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Chris wasn't used to being lazy, even less to enjoying it. Not that he was so full of energy that relaxing didn't come easy - like Buck or J.D. who you'd cheerfully take a mallet to at times, just to calm them down - more that he was plain suspicious of such luxury. Perhaps he was unsure if he deserved it, or else just too experienced, too wary.
Take this, for example. It had taken a good deal to convince him he could let his guard down even here, where it really did seem safe. He'd been won over in the end though. Perhaps it was the cheerful, false luxury of the place, the distance from his usual daily round. That and Ezra's goddamned mouth of course.
Chris was warm, comfortable, aroused. There was a light buzz of street noise outside the window and the room was dim except for a shaft of sunlight peeking through a gap in the drapes. He'd slept like a log in this big bed after a steak dinner, a long, hot soak in the tub with the candles flickering, and the kind of whiskey-soaked, no-holds-barred, heart to heart at the fireside that felt like it might end up being the most important few hours of his life.
And now it was morning, and he didn't have a damned thing to worry about - not for the moment anyhow. Thanks to Lydia (and even Maude Standish, for God's sake) he didn't have to move a muscle out of this warm bed for the rest of the day if he didn't want to. The door was locked but it almost didn't have to be. Not here. And that, right there, was precious as gold dust.
It wasn't the only precious thing on offer either. The body behind him shifted, pressing closer, skin to skin. Ezra's hand drifted over his hip and stroked sleepily along his thigh. It rested for a moment or two, then continued down, to where Chris wanted it the most.
"Is all of you awake?" a delicious voice murmured, breath warm against Chris's shoulder blade. "Or just this part?"
Chris rode a shiver right down his spine to his toes. His arousal increased and he felt the breath quicken in his chest.
"All." He couldn't get out many more words than that.
There was a low chuckle. Chris stopped the hand. He heaved himself over on to his back, found Ezra disheveled, skin gleaming in the light, eyes full of… hell, something. Echoes of last night's conversation fluttered in Chris's belly.
The strong body rounded over his own. Ezra leaned down and kissed a gentle trail down the side of his jaw, while his hands… oh God, his hands. Instinctive, Chris's whole body clenched against the renewed pleasure. He was too used to holding it all in, this thing with Ezra, keeping quiet, suppressing how good it was and how deep it went.
Ezra cupped his jaw, tender, steadying.
"Tell me," he whispered, and Chris let it all out, easy and warm.