Title: Unspoken Words.
Author: The Phantom Black Sheep.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. There, I've admitted it; I'm over those fantasies. Now leave me alone already!
Archive: Please do.
Rating: Hmmm... R? 15? >.< It contains a wee bit more then the other two but nothing too bad.
Warnings: Was meant to be the start of a story with a plot, got scared, turned it into another 2 page ramble...Although this one is 3 pages. (Ah, looky me. THREE whole pages! I'm getting to be quite the novelist... Erm...Yeah...*Looks sheepish.* ;>.>) Yet another Character self-pity warning.
Pairing: C/E. (Sequel to 'It hurt' and 'The.')
Description: Wishes of what could be, and dreams of what could never be.
"I want you." Those words, fierce from a raw passion and need ran through his soul. Chilling him to his very bones with a rush of breathtaking excitement. Ezra bit down lightly on his tongue, studying the man standing before him, his chest heaving.
"Then take me," he whispered softly. The almost inaudible and tentative request acted with the success of a barked command, as Chris closed the distance between them and pulled him into a fierce, needing embrace. Their lips met, skin grating skin, bruising the delicate areas from blinding longing. Ezra gasped into Chris's mouth as strong, confident hands worked their way beneath his shirt, brushing over his skin, sending jolts of warmth wherever they traced.
"Ez..." Chris nipped gently at the lower lip of the gambler; he licked at them, moistening them with his tongue as he ran his palms along Ezra's spine, tracing the vertebrae, gentle hands trembling with the effort of keeping from squeezing the gambler into him. Ezra reached out to him, brushing sensitive fingertips over warm, skin. Their sensual pads mesmerising ever curve, every hollow of the other's chest.
"Ez." The other man groaned again, burying his face into the dip where shoulder met neck. Ezra brought a hand up to cup the golden hair, which now tickled his earlobe, running his fingers through the soft mane.
They fell backwards into the soft eiderdowns of Ezra's bed, cushioning each other as they both took advantage of the movement to press closer together. The headboard thudded back against the wall it rested against, voicing its disdain at the sudden extra weight.
"Say it." Ezra whispered, closing his eyes as the other's mouth sought out his skin, lapping at the beads of sweat coating it like morning dew, teasing him with almost unnoticeable touches.
"Say it!" He commanded, breath hoarse with passion. He needed to hear it, he had to be sure. Chris raised his head from Ezra's neck to stare into his eyes, the dark orbs glittering in the soft moonlight. He opened his swollen lips, licking at their unbroken surface with a tongue no human could resist, and with a tantalising breath of air, uttered...
"Ezra! Git your ass out of bed!"
"What?" Ezra gasped breathlessly as he shot up into a seating position, arms flailing wildly in an attempt to disentangle himself from the sea of sweat-covered blankets suffocating his naked form. Chest heaving in bewildered and confused fear, he glanced around the room, green eyes raking over every shadowy corner, every darkened shape, trying to find the man who had previously been with him. Chris.
He was here, he knew it, could still feel him suckling on the skin of his neck, stroking his back, chasing away every shiver which had previously wracked his form. This time he had really been here, had really shared his bed, he had really heard the husky longing in Chris's voice.
He was alone in his room. Only his form was bathed in the ignorantly warm and cheery rays of the sun. Only his lonely form occupied the feather bed, only his body had experienced his dream.
Another dream, just another dream. One of the hundreds he had already had. They were all the same, always with him and Chris together, he entered it when they were always in the hottest, wildest stages of passion, and he always left before he could hear it. Before he could hear those three cherished words.
Even his subconscious self couldn't gather enough imagination to see Chris's lips form those three words. Every part of his being knew he would never see the grimace of the 'I', the solemnity of the 'Love' or the beautiful pout of the 'You'.
Even his subconscious self couldn't torture him as much as to give him a vivid taste of what could never be.
The thudding at the door sounded again, the very thudding that had acted as the groan of the headboard in his dream, or was it a nightmare? He always woke up from it desolate and alone, sometimes his heart even raced with despair.
"Hey, Ez! Your rooms on fire, your ma's here, a herd of buffalo are headin' up the stairs this very minute. Whichever one works best is happening right now!" Buck shouted through the wooden barrier separating him from the rest of the world. The unconsciously jovial lilt to Buck's voice only played as the mocking laughter Ezra was sure every celestial being on earth was currently displaying towards him at that very moment.
"I'm up!" Ezra managed to shout back, his voice only sounding slightly strained, the best he could attempt. Buck paused on the other side of the door, before replying in a tone a little less damaging to the ears.
"About time. You know it's almost noon, right? Chris wants you in the jail in ten minutes for your shift."
Resisting the urge to flinch at hearing that name so soon after his dream, Ezra climbed groggily from his damp covers and staggered towards his wardrobe.
"I'll be down shortly."
"Yeah, so I'll meet you down there." Buck called to him again. Ezra nodded his head in response, then quickly shouted out an affirmative upon remembrance of the fact that Buck couldn't actually see him.
A lively thudding of feet announced Buck's departure down the stairs with a beat much too jolly both for the state of sleep Ezra was still partially merged in, and for his bitter mood. A mood that was left, to continue to fester like the pungent haste of an infected lesion in the desert.