Nothing to the Imagination

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money.

Chris’s fingers stilled against Ezra’s bare chest. He rose up on one elbow to stare down at him, stunned. “What?”

Ezra didn’t even bother to hide his lazy smirk, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “I believe you heard me,” he drawled. He lay spread across Chris’s bed, sated and – Chris thought – drifting toward sleep, and just the sight of him like that made Chris think thoughts that belied his age. He’d been angling toward another go, his hands wandering across Ezra with just enough intent to keep him awake and maybe get him interested again.

But then Ezra had said, “It’s a shame those girls from Wickestown didn’t let us keep that dress… what a sight you would be wearing that,” and just completely threw him.

“Yeah, just wish I hadn’t,” Chris grumbled. “Why in the hell would you want to see me in a dress?”

Ezra’s lips curved into a grin, and his fingers danced over the back of Chris’s hand, still resting on his chest. “I believe the phrase is ‘turnabout is fair play’?”

He snorted. “Just ‘cause you had ta wear a dress, I gotta?”

That grin widened so that dimples creased his cheeks, gold tooth glinting. “No, not because I had to wear a dress… but because you still think of me wearing a dress.”

Just for a second, Chris froze, then shot his darkest scowl down at Ezra. “You think that I…”

Ezra’s amusement didn’t fade at Chris’s sudden show of temper; in fact, his dimples deepened slightly. “I don’t think it, dear sir,” he purred, “I am positive of it. An appreciative glance as the lovely Miz Travis walks away, followed by a more speculative one at me, whether I am walking or not… wondering, perhaps, how I emulated that distinctive womanly sway? And then encouraging me away, as soon afterwards as may be possible, to enjoy this… delightful activity.” His fingers abandoned Chris’s, traced his frowning lips instead. “If you are concerned for my reaction now that you know I know about your… imaginings,” he continued, his tone almost gentle, “don’t be. I must admit that at first, I was apprehensive.” He left off the feather-light touches to Chris’s mouth to wrap his hand around the back of Chris’s neck, thumb brushing beneath his ear. “But, after thinking more deeply on the matter, I discovered that imagining you in a dress was quite… inspiring.”

With that, he drew Chris down for a kiss, his tongue probing at Chris’s lips until he opened them, then sweeping inside to stroke the roof of his mouth. With a muffled sound, Chris pressed himself closer, reached across Ezra to run his hand down the line of muscle in his side, fingers digging in slightly. He captured Ezra’s moan with his mouth, pulled Ezra closer when he arched against him, felt his growing hardness hot against his hip.

When Ezra pulled back at last, he was panting, his cheeks red, and Chris matched him breath for breath. One of Ezra’s legs was wound around his, and his hands clutched Chris’s shoulders. Almost as soon as Ezra had broken the kiss, he nipped his way along Chris’s neck, tiny bites and nibbling kisses. Chris hummed an appreciative noise and tilted his head so he could continue. “Guess it was… inspirin’,” he managed, shifting his hips so he lay flush against Ezra from chest to thighs.

Ezra’s leg tightened around his and then he was tugged into a fast roll that ended with him flat on his back, Ezra above him, grinning smugly. “You are a veritable monument to… inspiration,” he replied, lowering his head to continue his attentions to Chris’s throat. Clever hands blazed heated trails down his chest and sides, and Chris groaned into the touch. He reached out to do some touching of his own. One hand roamed over those broad shoulders before burying itself in Ezra’s short hair; the other stroked down his solid thigh. Ezra hummed at the contact, his lips vibrating against Chris’s throat before he straightened once more. Amusement no longer sparkled in his eyes; they were cloudy with desire.

Ezra traced Chris’s collarbone with one finger. “Let me share with you just what I found so inspirin’,” he said and licked his lips. Chris shuddered at the sight, tried to move against the way Ezra’s weight kept his hips pinned to the bed.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Ezra went on, voice low and accent thick. “The silken glide of stockings up your legs…” He reached backward, let his fingers drift over the length of Chris’s leg, just barely touching. “The weight of the petticoats and skirt against your legs, all starched and rustlin’ every time you moved… the corset pulled tight, tight enough that you couldn’t breathe,” and now both his hands skimmed down Chris’s chest and sides, nimble fingers deliberately brushing over his nipples as they passed. Chris arched and cursed, clutching at Ezra’s hips. “Especially cinched in here,” over his flanks now, moving toward his hips, “to make your waist dip and give you a semblance of feminine curves… The sight of paint on your face, makin’ you look like somethin’ other than yourself, even though you can still see you there in the mirror…” He ducked down for a brief kiss, and gave a brief chuckle when Chris followed him as he drew away.

Ezra’s voice and words and touch were spinning a spell, and Chris wasn’t sure he’d ever been so aroused. He swore, panting, and Ezra pressed his shoulders back down against the bed.

“But that’s not what’s so inspirin’ about imaginin’ you in a dress,” Ezra continued. He insinuated one leg between Chris’s, wriggling his hips against Chris’s so that Chris couldn’t help but close his eyes and moan. Ezra’s own moan echoed Chris’s closely.

“Despite how… stunnin’ you are all clad in black,” Ezra murmured, rocking his pelvis oh, so slowly, encouraging Chris to meet him, “I don’t imagine you in widow’s weeds. Your dress is green, a dark green brocade, somethin’ fine and rich.” He bent his head, his words a curl of warm, moist breath against Chris’s throat while Chris clamped his fingers on his ass, pulling him closer. “You are, of course, not best pleased to be wearin’ said dress,” a sharper nip at his throat, and Chris sucked in a breath, “but you are wearin’ it,” a soothing lick, “and that is all to the good.”

Ezra bit gently at his earlobe, and continued to spill his soft drawl directly into his ear. “Then you’re pulling me close, and I push you against the wall to kiss you,” a harder roll of his hips, wringing a groan from Chris. “As I do, I realize you don’t have on a corset. When I do this,” a long, firm sweep of his hand down Chris’s side, all the way down to where his thigh rested over Ezra’s hip, “all I can feel is you, all lean muscle and sinew. I very much enjoy that sensation,” another thrust, a little faster, “and from the way you shiver against me, you do as well.”

“Ezra…” Pleasure licked up his spine, and Chris wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last. He tightened his limbs, dragged Ezra closer against him, trying to urge him to a faster rhythm.

But Ezra kept up the slow, deliberate pace, in time with his sinful words. “Then we disarrange your skirt and petticoat, bunching it up around your waist and crushing the fabric so that it might never recover. I discover that you’re not wearin’ stockings, either, nor garters, just your usual drawers…” His thrusts were faster now and Chris met him eagerly, growling encouragement. “Which we make short work of, and then we’re able to come together… just… like…”

The cadence of his words faltered slightly, and Chris took quick advantage by pulling that talented mouth to his own and driving his tongue inside to battle with Ezra’s. His senses narrowed, and the rest of the world was lost in chasing that moment where everything was pleasure.

Only a few thrusts later he found it, and with a noise that was half grunt and half shuddering gasp, he spent, his seed slicking their damp bellies even more and his fingers clenching hard on the flesh of Ezra’s ass.

Ezra followed him over that brink almost immediately, body arched and trembling over his. Then he collapsed, his face pressed hard against Chris’s shoulder, panting heavily.

After a long moment trying to regain control of his breathing, Chris turned his head slightly, nose brushing Ezra’s ear. One of his hands stroked the sweat-damp planes of Ezra’s back.

Ezra shivered at the light contact, and turned his head, so his words wouldn’t be muffled into Chris’s shoulder. “Matters arrive at their inevitable conclusion,” he finished, his voice not quite steady, “and we slide down the wall to land in a sated heap on the floor.” He kissed just beneath Chris’s ear. “Rather like this.”

Chris made a soft noise, not quite a laugh, and felt Ezra’s lips curve into a smile against his skin before he slid off to one side, arm still draped over him.

He was on the edge of sleep, Ezra a warm weight against him, before he felt the need to protest, “Don’t think of you in the dress like that, y’know.”

“No,” Ezra replied, nearly asleep himself, “but you will.”