satyricon au go go

Something for Nothing

Vin squinted at the sun setting red over the mountains and flicked the reins. Ezra groaned as the wagon rolled heavily another rock strewn in their path and Vin shook his head, seeing each jolt of the wagon as a fitting penance for Ezra's deliberately wayward life.

Every time Chris ran off to Purgatory it was Buck's job to fetch him back, drunk and mean, kicking and screaming.

Somehow it had become Vin's to collect Ezra from whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into, cheating at cards in neighbouring towns. Ezra should know better by now, or at least the townsfolk should. Seems a few had, because they’d really worked Ezra over this time. He'd been beaten up and bloody and kind of pathetic when Vin had loaded him onto the back of the wagon. Vin had seen Ezra tarred and feathered, but there were worse things, like now.

Vin had ridden out with the wagon because he knew, like as not, Ezra would be too drunk to sit a horse. Vin hadn't quite expected to be collecting Ezra in the state in he was in.

Vin had found Ezra lying in front of the run down saloon being kicked around by a group of deadbeats. Vin had just fired his gun in the air and they scattered into the shadows like a pack of roaches. Ezra was all bruised and bloodied and too drunk to care, his pretty clothes beyond redemption. Vin had just loaded him up into the back of the wagon like a sack of shit and driven off, his mission done.

 

 

Vin pulled the wagon off the trail under a stand of trees, ready to make camp for the night.

Eschewing the business of getting a fire going, Ezra settled down and took a swig from his hip flask, then leant back against the convenient tree trunk with some relief as Vin fed another few branches into the fire.

It was only now, watching Ezra by the early firelight, that Vin could see the amount of damage done, and Ezra's inexplicable indifference. Ezra was not a man who took losing at cards or the ruination of his fine coats quietly, so Vin couldn't understand his apparent disregard now. Ezra was either insensible, still powerfully drunk or driven by the kind of demons that drove Chris down to Purgatory more often than anyone who cared about Chris could really bear.

Ezra just seemed to be laughing at the state of himself. He must be drunk. Or mad.

Vin found himself unable to draw his eyes away from Ezra, as much as he tried to. The bruises, cuts and dirt of his face, the way he just stared into the fire; they made him seem more human somehow. Less a showman and more a fallible piece of work like the rest of them. The rents in his clothing were chinks in his armour, proof that Ezra could be touched.

Vin had always been drawn to Ezra, like so many, a moth to the flame, and he'd always been hurt by the casual way Ezra rebuffed his friendship at times, the almost vicious glee Ezra took in flaunting and shaking Vin's trust in him, as if he were testing him. Ezra was all flashing smiles and pretty words and sweet smelling clothes and Vin had never seen anything quite like Ezra before.

Chris had, and had warned Vin about men like Ezra, but Vin was intrigued. Ezra could be so sweet and kind with one hand, and rob you blind with the other. Vin never tired of watching him, studying him, trying to figure him out, trying to guess which way Ezra was going to turn next, and Ezra always surprised him.

It was like Ezra knew what was right, but just couldn't stick to the path. He got bored, he grew restless. All his life he'd moved about like the very devil was on his tail, always careful never to outstay his welcome. He saw people as commodities, to be used for his own ends, and seemed to care about nothing but himself.

Only lately, that wasn't true. Vin had seen Ezra at least attempt selfless acts of duty or kindness. Ezra had decided to stay into town, and that meant behaving. It meant seeing the same people everyday and getting to know them in spite of himself. It meant he'd started to care about things, about people, and it unnerved him.

It must do. Ezra wouldn't run away unless he was hiding from something or someone, and with no strangers in town lately asking after Ezra, Vin mused that Ezra might be struggling with the realisation that he wasn't quite so heartless as he needed to be in his profession.

Ezra's mother called it a weakness. Vin had seen her deliberately try and destroy Ezra's saloon, just because he cared about it. She'd taught Ezra some hard lessons, and still he was a terrible disappointment to her, because he'd stayed here, with them, taking a dollar a day to look after strangers.

If Ezra had finally broken, Vin could understand it. Josiah said no good deed went unpunished, but Vin thought it wasn't fair on Ezra, when he tried so hard, and Ezra wasn't used to trying things that didn't come to him naturally.

Ezra pulled a pack of scuffed up cards from his torn pocket and laughed at them softly, then began to toss each one into the fire, watching one burn before throwing in its brother to join it. When he was done he took another long drink from his hip flask, savouring the burn.

Ezra offered Vin his flask, but Vin refused with a small shake of his head. One of them should try and stay sober. Ezra wiped his sleeve over the top of the flask, thinking it was himself Vin objected to, but still Vin refused, so Ezra just took another swallow.

"You should go easy on that stuff, Ezra," Vin chided gently.

"I appreciate your concern, but in this case it's purely medicinal, I assure you." He saluted Vin and took another long swallow before putting the silver flask away.

Vin shook his head. "Why do you do it?"

Ezra gazed at him steadily. "Gambling or cocksucking?"

"Both."

"A man should always play to his strengths"

Vin wasn't going to be satisfied with that glib answer and Ezra could see that.

"You want to know why? Because sometimes the cards are against me and I have nothing else of value to offer. It's strictly an economic arrangement."

Vin looked him over again. It looked like this time Ezra had lost badly. Vin had seen whores look just as bad as Ezra did right now, so he had some idea of what had happened. He just couldn't understand why Ezra would let himself be humiliated like that. He was normally so acutely proud and precious about what he would and wouldn't do.

"Ezra, you don't have to -"

"Sell yourself to the highest bidder? Sometimes I need to. Sometimes I want to."

"Seems to me they took more than they paid for."

"Occupational hazard," Ezra shrugged off the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of the town's ruffians. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. It was Vin's concern that was making him uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted or needed was the judgement of Vin Tanner.

Ezra straightened his grubby lace cuffs. "My mother taught me to survive by my wits and luck, and when that failed, well, it's better than going hungry or sleeping on the street."

Vin was looking at him with undisguised horror, the penny finally tumbling into the desired slot.

"My mother," Ezra bit down bitterly on the word. "She insisted I paid my way as I was such a burden to her. I was so overjoyed when she came to fetch me, thinking that she wanted me. Turned out she only needed me as a prop in her cons. I was only useful as bait, a decoy. And in between times, sometimes Mother's paramours preferred me. Some of them were good men. They taught me to drink, smoke and gamble and other things. Skills that are as good as currency. As far as mother was concerned, it was all part of my education."

Vin was scowling at the fire. Small wonder Ezra disliked his mother so. Vin could never understand how a son could hate a mother, but now, dear god, he did see why.

Ezra's eyes never left him. "You wonder how a mother could sell her child for a roof over one's head, food on the table and other life's little luxuries? You're a man of the world, Mr Tanner. Commerce makes that world go round. My mother taught me that. There's always a market for a man of my talents with a gun, cards, words or..." He gazed at Vin enigmatically. A lazy seductive smile played about his lips.

"You want to know what it's like to be a cocksucker? Or to have your cock sucked?" Ezra leant forward, grinning, teeth flashing in the firelight, wickedness playing in his eyes. He could sense he was on the verge of closing a deal and he couldn't help himself.

"Do you want to know? Ever had your cock sucked? By a woman, or by a man?"

Vin blushed and said nothing, which was answer enough.

Ezra grew even more predatory, charming Vin through the flames like a cobra after a mouse. He leant back against the tree truck, arching his throat and running a hand down himself at the memory. "When done right," he emphasised this, so Vin knew there was a right way and a wrong way, "It is the most..." his voice drifted off softly.

Vin's eyes were dark, clearly considering. Oh yes, Ezra knew he had made a sale here.

Slowly, gently, so as not to startle, he moved closer, hovering near Vin so that his breath fell on him as he spoke.

"I could show you, if you want." He rested his hand lightly on Vin's thigh.

Vin's eyes flicked from the hand to Ezra's eyes and, oh yes, sold. Ezra moved in and quickly sealed the deal with the sweetest kiss, stroking Vin's cheek as he drew away slightly.

"Lie down and close your eyes. It's better that way, the first time," he instructed quietly, deftly guiding Vin down onto the ground so he had him exactly where he wanted him.

"I owe you for getting me out of that hell hole. I hate owing anyone. Just relax and let me do the work." He touched Vin's eyes closed, then slid his hand in Vin's pants.

Vin groaned, exhaling.

"That's it," Ezra purred. "You’ll like this, trust me." He quickly unbuttoned Vin's trousers, folding back the fabric and pulling Vin's still semi-soft member free.

Ezra applied several firm strokes, watching Vin thicken in his hand with satisfaction.

"Sssh," Ezra teased, watching Vin trying to breathe between gritted teeth. "It gets better." He licked along Vin's length and then swallowed him whole.

Vin's head snapped back and he grabbed at handfuls of dirt as Ezra sucked and teased and nibbled and stroked and rubbed and surrounded him with hot silk and his tongue, oh god - Vin knew he was going straight to hell because Ezra's tongue was writing heaven on the head of his cock and oh god...

When he opened his eyes Ezra was sitting beside him, spitting his seed out onto the ground. Bloody seed, and Vin knew it wasn't his blood. He sat up and placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder, squeezing slightly and making Ezra wince. Ezra wiped his mouth with a slightly trembling hand. He was sweating more than he should be.

"It's nothing, I assure you," he began.

"Shut up and lie down."

"Why, Mr Tanner," Ezra fluttered, flustering Vin.

"Shut up already." Vin pushed him down on the ground harder than he meant to. He unbuttoned Ezra's waistcoat and pushed his shirt up, revealing that rarely seen smooth pale skin. Only this time that skin was bruised and bloody and covered in welts and Vin could tell just by the look of them that those ribs had been broken.

"Ezra," he tsked softly.

"It's nothing." Ezra pulled his shirt back down again huffily and re-buttoned his waistcoat. "I'll live. I always do."

"Ezra," Vin made to touch him but Ezra shied away.

"Business was bad. Don't go getting all sentimental on me."

"Fine." Vin held up his hands in defeat, anger flaring. "Suit yourself." He buttoned himself up and rolled over, turning his back to Ezra as he curled up and tried to get some sleep.

Ezra lay there, staring up at the sky, a heavy cough escaping from him every now and then, which made him groan in spite of himself, holding down his rib cage.

Each sound bit into Vin, but he said nothing.

Vin woke with the fire dead and Ezra curled up against him. He rolled over but Ezra didn't stir. He reached for him and found Ezra's skin hot and dry, the beginnings of a fever.

"Ezra," Vin tried to rouse him, cradling him in his arms and bringing his own canteen to Ezra's lips.

Ezra choked as he tried to swallow the brackish water that was being forced down his throat.

"You might want to consider diluting that with something purer," he complained.

Vin chuckled, pleased to see Ezra awake and griping. If he had strength to whine he couldn't be too badly off. Vin was glad they were less than a day's ride away though. He'd feel better once Nathan had looked at Ezra, because Vin knew, he just knew Ezra was hurt much worse than his stubborn pride would let on.

He'd gotten Ezra loaded up in the back of the wagon and they'd been travelling for some time now under a hot sun, with Ezra sleeping it off fitfully on the buckboard, sometimes mumbling audibly, twitching as alcohol and fever coloured dreams clawed at him.

Vin glanced up at the sun, then back at Ezra who was rocking painfully with the wagon's motion when the horse suddenly reared up at a snake sunning itself on the road.

Vin held on for dear life as the wagon was jerked savagely forward and up, but Ezra wasn't so lucky, tossed onto the ground as the wagon came back down with a loud crack. The horse cantered off to the side of the road, dragging the wagon with it and Vin felt the wheel sag and start to snap before he could get the beast to stop.

He hopped off and made the horse drag the wagon back to the road, but when he checked the damage he could tell the axle was shot. It had snapped and the wheel was hanging off limply by a fistful of splinters. He smacked the side of the old wagon angrily. He'd never be able to fix it on his own and he wasn't about to attempt to ride with Ezra back to town on a horse with no saddle.

Ezra was stilled sprawled across the dirt road unmoving, but still breathing, much to Vin's relief.

Vin unhitched the horse and hobbled it, then moved Ezra gently to the shade under the wagon, bundling his blanket around him. Ezra was looking in a really bad way, enough to scare Vin, and all Vin could do was sit and stay with him, and hope someone friendly came by.

Ezra rolled into a moment of lucidity to find Vin leaning over him, touching his face gently in concern, and Ezra recoiled, wild and angry.

"Don't you dare go and get sweet on me. I told you it was nothing. You wanted to know what it was like and I showed you. Nothing more. I don't do that."

"What, care?" Vin shot back, hurt, and regretted it instantly for the look in Ezra's eyes.

Ezra had gone real quiet after that, and slipped back into the nightmares that taunted him.

Ezra wasn't moving at all when Vin saw dust approaching and hailed down the rider. Vin had never been happier to see Josiah in his life.

Chris had started to grow restless back in town and Josiah had volunteered to ride out and see what the hold up was. He could see the cause plainly now and managed to help Vin push the wheel back on what was left of the axle and hold it together with tightly bound rope, at least enough to hopefully make it back to town.

They lifted Ezra carefully back onto the wagon.

"It's not like Ezra to win or lose so badly," Josiah commented, noting the state of Ezra, the fall from the wagon notwithstanding.

"I know," Vin agreed somewhat sourly.

"You think he did it deliberately?" Josiah pressed.

Vin shrugged. Either that or Ezra had openly paraded what he was to people not prepared to look the other way. Why Ezra had done it, had gone looking for trouble, he'd never understand it. He didn't understand it in Chris; he certainly couldn't fathom what demons had driven Ezra to do it.

"Maybe he needed to be tested," was all Josiah would say on the matter as they moved off, Josiah gingerly pressing the wagon forward, with Vin in the back, nursing Ezra and fretting over the darker impulses that drove his friend. Ezra had always seemed so carefree, caring for nothing but money and himself. Maybe that was true, but Vin had glimpsed behind the mask, and he'd had no idea Ezra was so tortured by his past.

ª

Vin pressed his hand against the door and found it curiously unlocked. He supposed Ezra felt safe in his own room, his own town. Or, more likely, he'd been so drunk he'd forgotten to lock it.

He pushed the door open and closed it behind him. The lamp was burning low, just barely illuminating the room in a dim yellow light. Open and half-drunk bottles of whisky and laudanum sat on the dresser, small wet rings forming around their base from careless use. Vin sniffed at the small laudanum bottle to confirm his suspicions, setting the bottle back down with some misgivings. Ezra seemed to have developed a taste for the stuff lately.

The whole room, with its pretty fabrics and feathered bed, it looked like a whore's boudoir, but it was Ezra's room, so he let it be.

Asleep in the bed lay Ezra, sprawled naked under the sheets, an open book caught in his hand. Vin's curiosity was piqued. He'd seen Ezra with cards, a gun or a bottle in his hand, but rarely a book. He knew Ezra was clever and educated, but he was hardly a philosopher like Josiah.

Vin tweaked the book from Ezra's fingers, flipping open the pages and squinting at the letters, trying to figure their meaning. He heard the steady click and revolve of a gun behind him, and turned, slowly.

"Cribbing your next poem from Walt Whitman?" Ezra inquired, one eyebrow arched.

"No," Vin answered, unfazed, setting the book down on the dresser as Ezra replaced his gun in the holster that lay by his bed. "I just came to see how you were. I didn't see you tonight." Ezra hadn't played his usual table. It had worried Vin.

"I'm fine," Ezra insisted bluntly in a tone that asked Vin to leave.

Vin defiantly sat down on the edge of the bed without invitation, much to Ezra's annoyance.

"Are you?" Vin asked again, brushing the fading bruises on Ezra's face, making Ezra flinch away from him. Refusing to take a hint, Vin ran a finger down Ezra's bare shoulder, stopping at the stout line of bandage that strapped his ribs, lingering there, just under one puckering nipple.

Ezra caught his hand.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr Tanner, but what we shared was simply a matter of commerce, a payment in kind for services rendered."

Their eyes burned.

"I understand that. I'm here with another proposition for you. I want you to teach me."

"What? Poetry, poker?"

Vin smiled, shaking his head and pulling his hand free of Ezra's, sliding it along Ezra's sheeted thigh.

Ezra's eyes dropped to Vin's hand and its steady progress, then back to Vin's eyes. He tilted his head, considering.

"Why would you want to learn that?"

Then he got it. He saw it in Vin's eyes. It wasn't Ezra he wanted to seduce.

"What do I get as my part of our bargain?" Ezra had to ask.

Vin tossed two silver dollars onto the dresser.

Ezra looked mildly affronted for a long moment, then quickly swallowed his pride. This was a commercial transaction, as always.

He covered Vin's hand with his own and slowly dragged it back up along his thigh, bringing it to rest over his already rock hard erection.

Vin cocked an eyebrow but slowly rubbed up and down through the sheet.

Ezra sank back against the pillows, a contented smile uncurling upon his lips. He took Vin's hand and guided it under the sheet and arched up in pleasure as Vin gripped him with a practiced hand.

"That's...very good," Ezra credited breathlessly.

Vin's thumb rubbed over the head of Ezra's cock, feeling the oily liquid that slipped over his fingers as Ezra strained into his touch. Vin drew back his hand and touched his fingertips to his lips, tasting Ezra, licking Ezra from his skin.

"Kiss me," Ezra demanded.

Vin leant into the embrace and brushed his lips against Ezra's lightly. He felt Ezra's tongue trace his lips then push against his mouth, wanting in. He parted his lips slightly and felt Ezra slip in, warm tongues meeting and stroking, daring each other to go deeper. Ezra could kiss: long and slow, sliding in and out of his mouth like a lover, like Vin's mouth was a woman, teasing and devouring him, making him moan.

Vin tore away from Ezra's mouth and pulled back the sheets. His hand curled around Ezra's shaft, pumping it fast, then he dipped to kiss the weeping head. Ezra's sharp intake of breath was encouraging. Vin gently eased back the foreskin and dabbed at the delicate skin beneath with his tongue, earning several hisses. Vin grinned to himself. The power of making Ezra incoherent, having Ezra twisting in the sheets at his whim and mercy, he found himself enjoying it. His touch commanded Ezra and there was a strength in it, a pleasure in the giving.

He closed his eyes, remembering the way Ezra had touched him. He tried to swallow Ezra whole and choked.

Ezra laughed softly, squeezing Vin's shoulder, easing him back a little.

"It takes practice. Go slow. Just touch me."

Vin obeyed and mouthed along the length of Ezra and Ezra closed his eyes, his breathing growing faster. Vin worked and sucked at the tip and Ezra began to rub and writhe against his sheets.

"Good, good," Ezra gasped, making Vin kiss him deeper. Suddenly Ezra groaned loudly and grabbed Vin's hair in his fist, pulling him back hard.

For a second Vin thought he'd done something wrong then felt a splash of Ezra's hot seed on his cheek as Ezra came hard, almost crying as he spurted over his stomach.

Ezra lay there, panting, sweating, an arm flung loosely over his eyes as he came back down. Then he dropped that arm and met Vin's own eyes at last.

"Never try to swallow the first time," Ezra lectured softly. He reached up, catching the drop of his seed and gently touching it to Vin's lips. Vin licked and sucked warmly upon Ezra's fingertips, repeating his lesson, and Ezra closed his eyes with satisfaction. Vin was a quick study. Then Vin was kissing him again, hungry and insistent, pressing Ezra down against the pillows, making his ribs ache.

Ezra ground out a groan of protest between gritted teeth and Vin realised, rolling onto his side and taking Ezra with him.

Ezra's hands were all over him, in his clothes, under his clothes, sliding into his pants with something oily and sweet smelling smothered over his palm and stroking Vin hard and, oh, god.

"Not yet," Ezra chided, amused, and rolled right over, turning his back to Vin.

It took Vin a couple of seconds to realise what Ezra wanted, Ezra's arse grinding insistently into his groin giving him the hint he needed.

"Ezra?" he had to ask.

"It's just like taking a woman," Ezra assured. Vin was far too aroused to argue. He let Ezra guide his hands and position himself, ready and anxious.

"Take me," Ezra pleaded. He reached round and grabbed Vin's arse, pulling him forward. Vin wrapped his arms around Ezra and pushed. It was tight for a moment and Ezra groaned, then he was in, deep in the sweet heat and he could feel Ezra pushing up against him. He pulled back and dove in again, surrounded by the hot, wet velvet glove that was Ezra.

"Yes," Ezra hissed. He curled on his stomach and Vin covered him like a shell.

They rode together, faster and harder for several long minutes of pure animal pleasure before he came, biting down on Ezra's shoulder to keep quiet, making Ezra quiver and gasp out his name.

They slumped down into the mattress together. Ezra was wet and sticky in his hand again and Vin was smug. He knew he must have done something right. They lay there together, just breathing, then untangled, Ezra pulling the sheets back up discretely around his waist as Vin stood up from the bed and re-buttoned his trousers and tucked in his shirt.

They just looked at each other. At last moment Vin ducked forward and kissed Ezra, full on the mouth, then he left, without a backward glance.

ª

"You know your constant staring is putting me off my work," Ezra commented dryly as he continued to fill in the columns of his account books with his careful, neat hand.

Vin was sitting across from him at the table, long after the saloon had emptied, no longer drinking but content just to sit and watch Ezra artfully fiddle his own books by lamplight.

Ezra glanced up, caught Vin's quiet, sweet gaze, scowled and went back to work. Vin just wouldn't leave him be. Ezra tried to be cranky and cross, and that hadn't worked. Short of hitting him, Ezra was pretty much stuck with Vin. The worst part was Ezra's realisation that he rather enjoyed Vin's company, man of few words that he was. Just to have someone to talk to, to be with, Ezra had forgotten how pleasant it could be.

"You sure do write pretty," Vin admired again. All those little...things" he gestured at Ezra's precise ditto marks. "All lined up nice and neat in a row."

"That's the general idea," Ezra teased, pretending not to be amused.

"I wish I could write like that," Vin mused, as though wishing to hold a rainbow.

A sudden idea struck Ezra and he looked up again, with that gleam Vin recognised as the sign that Ezra's mind scheming away at something and that extreme caution was called for.

"What?" he asked, dubious.

Ezra's eyes brightened further. Yes, this could work.

"I'll teach you."

"What?"

Ezra adopted his most patient expression.

"I'll teach you how to read and write, just like a gentleman."

"You would?"

Ezra nodded. "And it will be a perfectly reasonable explanation should anyone catch you coming out of my rooms at odd hours. I am merely teaching you your letters." He sounded so serious, then he grinned so wickedly that Vin had to laugh.

It was perfect.

"You'll really teach me, though?" Vin pressed, not sure if Ezra's con extended to actual lessons or not.

"Of course," Ezra sounded mildly offended again, but Vin knew he didn't mean it. "I am a man of my word, after all." And if he knew Chris, poor Vin would probably be tested on his ability to prove the lie, so it was probably best that he schooled Vin in basic literacy so he could pass as a student.

Ezra was secretly pleased, too, as he went back to recording incomings and outgoings. He knew Mary had tried to teach Vin, but Vin's pride had chaffed under being taught like a slow child. Vin didn't want anyone but Ezra to teach him. Ezra was very pleased.

ª

Ezra was leaning against the post outside his saloon, watching the late night traffic on the street; hectic even for this hour and this flea bit town, when he saw Vin stroll towards him. Adopting an air of extreme nonchalance, Ezra ignored him, lazily striking a match against the post and lighting his cigar until Vin was standing directly in front of him. Close enough to kiss. Too close.

Ezra drew his cigar slowly from his lips. "And what lesson can I teach you today, Mr Tanner? Reading, writing or 'rithmatic?"

Vin's eyes were bright, his smile contagious.

Ezra's grin widened. "'rithmatic it is then," he agreed and turned around, walking directly through the bar and up the stairs, Vin following him several minutes later.

Vin lay naked on the bed, bathed in lamplight, watching impatiently as Ezra took off each item of clothing and folded it neatly, whereas Vin had shucked off his clothes where he had stood, and left them lying on the ground. His discarded clothing was still damp from his bath, because he knew Ezra hated it when he left dust and mud all over the sheets.

Ezra insisted he wasn't being fussy, just discrete, should anyone check the state of his laundry, but he was sure fussing with all his clothes right now.

"All good things come to he who waits," Ezra reminded, placing each gold cufflink away carefully.

Vin gave up and pillowed his head on his arms, almost dozing when he felt the bed dip with Ezra's weight at last and Ezra's smooth skin brush over his. Ezra's body covered his like a warm blanket and he stayed there for just a moment, as though he needed the contact, before he was moving again, marking soft kisses down Vin's spine, settling between Vin's legs. He ran a teasing finger down the lines between Vin's buttocks, chuckling at the tremor it caused. He spread Vin open and teased him again, causing Vin to twitch like a nervous horse, waiting for something.

Vin's whole body nearly arched off the bed. "What the hell was that?"

Ezra was smug. "What do you think it was."

"God." Vin didn't know whether to leave or stay.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, yes, no..." Vin decided, flustered, and lay back down again.

Ezra was still amused. "They never teach you this in church, that sinning could feel like this?"

"No," Vin agreed miserably. Get thee behind me Satan. Well, there he was and he was...oh, god...Vin bucked as Ezra kissed him there again. A long kiss, he could feel Ezra's tongue...oh hell. Vin's hands twisted the pillow between them as Ezra went to work, his tongue and fingers slipping in and out and all over Vin, making him pant and groan and rub himself against the mattress until...

Ezra lay down beside him, still grinning, and lit another cigar. He smoked quietly as Vin slowly came back to his senses, his face all flushed and his eyes closed as though he still couldn't quite believe it.

That would be their lesson for the night. Vin would try and repeat the actions on Ezra, clumsily, but Ezra didn't care. Just to be touched by someone who didn't make his skin crawl - it was enough. It was more than enough.

ª

Chris burst into the saloon and found Ezra standing behind Vin and leaning over his shoulder as he sat at the card table. Leaning too close. Ezra drew back as Vin tried to cover what he was doing.

Ezra flashed Chris a wide grin, completely unfazed by six feet of bad tempered shootist.

"The bar isn’t open as yet, but can I offer you an early morning libation, on the house?"

"No," Chris replied sourly, snatching up the papers Vin was trying to hide. Across the pages were several phrases repeated again and again in a clumsy and uneven copperplate. It looked like it had been badly written by a stupid child. Too late he realised it had been written by Vin.

Vin grabbed back the pages, screwed them up into a tight angry ball and walked out.

"Man’s got his pride," Ezra offered by way of explanation.

"You’ve been teaching him to write?"

"And read. What did you think I was teaching him?" Ezra’s eyes shone, daring Chris, but Chris wasn’t in the mood. He turned on his heel and stalked off after Vin.

Ezra shook his head and poured himself a good measure of his best liquor. It was just a business arrangement, nothing more. He didn’t care that Vin got so worked up over what Chris might think of him, while Ezra’s regard was apparently of no concern.

 

 

The day wore on and whatever might have passed between Chris and Vin, the afternoon found Ezra stretched out and drinking and smoking lazily out the front of his saloon. Vin slumped beside him, flashing the briefest of smiles. They said nothing but sat together for a long while, just watching the town go by.

Vin absently tickled Ezra’s ear from time to time with a length of straw, until Ezra finally snatched it out of his hand, crumpling the annoying instrument of torture beyond all further use.

Ezra discarded the piece of chaff and poured himself another drink.

"You should go easy on this." Vin retorted, grabbing the remainder of Ezra’s bottle from the table.

"Hey," Ezra complained, reaching for it, but Vin held it just out of reach.

"Makes a man slow. Makes a man sloppy," Vin warned.

Ezra’s face hardened. "When I want a temperance lecture, I’ll ask for it."

"And I can’t be concerned?"

"I would have thought a man with a price on his head had his own concerns."

"Touché." Vin agreed.

"Give it back."

"No." Vin sighed, clearly not getting through to Ezra. "I trust you to watch my back in a fight. I can’t trust you if you’re drunk."

Ezra sobered for a moment, knowing that was true.

"Ain’t nobody coming for you today, except me." Ezra reached again for the bottle, unsuccessfully.

"Vin."

"No."

Ezra lunged for it, but Vin was quicker, out of the chair and racing down the street, Ezra in hot pursuit.

Buck watched them go, scampering like children, and just shook his head again.

Ezra chased Vin into the stables where Vin let Ezra catch him at last, wrestling him to the ground amongst the straw and pulling the bottle of whisky free at last as he straddled Vin.

He took a very long swig, draining what was left, just to annoy Vin, then dipped down to kiss Vin full on the mouth, sliding in his wet and whisky flavoured tongue.

Twenty minutes later Ezra sat back, adjusting his clothing fastidiously.

"Now we have our bargain. You will refrain from your temperance drive in return for certain…favours." Ezra’s lips curled up as he drawled the word.

"Alright," Vin agreed breathlessly. He reached up for Ezra. "But you can’t stop me worrying."

"That’s not in our agreement," Ezra protested softly. Nevertheless he caught the hand that stroked his cheek and turned it towards him, tonguing along the pulse point delicately, making Vin close his eyes and slump back into the hay again.

"I’m not worth it," Ezra murmured under his breath, watching Vin move beneath his touch. "And mother always said never to waste your time and effort on a lost cause."

Vin never heard a word; too busy grunting softly as Ezra easily brought him off again, as easily as lighting a cigar. Vin finished and Ezra stood, dusting himself down. He crouched again and plucked a strand of straw from Vin’s tangled hair.

"Bring me your homework tonight," he instructed softly. "I think we’re ready to begin a new chapter."

ª

Ezra refilled his glass and slowly sipped at it. It dulled the pain, in this case the pain of listening to Vin stumble artlessly and struggle over the words in the book he had spread open in front of him. Ezra wanted to be encouraging, and Vin had mastered the basics fairly quickly, having had some schooling from the Widow Travis before Vin's male pride had gotten the better of him.

Vin had sought out Ezra's help before, and Ezra had laughed in his face, and felt bad for it. So now he held his tongue, except to offer approving murmurs, but it was a trial, a real trial to sit here and listen to Vin murder delicate prose so brutally.

They shared Ezra's bed, both still naked and warm from Ezra's earlier instruction. Those lessons he enjoyed the most. Teaching Vin his letters, well, that was just an excuse for Vin not to leave. The leaving had become more and more tawdry and cold until one night, Vin had just stayed, comfortable to do so, and Ezra had let him, lonely enough to want him to stay.

So now poor Ezra's ears just about bled under the sounds of Vin's labours, But at least Vin stayed and offered him that quiet companionship Ezra had always secretly craved, and if Vin learnt to read and write in spite of himself, well, it was hardly a bad thing. Ezra would have given him something of real value, something worthwhile.

Ezra ran his hand idly down Vin's back, not even thinking about the action, Vin smiling as he lay on his stomach and read aloud the text he had spread open in front of him.

It was nice here, and Vin was coming to admit a feather bed was better than sleeping on the ground, any day. Ezra might be corrupting him, and like all devils, he had chosen his temptations well, and yet, Vin was content. Chris might accuse him of falling for Ezra's silver tongue and slick ways, and it might be true, but here, right now, he sensed that Ezra had no trick up his sleeve. For once.

Chris might not be partial to Ezra, but he'd never seen him like this; quiet and thoughtful and kind, tender and gentle with whisper soft kisses and touches. If Ezra had meant to seduce Vin, he'd succeeded. This private side of Ezra, it was as much a secret as their lovemaking, more so.

Chris was the only thorn. He was highly suspicious of Ezra's overtures of friendship towards Vin, suspecting Ezra was up to something, and wordlessly accusing Vin of being gullible in the extreme. Chris' suspicious nature was finding form in irritability, especially where Ezra was concerned, and it was beginning to make the rest of the seven prickle as alliances shifted subtly, and tensions bubbled just beneath the surface.

ª

Ezra was propping himself up at the bar as usual, where he could be found most nights if he wasn’t playing at a table.

Knocking the dust from his coat, Vin walked straight up to the bar, reaching over Ezra’s shoulder to pour himself a drink from Ezra’s bottle.

His hips pressed up tight against Ezra’s arse and he rocked back and forth, rubbing up against Ezra for long delicious moments, his dick stroking insistently between Ezra’s buttocks like a long, hard finger.

Ezra closed his eyes as Vin reached over him for another drink, still rubbing earnestly, burrowing, the friction of their clothes between them almost scratching the itch.

"Get a room," Buck advised cheerfully beside them, but all Ezra could think of was Vin taking him hard up against the bar, Ezra held against the wooden counter with Vin’s cock deep inside him.

He let out a rush of breath and poured himself another drink. Vin’s cock was still pressed up against his arse. He moved his own hips, leaning back against Vin, moving in slow circles, knowing he could come, just like this – hell, he was about to.

Vin’s free hand dropped to his side, rested on Ezra’s hip for a moment, then his thigh, then he grabbed Ezra through his pants as he ground up hard against him, once, twice, three times and Ezra made a soft choking sound as he swallowed another glass of whisky.

Vin’s hand covered Ezra’s for a moment, then the sound of Chris’ spurs on the threshold snapped them apart so fast that Vin jostled Buck accidentally, spilling his drink.

Buck gave Vin an indulgent, warning look but said nothing as he moved up a notch to give Chris room at the bar.

Now the tension changed from the crackling fire between Vin and Ezra to the winter chill between Vin and Chris. They glanced at each other, but Vin looked away, guilty, and Chris’ mouth set in that thin sour line that had just about taken up permanent residence on his face.

Ezra picked up his glass and bottle and went to procure himself a table.

Chris watched him go, and tried to think on what Vin could possibly see in the flash and handsome con man who moved like a cat and dressed so fine. Oh yeah, Ezra was pretty to look at, and he was good with a gun, but surely his mercenary ways must surely turn Vin’s stomach as much as they turned Chris’ on occasion. Or maybe Chris was just letting his own jealousy cloud his eyes, and Vin had seen something more in Ezra. Ezra could be sweet, funny and loyal when he wanted to be. Or needed to be. And that was the problem. Nobody really trusted Ezra to be sincere so nobody really knew him. Chris suspected Ezra was selling Vin a wagon load of snake oil, and the last thing he wanted to see was Vin’s heart get broke to a smooth devil like Ezra.

Buck pushed away from the bar and walked over to Ezra’s table, throwing his hat down on it as he sank into the chair, stretching out his long legs, watching Ezra shuffle and deal the cards like a demon.

"You don't want to be getting on the wrong side of Chris," he warned.

Ezra glanced up from his cards for just a second before throwing a few more dollars into the pot. "I appreciate the advice, Buck, but I've no intention of stepping on Mr Larabee's territory. I am merely tutoring Mr Tanner; it is a purely financial transaction for services provided. If Mr Larabee doesn't trust his friend not to pick up any of my bad habits, well, that's hardly my responsibility, is it?"

Buck shook his head. "Playing with fire, boy," he warned again.

Ezra arched an eyebrow. "You know Chris better than anyone, but isn't this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"

Buck drew back, affronted. "Yeah, I know Chris, and I know how mean he can get. Just a friendly warning, that's all."

"I thank you for your concern," Ezra replied formally, laying down his cards with deliberate slowness and then scooping the small piles of coins towards him.

Buck watched his money go with some annoyance, but that was the price for playing cards with Ezra. The oily bastard knew every trick in the book, hell, he'd written half of the book, and you only played him for the same reason some fools called out gunslingers, for the chance of that one good day when lady luck favoured you over them. To beat Ezra at cards, well, that was an achievement. Few had ever done it. They kept trying though, and it kept Ezra nicely in the black.

Ezra dealt the cards again under Buck's watchful eye, Buck always hoping he could catch Ezra out, just to see how he did it, because Ezra's skill with cards bordered on the preternatural.

Buck's eyes weren't the only ones in the saloon who tracked his every move.

Chris was still watching Ezra like a hawk, an ever present never minding his own business hawk. Chris was utterly convinced Ezra had ulterior motives, that he was up to something, that he was playing some as yet invisible angle. Chris was just keeping an eye on things because he regarded Vin as a good friend, and, whether Vin liked it or not, a friend that needed to be protected from Ezra's true nature.

Vin had such a touching belief in Ezra's ongoing rehabilitation. Chris knew that faith was surely riding for a fall, and the fall did come, just like he always knew it would.

Vin came to stand behind Ezra, taking a keen interest in the cards Ezra held and the money piled in the centre of the table. His thumb stroked down the nape of Ezra's neck for a brief moment. Ezra closed his eyes at the touch, then opened them again, as if nothing had happened. No one saw or noted anything, except Chris, whose eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

As Ezra considered his cards, mentally totting up the hands the hands the other players held, he felt Vin's crotch brush up against the back of his head, as if by accident. Then he felt the push again, more insistent this time.

Ezra rocked forward in his chair suddenly, distracted. He forced himself to concentrate, watch the bets then lay down his hand, scooping the pool again.

"And now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me." He stood, pocketing his winnings, much to the annoyance of his fellow gamblers. He tipped his head to them in a small salute and sauntered up the stairs, bottle in hand.

Vin walked up to the bar, ordered two whiskies, downed them one after the other, then followed Ezra upstairs to his room, which he found unlocked as always. He wasn't wholly through the door before Ezra had him thrown up against it with Ezra clamped onto his mouth like a newborn calf. He pushed Ezra back and they landed on the bed together with a thump.

Buck glanced up as the lights rattled a touch, then watched as Chris snatched up his own bottle and stalk out, a long thin streak of mean.

Buck shook his head softly to himself. Things were about to get interesting. Real interesting.

ª

It had all started so innocuously. Vin had come to Ezra with news that the general store was in financial difficulties. Bills had been defaulted on and now Mrs Potter didn't have enough cash to pay off her own creditors.

Vin had hoped to convince Ezra to loan Mrs Potter the money to cover her costs, just for a couple of months, before it got ugly. Vin had a good idea of Ezra's profit margin and knew that Ezra was probably more solvent than the bank, to tell the truth.

What Vin hadn't expected Ezra to do was to buy up all of Mrs Potter's outstanding credit notes and mortgage, effectively taking over the business and retaining Mrs Potter as the manager of the store in name only.

Vin had complained to Chris, who had merely shrugged and muttered about what else did Vin expect, and returned to his card game. Buck was pretty much of the same opinion, with JD surprisingly pointing out that at least Ezra had let Mrs Potter stay on and look after the shop.

It was only when Mary had got wind of the deal and printed a poison penned editorial of exactly what she thought of Ezra's ruthless business practices that the town got stirred up.

Ezra was painted as a shameless opportunist growing rich off other people's misfortune, which was true, but Ezra preferred to think of himself as a shrewd businessman unable to pass up an excellent opportunity to expand his little mercantile empire. Hell, if he hadn't bought out Mrs Potter, somebody else would have, and at least he'd kept the widow on in her position, and let her keep her home above the shop.

It wasn't like he'd turned the woman out into the street, and with Ezra's business acumen the store could be run more efficiently and everyone would be better off. Ezra had thought he'd been doing the right thing, the smart thing, the thing that would most likely have him seeing his money again, but no. Once again he was the villain, the outsider, and not even Vin was speaking to him.

Vin had a soft spot for widows and orphans, and with a little coaching from Mrs Travis and Nathan, he had easily forgotten their budding friendship and once again regarded Ezra as a proven cold hearted, lying, double dealing snake in the grass.

C'est la vie.

Ezra emptied his glass and slowly placed it back down on the counter with the exaggerated care of the well and truly drunk.

"Bar's closed," he announced to whomever he heard standing behind him, not bothering to turn around, hunched over the bar. "So get out," he added bitterly.

There was no movement. "Can't you tell when a man wants to drink alone?"

"Who would want to drink with a sewer dwelling rat like you."

Ezra froze at the voice. He shifted his shoulders slightly, dropping the gun up his sleeve until it nestled, hidden, in his palm. He turned slowly.

"Vernon, I can explain," he began, bringing his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Too late."

The gun fired in the darkness, the bullet smacking into Ezra and knocking him back as he fired his own gun. He fell down against the bar, gasping in pain. He brought up his gun again but a boot stomped down hard on his wrist, slamming metal into bone, while another boot stuck hard into the hole the bullet had torn in him, making Ezra scream. Another kick was aimed at his head, to shut him up.

To more sets of hands and legs grabbed at him, hoisting him up and dragging him out of the saloon under the cover of darkness.

A couple of shots in the night, especially after closing time, was nothing remarkable and the local stray dogs barked once or twice, then forgot all about it.

ª

It was near nine and the saloon hadn't opened for all those early birds desperate to soothe their excesses from the night before with some more hair of the dog.

Ezra rarely rose before noon, so no one had been too concerned, until Inez had come to them, anxious at the state she'd found the bar in that morning, doors left open, chairs and tables overturned and Senõr Standish had not slept in his bed that night.

Chris cast a quick glance at Vin, but Vin looked as lost as Inez, so he knew then that Ezra was really missing. At least, he hadn't been seen since last night when Inez had left him drinking by himself in the bar.

Inez shot them all accusing glares, blaming them for Ezra's misery, and she was right. A man's friends shouldn't leaving him to drink alone, no matter what he might have done to deserve it.

Chris surveyed the saloon with distaste. "Hell, you know Ezra, he's probably off sulking in the next town, cheating a few dozen fools out of their money."

Vin ignored him, crouching down near the bar, running his hand over the wood. He stopped, fingering a fresh nick for a moment, then began digging at it with his knife.

Chris came forward, sensing Vin's sudden shift from curious to dogged. "What have you got?"

Vin prised the tiny piece of misshapen metal free, holding it up between his thumb and for finger.

"It's from Ezra's gun. He missed, which means he was drunk." Vin's face had fallen. Dammit, he'd told Ezra that it'd get him in trouble one day. This day. Vin backed up a few paces and crouched down again, fingering a spot on the floorboards.

"Blood. Fresh," he announced, standing.

"Why would -" JD started, but Buck silenced him with a glance. Hell, why wouldn't anyone want to shoot Ezra?

"Is he still alive?" Chris asked, not really caring either way.

Vin tracked the spots of blood from the bar to the door. "Yes, at least, he walked out."

"How can you tell that?" JD had to know.

Vin gave him a tired but indulgent look. "From the way the blood falls to the floor." He pushed through the doors, gazing up one of the town, then the other. Then his eyes narrowed as he saw a sideways V painted on the second post in blood, pointing out of town.

"Ezra's been taken and he wants us to follow him."

"How do you figure that?" This time it was Buck who was sceptical.

Vin pointed to the bloody mark on the wood. "He left me a sign, that's how."

Josiah saw the mark and nodded. That was good enough for him.

"Alright," Chris acquiesced sourly. "Ezra's one of our own, even if he did bring this down upon himself. " And that was it. Six men mounted up and rode out of town, following the trail Ezra had tried to leave them.

 

 

Ezra's head hung forward. He was too tired to scream, too tired to struggle. He was hanging from his wrists in the barn, stripped to the waist and bleeding steadily from the gunshot wound in his gut and the various other punishments they'd inflicted upon him. The pain was so unbearable, so terrible that he could no longer really feel it. It was just something now in the back of his mind, like a half remembered tune, and he knew he was dying. He had no tears to weep pity for himself, he barely had the strength to breathe. He just dangled, twisting slightly as he turned on the rope, waiting for those bastards to come back and finish the job. His mother had always warned him it would end like this if he wasn't careful. Mother was always right, damn her.

 

 

The six came over the rise and thundered down towards the tiny ramshackle property. Vin was certain. He'd followed the fresh trail of horses and riders to this valley where a deserted homestead stood sagging at the far end, miles away from anywhere. Whoever had taken Ezra couldn't wait until the next town to conduct their business with him, and from the isolated location, that business couldn't be good.

Vin bit down a real knot of dread and kicked his horse forward, leading the Calvary charge towards the rescue of their errant associate. They rode in, guns blazing. Six against four, it was hardly a fair fight, but those men had chosen this fight and drawn on the Vin the moment he came into range, and Chris' shots behind him had settled that argument.

They'd searched the tiny house, but it was what Buck and JD found in the barn that brought them all running.

"Oh, god." JD looked like he wanted to be sick.

Chris twisted away for a moment and Nathan just stared. Josiah murmured a prayer and Buck squeezed Vin's shoulder, urging him forward.

Slowly swinging before them hung Ezra.

Chris cut through the rope and Vin caught Ezra in his arms as he fell.

"Is he?"

"I don't know."

Nathan pushed forward and found a pulse, barely there, and probably not there for much longer.

"Hold on, Ezra," Vin pleaded as Buck helped wrap Ezra in a blanket and handed him up to Vin once he was mounted on his horse. Vin's hand tightened on the reins, the other curled around Ezra.

"Don't you go dying on me," he hissed, then kicked his heels in his horse, hard.

 

 

Ezra was laid out on his bed, bathed and bandaged and covered by a fresh white sheet as though he were already dead. Nathan was washing his hands in the bloodied porcelain basin and refused to look Vin in the eye.

Buck was leaning against the wall, head hung low, hat clenched in his hands, JD anxiously beside him.

"Somebody had better wire his mother," Buck reminded them, quietly.

"I'll do it." Chris shouldered the responsibility.

Vin met Chris' eyes. "No, I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"Yes." There was no room for persuasion.

Vin walked past Chris and put his hat on outside Ezra's room, breathing deep. Then he walked down the stairs and down the street to the Telegraph office, the longest 50 feet he'd ever walked in his life. He had no choice. Ezra had taught him how to read and write, the least he could do was write to Ezra's mother and tell her what had happened. Well, tell her that Ezra was dying, at any rate.

ª

It had been three days and Vin wouldn't be moved from his vigil.

"He taught me to write my name. A man don't just forget something like that. I won't."

Chris made to put his hand on Vin's shoulder, to pull him away, but Josiah shook his head slightly, just enough for Chris to catch his meaning, and he let Vin be. Maybe Vin was feeling guilt over all the teasing he used to give Ezra, or maybe it was something more. The idea of that something more set Chris' mouth in a straight line and he just turned and stalked out, spurs jangling.

Vin hunched over further, knowing he was setting down some bad blood between him and Chris, but he couldn't leave Ezra, not so long as there was still breath in Ezra's body, which wouldn't be long now, by the expressions on Nathan and Josiah. They hovered over him, like vultures. Vin wished they would leave, but he needed them near. Josiah, especially, to say the words, because Ezra's soul needed saving more than most.

Ezra muttered something and twisted against the pillow then fell quiet again, breathing shallowly, a harsh noise in the silence. His skin was still burning and an angry red around the wound.

Nathan suspected blood poisoning, and if so, there was nothing he could do. Ezra's fate lay in hands other than his.

 

 

The morning light fell across the bed in strange patterns, filtered through the lace curtains. The soft thump of the curtains against the window as the breeze changed woke Vin. He blinked, not sure where he was or why. Then he remembered, and slowly forced his gaze towards the bed.

Ezra lay there, completely still, his eyes open. Vin pushed himself closer and saw those eyes focus and track his movements.

"Ezra?" He rested his hand on a bare shoulder, the skin was cool and dry to his touch.

He saw a defiant spark in those eyes. Ezra was already taunting him for giving a damn, with just a look. Hell, he did give a damn, and if Ezra didn't like it he could just...

Ezra's lip curled in a slight smile. "Hell must be overcrowded this time of year," he drawled in a whisper, reading Vin as easily as a book.

"You stubborn son of a bitch," Vin laughed softly.

"It's almost worth living, just to see your face," Ezra teased, then grew quiet again, the effort of speaking exhausting him.

Vin kissed him tenderly upon the forehead, then returned to his seat, content to just sit and watch over Ezra, who was now sleeping peacefully, no longer wretched with the fever that Vin had thought must surely kill him, this time.

ª

In the quiet of his room Ezra slowly unwound the bandages and let them fall away. What he saw wasn’t pretty. The scar was an ugly twisted red raw pucker below his ribs. Nathan had been more concerned with trying to save his life and being quick than being neat, and he was no seamstress.

Ezra leant on his dresser and bowed his head. His looks were his stock in trade, the one thing he could always fall back on. He knew he was handsome and he played that card as often as he needed to and even when he didn’t. Now…he stared again at the ugly knot of scar reflected in the mirror. Now he was damaged goods. No woman or man would marvel at his unblemished porcelain skin ever again. He hung his head. Never again.

Ezra re-bandaged himself and slowly dressed, his movements still tight and painful as he pulled on his shirt and coats. He poured himself another large measure of laudanum and swallowed it just as quickly. He set down the glass, unable to meet his own eyes in the mirror. Adjusting his cuffs just so to hide the gun he kept hidden up his sleeve, which he now wore constantly, even here, feeling unsafe in his own house. Even with his friends to protect him.

Well, friend, at least. Vin was waiting for him, nursing half a bottle at one of the card tables in the back, away from the windows.

Ezra gave Vin a thin smile and eased himself down into the chair, his back to the wall. He pulled out a brand new back of cards and began shuffling them, the practiced motion soothing to him.

They played in near silence, passing the occasional comment on the weather, the town, the quality of Ezra's clientele, the strength of the liquor - Vin scandalously hinting that either Ezra or Inez had been watering it down again.

Ezra threw a few coins into the centre o the table, not really paying attention to the game or his playing partner, his mind and body troubling him.

"You never told me why," Vin prompted softly, curious. He had a price on his head, for a crime he hadn't committed. He'd never really thought about Ezra also having a price on his head, for crimes he actually had committed. And worse, that these bounties were issued by criminals and robber barons, men for whom the laws did not apply.

Ezra's face tightened, feeling the pain again as if newly inflicted.

"Vernon worked for Dan Hogan, back in San Francisco. You might have heard of him?"

Vin shook his head and Ezra just shrugged.

"Hogan was a businessman, you know, imports, prostitutes and the like. He was also a big gambler."

Ah. It all became clear now.

"And he's a bad loser." Vin surmised.

Ezra nodded. "He must have heard where I was holed up and sent Vernon on after me, to have a word." Ezra had a couple ideas on who might have told Hogan where he was, and none of them pleased him very much, but he kept his own counsel.

"Just how many more people are likely to come here with grudge against you?" Vin had to know.

Ezra shrugged and placed his cards face down on the table. "One or two," he allowed, and Vin guessed that was a very conservative estimate.

Vin just shook his head. What else could he do? Ezra was one of them now, and if someone came for him, well, they'd have to protect him as much as they'd protect Vin if someone tried to claim the bounty on his head.

ª

Ezra was bundled in blankets in his chair, taking the air, such as it was, on his saloon’s veranda. He looked like a damn invalid, felt like one, too. He was still hurting, a lot, and the laudanum dulled his senses so badly that playing cards for money was out of the question unless he wanted to lose all his money. Of course, he shouldn’t be drinking so damn much of the stuff but the bullet wound in his gut still burned and he felt like he’d lost his nerve.

Every so often his hands would shake and he couldn’t stop them. He was scared that he might have lost it, his edge, all of it. He hoped to god it all came back to him and he’d stop shaking, stop remembering.

Inez was an excellent business manager, so that was at least one concern off his mind. She pitied him too much to cheat him of the profits, which was galling, but he wasn’t about to argue.

Vin was fussing over him and that he did mind. He couldn’t breathe without Vin fixing his blankets and fetching him tea. Ezra didn’t want tea, he wanted his best whisky, and it was sickening to see a man as proud as Vin Tanner playing nursemaid.

Ezra didn’t know what Vin had to feel guilty about. Ezra had brought this down upon himself entirely, all on his own. Vin had no blame in this so why he was fussing so, it was beyond Ezra.

Chris had his own ideas over what tied Vin to Ezra’s chair, and as he stalked along the opposite side of the street he shot them the occasional look that was sour enough to peel the paint off the walls.

Vin caught one of those looks and straightened, standing behind Ezra, torn between loyalty, duty and longing.

Ezra nudged his head gently against Vin's thigh. His way of saying go, go after him, I'll be just fine.

Vin gave him a searching look and Ezra nodded. That was all Vin needed. He walked off quickly after Chris and Ezra sank back further into his chair, wrapping his blankets around him.

The whole deal had been about Vin learning a few tricks to woo Chris; Ezra had known that from the start. Chris probably wouldn't appreciate knowing where Vin had acquired his new knowledge, but Ezra was pretty sure Chris would get over that initial reticence pretty quickly. Vin was a good and determined student, after all.

Ezra smiled at the memory, then bowed his head a little. It was for the best. It was dangerous to stay in one place too long, to form attachments. He'd learnt that the hard way. No, this was better, and he could still call Vin a friend, if he wanted. It was better than nothing, and so long as he got something out of the deal, he could at least pretend that he had profited.

It wasn’t like he had anything to lose, after all.

stuff

• slash fic
  
• web
  
• livejournal
  
• censorship ratings
  
• contact
  

© 1995-2005 havisham06