This Special Feeling
Disclaimer: I don't own them, or the show they rode in on. I wrote this for fun, and no profit is made from it.
Archive: Starwinder's, You Want Fries With That?, and The All-Ezra FanFic Archive --- all others, please ask.
Summary: First time story.
Author's Note: Shortie.
Completed: September 2002
Feedback: email@example.com welcomes comments
This special feeling, this feeling of completeness was something that Ezra never expected to feel. He ran hot and cold at the thoughts that mired him in hope and fear. A diabolical mixture of the two left him trembling with frustration. He stared at the simple face of the alarm clock on the table beside his bed. Five thirty in the morning.
Chris rolled over and reached out to snag hold of his new lover. He'd often wondered what bedding Ezra would feel like. Dreamed about it. He'd suspected that it would be kick-ass good. He smiled. He'd been wrong. It had been much better than that, it had been unbelievably good. Chris was still totally relaxed from their fierce encounter on the mattress just minutes before. They were together now. He smiled again, a couple is what they were and he felt warm and happy at that thought. He stretched languidly and completed his move, long muscular arm curling around his partner's much smaller, more compact form. His tense, shivering form. What the hell?
"Ezra? What's wrong?" Chris felt a moment of panic, had he been too rough? "Are you hurting?"
Only my heart, my soul, Ezra thought bitterly, turning into the blond's loose embrace and managing a flashy smile up at the concerned face of his boss. "I'm fine, Mr. Larabee."
"Mister…?" Chris Larabee growled in frustration. Only his polite, distant undercover agent could introduce such formality into the bed. "Ezra…" Chris' tone had changed from concerned to challenged and the seed of anger began to take root.
"Sorry. Chris." Ezra easily let the correction fall from his tongue, just the right amount of flippancy tingeing his tone. He shrugged free of Chris' arms and sat up, running a hand through his hair, pushing the chestnut mass back into a semblance of order. "Would you like something? I'm going to get a drink from the kitchen."
Worry began to color the anger, Ezra should be showing something, anything. Damn man was too damn good at hiding things. That was fine on the job, but here and now, Chris wanted this man to show him how he really felt. The trouble was, he might just be doing that and it was eroding Larabee's own confidence in the rightness of their fragile new union. And it WAS a union, dammit. He'd woken to simple thoughts of the fun they'd had last night, but examining his own thoughts and feelings, he knew that this one night had resonated deeper inside for him than a plain one night stand. Secretly wanting for so long, he refused to even consider that it would end in only one encounter. This was not going to end, it was going to last, forever. He breathed a silent prayer, please.
"No, I don't want anything." He wanted to say so much more, to tell Ezra that he wanted him, he wanted Ezra's mind and soul, his heart. His love. He needed to give his own to the man as well. But this quiet, calm and remote man now standing beside the bed forbid those words from forming, from leaving his heart and passing his lips. Oh, no, this was not how he'd planned it.
Of course there hadn't really been a plan at all, had there? Maybe that's where he'd gone wrong. Much as Chris had wanted his green-eyed muse, he'd kept a lid on those feelings, desires. He'd managed to remain the aggressive team leader for Ezra as for the rest of Team Seven. The only one he'd let slip in under the protective shield had been Vin Tanner who had connected with him at some subliminal level, filling his need of family at a penetrating fraternal level. Vin was his spirit brother, but this man standing so coolly in front of him now, this man, this Ezra Standish, could become his soul. Who was he fooling? He already was his soul.
And tonight, when he'd gotten ready to leave the office for the night, Standish had still been there, pouring over some files in his own smaller office off the common room. His gooseneck lamp's light spilling out into the dim security lighting of the nighttime office. Larabee had intended only to shoo the man out for the night. He hadn't been prepared for the look of fear and longing he'd seen in Ezra's eyes when he stood casually, hip shot, in the man's doorway.
What ever made him hold out his hand like that? Like a command? A demand. Chris watched Ezra now, as his night's bedmate turned away and strolled out of the bedroom, monumentally unconcerned with their nudity and situation. He remembered how Ezra had answered that demand, the tight clasp of Ezra's hand in his as the smaller man rose gracefully, wordlessly, from his desk and took the two short steps that had brought them chest to chest. Chris could still taste that first kiss, so fraught with tension and heated desire. The taste of Ezra had been sweet coffee, a hint of almond. His lips had been soft and responsive. Larabee found himself yanking the agent tighter against his chest, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, one hand straying upward to sift through Ezra's thick, curling hair. Finding it feather soft and deep.
Alone now in Ezra's bedroom, Chris looked around the room blindly, trying to find answers to the mystery of Ezra Standish. A man-child if ever there was one. Unfocused, he lost himself in the memory of Ezra melted against him in that office doorway. He'd said something then, what was it? Oh, yes, he'd said, "I want to have you tonight." Why the hell he'd said such a crude thing he had no idea, he had simply not been thinking. A very dangerous thing to do with his undercover agent at any time, but then, last night, it had seemed to be the right thing to do. Now, in retrospect, he was not so sure. He recalled the answer he received. "Then take me." Just three words. They had been enough.
Tired and irritated with a long and frustrating day at work, Larabee had done just that. He'd growled incoherently, biting Ezra's exposed neck, just above the immaculate shirt collar. He'd held tight, swinging them around, leaving lights burning, leaving everything, Chris reddened, even Ezra's jacket, still hung from the coat tree in his tiny space. Damn it. It had been like drowning in a huge wave of hot desire, having Ezra cooperatively within his arms, returning his kiss. Chris'd whisked the two of them into the elevator and out into the basement garage without conscious thought.
Ezra's Jag had remained behind. Chris remembered nearly dragging Standish into the cab of his Ram, securing his sweet body with a carefully drawn seat belt. Kissing him again, parting only long enough to stride impetuously around the truck to the driver's side door. Driving relentlessly, silently, to Ezra's closer townhouse apartment. It had not taken long and he'd parked the truck in front of the condo without thought to what this might mean to the world. Chris had them inside, in a flow of movement that had halted only briefly as Ezra had produced a key to the front door. Chris remembered snatching the tiny metal object and shoving it home into the door lock, shouldering the door open and dropping the key to the floor inside as he nearly dragged his friend inside and kicked the door shut.
They had been in the bedroom, naked within five minutes of arriving at the curb outside on the street. Chris felt himself harden at the heated memories of the lovemaking that had followed. Ezra had been smoothly cooperative, responding with soft sounds and muttered incoherencies, his small body somehow provoking Chris to aggressive and powerful moves. He'd literally consumed Ezra. His starvation for the man's body so profound, that he'd sucked the dark-haired man dry at least twice that he could now recall. He'd taken him repeatedly. Ezra had produced lubricant from somewhere, Chris wasn't even sure how he'd done that. He knew that Ezra had moved encouragingly throughout, not fought him, Ez had even stoked his fires back up each time a climax had left him limp. The man was a sexual inferno, a creature of pleasures and erogenous temptations. Who would have thought it? Yet Chris' body had known and responded with instinctive displays of ownership and dominance. Chris had indeed taken Ezra, as requested... as desired.
Now though, having watched the severely slender form glide out of sight, Chris wondered. Where was the passion he had felt during the night? What had happened during this night out of time? He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, shoving aside the covers. He climbed out of the bed and walked into the adjoining master bathroom. A rather haggard looking face met his eyes in the mirror. He wiped one hand over it. What had he done?
Ezra managed to maintain the look of confidence all the way out into the hall. There it crumbled as his body nearly did the same. Staggering to the opposite wall, out of sight of the doorway, the younger man leaned back, shoulder blades hard against the plasterboard, he let his head fall back as well, closing his eyes. What had he been thinking last night? He should have produced one of his simple and expedient sarcastic comments at that demanding hand held out to him. Instead he'd surged to his feet and into the arms of the man he'd loved from the first moment he'd seen him, back in Atlanta, striding into his FBI office, into his life. Like a puppet, he'd let Chris take over last night, do what he would. No, not a puppet, because he'd not been lifeless, far from it. He'd used his considerable skills to seduce his boss, subtly conning the man into desiring him. Into loving a worthless unlovable casino rat.
Now Chris would have time to think and would realize that he'd been had, conned, fooled, enticed, ensnared... seduced. Ezra hung his head in shame. Oh, how he wanted to cling to that strong, forthright man, that beautiful, generous blond with such hot blue-green eyes. He squirmed, feeling his own heat rising yet again, and tore himself from his spot, staggering on down the hall to the living room and kitchen beyond. God, he needed a stiff drink but strong coffee would have to do instead. He could only hope it would be enough to sustain him through this morning of the rest of his life.
Alright, time to take charge. Ezra had gotten him off-balance with his dissembling but it wasn't going to work. Chris scrubbed vigorously at his sweaty body in the shower. Thinking hard, he knew he had a battle on his hands, Ezra had already fired the first shot with that attitude of his this morning. Well, he may have gotten in a surprise attack but the battle had yet to be engaged, and Chris was going to win. If they were both to survive this, he had to win.
Resolution bright in his eyes, the tall blond scraped his whiskers off using a borrowed razor from the bathroom cabinet. Tapping the safety razor on the sink, he smelled coffee. So that's what took him so long, Chris thought, as he caught sight of his green-eyed lover in the mirror, standing quietly in the bathroom doorway, coffee cups in hands. Now or never.
Ezra took in the sight of the taut buttocks rising into the long muscular back in a smooth sweep of glistening skin. Swallowing a sudden mouthful of saliva, Ezra put both hands, each holding a mug of coffee, in front of himself, like some magician holding protective charms. Where a moment ago he'd been swallowing convulsively, now as his eyes met those sea-green eyes of his amour, he was dry mouthed. Nervous and afraid of what the man would say. Do.
Chris put down the razor and wiped his clean shaven jaw with a face cloth, then turned to face Ezra. He met the silent emerald stare and smiled.
"Coffee?" The word came out breathlessly. Oh, Ezra, where are your god-given talents when you need them most? Betrayed by the dark hunger within, Ezra could only stand there trapped in the warm glow of Chris Larabee's eyes. Chris' smile widened, off-center and delightfully heart-stealing.
"No, thanks, Ez," Chris paused, appreciating the disappointment now exposed in those suddenly transparent green eyes. Gotcha! One good surprise deserves another. Chris let his smile dwindle and vanish, leaving a serious expression that provoked hesitation and fear in the now revealing body language of the small man in front of him. He's broken cover now. Good. Gotta keep him that way or he'll wiggle out of this somehow. One large step put Chris right into Ezra's space. He took the cups from the deathlike grips of beautifully refined hands. A swivel of narrow hips, and he was setting them down on the countertop beside him, then returning to close the non-existent distance between them, he captured that dear face and held on for the ride of a lifetime. "Ezra Standish." He made it a whisper of sound.
Frozen. I am paralyzed with fear, oh help, I can't move. This man is simply overwhelming me, and damn him, he knows it. Ezra quaked as he stared up into Chris Larabee's closed face. Before he had time to formulate any thoughts, no less comments, Chris was speaking again.
"Don't run away from me now, Ezra. I won't let you go. I've wanted you for a very long time and now that I have you I have no intentions of letting you go. Do you hear me?"
Ezra swallowed, reduced to muttering, "Hear you."
Chris used a long finger to catch the underside of Ezra's chin and push upward, extending the sweet neck and exposing a tender throat. Trailing his thumb down that tempting column of throat, Chris leaned even closer, lips a hair's breath from Ezra's. "Good. I love you, Ezra. Tell me what you feel, no lies."
Ezra's eyelids swept down, shutting out the sight of Chris so close to him. The darkness could not conceal the blond's body heat or the delicate touches on his chin and throat, a connection that shot electricity through his nerves. Ezra began to shake uncontrollably, unable to still his own body. The light touches left him. Bereft for a heartbeat, then hands were claiming his body, gripping his shoulders and pulling him against Larabee's chest, his face smothered against the taller man's collarbone. He felt those strong hands soothe his quaking back, move to secure him, wrapping around him and holding him tightly. "Don't." Movement stopped. He tried again. "Don't stop. Please." The hands returned to their stroking movements over his skin, leaving paths of fire behind.
"Tell me. Tell me what you feel, what you want, Ezra." Chris' voice came out like an affectionate growl.
A deep breath. A mistake, that, because now the scent of Chris invaded his body. Rendering him helpless and defenseless. "I feel…" He couldn't, he simply couldn't. To admit to his feelings went against a lifetime of training, often brutal experiences that taught one did not ever tell the truth when it came to feelings of the heart. He choked.
But Chris was relentless. He knew that Ezra was struggling internally but this time love would triumph. It had to, or they both were lost. "Ezra." He waited, rubbing his jaw across the top of the smaller man's head.
"Chris, I can't…" The words were muffled, sad.
"Ezra, trust me. Like you do at work. Only now I'm asking you to trust me not just with your life, but with your heart. Tell me what you feel." He squeezed his armful tightly, not letting go.
"I feel scared, Chris." The admission was said softly.
"I'm scared, too, Ez, scared of losing you. And I will, now, this morning, if we don't get this straightened out. You'll run, I just know it."
"Promised. I promised I'd never run out on you." The southerner's words slowed and changed the meaning of the phrase, lending it new, enhanced meaning with the liquid syllables.
"Ezra…" Chris let impatience color his tone.
"Ah know. Ah know." And Ezra was snuggling even closer, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he felt the weight of an oppressive life dissolve in the light of Chris Larabee's love. With a sigh, Ezra continued, "Ah love you, too. Ah really do, Chris." And he was being lifted right off the floor, strong arms holding him up and guiding his lips to Chris' smiling ones.
"Thank you, Ezra, my love, thank you." A kiss. "That cost you a lot, I know." Another kiss. " You'll find, over time, that the cost was worth the prize." Another, deeper kiss.
Coming up for air, Ezra had his own arms tight around his lover's back. He tilted back his head and let his legs slide up and hook around two long shanks. "Over time?" He held his breath as he waited for Chris to answer.
Another kiss, this one tender with wonder and delight. "Yep, we've got lots of time, Ezra, the rest of our lives, to enjoy each other."
"Ah... Ah can't promise you -"
"Ezra, stop it. No games, not here between us. I love you, you love me. That's all."
Looking into Chris' steady gaze, Ezra relaxed, held up tight in his lover's grasp. "That's more than I have ever had, ever." He let his smile grow, dimples dancing and gold tooth glittering. "I think I like this loving feeling. This special feeling."
"Good," Chris grinned and leaned against the wall, letting one hand trace Ezra's spine and then cup his elegantly rounded ass. "Good," he repeated, "because you are going to feel it for the rest of our lives." And with the triumph of Ezra's admittance, his own love for this so special man seemed to grow even deeper and more tender. His precious Ezra had just done a very brave thing, letting go of a lifetime's defenses and surrendering to Chris. He would never, ever let his sweet Ezra regret it. Yes, it was a very wonderful thing, this special feeling.
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