torch, flambeau@strangeplaces.net
June 5, 2009

Disclaimer: if they're from 1800-whatsit, hasn't their copyright expired yet? Written for kink_bingo, kink prompt: facials. Beta by elynross and Arduinna. Do not archive without permission.

Wanting

Ezra stopped moving; only the card in his hand trembled very slightly in what had to be a stray gust of air. Jack of diamonds. Third row on the left. "Have you gone utterly insane?"

He lifted his eyes to find Vin looking back at him, blue eyes clear and guileless. Ezra wasn't deceived; over the past few weeks, he had heard Vin say the most outrageous things while maintaining the most angelic expression that such a scruffy, dusty man could manage.

"Think you'd like it," Vin said in the same tone of voice he'd use for butterscotch candy or Miz Nettie's fruit preserves, leaning back in his chair. His legs were stretched out under the table, far enough that the toes of his boots just barely nudged up against Ezra's.

Ezra put the jack down, finally, and flipped up the next card. "You have some peculiar ideas about my taste in," the next card was a seven of hearts that he couldn't place anywhere, "personal matters." They were, for the most part, entirely correct ideas. In fact, Ezra's taste in certain personal matters was rapidly becoming shaped by whatever Vin suggested -- by Vin, to put it plainly.

"All right," Vin said, "maybe I think I'd like it." He smiled, just a little, just enough to remind Ezra of the slow sinfulness of his mouth. "Like to rumple you up a little, get you a little dirty. Dishevelled, ain't that what you call it? Disarranged?"

"If you're talking about your constant attempts to destroy my wardrobe, I can only agree." Ezra kept his eyes on the cards and away from the temptation across the table. "Those stains on my green waistcoat will never come out."

"Least you didn't make any noise," Vin said, his voice full of suggestive reminiscence. "Not loud enough that anyone could hear you besides me."

Before Ezra could decide what to say to that, Vin's chair scraped back, and Ezra looked up to see him get to his feet, face shadowed by his hat, body concealed and reshaped by his large coat. There was nothing about him to suggest that he had just been making an obscene proposal. He touched his hat to Inez, nodded to Ezra, and walked away.

Ezra stared at his cards for a while, but the game of solitaire had all at once turned dreary and slow; nothing fit with anything else. He put the stub of the deck down on the table and glanced towards the saloon doors. He really hadn't expected this request. He knew that Vin had an unconventional approach to a number of things; that much had become clear since the first time Vin had made an unconventional, though by no means unwelcome, approach to Ezra. Vin had a penchant for unusual places, for one thing, and a way of coaxing Ezra to go along with his suggestions, although Ezra was determined not to repeat the rooftop experience again. He liked bedrooms and beds, himself: doors that locked, soft mattresses, lamps that let a man see what he was doing even on a dark night.

But he liked Vin better than any of those things.

Gathering the cards together, he shuffled the deck a few times out of habit, then tucked it away in his pocket. There was no one here to play with; the saloon was nearly empty, and the stage had brought no interesting passengers. He got up and went behind the bar, nodding to Inez, then slipped through the rear passage and out the back door.

Vin dropped down from the roof and landed beside him. "You're getting predictable," he said.

"I was looking for you." Ezra waited as Vin turned and they started to walk slowly. He always did end up going along. "If I were to agree to your suggestion," he said, keeping his voice neutral, "and I do mean if, where would you want to...?"

"Like I said, on your face. Weren't that what got you so rattled in the first place?" Vin's voice was teasing, but now that Ezra'd had a few moments to gather his wits, he saw a shade of tension in shoulders and hips, even hidden by the coat.

"I meant, in what place." Ezra decided it was the afternoon sun that made his face feel just slightly hotter than usual. He gestured vaguely around them, keeping the motion loose enough that it wasn't a suggestion. Though surely not even Vin would choose the back of the bathhouse in broad daylight.

Vin shrugged. "Don't matter to me." He tipped his head to one side and looked at Ezra. "This mean you're saying yes?" His eyes gleamed with that look of delight, that hint of wildness that was what always tempted Ezra into saying yes, time after time.

"What it means is," Ezra said, then trailed off. Vin wasn't easy to read, but he'd had a fair amount of practice; he could see the tension more clearly now, and even without knowing what caused it, he knew that it gave him some leverage. Vin wanted this. "It does seem a little one-sided, doesn't it?"

"I ever left you wanting?"

"No." Far from it, in fact. Vin was, for all his simple, easy, casual ways, a very thorough man. He had left Ezra exhausted, wrung out, unable to move sometimes, but never unsatisfied.

"Could always do something else." Vin's voice was level and gave nothing away.

"I'm saying yes," Ezra said, just to see Vin's eyes light again. He realized that he would do almost anything to see that look in Vin's eyes, and the realization made him go on speaking. "On two conditions." They drew to a halt, facing each other. "We do it in my room," with the door that locked, oh yes, and he saw something in Vin's expression change, "and you tell me the truth about why you want to do this particular," he couldn't find a good word for it, "this particular act."

The words hung between them in the still, hot air, and Ezra realized, with a dizzying sense of shock, that he must have misjudged. Vin didn't move, but he withdrew, vanishing inside his coat, under his hatbrim, somewhere deep behind suddenly-shuttered eyes. The wildness and delight were gone as though they had never existed. "I see."

Ezra breathed. There had to be a way to recover, to talk away what had clearly been a misstep. "Or," he said, his voice light and breezy, as level as Vin's had been, "we could always do something else. If you would prefer--"

Vin shook his head. "Reckon I need to think a little," he said. He turned abruptly and walked away.

Going back to the saloon was much preferrable to standing there watching Vin leave. Ezra retraced his steps, wrinkling his nose slightly at chicken coops and outhouses, things he hadn't even noticed before. He could feel his skin turning damp and sticky under his clothes. At the saloon, he stepped in through the back door and went up the back stairs to his room, unwilling to face anyone else. He removed his coat, wet a washcloth in the tepid water in the jug, and wiped his face.

He'd made an error. They had never talked about why before, the reasons underlying the desires. The truth of why Ezra never said no when Vin looked at him in that way. He cracked the window, letting some fresh hot air into his hot room. Perhaps, if he had just said yes this time, Vin would be here with him now. Or perhaps they would be in whichever insane location Vin had settled on this time as a suitable trysting place. Behind the counter at the general store, possibly, or up underneath the church bell. Ezra sighed.

"I did say yes," he said, but the words didn't carry. There was no leverage. He'd never had any leverage. Whatever Vin asked of him, he said yes, he always wanted to say yes, because it was Vin.

Ezra sat on the bed and looked down at his hands. He'd never asked for anything in return before. Letting himself fall backwards on the bed, he closed his eyes.

A soft knock on the door woke him quickly and completely. The light in the room had changed, and the sky outside the window was a different color; he must have slept for several hours. Ezra sat up and ran a hand through his hair before going to the door. Cracking it open, he saw Vin just stepping away, but when the door opened, Vin turned back again.

"Please," Ezra said, meaning it more than he had ever meant anything, "come in."

Vin came in. He took his hat off and stood turning it between his hands, staring at the brim. "You never asked me up here before," he said.

Ezra blinked. "Surely I must have."

"Not like this."

Ezra thought back. Vin had asked him, coaxed him, teased him into one encounter after another. Vin had always seemed to have some idea in mind, never hesitating about where they should go and what they should do. Ezra had followed him, complainingly, willingly, grouchingly, unhesitatingly. "No. No, you're right."

"I asked you, but you never asked me." Vin shrugged. "Suppose I always knew I'd ask too much one day, but I reckon I owe you--"

"Wait." Ezra stepped closer and plucked the hat out of Vin's hands; he couldn't stand to see the uncertainty of those slow motions. "Vin. I said yes. Every time you asked me. This time. Yes."

Vin looked up from his hat in Ezra's grip, and the power of his gaze almost knocked Ezra back a step. "You did. Might not, once I tell you. I know we had a lot of fun, but."

"But?" Ezra asked when Vin showed no sign of continuing. He was entirely bewildered, and saw no reason to try to hide it. This conversation was making him as tense as Vin, and it was all he could do to keep from turning Vin's hat over in his hands. "Vin, if you'd rather not be here--"

"I do," Vin said. "Want to be here. Want you." Those words, in that soft rasping voice, were more powerful than any aphrodisiac Ezra had ever heard tell of. "But I reckon you should know this ain't just about having fun." He raised one hand and brushed two fingers over Ezra's cheek. "I want it because," his fingers pressed a little harder, "it'd be like marking you. My mark on you. Like you're mine."

Ezra couldn't breathe. He turned his head in Vin's light grip and kissed Vin's fingertips. His knees felt weak, and it seemed only logical and natural to let them bend and fold, to fall to his knees before Vin and reach in past the shadowy folds of the coat and unfasten Vin's pants. Looking up, he met Vin's eyes. "Yes," he said. "Yes."

And there it was again, that deep wild spark.

Ezra shifted closer and kissed Vin's cockhead, sucking it slowly into his mouth. Vin made a soft sound and arched back, and his coat fell to the floor. All Ezra could smell was leather and Vin. He dragged his tongue around Vin's cockhead, pressing it up against his palate, rubbing his tongue-tip against that little uneven dip on the underside that always made Vin growl. When he started to move his mouth down along the shaft, taking in more, taking it deeper, Vin's hand began to stroke and pet his hair very lightly.

The room was still hot. Ezra moved slowly, sliding his mouth up and down the shaft; every time, he pressed deeper, until he felt Vin's cockhead nudge against the back of his throat. He swallowed against it and heard Vin groan softly, then pulled back and repeated the process, soft suction at first, then taking the shaft deeper in his mouth.

This time, he didn't stop and start over. Tipping his head back, he took Vin's cock down his throat, and now the groan wasn't so soft. Ezra moaned himself at the way it felt, and Vin's hand tightened in his hair. He pulled back, pressed forward, unable to keep quiet as he fucked his throat on Vin's cock.

"Oh, hell," Vin hissed. He took half a step back, breathing harshly, and let go of Ezra's hair to start jacking his cock with short, quick motions.

Ezra stayed where he was, licking his lips. He looked up and met Vin's eyes, dark and wild and hungry, and said it again. "Yes." Then he closed his own eyes and waited. He breathed in the scent of Vin's arousal and listened to the hitching, rising breaths, the sound of flesh working on flesh. Vin made a sound that seemed to begin at the soles of his feet and move upwards, and Ezra felt the first spurt land on his face, and then the next and the next, warm slickness striping him from eyebrow to chin while the sharp smell filled his nose.

When he heard and felt Vin move, Ezra cautiously blinked his eyes open. Vin was kneeling in front of him now, both of them sitting back on their heels, knees touching. Vin still had one hand on his cock; he reached out with the other one and touched Ezra's face very lightly. "You look." He paused, not searching for words, but slow to offer them. "The way I thought. More."

"More what?" Ezra asked quietly.

"Beautiful."

Ezra turned his head, just as he had before, and kissed Vin's fingertips, lapping at stray smears of semen. Vin wiped another smear from Ezra's cheek and pressed his fingers to Ezra's lips, and again, Ezra licked them clean. Every touch was light and gentle; Ezra closed his eyes as Vin's thumb carefully wiped just underneath the lower lid, then opened them again to see Vin watching him steadily, possessively.

When Ezra's face was as clean as Vin's fingers could make it, Vin slowly dropped his hand. Ezra licked his lips. "Thank you."

Vin shook his head. "You ain't the one who should say that." Then he smiled a little. "See, I told you I'd like to get you all messy. Disarranged."

"You do that by existing," Ezra said. His heart beat faster, but Vin's eyes on him were soft and warm. He leaned forward, and Vin met him halfway in an uncomplicated kiss. The floorboards were hard, the position less than comfortable, his pants entirely too snug in certain places, parts of his face starting to itch, and Ezra could not remember if he had locked the door. He was too content to move, filled with a fragile, unaccustomed joy.

Some indefinable time later, Vin drew back far enough to speak. "Reckon we should move," he said. "Reckon I could do a few things to ease you."

"There's no hurry," Ezra said, brushing his lips against Vin's with every word. "I know you'll never leave me wanting."

* * *

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