but also 'cat', and he felt his hand drop to his gun as a matter of course. He also felt that part of his brain warn him that it was far too late; no gun could be drawn in the space of time this predator would take to spring.
He hadn't thought of this, he realized. He had been so preoccupied in actually having to lead Chris to Ezra, in having to control every instinct he had to stop it, or to walk away, or to do the rational thing, that he had completely forgotten that he was going to have to justify to Chris what he had agreed to.
Try to make him accept that he was willing to pay this price to Ezra because he loved Chris this much.
While Chris, of course, would shoot them both for the mere suggestion that Vin owed Ezra anything for this.
No, Vin corrected, Chris would shoot Ezra and Chris.
In that flash of clarity, it all came back to him, the memory of that lone gunshot. In that memory, that terror, he knew Chris had been right: he could lie as well as Ezra. If it was important enough, as this was, he could.
"You get to sleep with two of us," he said softly, trying to keep his voice level. "Why don't we get the same thing?"
He didn't mean it, of course - he had most certainly not been lying to Ezra when he said he had no interest in the other man's touch, and he doubted that Ezra had been lying to him - he knew he was no great attraction and had worried every day that Chris was gonna come to his senses and realize it as well.
But in this moment, he knew it was the one argument that would buy him time. Chris would have to battle with himself between his jealousy and his guilt.
He was right. Chris stilled completely, his eyes going wide with surprise and - under it, fear.
"Thought it'd be nice to see . . . " Well, what, he thought. He didn't want to see this, didn't want to be here at all. But he had to come up with something, and in the absence of words, he moved, waving his hand around in a gesture sorta like the one Ezra liked to use.
Ezra chuckled behind him, but he was smart enough to pick up the idea. "Mr. Tanner and I had a negotiation of our own about this little . . . venture," he said, stepping forward.
Vin flinched only a little as Ezra wrapped his hand around Vin's arm. He was coming to hate that word, 'venture'.
From the part of the brain that they shared, Chris found the words Vin couldn't. "This ain't no goddamned 'venture', you bastard." He reached out and caught Ezra's wrist, pulling it off of Vin. "It's - it's - it's - " He flushed with frustration, and Vin knew the rage was too close.
Without a thought, he put a hand on Chris' chest, over his heart, feeling the rise and fall of Chris' harsh breathing.
The room was silent, the edge dulling, until Ezra said quietly, "What, then, is it, pray tell?"
Chris' lips clenched in a thin line.
"It is what it is." The words were soft and slow, and it took Vin several seconds to realize he had said them. He was staring into Chris' eyes, watching the golden flickers trying to burst into full flame, thinking of the smoke and ashes and dirt a fire left behind.
A hand closed over his, squeezing so hard at first that Vin thought the bones might break. He tugged, trying to ease the pressure, only to have his arm caught under the elbow and pulled, drawing him closer.
Iced cedar twined within the molten gold, steam rising between them and seeping out, slipping into the space between their bodies.
Chris swallowed, started to say something, but Vin knew there was nothing left to say, not between them. It took little more than an easy tilt from his waist and his mouth was on Chris', taking the words.
An arm slid around his waist, holding him close, but he still felt hesitancy under his lips. He tried teasing with his tongue, licking across the soft skin at their joining, and as always, Chris let him in. The tongues clashed and dueled and played, and in the end, Vin surrendered, letting Chris have what he would. In the back of his mind, he had a vague awareness that Chris tasted of Chris - whiskey and cigar and coffee. One fear held at bay.
His mouth was empty, suddenly, the pulling of his hair bending him back and away. "I know it's not fair," Chris mouthed along his jaw, "but I can't share you, Vin, I can't watch him touch you - "
"No," Vin agreed in a little gasp as Chris' teeth grazed just along the soft spot under his ear. "Don't want him, just you."
"Then, why?" There was more space between them now, the steam cooling, leaving a heavy sweat sticking them together. Chris' had both arms around Vin, holding him close and tight, as much a trap, now, as it had been a luxury.
"Don't," he whispered, his arms circling Chris' neck. He tried to pull them back together, but the hold on his hair started to hurt.
"Why, Vin?" The tone was harder now, as were the arms holding him.
No words would come, none that would make this any better. He stared at Chris, watching the gold grow brighter, his mouth moving as it tried to find anything -
"Because he loves you more than he should," Ezra answered from somewhere in the back. "Because I wanted to see if he did, indeed, love you as much as he claims."
Chris' gaze went to the other man, and his lips curled in anger. "You got no right - "
"You did not come to me, Christopher, he did. To save your relationship, perhaps, I suspect, to save your life - "
Vin felt the muscles gather, knew even as Chris did that he was going to move -
And moved with him, against him clinging as Chris tried to thrust him away. "Don't," he said, his voice coming out as worried as he felt, "ain't nothing, Chris, just one time, just - "
"He loves you," Ezra said calmly. "Do you love him? You say you do, but I fear that I would never believe it possible - certainly not for your definition of the emotion and his to be anywhere similar enough to survive for more than - what, a month or two? Given your predilections, I would anticipate boredom on your part quite soon. Innocence can be so . . . predicable."
Chris was pushing harder now, struggling to get free of Vin. Vin held tighter, now trying not to look into those eyes, to watch the color he knew melt away in the forge of emotion. "Chris, no - dammit, Ezra, shut the fuck - "
"Why, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra's voice had taken on the slower, deeper tones of bitterness. "It would seem that I am quite correct my assumptions. Here he stands with you in his arms, you who are willing to do more than should ever be asked of anyone one loves, and all he can think of is hurting me. Your affection for him, however intense it may be, however sacrificing, is obviously not reciprocated."
Vin found himself almost falling; Chris was completely still now, no resistance.
"What?" The voice was a rumble, the vibration cutting through Vin's gut.
"I thought it was clear," Ezra sighed. "But perhaps you were distracted by your anger, so I'll repeat myself: Mr. Tanner does, indeed, love you. He is willing to whore himself to protect you in the only way he sees to save you. You, on the other hand, when faced with the prospect of demonstrating your affection for him, would rather work yourself back into an anger that will compel you to me - away from him, instead of showing him that you can sacrifice for him in return."
One part of him found it funny that he understood what Ezra was saying - a sure sign that Ezra really was talking down to them.
But a bigger part of him was trying not to hear the argument, not to understand it.
Not to believe it.
"It ain't that way," he heard himself say, even as he backed away from Chris and turned to face Ezra.
The other man sat in one of the skinny chairs, his legs crossed at the knee, his head propped on one hard. He looked bored, and at one point, even covered his mouth as he yawned.
"Isn't it, Sweet Vin? Oh, I have no doubts as to your feelings in this - but at this point, isn't it up to Christopher to explain why he'd rather work himself into another fit of pique - and have his way with me, than take advantage of the large, soft bed - softer than I know you are used to, and you, more than willing in his arms, for an afternoon of sensual pleasure? Why, if nothing else, I would think that he would be enamoured of the idea for the sheer pleasure of proving me wrong."
He sighed, uncrossed his legs and pushed himself to stand. "Perhaps it is better to discover this now? Before you sell some other part of yourself for him, some part of, perhaps, your soul that is unrecoverable?"
"No," Vin thought he said, knew he heard, but it was from so far away as the reality of this idea tore at him -
Arms reached around him, drawing him back - "It's bullshit, Vin, don't listen to him - "
"And why shouldn't he?" Ezra countered. He looked at them with a certain smile, his gaze catching Vin's. "What have you done to prove your love for him - hurt him one time, so that in the throes of some melodramatic angst, you could threaten to end your life, thus freeing him of the burden of your accursed love? Shakespeare would be envious of your creativity, your pathos. Only it would seem that your love for him, apparently, is just strong enough to bend him to your desires, such as having two lovers, as it were, but not strong enough to prove to him that your love for him, if not equal to his for you, is at least more than your affection - or need - for me."
"Goddamn you, Ezra, you're twisting everything around - "
Vin pulled away, and Chris' protest faded into the back of his awareness. It was harder now, the pattern of Ezra's words like a winding mountain road in a snow storm, twisty and obscured and cold, oh so damned cold - but as he moved farther from Chris, the more sense it made. The more his heart heard.
He walked between them, slowly, moving to the far wall. There was a picture there, some painting of a meadow, with a long fence on one side, and men on horses in the fancy dress worn by hunters who hunted for sport, not because they had to. Sport, he thought, chasing down and killing a fox. Small critter, hardly enough meat on its bones to keep itself alive, much less a group of men dressed up as pretty as women, and most looking like they could stand to lose a few meals anyway.
Sport.
"Vin, you know - "
He held up a hand briefly, still staring at the picture. Chris fell silent behind him, but Vin felt the desperation - and when, he wondered, had he become so at ease with it that he could know it by its simple presence?
Green, he thought, the picture was green. The meadow was grass green with yellow highlights, reflections of the sun, maybe, and it was bordered by a forest, with tree leaves that ran from deep green to pale green, some even shading into the lighter colors of fall - brown and orange and red and, of course, gold.
Warm, grass green, deep river green, cold, winter green.
"Vin?" This time it was Ezra - startling, that he was using the short, one-word name, not one of his polite ones, or the damnable 'Sweet Vin'.
He didn't turn around, didn't move at all, even though he could feel Ezra closer to him, hesitant at his back. Another oddity - that was where Chris had promised to be.
"I came here because I said I would," he said slowly, thinking out each word. "I asked for your help, Ezra, and that was part of the price of my asking. I didn't come here for Chris to have to prove anything or show me anything - least, I didn't think of it that way." No, he hadn't. He might've if he'd thought at all about having to explain any of this to Chris - no, probably not even then.
But now, now that Ezra had put it in those terms. . . .
"I didn't come here with that in mind," he repeated. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I been stupid about it all this time." He waited, heard Chris moving now, and held up his hand once more. "Ezra don't believe in love, Chris - that's what this all comes down to. He don't believe that someone other than a complete fool, like me, could care about another person enough to put their own wants aside, just to make someone happy - because he don't understand how making someone else happy can make me - or you, or anybody else happy."
There was gold in the picture, gold and yellow, like the fire - but also like lemons and buttercups, and the late afternoon sunlight on white desert sand.
He turned, looking at Chris. "Never thought I'd ask this - never thought I'd want it." He shifted a bit, letting his weight rest on one hip, his arms crossing over his belly. "But I'd like . . . I'd like for you to love me."
Chris stared back, all the colors in the painting swirling in his eyes. "For him?" he asked softly.
Vin tilted his head, thinking again, weighing each word. "Maybe. But mostly . . . " He stopped, working his jaw; the words were hard, like rocks sitting on his tongue, and he didn't think they made sense when they finally rolled out. "For me."
Chris blinked, ready to ask again, to challenge - then stopped. He studied Vin - not long, nothing between them ever took long, making the decision with the speed and surety that had drawn them together from the start.
He nodded, then the corners of his mouth twitched in the little smile that was for Vin alone.
Vin straightened, stepping forward, and Chris met him. This kiss was warm and soft, tender in a way that Vin thought of more as after, not before. But he didn't mind - it was what he truly wanted. Chris did that thing, cupping his face between his hands as if he were some sort of treasure and all he could think of was the safety in those hands. When they rose to comb through his hair, tilting his head back, he went easily with their instruction, letting himself arch back as his waist was enveloped and held close against the other man's body.
Chris was on his neck again, teasing and tasting, finding the spots that made Vin drift. He had moments of focus - nipping at his jaw, a hand clutching his ass, teeth grazing his earlobe, fingers twisting his hair, teeth teasing at his ears.
He was aware, at some level, of where he was and what was happening outside of him and Chris - he'd lived too long in fear, in danger, and now, with Chris, in hiding. He knew Ezra was there, watching, knew they were trusting to Ezra's need to hide as well.
But this place, Ezra's place, was, if nothing, else, safe. They would know if anyone was coming - probably quicker and easier than when they were at Chris' cabin, certainly moreso than when they were in the boarding house.
Pressure on his lower back, digging hard into those muscles. He heard himself moan with the shock of it, knew he was flat against Chris, groins rubbing together as the other man worked that magic on his back -
He swayed, jerked for balance, but was caught by the shoulder. He forced himself to see and found Chris smiling as he unbuttoned Vin's shirt and slid it off.
Bare skin to bare skin, sticky with sweat but it didn't matter as those hands pressed hard, touching flesh. His own hands roamed as well, slipping on the slick expanse of skin.
He swiped a thumb over one of Chris' nipples, pleased when he felt Chris tremble. It took some effort to get past Chris' hands to lean down and suckle the small point - but the response was well worth it. Chris arched, one hand wrapping around the back of Vin's head and holding him close and tight, like a momma cat with its littlest kitten.
He moved to the other side, knowing that too much could end up hurting, and when Chris started pulling back from that, he dropped to his knees and tugged the buttons on the black jeans open.
Despite - whatever had happened earlier, Chris was ready now, his erection surging free as soon as Vin pulled at the thick fabric. There was a noise, a soft cry, but he didn't hear it clearly, his ears covered by Chris' hands as his mouth made a perfect fit.
He took him all in one smooth glide, opening his throat in the practiced way he knew so that there was no gag as the thick head mopped over the back of his tongue and plowed as far as it could go. It went until Vin's nose was buried in the thick curls at the junction of Chris' legs, his lips stretched wide but firm around the thick stem of him.
Chris was coiled, the muscles of his thighs like rock under Vin's hands. He was trying not to move, Vin knew, trying to control the instinct to force contact; this was one of Vin's favorite games to play, holding out to see how long it would be before -
Seconds, this time, before Chris' tightened his hold at the base of Vin's skull, his thumbs hooking in the smooth curve where Vin's jaw was hinged and locked, and he pulled back. His cock sloughed back, dense and pungent, until the expansive jut of the head rested against the back of Vin's teeth, pulling. He could open no wider, not with the pressure of those thumbs, but he knew he didn't need to; Chris was in control, even at this point.
A slight snap of his hips, a sort of test of balance, was the only warning before the long, heavy shaft punched forward. It was harder not to gag this time, but he managed it, only flinching as the slick tip banged against the back of his mouth before angling lower.
He willed himself to stillness, acceptance, letting Chris set his pace, breathing on the backside of each thrust. There was a pattern at first, steady and sure, the way Chris hammered a board or sawed at a timber or fired at a target. He fucks like he lives- powerful, decisive, and direct.
It's only as the pattern began to skitter that Vin had to decide how much he wanted - but before he can, Chris already had.
Chris gathered his hair in one hand, leaving the other at the jaw, then pulled himself free. There was a hiss of pain as Vin's teeth didn't quite miss grazing him, but it wasn't not bad because Chris put Vin on his feet before the sound even passed off his lips. Those lips were on his, that tongue in his mouth, tasting, Vin knew; Chris loved to taste himself in Vin, to know the extent of his possession.
"Bed," Chris mumbled around their tongues. Before Vin can agree - or even think, Chris has shifted, strong arms catching him at the waist and knees, lifting.
He almost struggled- he hated to be caught unawares, hated more being lifted. But even as he gathered his resistance, Chris murmured against his hair, "Be still, 's not far." Slow, wide licks along his jaw, and up to his ear distracted him so that he was next aware of being settled in on something thick and soft. He opened his eyes to find himself in a dimly-lit room, no windows so that the only light was from several candles ranging on different surfaces. Their flickering light threw shadows onto the bed. Had he had a few seconds to concentrate, he might have been able to discern the room itself, but Chris left him no time for thought. Even before he was seated good, his back against cool, strange sheets that seemed to shine even in this poor light, Chris had his boots off, then his socks.
Vin blinked, trying to watch as Chris' pants dropped to the floor, his legs sharply defined, his erection proud. Unconsciously, he licked at his lips, reawakening the taste of it.
Chris made one elegant pounce and was on the bed, his legs straddling Vin's hips, his fingers pulling open Vin's pants. He was gripping Vin's erection as he caught Vin's tongue between his front teeth, trapping more than hurting.
The hand on him tugged knowingly and Vin arched into it. Chris sucked at his tongue at the same time, in the same tempo, and it was hard to think of anything at all, hard to do anything other than surrender to Chris.
Again the methodical, demanding rhythm, this time applied to Vin's body, ended when the stutters warned of pending climax. Vin was gasping, would have begged if he'd been able, only to have a sudden sense of nothing.
Not quite, though, for as he backed away from the chasm, he grew aware of his pants sliding off his body, his heated skin tingling as it brushed along these odd bedclothes.
"Want you." Chris crawled up the bed, this time between Vin's legs. "Want to take you."
Vin nodded, lost in the strength of that need. The eyes, clear and winter green, but not cold. There was fire there, he saw, gold, but banked behind a curtain of color so deep that it held the heat at bay.
He knew it then, the difference. It was what it was - it was what was between him and Chris and no one else. It was as much as either of them could give, and it was enough.
Chris reached for him, one hand tracing along his thigh, but Vin shook his head. He sat up slightly, smiling at the look of confusion that darkened the fire to emeralds. "Not this way, not this time."
The confusion deepened Chris' eyes even more, but Vin looked past him.
The candles had been arranged for a specific purpose, to light the bed. Like a stage, Vin thought, feeling a little flitter in his belly at the thought. But some of the light spilled backwards, and in it, he found Ezra. The other man was standing at the far corner of the bed, against the wall. The view, Vin guessed, was perfect from there.
Ezra's eyes glittered in the darkness, catching Vin's look. His face wore no expression that Vin could see in the shadows, but his hands hung low, one thumb hooked in the waist of his pants, the other hand resting on his groin. If nothing else, Vin knew he was enjoying the show.
The thought made him swallow, but it didn't deter him.
"From behind," he said, looking back to Chris. "Wanna feel you as deep in me as you can be. Want all of ya."
Chris frowned, and Vin thought he might argue. He held out a hand, catching Chris by the back of the head and pulling him down into a deep kiss. It occurred to him as he taunted Chris' tongue back into his mouth that he had learned at least one small level of manipulation with the man he loved. It wasn't lying, not in the way Chris had accused him of, but it was definitely a sin of omission.
A sin of commission, in a sense; it took no forethought to reach for the junction of Chris' legs and find the center of his concentration.
But they were - somewhere new. Even as he spiraled his grip, knowing that his touch alone was bringing Chris past the point of argument, he realized that he had no idea where there was any oil or - anything they could use. A part of him wouldn't put it past Ezra to withhold - how better for him to win than to have this hurt Vin?
At the same time, he knew better; Ezra might cheat at many things, but he was so assured of his own belief in this that he would probably surrender every advantage to Vin - because the person who stood to gain the most was Ezra himself.
"Christ, Vin," Chris groaned, " stop or - or - "
Vin tightened his hold at the base, gripping until the tremors passed and Chris was panting against him.
He started to ask, pulling long and slow on the nipple he was gnawing before letting go, when he felt Chris shift, stretching to the side.
"You sure about this?" Chris' voice was like gravel, so rough and gritty that Vin almost laughed. But as he thought it, something was pressed into his hand and he welcomed the familiar round metal shape.
No fancy oils in fancy bottles, he thought with a certain vindication. If Chris had bought something for Ez, it weren't nearly as thoughtful as what he'd bought for Vin.
"Vin?" Chris prompted, reminding Vin of the question.
Vin tilted his head up, sucking on a sweet spot at the base of Chris' neck as he struggled to get the top of the metal tin. When it was finally open and he was scooping soft lard onto his fingers, he pulled back and said, "Yeah, I'm sure." He pushed Chris back, getting to his knees. "Get behind me," he ordered, setting the tin on the bed close, and reaching behind himself.
Chris frowned again, his hands coming to rest on Vin's shoulders. "Just turn - "
"No," Vin stopped him, even as he angled his body forward to get a better reach. "Want him to have a good viewing," he said, cutting a quick glance to Ezra. "Want him to know how you make me feel."
Chris' jaw clenched. "Vin, it ain't about - he doesn't need - "
Vin straightened so that he was almost eye to eye with Chris. He stopped the movement of his hand, letting it rest on his ass as he said very slowly, "He don't think that you love me enough not to hurt me. He won't ever know better if he doesn't see you have the best chance you could ever have to do that - and not do it." He waited, searching Chris' eyes until the understanding came. "I trust you. You're the most gentle man I've ever been with. You ain't never hurt me, even by accident - not in the bed. I wanna show him now that someone can care that much - that they - you, can care that much about me. 'Cause if you can be that gentle and patient with me, someone can be that way with him."
Chris stared at him, and he wasn't really surprised. He didn't think what he'd said had made much sense - it did to him, 'cause he knew what he believed about him, about Chris, and about Ezra and why he was fucking with them this way. But he knew he wasn't good with words and suspected that he was speaking gibberish.
So when Chris leaned forward and kissed him, he thought it was Chris' way of shutting him up. It was only after the kiss ended and Chris' was leaning against him, their foreheads together, that Chris said, "You got a heart bigger than damned Texas, Tanner. If you can see anyway to find good in this - Christ." Chris kissed him again, but it wasn't sex this time, just slow, easy knowing.
When it was done, he whispered, "You don't have to - "
"I'm dripping this stuff all down my ass. This sheets is slidey enough as it is, Chris, you want me falling out of the bed before we can enjoy 'em?"
It was good to hear Chris laugh. Better to feel the weight of him at Vin's back, then the patient breach of first one, then two of those slender fingers finding their way home.
Vin started to go to his knees and elbows, then remembered the goop on his hand. Carefully and without turning, he stretched his hand backwards, finding Chris' erection. For a few minutes, they played with each other, Chris priming him, steady and deep, occasionally finding the place that made Vin lose time, Vin rubbing him with the perfect pressure and speed, building him slowly.
With a long moan, Chris bent forward, pushing Vin down. Vin drew his hand away, settling into the position, pulling his knees under him in supplication. Chris folded over him, searing them together. His mouth danced along Vin's spine, a feast of sensation, while his hands commanded Vin's lower back and hips, kneading, caressing, then once more seeking out the point of their joining.
Vin tilted his hips up, an invitation and to make it easier. Chris eased closer, his fingers curling over Vin's hips as the slick tip of his erection notched into place.
As always, there was the moment of anticipation, Chris getting himself to a point where he could last longer than the first penetration, Vin getting himself to a point where he could bear the first pains and control the fear -
No fear, he thought, no pain. Not this time. As the clench on his hips tightened, the warning, he lifted his head and searched, finding Ezra's eyes.
He held the gaze, level and open, as Chris pushed and he stretched, slow. The burn started, a soft grating flicker that warmed quickly to a blister, rubbing raw and swelling and ready to pop -
And Chris was in and still. No tear, no rip, just a fleeting discomfort.
A brush of air on one hip as Chris reached around and down, finding his cock with ease. A strong, knowing grasp redirected his attention, and as usually happened, Vin pushed himself up, giving Chris better access and also pushing himself father back onto the length inside him.
It wasn't far enough yet, he wasn't relaxed enough, but it made Chris gasp with want. Made him tug harder at what he held and Vin gasped as well.
They traded touches for a bit, every tug from Chris drawing enough distraction from Vin to slid him father back, taking Chris deeper. By the time Chris was as far in as he could go, Vin was on his knees, his arms over his head and around Chris' neck, his head rolling on Chris' shoulder.
He still held Ezra's gaze - except when the lightning caught him as Chris rubbed over that nub inside him and no force he knew could stop him from grinding back, whimpering, trying to get more, keep more of that feeling going.
It was the yearning for that continuing sizzle that made him ignore the minor disquiet of feeling Ezra's gaze on him, staring at his bare chest, his hard cock in Chris' fist, his scars and flaws and secrets.
It was the strength of Chris around him, holding him up and loving him with everything he had, giving him all that he had.
"God," Chris moaned in his ear. The hand not jacking him rubbed over his chest, pinching his nipples, tracing over his ribs, holding him up but touching as well. "Close, so close, gonna - " He pushed slightly deeper, and Vin arched back against him. He was close too, ready.
They knew each other well, their bodies, their moods, their needs. Chris kissed along Vin's neck, finding the places that Vin felt keenest, touching in the way that Vin loved most. His thrusts quickened as they both spiraled toward the edge, and his drifting hand went low, then lower, finding Vin's balls and holding them carefully, rolling them as Vin liked, tugging at them with the practiced force learned from many times before.
Vin turned, catching those trained lips with his own, sucking Chris into his mouth and letting himself go. Just as he tipped past the point of thought, he felt Chris shift, driving as deep as he could, as hard as he could, and knew that this time, Chris rode with him.
He came back to find Chris wrapped around him, flush against his back, arms at chest and hips, face nuzzled against his neck. His own hands were on Chris', holding him as well. The other man was still inside him, but diminishing; Vin felt trickles on his thighs, and on his own belly, tickling and itching as they started to dry.
"Christ," Chris whispered, moving his head so that his nose nuzzled behind Vin's ear.
"You never give up, do you." There was a smile in the voice though, and Vin smiled himself, turning into the nuzzle.
"Too much to lose," he answered.
Chris sighed as he slipped out, then he levered himself back, bringing Vin with him. He settled first on his thighs, then on his ass, leaning back into the pillows; when he had his balance, he twisted, easing Vin onto his back beside him, stretching him out, and kissing his forehead. He turned to the table by the bed and picked up a damp cloth, using it to clean off Vin's belly and then himself.
Vin would have drowsed, used to the way Chris took care of him afterwards, but he felt the weight of the stare and remembered why they were here, in this bed. Blinking, he looked back into the shadows and found the other eyes on him.
The gaze was as he expected, blank, cold, intent. Ezra leaned as he had before, one hand on the waist of his pants, the other on his groin. It was as if he hadn't moved.
Chris was still moving, tending to himself, but Ezra was looking at Vin, and Vin only. Vin looked back, wondering what the other man was thinking, wondering if he had lived up to - or down to - Ezra's expectations.
Chris stilled and Vin knew the other man had turned his attention back to Vin - and thus to them. The bed shifted as Chris propped himself on his side, angled so that he was looking over Vin toward Ezra as well. His arm fell easily across Vin's stomach, comfortable and possessive and familiar.
"Ezra?" Chris asked and there was the faintest hint of challenge in his tone. "Get what you want?"
Ezra's head canted to one side, his eyes still on Vin. The hand at his groin fell away, and even in the pale light, Vin could see that the erection was still there.
He sat up slightly, putting himself between Chris and the other man. "That bad?" he asked quietly. "I know I ain't much to look at, but you were the one who wanted this."
Ezra straightened, pushing off the wall. "Actually," he said, and Vin noticed that his voice caught just a little, "it was exquisite - you underestimate yourself, my friend. At certain moments, you are . . . . stunning."
He didn't mean to blush, but the words were so unexpected, the sentiment such a surprise that even though he assumed, after a second of evaluation, that Ezra was talking down to him, he still felt awkward.
Chris' hold tightened, even more possessive, and Vin felt the low rumble of his snarl. "Watch yourself," Chris said flatly, rising so that his mouth was at Vin's ear, and he was looking over Vin's head.
Ezra's gaze was slow to move, but as it did, Vin saw the blankness change to a sort of anger. "How charming, Christopher," and Vin knew that Ezra had not been making fun of him earlier, because all of that harshness was in his voice now, "so possessive of him, while he so reluctantly shares you because you want it."
Vin winced as the arm holding him started to bruise. "Chris," he started, "it ain't no - "
"He doesn't want you, Ezra, and you've forced him to do enough." Chris voice was growing harder now.
Vin closed his eyes, the pull of it all wearing on him.
"Stop it," a voice sounded through the room, and in the echo of its silence, he knew it as his own.
With effort, he pulled away from Chris, rolled away, and sat up.
"Vin," Chris started, but Vin held out a hand, his fingers resting on Chris' lips.
He looked at Ezra, saw the anger still there, but something else. Confusion, perhaps, and pain.
He didn't say anything else, merely held out his other hand.
Ezra looked at it, the confusion more clear. Chris tossed his head, wanting to speak, but Vin pressed harder, asking silently for his patience. He knew it for the gift that it was when Chris stilled and said nothing.
And apparently, Ezra did too. He looked at Vin's hand, then over to Chris, then back to Vin's eyes.
He never took the offered hand, but he crawled up onto the bed, sitting on his knees.
"I have to admit," Ezra said softly, speaking only to Vin, "that I didn't believe you - not about you. I knew you loved him - any fool can see that, I saw it from the start. Never fear, Vin, no one would know it if they didn't know what to look for. But your love is simple." He smiled slightly, but it was to take the bite out of his words.
"Yours is the kind of love that finds itself trampled, the kind that gives and gives because it doesn't know how to do anything else. Because it's pure, I suspect, or some such thing. It's the kind so very few people are actually worthy of." His face looked tired then, perhaps a trick of the poor light and deep shadows, but his voice was also softer as he continued. "I won't pretend to any great charity - we all know that would be false, but I did consider that part of what I thought I was doing here was protecting you - again, that was not by any stretch my primary purpose, but I was not averse to using it as a justification as well. I am not immune to the beauty of such devotion. But even I do not like to see it shattered for so little, and my fear was that Chris could never return that love to you, not in a form that wouldn't ultimately destroy you."
Again Chris shifted, even snorted a little, but Vin tapped his lips and he remained quiet. His attention was on Ezra.
The other man shook his head, looking to Chris as he continued. "You're not worthy of him, you're hardly worthy of me." The edge was in his voice, but it was finer now. "But it would appear that I am wrong about your capacity to love. Insofar as you are able, I do believe that you love him - and that you will try to be what he needs." He looked back at Vin. "And you, sweet fool that you are, will take what little he has to offer and treasure it, won't you." He leaned forward then, placing one hand lightly on Vin's bare leg, just above the knee. "You do know that you are worthy of the same love that you give, do you not?"
The words were so gentle that Vin smiled. "Don't know what I'm worthy of, Ez," he answered, and the fingers on Chris' lips lifted to stroke Chris' face instead. "Don't rightly care. Just know that he's all I want."
Ezra studied him then shook his head. "You are an extraordinary person, to give so much and ask for so little in return."
"Maybe you're not looking it right," Vin countered. He let his left hand fall to rest on top of Ezra's, "As I said before maybe I like giving for its own sake."
Ezra just stared at him, and Vin could see the struggle it was taking for him to accept the argument.
It was Chris who laughed, a short chuckle that almost made Vin angry. But as he turned, frowning, Chris shook his head. "You've already torn out the foundation of his world, Vin. Don't try to help him rebuild it with frames that are invisible to him."
Vin inhaled sharply, ready to snap at Chris, but Ezra chuckled as well. The hand on Vin's leg squeezed slightly, reassuringly.
"I do admit that it is difficult for me to accept that someone could do things because the actual act of doing them is more fulfilling than what they get in return - but then, it's just another variation of selfishness, is it not?" He laughed again, and even though Vin's hand still lay on his, he slid his hand higher along Vin's thigh. "You are a genuine treasure. I suspect that had it been anyone else, my own estimate of Christopher's behavior would have been - dare I say - right on the money."
"Don't know," Vin shrugged. "It is what it is."
"Indeed," Ezra agreed.
He looked at Vin for several long seconds, then the hand on Vin's thigh moved a little, the thumb stroking slowly.
Asking, Vin realized. Asking for - him.
It was strange, he thought - until just a few minutes ago, the idea of sleeping with Ezra had made his skin crawl. That had been his big fear from the start of this thing.
But now, looking into those eyes, seeing the confusion and hurt - and want, he thought the actual want - he felt . . something else.
He wasn't stupid - he knew Ezra didn't want him. He did - but he didn't. He wanted to feel what Vin and Chris felt for each other, wanted to feel that someone loved him and that he loved someone else - and that that love was real.
He could play at it, suck Ezra off or even let Ezra fuck him - he'd sold himself for a hell of a lot less, and this time it would be with someone he actually liked. And as the realization passed through his mind, he knew that he could and that he could make himself like it - or at least tolerate it and give back.
But . . . but . . . it wasn't really what Ezra wanted or needed.
And as the thought drifted to him, he saw it pass through Ezra.
Ezra's hand pulled off - not fast, not drawing attention, but slipping away as if in darkness. The hiding, the shame, hit Vin in the stomach the way so many other things today had, and he reached out and caught Ezra's fingers as they left his skin.
"Don't," he whispered. He tugged at Ezra's hand, relieved when the other man relented and let him take a level of control.
He lifted the offered fingers to his lips, first kissing them, then slowly drawing first one, then a second, into his mouth.
Ezra's breath caught, and he ran a tongue alone his lips as he watched Vin. The thumb attached to that hand rubbed over Vin's lips, the touch so light that it almost tickled.
Vin licked along the fingers, sucking just enough to tease. Ezra leaned closer, his eyes drooping just a little -
The fingers were gone suddenly, the hand wrenched away from his face.
"No." The sound was cold and sharp, and Chris was between them, pushing Vin back against the headboard and Ezra down toward the end of the bed.
Chris was on his knees facing Ezra, his back to Vin, but one hand on Vin's shoulder. It was coincidental but still disconcerting that the hand was on the bruise, covering it but also reminding Vin that it was there.
"Chris," he started, but those fingers tightened on his shoulder.
"You got what you wanted," Chris said, looking at Ezra. "But you don't get any more. Not from him."
Ezra blinked, and started to say something, but he stopped himself. With a shrug, he moved off the bed, gathering up the clothes Chris had left in their wake earlier. Dropping them before Chris, he said quietly, "I should thank you, I suspect, for letting me have that much. But as you so pointedly observed, it has shaken the foundation of my world. I envy you for what you have - but I still do not believe that it is as secure as you think."
He glanced past Chris to Vin, then back to Chris. His tone was more defiant as he continued, "His love may be simple and very giving, but it is not endless, I suspect. He does deserve better than what he has now."
Chris' shoulders drew back. "You think you can give it to him?" he asked, his tone threatening.
Ezra shrugged. "Probably not much moreso than you can," he answered, and Vin knew it for honesty. "I have been quite candid in my statements that I have little interest in innocence - and even now, with the memory of the beauty of it etched clearly in my mind's eye, I can want to possess it, but once acquired, I suspect that I should place it on a shelf, looking at it every now and then, but unable to give it the attention it would need to thrive." He shook his head. "I would like to try, but unlike you, Christopher, I know better than to do so."
He straightened, his eyes catching Vin's again. "I shouldn't want to destroy such a thing of beauty."
Vin frowned, not sure what Ezra was saying, but before he could get the question to his mouth, Ezra had left the room.
Chris turned, his hand sliding into Vin's hair. "You want him?" The question sounded casual, but Vin knew it was anything but that.
He looked up, trying not to let himself be distracted by the soft caresses that were more significant to him than any words. "Told ya," he said, "only want you."
Chris' lips twitched in an almost-smile. "But you were sucking on him - "
"Felt sorry for him," Vin said, letting his eyes close as contentment. "He ain't all bad."
Chris leaned in close, kissing Vin's forehead. "Damned if you don't beat all, Vin. He blackmailed you into bed, made you pretty much whore yourself out, yet you'd give him a sympathy fuck 'cause you feel sorry for proving him wrong."
Vin shrugged, but it was a very small movement; he didn't want stop what Chris was doing. "He ain't all bad."
"Neither am I," Chris said softly, kissing him again.
No, Vin agreed, he wasn't.