What is it about Ezra/Chris that inspires people to write long, angsty fics and then dole them out one part at a time, slowly? I thought about retaliating in kind but I'm nice <g> (also scared of the tar and feathers) so here is a complete, utterly non-angsty Ezra/Chris. To make sure it's set between the pilot and the first ep so there just ain't time for them to get all emotionally wrought.
NB: Previous comments should not be taken to mean I don't want to read the rest of the angst. I do, in fact, yesterday would have been my preferred reading day. So do keep writing, quickly <g>

"Where's Standish?" demanded Chris looking around the small campsite, halfway to Four Corners. Vin nodded his head towards the left. The gambler had taken his bedroll and settled down a short distance from the main camp. Nobody had stopped him. JD had stood to go after him but Buck had pulled him back down. Now Buck pointed out the small heap of rock.

"He settled down over there, pard." Chris nodded to himself and began to move. "Ey Chris, go easy, he did save us." Chris just nodded again. Buck shrugged and turned his attention to the pot of beans cooking over the fire. JD bounced by his side. The kid opened his mouth to say something but Buck stared him into silence.

Ezra opened his eyes as he heard the gravel crunch under someone's feet. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked to see who approached. He cringed inwardly when he made out the dark angel that was Mr Larabee. Ezra remained motionless, waiting. He had thought he'd got away too lightly with his desertion.

Mr Larabee just stood there towering over him. His hazel eyes glaring down at him, looking through him. There was something in those eyes though. Watching carefully, Ezra caught it again, a sudden flash of heat and desire.

Chris stared down at the conman sprawled below him. As he watched Standish shifted subtly, the sprawl becoming open and enticing. For an instant those green eyes met his hot with invitation. Then they fell to study the ground beneath his boots. Chris knelt on the bedroll and lent forward and placed one suddenly sweaty hand on each tense shoulder.

Ezra breathed a little easier when his unspoken invitation was accepted. Larabee, if he was any judge, wasn't a man into violence in his bed. Getting fucked was probably the least painful of his options. It might even be pleasurable. Mr Larabee was certainly desirable enough. He allowed the hands on his shoulders to push him back against the blankets.

Chris smiled at the easy capitulation. Sitting back on his heels he ran his hands down the firm body to rest over the gambler's groin. He grinned with satisfaction as Standish's breath hitched. He pulled the man's shirt loose and began to undo the buttons, pausing now and then to stroke the revealed creamy skin possessively. As he squeezed the nipples Standish's hips bucked. Hands reached for him as the gambler cursed hoarsely. Chris batted the hands away.

"Patience," he said as he started on the man's pants.

"Oh God," moaned Ezra. He was unable not to twitch beneath the strong, surprisingly gentle hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he hadn't made a very bad mistake. While he had been pretty sure Larabee wasn't into pain, he'd never expected the man to be so damn... damn tender.

As his boots and pants were slid away, Ezra pulled back wriggling towards his saddlebags. Concentrating on reaching his elusive bags he took his attention from Larabee. Mistake. Suddenly the blond's full weight was pinning him to the ground, hands clenched bruisingly round his upper arms. The smile beaming at him was full of teeth and menace.

"Where'd ya think ya goin'?"

Chris could hear Standish's throat click as he swallowed. Wide green eyes stared at him. Standish managed to control his face but was betrayed by a tremble in his voice.

"S-saddlebags for g-grease."

Chris considered that for a moment. Then he relaxed his grip and sat back.

"Good plan," was all he said. Standish nodded shakily and scooted back to the leather bags. Chris admired the body that almost glowed in the half-light of the moon. Standish had more muscle than he's expect of a gambling man and it was set off nicely by the shirt he still wore. It had slipped from his shoulders revealing the strong, smooth column of neck. Chris traced his lips with his tongue at the thought of tasting it. The fury that roared through him when he thought Standish was backing out had surprised him. It pleased him, though, that it was keeping Standish off balance. Chris had a feeling it wouldn't do for the conman to get the upper hand. He might wake up missing something vital.

Standish let out a soft cry of as he pounced on a small jar. He began to crawl back. When he realised Chris' intent stare he made a production of it, slinking forwards like a giant cat. Chris shifted uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. Standish stopped in front of him and held out the jar. Chris opened it and poked it experimentally. He rubbed it between his fingers, lifting it to sniff the sweet smelling oil.

"Hair pomade," whispered Standish huskily, "Will do in a pinch."

Chris smiled as he realised he wasn't being subjected to lengthy explanations with impossible words. He reached out and brushed the man's cheek with the back of his hand. He was prepared to swear the man purred as he followed the hand with his head butting at it gently, green eyes glowing.

"C'mere, Cat Eyes." He ran his hand down the tempting neck and the strong back to the tapered waist. Splaying his fingers he stroked and tugged until Standish turned round. His own breath hitched at the sight of the firm, white ass. Running his hands over the soft cheeks he dragged his thumbs down the sensitive crease. Standish hissed and arched his back. Dipping his fingers back in the jar, Chris dripped oil over the sensitive pucker. Standish twisted in his hands. Chris smiled. He'd never liked to just take without thought for his partner. And heat shot through his belly at the sight of the awkward southerner pliant and breathless under his hands.

Ezra gasped as one finger wriggled inside him. It was quickly followed by another and he pushed back seeking more, more of the stretching, more of the fullness. One sparked the magic spot inside him and he bent his head to bite at his upper arm. The fingers went away. He trembled impatiently as he waited for the man's warmth to return. He heard clink of guns being laid aside and the rustle of cloth as Larabee undid his pants. Finally one hand smoothed down his back. He shook so hard his arms nearly gave way.

"Patience," laughed a husky voice. Firm hands stroked the inside of his thighs encouraging him to spread his legs wider. He took a shuddering breath.

"Please," he moaned, "Please." He couldn't hold back a cry at the burn as the blunt pressure inched its way inside him. Two hands gripped his hips firmly, holding him in place when he tried to push back. He mewled his distress.

Chris laughed softly to himself. Damned if the man wasn't half cat. With one hand he stroked the back in front of him as the man adjusted to the intrusion. Finally the intense constricting heat lessened to the point he could rock gently.

His breath hissed through his lips as fought not to come immediately. God but it felt hot and tight and so very good. Standish bucked beneath him and then clenched his internal muscles. Chris gasped and thrust hard. Standish slammed back to meet him. Loosing all control Chris pulled back and slammed forwards again. Beneath him Standish panted roughly, begging for more and harder. For long, endless minutes Chris luxuriated in the slick friction.

Standish whimpered and Chris could see he was struggling to balance one-handed so he could attend to himself. Sliding forwards over that smooth back he bit at an ear and whispered, "Mine." The new position allowed him to push deeper and Standish gasped,

"Please, oh please."

Ezra could feel a hand glide round his hip to grasp roughly at his erection. He was already achingly hard and it took only two firm strokes to send him spiralling into orgasm. Darkness crashed through him and his only connection to reality was the teeth clamped in his shoulder as Larabee rode out his own completion.

He lay slumped for some minutes.

"Mmm Cat Eyes," Larabee's hot breath was in his ear. Slowly the ragged breathing faded and the comforting solidity of the body above him vanished. Ezra bit his lip as Larabee slipped from him. The sweat on his back cooled rapidly in the chill air. He shivered and shut his eyes tightly.

He almost jumped when he felt someone shift closer. The man was back and gently wiped him down. Ezra couldn't help a slight smile.

"Chris," he murmured, tugging at the arm on his shoulder.

Chris froze. He had gone back to tend to the gambler, moved by the vunerability of the slumped form, but had every intention of returning to his own blankets. He hadn't stayed the night with someone since the third woman after Sarah's death. Dreaming he held his wife and waking to find he'd been fooled had been just too painful to take. Looking down at the unnaturally still man he decided to try again. The short, sturdy body of the gambler was nothing like his Sarah's graceful curves. Reaching for the blankets he lay down next his partner who immediately wriggled closer.

Chris shifted so he lay half over the gambler, one arm over the broad shoulders. Standish gave a contented huff of breath and relaxed beside him. Chris tugged the blankets into place, checking the man beside him was covered. Settling down he sighed in contentment. Bending his head, he rubbed his face against Standish's sweet-smelling hair. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to hold a warm body close.

The next morning Chris reluctantly opened his eyes in response to the proding of the rising sun. He instinctivly pulled the body beside him closer as the previous days events flashed through his mind. Standish twitched and tried to pull away. Chris rolled over so Standish sprawled across his chest. Sleepy green eyes blinked at him. As Chris watched the softness drained away replaced with a stiff wariness. The man leaned away as best he could, like an animal held against its will.

"Mr Larabee?"

Green sparks flashed through the eyes so close to his own. Chris could almost see the man calculating whether he needed to run or not.

"Morning cat eyes." Chris stretched up to nip at the tempting neck. Some of the tension drained out of the gambler and he squirmed a little closer. Chris pushed himself into a sitting position. Standish snorted with surprise.

"No time," said Chris, "We need to be up and going."

"Mr Larabee, the sun is barely over the horizon."

Chris stood up and adjusted his pants. "I know, we should be on our way already." He laughed out loud at the look of pure disgust he received. Still Standish sat up a little straighter and began to run his hands through his hair.

Chris strapped on his gunbelt and went to check on the others. Vin, up already, was brewing coffee. He smiled and nodded. Chris nodded back. He then looked at each of the men in turn to gauge their reactions. He wasn't about to let himself, or Standish, get shot in the back. Buck just rolled his eyes. The ladies man didn't understand his friend's quirk but accepted it in much the same spirit he had coped with Chris' fondness for poetry. That particular fondness had burned away with Sarah but the liking for men remained and Chris couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for it.

The kid was staying close to Buck. Chris had to hide a smile, JD's eyes seemed likely to pop out of his head. Sanchez seemed troubled but resigned. Jackson appeared to be wavering between worry and disgust, settling on disgust when Standish shuffled into camp and accepted a cup of coffee from Vin. However nobody seemed likely to take matters into their own hands so Chris relaxed a notch. He jerked his head towards their horses.

"Let's move out."

Chris swung himself up onto Job's back and turned the horse so he could check on his men. He noted Vin had stayed close to the gambler, buffering him from the others, and he smiled his thanks. Vin grinned back as his horse paced restlessly, eager to be off. Standish winced as he settled in the saddle. Chris headed Job towards him but was waved off with a smile. The man seemed more awake now, Chris was pleased to see, and his horse was just as keen to be going as Vin's. They just had to wait for Buck to attatch JD's bedroll to his satisfaction.

Vin pulled his horse up beside him.

"Beautiful day, Cowboy."

Chris looked about him and realised it was indeed a beautiful day. The sun made the world glow gold and the air was crisp with life. Chris had to restrain himself from simply giving Job his head. Instead he clicked his black into a brisk walk.

"Let's ride boys."