Drunk and Disorderly
Ezra Standish threw back another shot of whiskey and glared balefully at the world around him. The few patrons left in the saloon at this late hour were giving him the wide berth that they normally reserved for Chris Larabee when one of the gunslinger's black moods came over him.
It was Inez' night off and even the bartender who was working in her place was staying as far away from Ezra Standish as possible which explained why the bottle on his table was nearly empty and hadn't been replaced.
Ezra's foul mood had been brought on by a run of bad luck at the poker table that had left him practically destitute. It was exacerbated by a growing, restless, itchy urge that he knew he was going to have to do something about, soon, before it drove him to do or say something that would get him tarred and feathered, run out of town or possibly worse.
Watching Chris Larabee, the man that Ezra was secretly obsessed with, laugh and talk with a shyly admiring Vin Tanner all evening hadn't helped his mood at all. Even believing that Larabee's interests lay elsewhere, specifically with the Widow Travis, and that Tanner stood no more chance with the gunslinger than he did, didn't do anything to assuage his growing jealousy.
As he watched, Chris stood, clapped Vin on the shoulder, gave him a nod goodnight and strode out of the saloon.
Anger flared. At least Vin had Chris' friendship. Chris talked to him. He *touched* him. They shared some sort of connection that allowed them to sit for hours in companionable silence and perfect understanding.
Understanding was something that Ezra knew he'd never have from Chris Larabee. If the man ever found out what he was, what he wanted, and that he wanted it from him, Chris Larabee, the man would kill him, probably slowly and painfully.
Ezra glared at his near empty bottle again, then looked back up in time to see Vin pouring himself a drink from the nearly *full* bottle that Chris had left behind.
His eyes narrowed. Dammit! Tanner even had a damned full bottle of whiskey!
With a snarl, he lurched to his feet, snatched his shot glass off the table and stalked towards Tanner's table.
The last, two, half-drunk stragglers, seeing the belligerent look on his face and just sober enough to realize that they didn't want to be anywhere around if two of the hired guns/peacekeepers that guarded their town were about to tangle, beat a hasty retreat out the bat wing doors.
He flung himself down in the chair that Chris had just vacated, slammed his glass down on the table with a loud 'bang' and snatched the bottle of whiskey from under Vin's hand almost before Vin had let it go while sitting it back on the table.
He poured himself a drink, filling the shotglass to the brim and tossed it back. Sitting the glass back down with another 'thump', he declared, loudly and sarcastically, "There are none so blind as he who will not see!"
Vin scowled at him. "That's my damned bottle, Ezra!" he snapped, his voice ringing loudly in the now virtually deserted saloon.
At the angry voices, the bartender popped up from behind the bar where he had been bent over doing something underneath it and saw that Standish was now at Tanner's table and they both looked mad as hell. Without a second thought he yanked off his apron, threw it on the bar and ducked out the back door. He didn't get paid enough to deal with two of the seven on a bender.
"And just who the hell are you calling blind? I got better eyesight than most folks."
Ezra snorted. "Being able to see and being *willing* to see are two *entirely* different things!" Ezra declared loftily, his accent even more evident than usual.
"So, ya *are* sayin' that I'm blind!"
"You, him, me, take your damned pick!" Ezra snapped, grabbing for the bottle again.
Vin grabbed hold of it and refused to let him have it. "It's my damned bottle, Ezra!" he snarled again.
"You don't need to get drunk. Some lousy bounty hunter might blow your damned fool head off then Larabee would blow mine off!"
He wrenched the bottle out of Vin's hand only to have it fly out of his hand and smash against the wall behind them.
"Dammit, Ezra!" Vin yelled and took a swing at him.
Ezra blocked the blow and they tumbled out of their chairs overturning the table as they exchanged blows.
It wasn't a long fight. Ezra was drunker than Vin and although he knew how to box, that didn't help him a lot with them rolling around on the floor, especially when Vin was fighting dirty.
In just moments he was pinned under the other man, cursing and swearing helplessly, as Vin held him down.
"Bastard!" he snarled, "son of a bitch!"
While the bastard remark didn't seem to anger Vin, he responded to the 'son of a bitch' one by snarling, "Don't call my ma a bitch!" and dealing Ezra an openhanded blow across the face that split his lip.
As Ezra struggled against him, Vin's leg slipped between Ezra's and he froze suddenly.
Vin stared down at Ezra in shock at the realization that Ezra's cock was hard, pressing against his leg. Something about what was happening, the fight or being pinned, *something* had turned Ezra on, big time.
"Is that what this is about? You're jealous of me'n Chris cause he likes me better'n you?"
"You don't have any more chance with him than I do," Ezra stated belligerently. "My chances may be slim and none, but yours are little better: bad and long, at best. The only person with any real chance with him is that Travis bitch!"
"You think I don't know that. That's what you meant 'bout being blind," Vin stated flatly.
His eyes narrowed and he stared at Ezra until the other man turned his head away, breaking the gaze.
Vin rubbed his leg against Ezra's cock, experimentally, feeling it throb against his thigh.
He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches away from Ezra's ear, an ear tinged pink with the blush of embarrassment, "Ya like it rough, don't ya?" he asked, his usual raspy tone husky with growing arousal.
"Is that why yer always pushing Chris? You get off on him yelling at ya? Bet you near come in your pants when he snaps and hits ya. Don't ya?"
Vin sat up, moving to straddle Ezra's legs, still holding his arms pinned to the floor beside his head, "Don't ya? Answer me, bitch!"
Ezra turned his head to glared up at Vin, "No!" he snapped, the denial both automatic and obviously a lie.
"Liar," Vin stated calmly. He stared down into Ezra's flushed face. "I always could tell when you were lying. Bet yer near to creaming your pants right now."
"Well," he said as he released Ezra's left hand and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, bunching it in his hand, then rising, pulling Ezra up with him.
He shifted his grip on Ezra's right wrist to pop the derringer out of its rig and pocket it. He efficiently removed the Colt Richardson Conversion from the shoulder holster, tucking it in the back of his waistband and then lifted the Remington from its holster, tucking it in beside the Colt.
He noted that Ezra was no longer offering any resistance.
Licking his lips, he grinned at Ezra before finishing what he had started to say, "Guess what," he ordered.
He leaned in even closer, releasing Ezra's right wrist, now that the derringer was no longer a concern, and slipping his fingers into Ezra's dark curls, tightening them into a painful hold. "I can do rough."
Ezra trembled in his grip, but didn't struggle.
Still grinning, he began to drag the gambler towards the stairs. He manhandled him up them and to the door of the gambler's room.
"Where's your key?"
With shaking hands Ezra produced the key and unlocked the door.
Vin noted the cooperation, taking it as tactic consent for what was to follow.
Once the door was open he dragged Ezra through it, and flung him down on to the bed.
"Strip," he ordered and stepped back. This was the critical point. If Ezra obeyed him and stripped off his clothes while Vin simply stood and watched him, making no move to force him to do so, then he was clearly consenting to having Vin dominate him.
After a moment, Ezra toed off his boots. Letting them fall to the floor beside the bed, with two distinct thuds.
Vin stood and watched as Ezra slowly stripped. When the gambler removed his derringer rig, Vin stepped forwards taking it from him and laying it on the bedside table, slipping the derringer from his pocket to lay beside it.
Ezra looked up at him with questioning eyes, but then quickly dropped his gaze again when Vin simply stared back at him.
Likewise, Vin took the shoulder holster as it was removed, slid the Colt back into it and hung it on one of the bedposts.
The Remington and its holster joined the Colt on the same post, carefully arranged so that both could be accessible, should they be needed.
As Ezra removed his pants, revealing his cock, fully erect, so hard that it stood up against his belly with the head a dark maroon color, Vin moved to the other side of the bed, took off his mare's leg and hung it on that bedpost.
As Vin stripped, Ezra knelt submissively on the bed, his eyes turned away, not looking at Vin.
Just as Vin dropped his long johns to the floor Ezra glanced up briefly, licking his lips, clearing wanting to say something, but unsure if it was permitted.
"Tell me," Vin ordered.
Ezra blushed furiously, then stammered, "Tie... tie my hands."
Vin blinked then nodded sharply, turning to find something to do it with. He spotted Ezra's cravat, lying on the floor and bent to pick it up.
When he turned back Ezra had changed position on the bed. He now knelt facing the headboard in the center of the bed, resting on his knees and shoulders. His thighs were widely spread and his hands were at the small of his back, crossed at the wrists, ready to be tied. His face was turned away from Vin as he waited patiently and silently.
Vin felt his breath catch in his throat. The sight of Ezra Standish kneeling, so submissively, so *trustingly* waiting for Vin to mount him had to be one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.
Suddenly, he was harder than he'd ever been in his life. His cock slapped up against his belly as he realized that he wanted Ezra more than he had ever wanted any one before. Not even the best fantasy that he had ever had about Chris came near to equaling the need that burned in him now.
He quickly tied Ezra's hands, then looked around for something to use as lube. His earlier anger at Ezra had given way to desire and he knew that he didn't want to really hurt the gambler. Ezra might like it rough, might want some pain, but there was a world of difference between pain and damage.
He spotted the bottle of lanolin on the dresser and moved to get it, pouring some out into his palm, holding it cupped there as he climbed on to the bed to kneel behind Ezra.
He felt Ezra up, running his free hand over the smooth white globes of Ezra's ass, reaching between Ezra's spread thighs to caress the swollen balls and rigid cock.
Ezra moaned deep and low, arching his back and pushing his ass up and back, eager for more.
Vin slapped one pale ass cheek watching it turn red beneath the blow then fade to pink, remaining slightly tinged with color as Vin stroked it, soothingly.
Ezra gasped and trembled at the blow, then whimpered and pushed his ass back again when Vin withdrew his hand.
Vin slapped the other cheek and watched it fade back to pale pink before dipping the fingers of his right hand into the lanolin, then sliding them along Ezra's crack and delving between the firm cheeks to find the tightly puckered entrance to Ezra's body.
He slipped one finger in and Ezra pushed back, bearing down on it, taking it in with a low moan.
Two fingers were more difficult and three needed some work before he could use them to spread the lanolin inside the tight passage.
He didn't work the passage too much, just enough that he was sure he wouldn't do any damage when he thrust into Ezra.
He used the rest of the lanolin to slick his cock then pressed it against Ezra's anus.
Ezra pushed back and Vin swayed with him, not quite ready to give the gambler what he so obviously wanted.
Vin teased him some more, rubbing his cock against the tight pucker a couple of more times, then he drove forwards, forcing his way firmly into the tight passage.
Ezra groaned and pressed back to assist Vin in seating his cock inside him.
He lifted his hands slightly off the small of his back and stretched them towards Vin.
Realizing why Ezra had wanted his hands bound, Vin caught hold of them. He drew back slightly, until his cock head rested just barely inside the tight anal ring. Then using his grip on Ezra's bound hands for leverage, he thrust forwards, driving deep inside the gambler.
Ezra thrust back to meet him. Using Vin's grip on his bound wrists for leverage, just as Vin had, he seated the whole length of Vin's cock inside him with that single thrust.
They set a brutal pace, Vin slamming into Ezra and Ezra thrusting back to meet him with equal need.
A dozen savage thrusts was all it took and Ezra was coming.
He turned his head to bury his face in his pillow, opening his mouth and clamping down on a mouthful of pillow to keep from screaming like a banshee as his cock spewed what seemed like buckets of come under him. His body bucked, jerked, twisted and shook.
His already tight passage clamped down even tighter on Vin's cock, wringing Vin's climax from him.
Vin doubled over Ezra's back, biting down on the gambler's shoulder blade to keep from crying out as he came.
He remained there for several minutes, after his climax, resting, regaining his breath.
He opened his mouth and released the fold of flesh he'd bitten into. Tasting blood he raised up enough to see how much damage he'd done.
There would be a bad bruise, but only his canines had broken the skin. He licked it to soothe it and Ezra sighed under him.
He rested his forehead against Ezra's back for a long moment then with a sigh, shifted to move off the gambler.
Ezra whimpered and moved his hips back, clenching his ass muscles. "No... please..." he pleaded softly.
Ezra sighed again, contentedly this time, and let his knees slowly straighten, until he lay flat on the bed, Vin's legs between his widely splayed ones, with Vin's cock still buried deep inside him and Vin's weight resting pleasantly on his back.
After a long moment Vin reared back enough to get one hand between them and untie the simple knot that he'd used to tie Ezra's hands.
Ezra slowly pulled his hands from behind his back and rested them beside his head, lying in much the same position he had when Vin had pinned him to the saloon floor except that he was on his stomach now instead of his back.
Vin lowered his weight back onto Ezra's back slowly. He licked the bite mark again. "Sorry about that," he said quietly.
Ezra shook his head. "Don't be. I came again when you bit me."
Vin ran his hands along Ezra's arms, rubbing them gently, sure that they had to be cramped from being tied behind his back.
"You always need pain to come?" he asked.
"Not always. Nor do I always need to be bound... or dominated." Ezra fell silent for a long moment, then continued, "What I do need is to have someone... or something inside me. I can't even come when I jack myself, without something inside me." He paused then plunged on. "I can't... perform with a woman nor can I reciprocate with you."
Vin nodded against his shoulder, "Reckon that makes you a genuine bottom boy, the kind that only takes it up the ass and down the throat. Ya do suck cock don't ya?"
Ezra blushed and sighed again, "Yes, of course."
"Good," Vin said in a satisfied voice. Then he added, "I need to move. Ya ready for me ta pull out?"
"I'm never really ready to be empty," Ezra replied, honestly, "but if you must leave me, then do so."
"Ain't leaving, Ez. Just shifting around a bit."
Ezra remained facing away from Vin as Vin pulled free of him and flopped back on the other side of the bed.
He didn't want Vin to see the tears welling in his eyes. He hated, purely *hated* that moment when a partner pulled out of him, disconnected from his body, leaving him feeling empty and bereft, even if the person meant nothing to him.
Vin Tanner was rapidly coming to mean a great deal to Ezra.
"Ya got something?" Vin asked.
"What?" Ezra wasn't sure what Vin was talking about.
"Ya got something to put up you, to fill the empty. Ya must have, if you can't come without having something in you when you jack."
Ezra turned to look at him then stammered, "It-- it's in the drawer." He gestured to the bedside table on his side of the bed.
"Well, get it and hand it here," Vin ordered.
Ezra had to scramble off the bed, to reach the bottom drawer of the bedside table, which was where he kept his plug. The plug was about six inches long, and an inch and a half in diameter, shaped like a penis with a flared base and covered in tanned leather.
"While you're up, grab a towel to put over the wet spot. You musta come a bucket. Sheet's plumb soaked here."
Ezra blushed furiously, but obeyed.
Vin took the towel and folded it to make a pad over the wet spot. He had gotten off the bed, too, and was busy straightening the covers, getting them ready for the night.
He turned from straightening the bed to see Ezra standing beside him with a leather covered, cock-shaped object in his hand.
He took it from Ezra. "Lay on your belly," he instructed, motioning to the bed.
Ezra clambered up and lay down. It felt extremely strange laying there, waiting for Vin to put the plug in him. He'd never had another person put it in him, but then he'd never told another person that it existed.
On the rare occasion that he indulged his needs, he went as far from where he was living as he could get, then found someone to fuck him. He never gave his real name, if he gave a name at all, and he fled as far from the place and the person as he could as fast as he could after it was over. All too often, that wasn't very fast as the men he found usually enjoyed slapping him around before, during and after they fucked him.
His need was too deep and too strong for him to fight back, until he began to fear for his life and then his only thought was to escape with his life.
Vin knelt on the bed behind him and spread his ass cheeks. He pressed the head of the plug into the now swollen and distended anal ring and pushed it slowly up into Ezra, carefully, determined not to hurt Ezra.
When it was completely seated, with only the flared base remaining outside Ezra's body, he asked, "That feel okay."
"Yes," Ezra said simply, fighting back tears. He couldn't believe how emotional he was becoming over something as simple as Vin unquestioningly accepting that he needed something inside him.
"Good. Scoot over."
Ezra rolled on his side and looked up at Vin uncomprehendingly.
"Scoot over," Vin repeated.
'Scoot over.' Ezra's body obeyed even though his mind couldn't quite grasp that Vin actually wanted him to move to the other side of the bed, the *dry* side of the bed.
He lay as still as a mouse with a cat's paw firmly holding it down and watched with disbelieving eyes as Vin climbed into the bed, settled himself on the towel that covered the wet spot and reached down to pull the covers up over them. He was still gaping at Vin when Vin reached over to tug Ezra towards him, into his arms saying, "Come here."
Ezra went, but his mind was still trying to catch up to events.
Vin was going to stay with him, *sleep* with him!
Vin was going to *hold* him!
Vin had put his plug in him, had *filled* him, taking away that dreadful empty feeling!
Vin was going to sleep in the wet spot!
As Vin tugged at him, arranging him to suit Vin, pressed close against Vin's side, his head resting on Vin's shoulder, his mind slowly wrapped itself around those facts.
And Ezra Patrick Standish, who hadn't cried since his father's funeral when he was seven years old, who hadn't cried even when various sex partners had beaten him bloody, came undone.
He buried his face in Vin's shoulder and threw his arm across Vin's chest and clung to him, crying like a baby.
And Vin just held him. He didn't shush him, or tell him to stop or get a grip or anything. He just held him, until he stopped on his own, until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep, securely held in Vin's arms.
Then Vin pressed a kiss to the top of Ezra's head and said softly. "I told ya, I ain't blind, Ez. See better'n most. Reckon I woulda been right happy if Chris had looked at me that way, but I don't figure it woulda lasted. We're too much alike. I mighta bent over for him, but I'd'a damned well wanted him to bend over for me, too. Truth is, I ain't really much for bending over at'll. Reckon that makes settling down with the sweetest little bottom boy west of the Mississippi just about perfect for me. I'll take good care of you. You got my word as a Tanner, on that. Know ya been having a run of bad luck at the tables and you're about broke. I got a little money saved. Ain't enough to buy your saloon for ya, but it'll stake you and I reckon your luck's just changed for the better. Mine has, for sure. You just sleep tight now, sweetheart. I got your back."
Vin Tanner pressed one more kiss to Ezra Standish's hair then drifted off to sleep, with a smile on his face.
He dreamed of a summer day, not too long past. He'd spent that lazy afternoon in the saloon, sitting beside Chris Larabee, but watching a certain red-coated gambler. Ezra Standish had been plucking cherries out of a bowl on the table in front of him and popping them in his mouth stem and all. Then after swallowing the cherry, he would remove the stem and pit, tossing it in a pile on the table with all the ones that had gone before. Each cherry stem was tied in a neat little knot around the pit, a knot that Ezra had tied with his tongue. The demonstration of how agile Ezra's tongue was had been aimed at Chris Larabee, who had utterly ignored it.
But Vin Tanner had been paying attention, real close attention.
Now, settled down in Ezra's big feather bed, with the emotionally and sexually exhausted gambler plastered to his side, clinging tightly to him even in sleep, he was damned glad that he had.