Disclaimer: I don't own these two characters and it is Mog who invented the ATF Universe, thank you so much for that, Mog.
They were flowing over and around him in that lovely, almost musical Southern accent. Humming, murmuring, their cadences leaving him soothed, at peace. He had listened, really listened, to the first of those words, as he always did until he knew what it was Ezra wanted to tell him. And from then on he had let the words wash right over him.
He smiled and leaned further back in his chair, fork down, meal forgotten. He was captured, captivated by the movements of a lush mouth, the sparkles in intense green eyes, the emotions conveyed in every gesture.
It was the gestures he loved the most. So fluent, so dramatic, so full of life.
Not that it had always been this way. At first it had irritated him, all those many, many words. He had tried to listen, but God, Ezra could go on endlessly, on and on until he wanted to scream.
And did, in a way.
"Ezra, damn it, cut to the chase!"
"I am, as you put it so eloquently, 'cutting to the chase', Chris. I am merely making sure you have all the facts of this sordid little incident, so you know none of it was my fault. Now, where was I... ah, yes, then Buck offered to take care of the money for Mister Banks and myself until our rematch. Incidentally, Mister Wilmington has quite a way with words, doesn't he? When I was at a loss how to express my feelings about this clearly cheating miscreant, he managed to convey my sentiments very eloquently. He said...."
"My apologies, Chris, I forgot. Of course you would be familiar with Mister Wilmington's gift for rather... unique words after all the years you two have been acquainted. Now, if I may resume my account without any further interruptions, I would highly appreciate it. Your remarks do tend to disrupt the flow of the story. And let us not forget, it was you who asked where my ring had gone to."
In the office he simply glared or walked away, but here at home no glare and nothing Chris said could stop the flow of words. His attempts only made Ezra argumentative and soon he realized it actually prolonged what he tried to shorten, forcing him to handle even more of Ezra's eloquence.
He didn't remember the first time he simply tuned Ezra out and resumed whatever it was he had been doing, until a highly irritated, "Are you even listening?" forced him back to their conversation.
"Sure I am. You had a run-in with Phillips from Team Two over who gets to use the Bureau's Mercedes next week."
"It is highly imperative for my undercover persona to...."
"I got it, Ezra. I'll sort it out tomorrow, at work."
He always did listen long enough to know what he needed to know, had even before they became lovers. Mostly he got it within the first five minutes.
Ezra's answer to this ploy had been unsettling. He became cold and distant. He clearly didn't like it when suddenly, in the midst of his story, he was addressing a back because Chris had turned around to the kitchen counter to resume his cooking, to his horse to resume brushing, to his computer to get some of the damn paperwork finished, or to whatever else it was that needed doing.
It made for some very cold nights, with Chris sighing on his part of the bed and Ezra fuming on the other.
Not something Chris liked. He knew too well how precious every second they had was, how their time together could be ended suddenly and unexpectedly.
God, didn't he know it!
So he went back to listening, resigning himself to it. If it was what Ezra needed, he could do it, couldn't he?
The trouble was, Ezra talked so much and at such lengths!
It didn't take long before Chris tuned the words out again. Only this time he didn't turn away from Ezra, back to whatever he had been doing.
He kept watching him.
Kept watching the shining eyes, the animated face, the eloquent gestures.
The tongue darting out briefly from between lips he longed to kiss, wetting them, and at the same time sending a shiver right to his groin.
The gesticulating hands... those talented hands that could do things to him he hadn't even imagined could be done before he ended up in Ezra's bed.
Ezra's bed... and soon after his own bed as well, his couch, the hay in the barn, the thick carpet right in front of the fire place... the carpet Ezra bought for just that purpose.
The words flowed over and around him in Ezra's lovely, almost musical Southern accent, murmuring, practically humming, the perfect background sound to what he was seeing... so much better this than doing something useful.
Besides, what could be more useful than being with the man he loved and enjoy their time together to the fullest?
Definitely no longer hungry for food Chris pushed his plate away and smiled while he watched Ezra's hands weave through the air. Watched the left one find its way to Ezra's mouth, watched the thumb slowly, sensuously caress the lower lip....
In a flash he was out of his chair and around the table.
"Why, Chris, whatever possesses you to...."
"Dessert," Chris growled, grabbing one arm and pulling Ezra out of his chair, "now!"
"I must protest...."
His lips descended, the only way to shut Ezra up without the man complaining about it.
When they broke apart for some air, Ezra's eyes were gleaming.
"I was beginning to despair of you ever silencing me," he murmured.
"You know me, Ezra, captivated by yer every word."
Ezra snorted. "By my words? I am well aware they are not what captivated...." Chris's lips and tongue silenced him once more. Four hands were already tugging at shirts, at belts, at every piece of clothing irritatingly in the way.
No more words, only grunts and moans.
And the knowledge that soon cries would follow, intense cries of joy.
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