You Always Hurt . . .

by Stan Lee* and Eclipse

Alternate Universe "Escorts"

Buck stepped out of the hotel and breathed in deeply of the clean, cool night air. It would have been a nice night to walk back home after his date, but he was too tired to consider that right now. Besides, he could see that one of the company cars was parked on the street outside the hotel waiting for him.

The car drew up to the front of the hotel and Buck grinned and waved to Michael, one of their two regular drivers, and climbed into the front seat.

"Hi, Mike, thanks for waiting," Buck said.

"No problem, Mr. Wilmington. Good night?"

"Not bad, thanks." Buck had long ago given up trying to get either of the drivers to call him by his first name. They seemed to have a strict and non-flexible sense of what was right and what was wrong.

"Sorry you pulled the late shift, Mike," Buck said. "I didn't know I'd be so long. You could have gone back to the house and waited."

Mike cut a look over at him and grinned. "Special orders. Not to move until I knew you were ... finished."

Buck laughed. "Safe, Mike. I'm pretty sure the word he used was "safe", right?"

Mike shrugged. "You know him better than I do."

Buck shook his head. He'd known the minute he'd seen who his driver was that Chris had arranged the car tonight. Mike was an ex-boxer, had kicked around the semi-pro circuit for years before retiring to work alternatively as a bodyguard and bouncer, and now as a driver for the escort agency. Chris only sent him on very particular assignments. Mostly he worked with JD, whose boyish looks sometimes brought out the worst in clients, and he was almost always sent along when any of the guys were on a first date with a new client, valet parking the car and actually escorting them to the door, to let the tricks get a good look at what they were up against should they decide they wanted more than was on the menu. Even at their end of the business--maybe especially, where people with money thought they could buy anything--things occasionally got out of hand and ugly. Buck had told Chris a hundred times that he could handle himself and didn't need "babysitting" but Chris consistently ignored him and sent Mike along anyway. At least he instructed Mike to be a little more discreet when accompanying Buck on his dates.

Tonight, even though he had not needed Mike's muscle, Buck was glad that the car was here. He was tired, looking forward to a long shower and a nice easy night with Chris.

Buck hopped out of the car as it pulled up to the apartment building, thanked Mike and wished him a good night, then climbed the stairs. He poked his head around the door of the den to see if anybody else was around. Ezra was sitting on the couch watching TV, JD stretched out beside him, fast asleep with his head in Ezra's lap.

"Hi," Buck whispered. "Everybody home?"

Ezra smiled and raised a hand in salute. "Everyone who's supposed to be," Ezra replied quietly. "Vin and Nathan are on overnights, they both called in. How was the client?" he asked.

"Fine. Straightforward stuff. I don't think he had much experience paying for it."

"A virgin," Ezra smiled. "I haven't had one of those for ages. Lucky you."

Buck grimaced. "Sometimes I prefer when they know what they want and what to do with it," he said.

Ezra quirked an eyebrow, his smile suddenly growing wider as understanding dawned. "You didn't get off," he stated.

Buck shook his head.

Ezra smirked. "Come find me if Chris isn't in the mood."

Buck grinned. "I've known him fifteen years. Never known him not in the mood. You around tomorrow?"

"I'm booked from about 6. Do you want to try to grab some lunch?"

"I'll check with Chris. I'd better go and show my face before he sends out the National Guard. Night."

Ezra waved him off, stroking his hand through JD's hair to settle him down again when the kid moved restlessly.

Buck found Chris awake in their rooms. No surprise there. He rarely went to sleep before Buck came home, and never when he was with a new client for the first time. Chris was in the sitting room at his desk, the light from the reading lamp casting a warm glow onto his face. He looked up when Buck came in, and Buck smiled at the tiny flicker of relief in Chris' eyes. It was a look that Buck saw every time he came home after a new date, a look he was sure was in his own eyes whenever Chris came home from one. He walked over to the desk and dropped a kiss on Chris' cheek.

"How'd it go?" Chris asked.

"Fine. No problem." Buck sat on the couch and toed his shoes off.

"What did he want you to do?"

"Straight fuck, no kisses," Buck replied, their private shorthand for a fairly undemanding date.

"That it? Nothing extra?" Chris pushed.

"It was the most white-bread date I've had since high school. He didn't have a clue what he was doing. I sucked him off. Later he tried to fuck me but he practically came before he got it in. That's it."

Chris rose from the desk and stepped towards him. Buck stood up, knowing that the inquisition was nowhere near over yet. Chris briefly stroked Buck's cheek then slid a hand behind his neck and pulled him close. His other arm wrapped around Buck's waist.

"He didn't ask for anything out of the ordinary? Didn't suggest any variations? Didn't..."

"Chris, it's late," Buck interrupted. "I'm tired as hell and I need a decent fuck 'cos I didn't get off. Can we skip the rest of the third degree for tonight?"

Chris looked at him hard for a minute, relented and dropped a hand to stroke Buck's rock hard erection; Buck thrust involuntarily into the touch.

"Your Mr. White Bread didn't help you out tonight?" Chris asked.

Buck groaned. "No. He spent the whole evening winding me up but every time I got close he panicked and stopped."

Chris laughed. "Why didn't you finish yourself off you idiot?" he asked.

"'Cos he was so goddamned nervous! I thought I'd ruin his sex life forever if I did that."

Chris shook his head in amazement. "He's a trick, Buck. Not a fucking prom date."

"He's a repeat customer," Buck corrected.

"He wants you again?"

Buck tried not to smirk; he had a long list of regulars, and everybody knew it. Trying to change the subject, he cupped Chris' hand and pressed it harder against his groin.

Chris smiled gently, and tugged his hand away. "Go grab your shower then. Wash Mr. White Bread off you and I'll take care of the rest." Chris kissed his cheek, and Buck reluctantly pulled away and headed for the bathroom.

When he got to the door he turned. "Hey?"

Chris looked up.

"Thanks for sending Mike."

Chris grinned. "No lecture on how you can take care of yourself?"

Buck shook his head. "Would it do me any good?"

"Nope".

Buck laughed. "I'll save my breath then."

Chris smiled, soft and loving, sending a shiver through Buck. "Go shower," he murmured. "Then come to bed and thank me properly."

Buck spent several long minutes sluicing water over his body, soaping himself over and again. He always tried to grab a shower before he left his dates, but he never felt like the date was done until he'd stood under his own shower, used his own towels, gotten the client completely out of his system. He toweled his hair dry, then wandered back into the bedroom, feeling the usual spike of lust when he caught sight of Chris in bed waiting for him.

He climbed happily under the sheets and reached for his lover. Chris wrapped strong arms around him and held him close for a moment, before gently urging him backwards. Buck expected Chris to roll on top of him, but instead he pulled back the sheet and swept a look up and down his body.

"Turn over," Chris ordered softly.

"Aww, come on, Chris," Buck grumbled. "I told you he didn't do anything."

Chris just gave him a stern look. Sighing, Buck rolled onto his stomach. Chris stroked a hand down his back and over his ass, checking for bruises or cuts, or anything that would indicate that Buck had been manhandled in any way.

"This isn't exactly a turn-on," Buck said, exasperated. "It's like being in the goddamned doctor's office."

Chris leaned down and blew into his ear. "Haven't you ever wanted to play doctor?" he whispered, sending a shiver down Buck's spine and straight to his cock.

Buck propped up onto his elbows and tilted his head, catching his lover out of the corner of his eye. "Well when you put it like that... how long have I got, doc?"

Chris chortled, dirty and sweet. "I'm thinking about half an hour," he promised. A hand slid down Buck's back and across one cheek of his ass to gently squeeze and knead the flesh. "Now turn your head and cough."

7 - 7 - 7

Chris woke early the next morning -- early anyway for their line of work. It couldn't be ten o'clock yet, according to the light seeping through the crack in the blackout curtains. He rolled, easing off the bed and throwing the curtains back. The view from the third floor always struck him, always made it hard to remember that this was a mediocre part of town. Better to keep the cops away. He knew that dropping their business into an affluent neighborhood would just attract the attention of the wrong kinds of people; the rich didn't want their whores in their back yards, and they paid the police to keep it that way. Besides, this building had off street parking, and in Boston, that was a luxury.

Boston Harbor bustled a mile away, work crews and loading cranes seemingly silent behind dual-pane glass. The skyscrapers at the city center glistened, phallic and shiny in bright morning sun. It was a beautiful day. He wondered if he ought to try and drag Buck down to the beach, just to watch him lie around in a Speedo and work on his tan, but he'd put off paperwork for days now and -they both had to work tonight, Buck with a forty-ish socialite he actually seemed to like, and Chris with one of his few female clients, Jennifer Moore. He laughed softly when he remembered Ezra's assessment of the woman, the first time they'd seen her at a benefit they'd all worked: oh, her money is so very old, Chris--and soon, some of it'll be our money. Ezra could have conned his way into one or more of the established families in this town, and it was a weirdly likeable part of the man's ethics that he preferred the more straightforward transaction prostitution represented.

All of his men were the same, unwilling or unable to con men or women no matter what they might have been in their past. Josiah's lectures on karma and the afterlife explained his distaste; Nathan said he'd feel too much like property, that renting kept him his own man; Chris thought Vin stayed with them because they felt a lot like a family, and because he'd never be comfortable stuck for too long in the higher, thinner air of the rich. JD stayed because Buck and Vin acted like some combination of boyfriend and big brother, and Chris' experience told him the kid had never had either. And because to a twenty year old, the money was unimaginably good. Buck just sucked at lying to people in bed, and continued to be amused that women in particular would pay him for what he used to do all the time for free. Chris turned, watched his lover curled under the covers and felt a familiar fear, irrational, unquenchable.

Buck had started all of this, in that black time after the fire. Chris had never expected to tolerate this kind of life, for a million different reasons. Hadn't thought he'd be able to watch Buck leave to go to a stranger's bed night after night; hadn't thought he'd be able to get it up for money, or that anybody in their right minds would look into his eyes and trust him so close to their bodies. But it was a remarkably soothing career, part punishment for the mistakes of his past, part the easy bliss of detachment, like a hired gun, going where people paid him. It was a hell of a long way from Indiana, but it was the best of both worlds, always coming back to this room, and the man asleep in the king-sized bed.

Buck stirred in his sleep, distracting Chris from his distant thoughts; he watched, hawkish, the tiny muscles of Buck's face twitch, the way a big, fine-boned hand clenched at the sheet. Before the eyelids blinked open the first time, Chris was back in bed, propped on an elbow, waiting to see it. There. The first twitch, lashes quivering. Blink: unconsciousness; blink: where am I?; blink: where's Chris?; blink. Focus... and then the smile, the thinning of blue iris as pupil widened, and the glimpse deep down of Chris' fractured soul, held safe and dear.

"Miss me?" Buck asked sleepily, licking his lips.

"Yeah," he admitted. Stupid, silly, sometimes when Buck slept right before his eyes, he missed the man more than he did when his lover was out with a trick.

"Mmmmnn." A twinkle sparked in the blue, and Buck reached out, grabbed his hand, and dragged it to a hard, seeking erection. "Want to show me how much?"

Chris laughed breathily and rubbed the heel of his palm down his lover's shaft. "Don't you have to work tonight?" he asked.

Buck nodded. "Yeah. But it's Sophie Deneau, and I like her. I'll be okay."

Chris couldn't say the same. Jennifer was a nice enough woman. Intelligent and cultured, she actually invited them to certain high society events and introduced them around her private circle and generally should have gotten her sex for free, just as a finder's fee for their current client list.

She didn't. She never even asked, but seemed satisfied just having something her friends coveted, so Jennifer got to rent who she wanted, whenever she wanted. Even Chris. Friendly, wealthy, dry-witted, she wasn't enough to wake up his cock without a lot of help from his imagination, and he couldn't afford to make love within a few hours of seeing her.

Buck was lucky his dick had such a hair trigger.

Chris was lucky Buck's dick had such a hair trigger. He smiled and eased his lover onto his back. "It's just gonna have to be for you," he warned when Buck's arms slid around him and locked at the base of his spine.

Buck's face softened further, an unspoken _expression of unconditional love. "Aww, Chris. I'm fine, you don't have to--"

He covered Buck's mouth with his own to stop the stupid words that Buck had taken to saying in the last couple of years. It seemed like a casualty of their trade. "I want to," he breathed. "It's not work."

Buck nodded, and fingers carded through Chris' hair. "Yeah."

Warm muscle and smooth skin quivered beneath his roving hands. Buck acted like it was the first time, every time, and that deeply impassioned response to the pleasure that they always found together brought Chris up without fail. He debated fucking over sucking, wondered if he could penetrate Buck without actually needing to come, and decided against it. That would be work.

In the end he settled for something simpler, so he could watch Buck's eyes. He eased in between his lover's spread legs and arranged their cocks between their bellies, smiling softly at the combined look of desire and relief on Buck's face. Rocking and thrusting, Chris took the time to make it good, to let it last. After long minutes of languid kisses and smooth rhythm, the blue of Buck's eyes darkened, the pupils dilated further. The sexual flush that heralded orgasm spread across the smooth skin of Buck's chest and toward his collarbones.

Buck was so close, now.

Chris threaded their fingers together and twisted his pelvis, dragging the pleasure up from somewhere deep inside his lover. A few more thrusts, and Buck's hips lost their rhythm, jerking wildly. His eyes went cloudy and out of focus. His mouth moved, and Chris read his name on the full lips, and had to fight the urge to orgasm as his cock drove against the slick cum on Buck's belly. It was hard not to go there with Buck, hard because they could get so locked together in moments like these. Hell, in all moments, he admitted to himself as he squeezed tightly in response to Buck's clenching fingers.

"Good?" he whispered, as Buck began to come down.

Buck smiled, licked his lips. "It always is."

Chris smiled, indulgent, and bent to share soft after-kisses, reveling in the smooth touch of fingers that mapped his back, in the sexual tension that still pulsed through him, in the lazy softness of Buck's mouth. He drew back and dragged the tip of his nose over Buck's mustache, tickling himself. Buck had considered getting rid of it because his female clients liked the smooth, clean-shaven look and mustaches weren't really in vogue anymore. But Chris cared less about the women's opinions than his own, and the men loved it, loved the machismo it stood for. Men tended to pay better at their level of the game anyway, so he had persuaded Buck to keep it.

"What are we doing today?" Buck asked.

"Sorry, love. You're on your own for a while. I have to catch up on a little paperwork and check over the schedules for the rest of the week."

Buck shrugged. "Kay. I'll see what the other guys are up to."

Chris leaned down and placed a quick kiss on his lover's cheek before rolling off him. "Why don't you come find me when you're ready for lunch. Maybe we'll go grab a beer and a sandwich before we have to go to work."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7

When Chris sat down at the desk in his small downstairs office, the first thing he found was a note from Dorothy to tell him that Jennifer Moore had cancelled her evening appointment. His first inclination was to go upstairs and drag Buck back to bed, or maybe catch him in the shower and finish what they had started this morning. He had shown admirable restraint in holding back, but now that Jennifer didn't need him, he was free to catch up on what he had missed.

But the pile of paperwork on his desk had grown and there were now several urgent stickers poking out of the stack of bills so he reluctantly put thoughts of nailing Buck out of his head and settled down to work.

He scrawled a note to Dorothy reminding her not to send an invoice to Jennifer. The majority of their clients would have been billed for the cancelled appointment but Jennifer had favored status and received special consideration. Not that Chris had to worry, he knew that Jennifer would send a payment anyway. She was scrupulous in all her business dealings. Chris signed monthly paychecks for their two drivers, for the housekeeper and for Dorothy, the agency's booking clerk. He paid the bills, everything from electricity to telephone to dry-cleaning. He initialed a request to purchase supplies for the house and agreed to the date suggested for the maid service he hired every month to give the house a thorough cleaning. When he had plowed through that, he turned his attention to the schedule for the rest of the week.

Dorothy had laid it all out neatly. Client name, date and time, pick-up point, and any specific request the client might have indicated. Chris scanned the first two columns. JD was heavily booked every night. He frowned when he saw the name of the kid's Wednesday night trick and made a note to send Mike along. After the last date, the kid had been a little spooked, and although he hadn't said anything Chris nonetheless suspected that the trick had made demands on JD that the kid wasn't ready or able to handle. He determined to keep an eye on JD after this date, or maybe get Buck or Josiah to talk to him, see if they couldn't find out what was going on.

Buck had appointments every night, and Winston -- which would probably be an overnighter. Chris frowned momentarily, then sighed in resignation. Despite many requests, he refused all engagements that required that he be away from the house overnight. But he allowed Buck to service a select number of his clients on an overnight basis. Those like Winston who paid obscene amounts of money, or those Buck made a special case for. Chris wasn't always pleased when Buck agreed to take on the overnight requests. He privately grumbled that Buck was such an easy-going whore that some of his clients treated him more like a boyfriend than a business transaction. In the end, he usually agreed to let Buck go, but he had never learned to do it with much grace.

His own schedule was short. He didn't keep a large client base, was too busy watching out for the rest of his men and running the business. Jennifer Moore, who had now cancelled for tonight, a second appointment with a fairly straight-laced lawyer on Wednesday and -- Caroline Wallingford! Chris' heart began to pound and heat flashed through his body, ending up in with a shock in his groin, bringing him to immediate hardness. She was not a regular client, only called a couple of times a year, but she was important. Important to Chris.

Chris remembered their last date seven months ago. Her soft peachy skin, the way her shiny hair cascaded down her back, swinging when she moved, the way she gasped and arched when he took her, the flush that crept along the tops of her white breasts. He closed his eyes, saw the patterned bedspread in the hotel room and her body lying across it, felt the breeze that lifted the curtain and cooled the sweat on his back as he lay still buried deeply inside her, his face nuzzled into her neck, smelling her perfume. That fragrance, that distinct smell was --

He jerked and his eyes flew open when he heard a timid knock at the open door. Buck was standing in the doorway, a small smile on his face. Chris flushed, wondering if his partner could see his erection, and his hand clamped to it.

"God damn it, Buck. Don't sneak up like that," he snapped.

Buck looked momentarily perplexed. "Sorry, Chris. You okay?" he asked, probably noticing the flush on Chris' face and his short, gasping breaths.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" he groused.

Buck took a step back, surprised. "I just wanted to see if you're coming to lunch."

"I've got too much to do," Chris said, sullenly. He felt like a goddamned teenager, caught fantasizing, trying to hide a hard-on.

"Anything I can do to help?" Buck offered, so sweetly and carefully that Chris felt like a damned fool."

"No. Yes." Buck hesitated.

Chris was hard as a rock. He felt like a shit for asking, but...

"Come here. Close the door," he ordered.

Buck did as he was told and stepped up close. Chris pushed his chair back and unzipped his pants. Buck glanced at him briefly, and his eyes searched Chris' as though trying to make sure of what he wanted, then he dropped to his knees without a word and eased Chris' pants down over his hips, letting them pool on the floor. Chris spread his legs wide and pulled Buck's head down, lifting his cock to his lover's mouth.

Buck took him in and worked him quickly, lovingly. Chris threw his head back and arched into the hot, skillful mouth. He let his thoughts drift back to the hotel room, Caroline almost coyly letting her knees fall open so that he could climb between her legs, the heat, the tightness as he sheathed himself in her body, her moans. He moaned himself and pulled Buck's head hard onto his cock while he raised his hips to thrust deeply down his lover's throat. He could feel Buck relax to take him further in and he sped up, finally climaxing with an image of Caroline in his mind, cradling Buck's head on his lap as Buck gently sucked and swallowed, finishing him off.

Buck raised his head and Chris pulled him up and into a ferocious kiss. Buck pulled back and looked at him for a long minute and Chris could feel the smallest flush creep across his face.

"What's wrong, Chris?" Buck asked quietly, and Chris pushed him away, angry that he was so damned transparent to this man. He stood up and quickly dressed himself again, leaving Buck on his knees at his feet.

"Nothing's wrong. I need a fucking reason now to get you on your knees?" he snapped.

Buck's eyes widened. "Of course not," he said softly.

Chris sat against the edge of the desk. "Look, I've got work to do. I haven't got time for you right now." He winced slightly at the hurt that briefly flared in his lover's eyes. Buck rose to his feet, his own erection obvious.

Chris reached out automatically to undo Buck's belt and take care of him, but Buck stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"I don't need anything," he murmured and Chris looked at him, startled.

Buck stroked his cheek. "It looks too much like it would be work for you," he whispered ruefully, and walked out, closing the door gently behind him.

Chris stared at the door for a moment, then cursed and slammed the scheduling book closed. This place was closing in on him. He had to escape for a few hours.

- 7 - 7 -7 - 7 - 7-

Ezra was enjoying his second cup of coffee, this one laced with a small shot of cognac to give him a much needed kick start. The morning had been wonderfully relaxing, but he needed to start to wake up if he was going to be on form for his client later tonight.

He hadn't been able to summon the energy to join Vin and JD in their quest to distract Buck. He was worrying about Chris, had hinted that his lover appeared to be out of sorts when he'd seen him last. That had been three hours ago. Since then, Buck had discovered that Chris had left the house, had taken the BMW and just disappeared. In anybody else that wouldn't even have raised an eyebrow, but everybody knew that these two barely made a move without the other, so it was pretty unusual for Chris to have taken off without telling Buck, or, more likely, without dragging Buck along with him.

Still, Ezra wasn't in the mood for an intervention. So he'd waved the three off and settled in with a pot of coffee, a bottle of cognac and the local newspaper. With the majority of his clients culled from the society pages, Ezra found that it paid to know who was feuding with whom, who had recently divorced with a huge settlement or remarried into a wealthy family, who had cut loose their latest boy toy and might be in need of his services. At a price.

He jumped when the kitchen door opened, slamming against the wall. "The prodigal returns," he smiled when Chris walked in.

"Where's Buck?" Chris demanded.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "And a fine good afternoon to you too, Mr. Larabee," he said.

Chris waved him off. "Cut the crap, Ezra. Where is he?"

Ezra sighed. One look at the prominent bulge in Chris' jeans told him why the man was so anxious to locate his lover.

"He went out with Vin and JD," Ezra said.

"Fuck!"

Ezra frowned slightly. It was obvious Chris was in need, but they were prostitutes, after all. It wasn't as if they had no experience at delaying gratification.

Chris was pacing, prowling, in front of the kitchen counter and Ezra was beginning to be irritated by the man's noisy intrusion into his peaceful afternoon.

"When he gets back, tell him I want him," Chris demanded.

Ezra bristled at the tone and the order. "Tell him yourself," he started, but the effect was ruined when the door opened again and Buck walked in, Vin and JD in tow. Ezra saw the look of relief on Buck's face.

"Chris ..." Buck began.

"Where the hell have you been?" Chris snarled.

Buck looked taken aback. "Where have I been? You're the one who's been gone for hours. Where'd you go?"

Chris took a step forward. "None of your damned business," he snapped. "Get your ass over here."

Buck frowned at the harsh tone. But he stepped up closer to his lover.

"Get on your fucking knees. Now."

Buck jerked in surprise at the order. He swallowed and said gently, "Why don't you come to bed and let me take care of you?" He reached out a hand but Chris knocked it away.

"What's the matter, Buck?" he sneered. "All of a sudden you're shy? Hell, half the time we see you you're on your knees with somebody's dick in your mouth."

Ezra and Vin exchanged shocked looks and JD shrank back. Whatever went on behind closed doors, these two were always joyous in their public lovemaking, intensely devoted, playful, affectionate.

"Chris..." Ezra started, thinking he might be able to calm the man down a little.

Chris rounded on him. "What is it, Ez? You trying to tell me he hasn't sucked you off lately? And Vin, I know how many times your cock has been down his throat. And how about you, JD..."

"Chris, don't."

Ezra watched as Chris' mouth snapped shut. He didn't know whether it was because of the brief look of fear that flickered across JD's face, or the stern warning in Buck's voice.

Chris turned his attention back to his lover. "I fucking told you what I want from you. Now do it," he snarled.

Buck's mouth set into a thin, hard line. "I whore for a living, not for pleasure," he said, cold and low, and started to turn away. Chris suddenly moved to spin him back around and Ezra watched in open-mouthed shock as Chris drew back an arm and backhanded Buck hard across the face. Buck's head snapped back and Ezra wasn't sure if the gasp he heard came from JD or from himself.

"You'll whore for me whenever I goddamned tell you to," Chris growled, his voice equally cold.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra could see that Vin had slipped an arm around JD, but he couldn't tell whether it was for comfort, protection or to hold the boy back. Ezra made a move to stand up, not even knowing what he intended to do, but certain he wasn't going to sit here and watch this.

Buck held up a hand in warning, never taking his eyes off Chris. The two stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. Shaking himself suddenly, Buck said quietly, "If that's what you want, Chris," then he dropped his hands and began to unbuckle Chris' belt, still staring deeply into his lover's troubled eyes.

As far as Ezra was concerned, this had gone far enough. "Whatever game this is, I'm not playing," he said firmly, and walked out of the room.

Chris watched as Vin pulled at JD's arm and motioned with his head and they too began to leave.

"Stay JD," he ordered. "He gets paid plenty because he's so good at this shit. You might learn a thing or two."

Buck's hands froze and a look of pure fury tore across his face. "You goddamned bastard," he breathed and for an instant Chris sobered, relieved when Vin ignored him and hustled JD to the door, pushing the kid out and slamming the door behind them.

Chris watched as the anger died in Buck's eyes, to be replaced by a cold, detached look.

"Get on with it," Chris snarled. "And make it good." Buck snapped back into action and dropped to his knees.

He performed expertly. Licking and sucking in perfect rhythm, applying just the right amount of pressure, exquisite use of tongue and teeth, offering the depth of his throat, responding to every twitch, every gasped breath. Chris knew that he was getting every cent's worth of Buck's highest priced blow job. And at the end, when he spilled into Buck's mouth, he also knew that Buck had serviced him, not made love to him. There was none of his usual profound passion, none of his intense enthusiasm, no trace of love. It was clinical, professional, completely unfulfilling, leaving Chris more tense and more in need than when they'd started.

Buck sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if trying to erase all trace of what had happened.

"You finished with me?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Chris nodded, unable to speak, and watched helplessly as Buck climbed to his feet and left without a backward glance.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin settled himself on a chair at the kitchen table and began to shovel sugar into his coffee cup, ignoring the incredulous looks on his friends' faces. He glanced over at Buck, glad to see a smile back on the man's face. The earlier scene with Chris had been uncomfortable for Ezra and himself, downright scary for the kid, and had temporarily eroded Buck's customary exuberance. Buck had tried to come up with reasons for his lover's behavior, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best. Something was definitely wrong and it looked too much like something Vin had seen before.

Looking at Buck now, Vin thought, you wouldn't know that anything was wrong. He was doing his best to put JD at ease and dispel the ugly mood Chris' strange behavior had caused. He had his arms wrapped around JD and the two were behaving like a couple of school kids, tussling with each other, boisterous, noisy. Vin smiled as Buck pulled JD down to sit with him on the barstool at the kitchen counter, balancing them both precariously on the seat. He hugged the kid close and whispered into his ear, vulgar, dirty remarks judging by the look on JD's face. Vin glanced around the table at Ezra and Nathan and saw that both men were smirking, probably knowing exactly what Buck was saying to the kid. Buck winked at his friends and began to trail wet kisses up JD's neck, making the kid squirm in his arms.

"Don't start anything, Buck. I gotta work tonight," JD warned, although the way he threw his head back and moaned was at odds with what he was saying.

Vin shared an amused look with Nathan: kids.

"Just warming you up a little, kid," Buck murmured against his skin. "Your client will thank me."

Nathan laughed. "Keep that up and he'll come right there. I don't think his client will be too happy when he can't get it up."

"He's young," Buck smiled, continuing to torture JD. "You'll be able to get it up again, won't you babe?" he whispered, dipping his hands down into the vee of JD's legs and cupping the obvious erection there. Buck raised his head, his whole face lit up with pleasure.

That all changed when Chris walked into the kitchen. An awkward silence settled in on the room as Chris and Buck eyed each other, both obviously trying to assess the other's current mood.

Chris stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, directly in front of Buck, and glared at him. Buck seemed to understand what the look meant and when Chris turned to get himself a cup of coffee, Buck moved the kid off his seat and onto a stool beside him. His whole demeanor changed, he closed in on himself, became watchful, intently alert. The kid realized that something was wrong, and was smart enough to moderate his own behavior. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, watching the scene with curious eyes.

Vin tried for normal conversation. "You still up for the club later tonight, JD?"

The kid smiled radiantly. "Am I? It's gonna be cool. Can't wait."

"Ez?"

"It's not my usual cup of tea. That music you like is just god-awful. But I'll drop by after my date and see if the drinks are better than the entertainment."

Nathan lifted his hand, warding off the question before Vin could ask it. Even if he'd been inclined, Vin knew Nate wouldn't leave the building, not with Chris in this mood. Nathan had been here almost three years, he and Vin had come in together, and of all of them, Nathan said the least and did the most, keeping out of the way of Chris' wrath, but staying close enough to patch Buck up if need be, without a word of judgment.

Buck cleared his throat. His tone was conciliatory when he spoke. "Couple of the guys are going out drinking tonight, Chris. I thought maybe you and me..."

"No." Chris said flatly.

Buck winced at the tone and frowned a little. But he just shrugged and Vin could tell that he was going to drop the subject, obviously not considering this a fight worth having.

JD glanced over at Buck. "You're still coming, aren't you?" he asked.

Buck didn't even look at Chris. Didn't need to. "Next time, kid."

"But, Buck..." JD began.

"He isn't going anywhere," Chris snapped, making JD jump. He glared at Buck, almost a challenge. "Don't open your fucking mouth again. You're staying here tonight."

Chair legs scraped the tile floor as Nathan got up and glided out of the room, and Vin wished everybody else could keep their cool half as well.

Buck watched Nathan go with obvious relief, then stared intently at Chris and for a moment Vin thought he was going to say something to his lover, but in the end he just shook his head in disgust and looked away.

The tense silence returned and Vin tried again to re-establish some kind of normal atmosphere. "What time are you finishing tonight, kid? I'll meet you back here and we can go together."

"'Bout midnight," JD murmured.

Conversation halted again. Chris continued to glare at his lover. JD nervously twisted a ring he always wore, looking uncomfortable and apprehensive. Buck had ducked his head and seemed lost in his own thoughts. Vin glanced over at Ezra, a question in his eyes "Aren't you working tonight, Buck?" Ezra asked, and Vin touched Ezra's leg under the table in thanks. They were on safe ground talking shop.

"Huh!" Buck looked up, startled.

Ezra smiled. "Don't you have a date tonight?" he repeated.

"Oh. Yeah. Sophie, one of my regulars. And my new guy from the other night."

"Your virgin?" Ezra smirked, and jumped when Chris slammed his coffee mug on the kitchen counter.

"You didn't tell me you'd taken on another client tonight," he snarled at Buck.

"I didn't tell you because he only just booked me." Buck smiled, so obviously trying to relax that Vin felt his own tension ratchet up in sympathy. "Think he had to work up his nerve, he called this afternoon. I won't be home late, Chris."

"That goddamned loser. Another one of your fucking lost souls," Chris sneered.

"He's just a little inexperienced," Buck said, his voice taking on a harder edge.

Chris put his hands on the counter and leaned closer to his lover. "He pays to fuck one of the highest-priced whores in Boston and he doesn't even know what to do with you."

Vin saw that JD was trying to make himself as small as possible, not fully understanding what was going on between these two. Or perhaps understanding all too well. But the kid had only been here a few months, and hadn't witnessed first-hand this dance Chris sometimes dragged Buck into. Ezra's mouth had thinned into a hard line. Vin brushed a hand over Ezra's, a warning, as Buck's eyes flashed in anger.

"He keeps paying and I'll be more than happy to teach him," he snarled.

Vin saw Chris flinch. "Well you can start by teaching him how to jerk you off instead of sending you home so I have to finish the job," Chris said, the intentional cruelty startling even to Vin, who'd seen this a few times before.

Buck stood up, his eyes betraying an equal mix of anger and hurt. "Maybe you don't have to, Chris. Not if it makes you this fucking miserable." Buck turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.

Chris stood absolutely still for a moment, then picked up his coffee cup and flung it across the room. The three other men stared at each other as it shattered noisily, and Chris stormed out.

"What the fuck was that about?" JD finally asked.

Ezra shook his head, ignoring the question, and turned to Vin. "You know where this is leading, don't you?" he asked.

"Not necessarily," Vin said, his eyes still on the coffee that dripped down the wall. He should clean it up before the housekeeper got here. She already knew plenty, just from changing the bed linens every other day.

"Oh please," Ezra sniped, voice dripping with disdain. "You think this is just one of his 'moods'?"

Vin shrugged. "Could be."

"Isn't," Ezra asserted. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Ezra, it's between them. End of story." Vin said firmly.

"Damn it!" Ezra swore under his breath. "He is intolerable when he gets like this."

"Guess not," Vin said laconically. "I don't see any of us headed for the door."

Ezra's eyes narrowed and for a moment he looked like one of the haughty socialites he was so fond of servicing. But the look faded after a moment, relaxing into a familiar, quiet resignation. "I don't have to like it," he muttered, and rose from his chair. Stepping over Chris' mess like it wasn't there, he rinsed his coffee cup and set it in the sink, said, "I'll see you both tonight. If you'll excuse me," and walked out of the room.

Damn, Ezra Standish was good at his job.

"You want to tell me what's going on, Vin?"

JD's quiet voice startled him, and he looked to find something eerily familiar in the doe-brown eyes.

He shrugged. "It's kind of hard to explain, JD."

"Looks pretty simple. Looks like Buck's in trouble for something."

Vin shook his head, not sure what to say really, or how to say it. He had learned a long time ago that what went on between these two men was not always what it seemed. When he'd first joined the agency he had sought Chris out early one evening to ask for advice on a new client. He'd knocked on Chris and Buck's bedroom door and walked in to find Chris sitting up in bed, a sheet draped over him, looking through a sheaf of papers. The air was heavy with the smell of sex and sweat and Vin could hear the shower in the attached bathroom. He'd sat on the edge of the bed and talked to Chris about how to handle his date's very specific sexual requests. When the bathroom door opened, Buck had appeared, damp and naked, smiling over at him. He'd crossed the room and flopped down on his stomach onto the bed, laying his head in Chris' lap and draping an arm over his legs. Chris had begun stroking a hand through his lover's wet hair while continuing to offer advice. Vin had glanced idly over Buck's chiseled body and tensed. Buck's wrists bore the thin, livid red marks of some kind of restraint that had rubbed and chafed away the skin and his ass was criss-crossed with the unmistakable raised welts that told Vin a riding crop had been used on the man.

"A client do that to you?" Vin blurted, wondering if they expected him to submit to those kinds of demands, because there was no way he was going to.

Buck had looked up, startled, and tried to roll over. But Chris had held him firmly in place, one hand pressing into the small of his back and the other tangled in his hair, holding his head still. When Buck reluctantly settled again, Chris had slowly moved his hand down to stroke gently over the whip marks.

"I don't allow anybody else to mark him," Chris had said softly and Vin looked into the two pairs of eyes watching him intently and understood.

Since then, if he noticed a bruise or the evidence of a beating on Buck's body, he kept his thoughts to himself. Whether the marks were a punishment, a sign of possession or just the result of a sex game, Vin figured if Buck permitted what was happening, it wasn't up to him to think any different.

"Vin?"

"Vin jerked, startled out of memory. Maybe it was better if JD was warned ahead of time. "Sometimes Chris gets riled and Buck's the only one who can settle him down. So when you get to seeing certain signs, you've got to stay out of Chris' way. Understand?"

"What signs?" JD asked, with a whole lot more than idle curiosity.

"He gets real mean tempered like he just was, like he might get out of control, and his mood'll go all over the place. Just leave him to Buck. He--"

"Gets in the way," JD finished.

"What?" Vin asked, startled.

JD stared at the doorway everyone had walked or stormed out of in the last five minutes, then said softly, "My mom was a good lady, Vin. I mean she really loved us. But she was a heroin addict too. She tried to stay clean and all but sometimes she'd just lose it, and my older sister, she'd... get in the way."

Shit. Jesus H. Christ on a crutch. "Aww hell, I'm sorry, kid. But Chris isn't--he won't-- JD, everything I know about Chris tells me he won't ever go at you like that. You don't need to be scared of him, and Buck's not defending you, or any of us. But if you piss Chris off, it just makes Buck's job of fixing things that much harder."

JD nodded, all big eyes and anxious intensity. "No shit?"

"No shit." Just in case, he decided to get everything out in the open. "But you know, JD, those two like to play some pretty rough games sometimes. Chris has only..." How the hell to say it? "Chris has only really gone overboard three times since I've been here. So what you see, the marks on Buck, most times it isn't 'cos Chris is angry. And the marks on Chris ain't never because Buck's angry."

JD nodded, and the irrepressible, boyish grin that kept him in such demand slipped out. "I know the difference, Vin," he said.

Huh. He kept himself from asking "how?" That wasn't his business, either, not as long as that grin was still on JD's face and everybody else kept it together. "Okay, then. So, uh, midnight, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm wearing that blue shirt I bought last week, you know, the sexy one? You're going to dance too, aren't you?"

Vin smiled. Irrepressible.

7 - 7 - 7- 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris left the kitchen intent on chasing Buck down and letting rip. He had sought out his lover to make up with him, offer some small apology for his earlier behavior. But when he'd seen Buck practically fucking the kid right in front of everybody, he'd lost it all over again. When he crossed the threshold into their suite, though, Buck struck first.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you but you cannot take it out on the kid, Chris. You just can't."

Chris winced. He hadn't meant to snap at JD like that. He was sorry about the kid, but he was mad as hell at Buck.

"Then stop pissing around with him like a fucking horny teenager," he snapped.

"He needs a friend," Buck said. "He doesn't need to see you acting like a psycho. God, you were such an asshole. JD was just trying to have a little fun and you had to spoil it for him. He's dealing with enough of his own shit. He sure doesn't need to deal with yours as well."

"O.K. Jesus, get off it," Chris snarled. "You've made your fucking point."

A tense silence descended between them.

"Where did you go earlier?" Buck finally asked.

"Just out for a drive. This place was getting on my nerves."

An anxious look flared briefly and was quickly suppressed. "This place?" Buck asked softly. Then reluctantly, "or me?"

Goddamnit, Chris thought, what the fuck was he doing to the man. He crossed quickly to his lover and kissed him hard.

"Not you. Never you," he said fiercely, and gathered Buck into his arms.

"So you're okay?" Buck asked, doubtfully. "We're okay?"

"We're fine," Chris assured.

Buck dropped his head and nuzzled his face into Chris' neck, kissing him gently. Chris groaned and grabbed Buck's hand, pressing it against his already hard cock.

"I wanna fuck you, Buck" he hissed, "but I'm not in the mood for hearts and flowers."

Buck raised his head and Chris saw understanding in his eyes. "Bring it on, stud. Show me what you've got," he whispered and smiled, before dipping his head back down and biting hard into Chris' shoulder.

Chris felt the pain, diamond bright, dazzling, and all of his frustrations dropped down hard into his cock.

He pushed Buck away. "I don't know if you'll still be smiling when I'm done with you," he growled. "I want you on the bed. Face down."

Buck stripped quickly, already hard, and arranged himself on his belly on the bed.

Chris looked down at his lover, so trusting, so willing to put himself into Chris' hands even in the face of his bad temper and a whole world of shit between them. Chris felt a tangled surge of motion, desperate love, an overpowering need to hold Buck tight and close, a confusion of anxiety, devotion, urgency.

Buck threw a look over his shoulder. "Are you gonna fuck it or just admire it?" he challenged. And the spell was broken.

"Oh, you're gonna know you've been fucked, boy," Chris promised.

Chris pulled off his clothes quickly and climbed up onto the bed. He slapped Buck's ass.

"Spread 'em for me."

Buck spread wider and Chris settled himself between Buck's outspread thighs and stroked his cock slowly, bringing it to full hardness, spreading pre-cum over the head.

"Need a little help there, stud?" Buck teased.

Chris ignored him. "Up on your knees," he ordered.

Buck shuffled into position and Chris urged him up off the bed and pulled him back so that Buck straddled his lap. He reached out two fingers to Buck.

"Get 'em wet. I ain't doing all the fucking work."

"You ain't done any fucking work so far," Buck grumbled and Chris silenced him by shoving his fingers into Buck's mouth. Buck licked at them, almost tentatively. Chris stroked a hand down his lover's side, up over the rise of his hipbone, caressing smooth skin, dense muscle, hard bone, feeling the give of soft flesh under his lover's heavy balls. He realized that his breath was coming in soft gasps, his heart was pounding, his hips were undulating, cock brushing against Buck's ass. He stilled, suddenly confused. Then he pulled his fingers out of Buck's mouth with a curse. The bastard had been sucking them off! He had practically come because Buck was sucking on his goddamned fingers. He heard Buck laugh, and knew that he realized the exact state he had put Chris in.

"Asshole," Chris hissed, and Buck laughed harder.

"Now, Chris. Don't go getting all pissy on me," he teased. "Remember I've got a date tonight."

Chris pulled him back until his head was balanced on Chris' shoulder. "That goddamned virgin of yours wouldn't be able to find your hole, let alone fill it," he growled, and rammed his fingers deeply up into Buck's ass.

Buck arched and rose up off Chris' lap, clenching his muscles tightly.

Chris fought to keep his fingers in place and waited until Buck relaxed before guiding him back down slowly to spread across his lap once more. He pushed his fingers in and out, unerringly finding and rubbing over his lover's prostate with each stroke. Soon Buck was riding his fingers, rising and falling, his body arched, head thrown back onto Chris' shoulder, moaning softly.

Chris licked up Buck's neck and whispered, "You're not so fucking mouthy now, are you?"

Buck just groaned and Chris added a third finger, feeling his lover's body stretch to take it in, holding tighter as Buck shuddered with need. Chris snaked a hand around Buck's hips and stroked over his erection. "Don't come yet," he ordered.

"Chris..." Buck pleaded.

"Shhh," Chris soothed. "I want you to fuck me after. So hold off."

Buck nodded, and Chris could feel his chest rise and fall as he took in deep, steadying breaths.

Buck had to work tonight. He kept repeating the words in his mind, and glanced toward the nightstand. "Grab the lube," he muttered reluctantly. Sometimes, times like now, there was nothing like the added friction of skin to skin, of ready ass and willing cock, and they knew how to move with each other, work each other, make each other so high...

"Fuck the lube," Buck hissed, right in synch with him, and Chris felt a feral grin tighten his mouth.

"Ready for me?" he said, and in one smooth motion Chris lifted Buck's hips off his lap, opened him wide with his thumbs, and pulled him back down sharply, impaling him on Chris' cock.

Buck writhed and moaned, split, filled, thoroughly taken.

Chris pushed up, lifting Buck with him, then pulled back and slammed up again with all his force. Buck cried out and tensed. He tipped forward and clung tightly to the headboard of the bed, as Chris drove in hard over and again, rocking him forward with every thrust.

Chris felt his fingers tighten on Buck's hips. The small part of his mind that was still able to function knew that he should loosen his grip or leave bruises, but it was impossible to make his body obey, so caught up in the feel of his lover shuddering around him, the sounds he made, half pain half pleasure, the sheen of sweat and the play of muscles on his back. When he felt the rush of orgasm, Chris pushed Buck forward, slamming him into the headboard. He grunted and pumped deeply into Buck's ass, coming in hard, jerking bursts, his head thrown back, teeth bared. He collapsed onto Buck's back, dragging in deep, hitching breaths, half aware of Buck's own shallow, rapid breathing and the way his body quivered with unfulfilled tension.

When he felt able to move, Chris pulled out of Buck's body and tumbled onto the bed. Buck collapsed beside him, lying face down. Chris rolled onto his side and traced lazy patterns on Buck's back. When his lover turned his face, Chris frowned and reached up to wipe a drop of blood off his lip.

"What?" Buck asked, noting the dark expression on Chris' face.

"You're bleeding," Chris said.

Buck shrugged. "Must have bit my lip," he said, not bothered. He grinned, wincing just a little when his split lip pulled. "You were right," he said. "I definitely know I've been fucked."

Chris chuckled. "But I didn't wipe the smile off your face," he said.

"It'll take a little more than that, stud," Buck laughed, then frowned and looked away and Chris knew that he was remembering their earlier encounter.

He reached out and turned Buck back to face him, smoothing the frown away with a gentle hand. He dropped his other hand to cup his lover's erection, feeling it swell and harden almost immediately.

"How about returning the favor?" he murmured, and Buck's eyes cleared and brightened and his grin re-emerged.

"Yeah," Buck breathed, happily.

"Unless you're saving yourself for your virgin," Chris teased.

"Oh, I have plenty to go around, don't you worry," Buck laughed.

"As long as you save the best for me," Chris said, only partly a jest.

Buck rolled on top of his partner. "You tell me afterwards, if it's good enough," he whispered. Buck's mouth covered his, practically sucking the air from his lungs, and Chris knew he was in for something extra special.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Ezra and Vin were still in the kitchen trying to decide if they could summon up the will to get off their asses and do something. JD had wandered off long ago, tired of their procrastination. It was a perfect day to visit a couple of the bike showrooms in and around the city and he'd had no intention of wasting the day while these two tried to decide on a course of action.

They had finally settled on a drive out of the city, maybe grabbing a beer along the way, and were now arguing over whose car they should take. Ezra opted for the speed and comfort of his Porsche but it was Vin who actually wanted to drive today and Ezra wasn't sure he was in the right frame of mind to put up with Vin's somewhat cavalier attitude towards gear changing which seemed to be - if you can't find it, grind it. Ezra shuddered just thinking about letting Vin behind the wheel of his beloved car. On the other hand Vin was looking at him with such longing, and he was a complete sucker for both the look and the man. So in the end he conceded. Vin let out a whoop of joy, which he damped down when Buck walked back into the kitchen.

Ezra glanced over and stilled. Buck's gait was stiff, unnatural for a man usually so fluid and graceful, and his lip was swollen and obviously split. He watched as Buck sat down gingerly on a barstool at the kitchen counter, wincing when his backside came into contact with the seat. Ezra exchanged a look with Vin.

"He beat you," Ezra said, convinced that he was seeing Chris' handiwork. The man's moods had been bouncing around like a ping pong ball all day, and he had left the kitchen earlier in a foul temper. Besides, it fit a pattern he had seen before.

Buck looked confused for a moment, then his face cleared. "No Ez. We had a rough fuck, that's all."

"So what happened to yer lip?" Vin asked.

"I bit down on it when we were screwing," Buck said. "He didn't hit me." His voice held a note of exasperation.

"But he's going to, isn't he?" Ezra pressed. "And I don't mean one of your fuck games. I mean the real thing."

An uncharacteristic frown shadowed Buck's _expression, a look of dark foreboding. Ezra watched his friend struggle to find a response. Finally he just sighed. "I don't know. Maybe," he admitted reluctantly.

"When?" Ezra asked.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I can't tell," he murmured.

"You -- er -- you wouldn't think about maybe getting the hell out of here for a couple of days? Letting him work this one out by himself?" Vin asked quietly.

Buck's brows drew together. "Leave him? When he needs me most?" he said. "What the hell makes you think I'd do that to him?"

"We're not talking about leaving him. Just getting out of his way for a while. If you're not here he can't hit you." Ezra tried to make it sound reasonable, but he could tell from the look on Buck's face that the man thought that what they were suggesting amounted to a kind of betrayal. Buck would never consider that option. It was like a door slamming, and Ezra knew this wasn't going to get them anywhere.

Ezra felt a nudge in his ribs and looked up to see Chris standing in the doorway. His face was completely impassive. He might have heard everything they'd just discussed; he might not have heard a thing. They certainly weren't going to find out by reading the man's body language.

Chris started to cross the room, the same stiff, awkward gait they had seen in Buck. So it was true. They had been playing their games again. Ezra couldn't understand how in the space of an hour they could go from shouting in each other's faces to fucking each other through the mattress, or how in the space of a couple of days Chris could go from being the poster child for love and devotion to beating his lover. But then, there was a lot about their relationship that he didn't understand.

Chris leaned over Buck's back to place a kiss on his cheek. Buck turned around and slid his arms around Chris' waist, burying his face in his lover's chest. Chris looked a little startled by the intensity. He glanced at Ezra and Vin and his eyes flashed with such anger that Ezra realized two things. One; that Chris knew they'd been ragging on Buck about him, and two; that if Chris Larabee ever looked at him like that in private, crop or no crop, he'd run a mile in the opposite direction, not offer himself up to that rage as Buck obviously did.

Chris raised his lover's chin. "You alright?" he murmured.

Buck began to smile, but stopped when his lip pulled painfully. "Great," he replied.

Chris touched a finger very gently to Buck's split lip.

"You okay to work tonight?"

Buck actually laughed at that. "I'll be fine, Chris. Sophie's great, she and I always have a good time. And my new guy isn't exactly high maintenance. I'll jerk him off and wind him up a little and be out of there in an hour, tops."

Chris ran a hand through Buck's hair, pushing it back off his face, stroking through it almost compulsively. He glanced over at Ezra and Vin.

"That invitation still stand for tonight?" Chris asked.

Vin nodded, looking a little surprised. "Yeah. You should both come."

Chris turned his gaze on Ezra. "You think the same way, Ez?"

Ezra noted the smallest tensing in Buck's body. Chris' eyes were unreadable although a whole host of emotions swirled around in them.

"Of course. You're both welcome," Ezra said, and was rewarded with one of Buck's most radiant smiles, which opened his lip again.

"We'll see you there then," Chris said. He threaded his fingers through Buck's and pulled gently. Buck rose to his feet and the two left hand-in-hand, doubtless to spend the rest of the afternoon wrapped around each other in some quiet corner.

"I will never understand that man," Ezra said, sighing dramatically. That fact unsettled him. He'd spent his entire life learning how to read people, how to convince them to do things his way, and the fact that Chris was such a mystery to him bothered him on some deep level.

"Stop trying," Vin offered softly.

Ezra frowned. "I don't think I'm constitutionally able to stop trying, Vin," he admitted, and Vin snickered. Honesty never paid. "You think they'll really show up tonight?" he asked,

Vin shrugged. "Who knows with those two?"

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

The following day Buck was stretched out on a bench in Josiah's little garden, eyes closed, tipping his face towards the sun, enjoying the peace and quiet of the late afternoon. He wasn't exactly hiding; he was just trying to grab a half hour away from his friends, away from ringing phones and raised voices and the rough and tumble of a building full of men. Most of all, he was trying to carve out a little breathing space away from Chris. No two ways about it, the man was being a first class goddamned bastard.

Last night had been fantastic. They had arrived at the club a little after one to find most of the others already there and a couple of rounds of drinks stacked up on the table waiting for them. Buck had watched as Chris let JD drag him onto the dance floor, knowing that Chris was apologizing in his own way for his earlier behavior. He had stayed on the floor for ages as first one then another of their friends persuaded him to dance. Even Ezra had taken a turn -- a slow and damned sexy rubbing of their bodies that had heated up the room and sent a fire of lust and longing straight to Buck's cock.

Chris had staggered back to their table and tossed down a drink and Buck had been so aroused by the way his lover's skin glistened with sweat, the way his damp shirt plastered to his body, his hard nipples so defined through the almost transparent material. Chris had leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips and Buck had pulled him, laughing, to straddle his lap, settling his ass on Buck's rock hard shaft. Buck had shoved his tongue deeply down his lover's throat and slid both hands up under the shirt to knead at the sweat-soaked muscles of Chris' back. Chris had begun rocking backwards and forwards, dry-humping him until he was arching his hips up to rub against Chris' ass and moaning helplessly, then Chris had leaned in to counter the volume of the music and talk into Buck's ear.

Buck had grinned at the invitation and they had risen and chased each other into the back alley where Chris slammed him up against the wall then dropped to his knees. Buck had been trembling, partly because of the night air cooling the sweat on his skin, partly because of the intensely passionate attention of Chris' mouth on his cock.

Chris had sucked him off hard and fast and he had shot his load in what felt like seconds, before he reversed their positions, with Chris shuddering and moaning up against the wall, and himself on his knees, mouth full of Chris' pulsing shaft.

They had practically floated back into the noisy club and put up with the catcalls and rude remarks of their friends, who had taken one look at the matching mud stains on the knees of their pants and drawn the obvious conclusion.

Buck hadn't given Chris' volatile behavior earlier in the day a second thought. Chris had been so sweet and playful when they had gotten back home, that they couldn't resist another go. In the shower they'd taken their time, still high from the night but quieter, gentler, before tumbling into bed, tangled together.

But this morning everything had changed again. Chris was already out when he woke up, although this time Buck was smart enough not to ask any questions when he'd gotten back. He had returned in just as foul a mood as yesterday and done his best to make Buck's life fucking miserable ever since. So now he was almost certain that a beating was coming and it was only a matter of when. And all Buck could hope was that nobody got up into Chris' face too much between now and then 'cos it would only make things worse, and wonder whether there was any chance that he could at least get through the weekend before it hit the fan because he had a lot of business between now and Sunday night.

"You in hiding?"

Buck jumped and his eyes flew open. He sat up, startled. "Jesus Christ, Tanner! You just scared ten years off my life," he gasped.

Vin grinned down at him. "Sorry." He sat down on the bench and stretched his long legs out in front of him, raising his own face to the last of the sun's warmth. "So. Are you? In hiding?"

Buck snorted. "Not much chance of that, is there?" he replied. "Just wanted to catch a quiet breath."

Vin opened an eye. "You know he's tearing the house apart looking for you?"

Buck sighed and indicated the cell phone on the bench beside him. "It ain't exactly as if I've left the country," he said.

Vin grimaced. "It ain't exactly as if he's thinking straight," he muttered.

Buck shrugged. "When he wants me bad enough, he'll figure it out and find me."

"Well, its your ass," Vin said, then frowned. It faded quickly, and Vin threw a smile his way. "Listen. What say you and I find a nice quiet bed in that mad house and have a little fun together? It's been forever."

Buck smiled, but shook his head. "Can't. Not after JD yesterday. He'll go insane."

"Christ, he doesn't fucking own you," Vin snapped.

Buck laughed, genuinely amused. "Well somebody might try telling him that," he said.

The laughter died at Vin's uncharacteristically troubled _expression. Buck sighed. Not for the first time in fifteen years, Buck was more than a little frustrated with his lover. He put up with Chris' shit. That was all there was to say about that. Chris was worth everything, every minute, every smile, every memory, every hurt and loss, every tender touch and vicious blow. Altogether, Chris defined all of the most beautiful and important parts of his world. But Vin was a good man, a good friend, a good business partner, and Buck was getting a little tired of how Chris' insecurities played out for the innocent bystanders around them.

Not so innocent, he knew, and scrubbed at his face. Vin knew how things were, knew there were lines that could never be crossed when it came to getting close--but Buck didn't like to rub those lines in anybody's face, least of all in the face of a friend he cared about and counted on like Vin.

Buck reached out to squeeze Vin's shoulder. "This'll all be over soon," he reassured. "Then you and me can take some time together and try to grab some of that fun."

Vin smiled, but it was forced. The phone rang, loud and insistent in the quiet. Buck looked at the read out, not the least surprised to see Chris' name. He grinned at Vin. "Busted," he said, then switched off the phone.

Vin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You don't think you should answer it?" he asked, incredulously.

"Nah. Pretty much know what he'll say." He rose and offered a hand to Vin. "Come on. I'll walk you back upstairs. If my luck's in, I'll be able to suck him back to a better mood."

Vin shook his head, not voicing the thought that rattled around his brain: but what happens if your luck runs out?

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris and Buck had woken early, had set the alarm purposefully so that they could make love in the early hours of the morning and still be able to perform for their clients in the evening. But Chris' mood had gotten worse and he was tense and hard to please. It took a lot of patience and effort to bring him off and more than once he snapped at Buck when Buck did something he wasn't happy with. His own lovemaking was perfunctory and unimaginative, which was so out of character when they were together that Buck finally decided to face Chris' mood head-on.

Buck tried to wrap his arms around his lover but Chris refused to be held, squirming away from Buck's embrace to lie on his stomach and pick idly at a loose thread on their expensive cotton sheets. Buck's first thought was to ask Chris what was wrong. But he didn't need to start the day with Chris any more pissed at him than he already was, so he held his tongue and waited for the problem to reveal itself. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and watched Chris fidget.

"You gonna be home later tonight?" Chris asked.

"Nah. Got the Sanford sisters with Vin," Buck replied. He didn't bother to remind Chris that the sisters were the reason they were awake at this god-awful hour of the morning recovering from a completely unsatisfying fuck.

"What about you?" Buck asked.

"Got a client," Chris answered, tersely.

Buck sighed. "I know that, Chris. Who?"

"Just a regular," Chris said, a little too quickly and with the tiniest hitch in his voice.

That small sound spoke volumes. Somehow this particular dark mood was connected to the client. Buck felt a cold clutch at his stomach and his skin prickled in dread. There was only one client who pushed Chris' buttons, who made him this agitated, this irrational, this dangerous.

"Did Jennifer Moore reschedule?" he asked, knowing before Chris opened his mouth what the answer would be.

Chris looked away. "It's not Jennifer. Leave it alone, Buck," and his voice held a warning.

Buck swallowed down his fear and forced himself to relax. He wouldn't jump to conclusions. Later he would check with Dorothy and find out who Chris was tricking tonight.

In the meantime, if he and Chris were not going to make love again, and he honestly didn't see the point with Chris in this mood, Buck decided he might as well get a little more sleep since Vin and the Sanford sisters were bound to take it out of him this evening. And if his suspicions proved to be correct, these were the last few peaceful hours he would get for a while. He burrowed deeper into the sheets and slid an arm across the small of Chris' back and around his waist.

"Why don't you rest up a little more, stud?" he murmured.

Chris glanced over at him and fetched up a deep sigh. Buck smiled when Chris turned his back and fit himself neatly against Buck's chest, allowing himself to be held. Buck tightened his grip and settled Chris more firmly into the contours of his body, yawned mightily and drifted off almost immediately.

When Buck awoke later that morning, Chris was gone. He climbed out of bed, pulled on his sweats, and went in search of Dorothy. He found her downstairs in her small office, putting the finishing touches to the accounts for last week.

Dorothy Blake was perhaps the last person one might expect to find working in an all-male escort service. In her late sixties, grandmother to five children, never seen without her twin set and a single strand of pearls - she looked as though she'd be more at home at a bake sale than arranging the fucking and sucking schedules of seven very in-demand prostitutes. To hear Dorothy on the phone discreetly confirming arrangements for a threeway while she knitted booties for her youngest grandchild was to experience one of life's great moments. JD still blushed furiously every time she told him the details of his appointments, even though his friends teased him mercilessly about it.

Buck walked into Dorothy's office and sat on the edge of her desk. "Hi Dotty," he said.

Dorothy smiled up at him. He was the only person she allowed to shorten her name. "Hello Buck. What can I do for you?"

"I need a favor darling," Buck smiled, almost unconsciously turning on the charm.

"What is it, dear?"

"Can you check Chris' schedule for tonight? I need to know who his client is."

"Of course." Dorothy turned to her computer screen and swiftly keyed in a few commands.

"Christopher is escorting Mrs. Caroline Wallingford tonight. 7 o'clock pick up at her hotel. Dinner at Giorgio's, a bottle of champagne in her hotel suite at 9 o'clock. Then intercourse - nothing kinky. Out by ten thirty."

Caroline Wallingford. Buck barely heard the rest. The details didn't matter, just the woman. Trick, he reminded himself. Trick. Paying for cock, she was no different from any other client they'd ever rented themselves to.

If only he believed that. He'd have given his right nut for her to be just a trick, for his instinct of this morning to have been wrong.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Dorothy was looking at him with grandmotherly concern. He pulled himself together quickly.

"No ma'am," he said soberly.

Caroline Wallingford. Now Buck knew why Chris was so crazy.

"Thanks a lot, Dotty. Appreciate it." Buck leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on Dorothy's cheek. He walked out of the office, purposely not looking back; Dorothy loved looking at his ass, and while she didn't embarrass easily, he figured it was a sign of respect to let her enjoy it without calling attention to the fact. Besides, he had far too much on his mind.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin had spent the morning hanging out with JD. They'd gone to the gym, had a late breakfast, and now they were poring over one of the kid's biker magazines in JD's room.

"See?" he said, reaching out to stop JD from flipping past a beautiful photo of a refurbished Indian. "That's the one I'm thinking of gettin'."

"You spend that kind of money on a bike like that, and try to drive it in Boston, it'll disappear your first week out," JD said, adamant. The kid had shitty luck with bikes, and had lost two to theft in the year since he'd been with them. Now he leaned toward rice bikes and Hondas, just in case.

A knock at the open door startled them both; Vin looked up, and up, and smiled.

"Buck," he said, and nodded.

"Hey, Buck!" JD chimed in, before his eyes dropped back to his magazine.

"Hey, Vin," Buck said, returning Vin's smile and giving JD a playful smack on the back of the head.

The smile was warm and genuine, and it made Vin look forward that much more to their double date tonight. He loved working with Buck, he truly did. The man was pure poetry in motion, beautiful to look at, fantastic in the sack, and way up on his "top ten" list of great lovers.

"Glad you're both here, boys. Got a favor to ask," Buck said.

"What's up?" JD asked.

"I've gotta ditch the Sanford sisters tonight. JD, can you fill in for me?"

Vin couldn't help the disappointment that tightened his face.

"Sorry, Vin. I've been looking forward to this for weeks. But something's come up."

Vin shrugged. "S'okay, Bucklin. Next time." Soon, damn it, he hoped. The Sanford sisters were established clients, although not regular enough for Vin. They were shockingly easy to satisfy in bed, and seemed more interested in watching him and Buck fuck each other. They usually got the gals taken care of in about half an hour, then spent the rest of the time having the most mind-blowing sex together as the girls watched. Vin looked forward to these sessions immensely, one of the few times he got Buck almost all to himself. Chris' possessiveness could be damned wearing at times. They were so stupidly committed to each other that he wondered sometimes how either of them could fuck for money. But whatever determined the limits of their relationship, monogamy had no place, and Vin sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

Buck's eyes softened briefly before his teeth flashed in a grin. "I'll make it up to you," he flirted.

"All right," Vin said, and smiled in reply.

"Hey, guys, I'm still here." JD sounded miffed, and Vin resisted the urge to mess up his hair for him.

Buck grinned ruefully, and ducked his head. "Sorry. So can you fill in for me?"

"Sure I'll do it, Buck. "But isn't Chris gonna be pissed at you?"

"What else is new?" Buck laughed.

"He's gonna have yer hide," Vin said quietly. "Do you at least have a good reason?"

Buck shrugged, sidestepping the subject. "Short of being at death's doorstep there aren't many reasons that he considers good enough. You know that. Just gonna have to take my chances."

"He'll fine you for sure," JD said.

Chris had instituted a system of fines that he leveled when he thought any of his men were out of line in the workplace. They ranged from petty infractions like keeping a date waiting or turning up to a job drunk, to more serious offenses like having a complaint filed by a client. Ditching a date was fairly high on Chris' list of cardinal sins.

"A fine will be the least of yer problems, Buck. You sure 'bout this?" Vin asked, knowing Chris' temper of late and worried for his friend.

"Leave Chris to me," Buck said quietly. "Just cover off this date. I'll call the sisters and offer up a freebie. That should keep them happy enough if you two take care of tonight."

They both nodded. "Sure pard," Vin said. "Watch yourself when he finds out though."

"I'll be fine," Buck assured them, not sounding nearly as confident as Vin would have liked. "What's the worst he can do?"

Vin traded a look with JD, and frowned. In his current mood, the worst Chris could do was pretty fucking bad.

"What's really up, do you think?" JD asked, after Buck had walked out the door.

Vin shrugged. He had learned early on where he was willing to mind Chris and Buck's business for them and where he wasn't. This was one of the places he chose not to stick his nose.

"Okay. The Sanford sisters..." JD continued. "Aren't they those two thirty-something chicks downtown?"

Vin nodded absently. He'd have to call, let them know there'd be a substitute. Right now, he couldn't get the disappointment over that out of his head. Not JD's fault. And maybe Chris wouldn't be pissed. He'd seemed in a better mood on Wednesday night, although he had been fairly unpredictable yesterday. Maybe Chris would like that Buck was hanging around. Hell, maybe Vin would get back in early enough to slip into Chris and Buck's room and see a little action himself... He'd always liked watching people fuck, but Buck and Chris--it was something else entirely. The two of them together were total carnal bliss. Whether he shared the same bed with them on the rare occasions when they wanted a third, or just watched them on the many more occasions when he wandered into their bedroom while they were in the middle of a lovemaking session, or when the two of them just dropped whatever they were doing and fucked each other wherever they happened to find themselves... he glanced over at JD, images beginning to strobe in his mind. "Hey, you in the mood for a little play before work?" he asked, the thoughts in his head dropping hard and sweet to his groin.

JD grinned. "Practice?"

Vin grinned back, and rolled to straddle JD's thighs, reaching to tug the younger man's tee shirt over his head. Vin unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down his hips, hoping JD would just go to it without being asked.

Buck would, whenever Chris pulled it out. In the kitchen, ass parked against the table and coffee cup in hand, Buck could be in the middle of a conversation, and if Chris walked in and looked at Buck a certain way, Buck's words would trail off into nothing. Chris only had to unbutton his pants to bring Buck to his knees, working thoughtlessly, hungrily to satisfy his lover.

Vin stared intently down at JD, and grasped his erection, offering it. JD met his look, and Vin read the youthful, too-wise speculation in his eyes. But JD leaned forward, and Vin groaned in anticipation even before lips touched his cock.

Buck on his knees...

Sweet satin touch of lips and Vin hissed, tried not to thrust forward. That look in Chris' eyes, half animal, half starved, Vin had never seen one man need another like that. The look in Buck's, so devoted and crazy in love, everything about him yearning to fill up an emptiness in Chris that only he could satisfy.

JD blew, hot moist air tickling, tongue rubbing, rubbing. Without thinking about it, Vin carded his fingers through his friend's dark hair and began to thrust.

At various times Vin had come across them in the kitchen, the bathroom, the garden. The back seat of the BMW--he'd actually had the keys in his hand, opened the driver's side door and almost had a heart attack to find Chris, face up, shoulders leaning over the front bench seat, arms spread like a crucifixion. Buck balanced on the edge of the back seat, cupping Chris' ass in his palms, helping to suspend him, muscles taut and dense with the effort. Chris' body had rocked with every one of Buck's hard, slow thrusts.

Vin had just stared, frozen, watched Buck close his eyes to shut him out and Chris turn his head to lock gazes with him. Chris had grunted, primal, harsh, with each thrust, and when he'd climaxed his chest and face had gone red and dark.

"Unh," Vin breathed, unable to stop the sound.

Chris up against a wall, or bent over a table, spreading himself wide for his lover, offering his ass whenever Buck urged him into position. Buck's knees on carpet or tile or grass. Mouths filled or asses filled or just using their hands. Grunting or groaning, shouting or whispering, or worshipping each other in absolute silence.

Vin spilled without a sound, shooting his load in hard, bright bursts while JD sucked and lapped and worked him. Forcing himself to stop pulling the kid's hair, he cupped the dark head, patted gently in thanks as he eased out of his friend's mouth. JD smirked up at him. Yeah, the sweet little shit was wise beyond his years, and he had Vin's number.

"Thanks, kid," he breathed. They'd be good together tonight. It wouldn't be the same, but they'd do all right.

"Yeah, sure."

"Want me to take care of you?"

JD just chuckled, surprising Vin, and shook his head. "Nah, I'm cool." His eyes drifted toward the discarded biker magazine, and Vin tried to get his breathing under control.

"Yeah. Okay." He swung his leg clear and grabbed the magazine, thumbing through it for the picture of the Indian while JD slid his shirt back on.

- 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

What was the worst Chris could do? At a little after six o'clock, Buck knew the answer to that question. Chris could go ballistic, and he had. He'd called Buck a hundred different variations on a fucking, no account, good-for-nothing, son of a whore, had fined him the highest amount in the company's history, had ordered Buck to make amends to the Sanford sisters at his own expense, and had threatened to throw him out on his ass if he ever pulled a fucking stunt like that again. Finally Chris had kicked him out of their bedroom telling him not to show his goddamned sorry face again this side of the 21st century. All of which Buck had pretty much expected, and he knew exactly how much credit to give it. Well, everything but the fine and the make-up date; they were real enough.

Now Buck sat at the bar in the den, nursing a scotch on the rocks and waiting.

Ezra walked into the room in search of a drink, and Buck saw him flinch when he walked around the bar and turned, catching sight of Buck's face.

"In the dog house again?" he asked, his voice tight and controlled, obviously trying not to unleash the anger Buck saw so clearly in his eyes. Buck was grateful for his restraint. He didn't feel up to defending Chris right now.

"Way in it, my friend, way, way in," Buck sighed. In fact, Ezra had no clue how far.

Ezra shook his head and stepped behind the bar. He took a clean tea towel and filled it with ice, then held it gently up against Buck's cheek, reminding the man that the first thing Chris had done when he'd heard that Buck had ditched his date was to let fly a wicked right hook that had sent Buck sprawling across the room.

Ezra stroked his free hand through Buck's unruly hair.

"Is this the beginning of it?' he asked softly.

"I reckon."

"What set him off this time?" Ezra asked.

"I asked JD to cover a date for me," Buck replied. "But it's not--"

"And I presume you are not at death's doorstep?" Ezra asked, before Buck could get the excuse out. Buck shook his head.

"What was the fine?"

"Five grand," Buck said, noting the shock on Ezra's face.

"I thought that sum was reserved for killing a client," Ezra said, dryly.

"In your case, maybe. It's a little different for me," Buck said ruefully.

Ezra examined Buck for a moment and quirked an eyebrow. "I guess it doesn't always pay to be sleeping with the boss," he murmured.

"Not when the boss is Chris Larabee," Buck replied.

"And what's the rest of the sentence? Solitary confinement, bread and water, a stint on a chain gang, perhaps?" There was a distinctly hard undercurrent in Ezra's voice that belied the joke.

Buck's smile turned to a grimace when his bruised cheek protested the stretch of skin and muscle. "Gotta cover off a freebie for the Sanford sisters - the works."

"What's that, another grand?"

"More," Buck sighed. "Dinner, champagne, flowers. Gotta pay for Vin's time, and that boy don't come cheap you know."

Ezra smiled briefly. "And he's kicked you out of his bed tonight," he stated.

"So he says," Buck said darkly. He knew what was coming and there was no way Chris was going to let him go anywhere else tonight.

Ezra lowered the ice pack and stroked a finger gently down Buck's bruised cheek. Buck smiled again, even though it hurt his cheek. Ezra could get as bad as Nathan about trying to nurse him, whenever something like this happened. But Ezra got too stirred up about it all, and couldn't just leave it alone, like Nate and Josiah could. "If you need a place to stay," Ezra whispered, "my bed's always at your disposal." He leaned in to kiss Buck softly on the lips.

"He's sleeping with me tonight."

Buck flinched at Chris' voice and hastily pulled back from Ezra's mouth. He hadn't heard Chris approach and wondered how long he had been listening. He hoped he hadn't said anything indiscreet. Chris was definitely in the mood to try and give him another shiner.

Ezra's poker face slammed into place, and he turned towards Chris.

"Mr. Larabee. I thought you no longer desired the company of Mr. Wilmington this evening."

Chris stepped into the room. "Changed my mind. I want him on his knees for me when I get back."

Buck frowned at Chris, knowing he had used the words specifically to bait Ezra. And Ezra rose to the bait. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "You just plan on fucking him?" he asked. "Or are you going to add to the collection of bruises you've started? Tell me, do you always use your fist to start a conversation with somebody you purport to love?" he spat.

"Ezra. Don't," Buck warned sharply, laying a restraining hand on his friend's arm.

Chris took a menacing step forward. "What I do to him is none of your goddamned business," he snarled. "You forget too often that he belongs with me."

"With you, maybe. Not to you," Ezra snapped.

Chris laughed, low and mean. "Ain't no difference as far as I'm concerned."

Ezra was about to open his mouth to reply when Buck stood up.

"Enough. Both of you," he yelled. "You're acting like a couple of dumb ass kids, and I'm not gonna let you use me as an excuse to fight with each other."

The two men bristled with anger but eventually backed down. Ezra poured himself the drink he had come in to get and started to walk out. When he got to the door he turned.

"The offer stands, Buck. You need a place to rest, my door is always open." With a final glare at Larabee, Ezra turned and stalked out.

"Bastard," Chris muttered under his breath.

Buck shook his head. "The sooner you two fuck each other again the better we'll all feel," he said.

"I'd rather fuck a rattler," Chris growled.

Buck snorted. While all his other friends tumbled in and out of each other's beds with perfect ease, Chris and Ezra made a total goddamned production number out of it every time one of them wanted to fuck the other. "It's just 'cos you're so similar. You both gotta have the last word, you're both stubborn sons of bitches. I wish to hell you'd just go at it for a couple of days and clear the tension. It's getting irritating," he said.

Chris shrugged. "I didn't come here to talk about him."

"What did you come to talk about?" Buck asked, actually curious. He hadn't expected to see Chris again until after his date with Caroline Wallingford."

Chris ignored the question and stepped up close until he was standing between Buck's outstretched legs. Buck tilted his head towards the hand that cupped his chin and let Chris turn his head to the light.

Chris' eyes glittered, pupils dilating as he silently examined the swelling bruise.

"Who've you got this weekend?" Chris asked.

"Aren't you a day late and a dollar short asking that?" Buck huffed.

"Just answer the damned question, Buck," Chris sighed.

Buck pulled his face away from Chris' hand. "Lucky for you it's just Winston. He's booked me starting tomorrow afternoon. The black eye will be hot for him."

"Why?" Chris asked suspiciously.

Buck looked away without answering, knowing how Chris would react in this mood.

"Buck?" Chris yanked his face around. "Tell me," he ordered.

Buck met the intent green eyes and sighed. "He's hinted a couple of times that he'd like to add a little rough stuff to our dates. I think he'd like to knock me around a little." Buck didn't tell Chris that his client had been pressing hard for what he called "more variety" and that their dates had become increasingly more sadistic. It wasn't worth the hassle or the loss of revenue. Winston paid a fortune for his services, and tipped handsomely on top of it.

Chris stiffened in absolute outrage. "If he fucking dares to hurt you or mark you up..."

Buck waved him off. "Easy. I've told him no."

Chris held Buck's head tightly between his hands and Buck waited while the fiery green eyes tried to dissect his soul. "You come back with so much as a broken nail and he'll never get another date at this agency."

"I'll tell him," Buck said. "But it might be a bit of a hard sell with a fucking great bruise on my face."

"Tell him I put it there," Chris ordered.

"What difference is that gonna make?" Buck asked.

"You belong to me. That's the difference," Chris snarled.

"Yeah, I do, Chris. But I wouldn't mind if sometimes you'd find a different way of showing it," Buck said, mildly. It was the only admonishment Buck would make about the mark on his face. If Chris dropped the subject, as far as Buck was concerned it was over.

Chris startled him by leaning in to place a sweet, soft kiss on his lips, a kind of apology, he thought. He accepted wholeheartedly, breathing in deeply to catch the smell of Chris' expensive cologne, opening his mouth to invite his lover's tongue in. He felt his cock grow hard, knew that Chris' had too when the man tensed in his arms and reluctantly drew back. He gave Buck a small, rueful smile and stepped behind the bar to pour himself a drink.

While Chris was busy, Vin came into the room and took in the scene with a quick glance. He walked up to Buck and only the slightest twitch in his jaw betrayed what he registered. Vin stared for a second, glancing between Chris' hard profile and Buck's rising bruise. But he kept his mouth shut.

Buck smiled. "Sorry I'm missing tonight, Vin. You up for a repeat performance next week?" he asked.

"Yeah, if you're with me," Vin said.

"He'll be there," Chris growled.

Buck rolled his eyes at Vin. "I'll be there."

Vin stroked his hands down Buck's chest and reached down to cup his cock. It was half-hard, and Vin knew his attention hadn't gotten it that way. No telling what Chris and Buck had started before he walked into the room. "Just remember you're going to make it up to me. Find me later, if you want."

A noise from Chris caught his attention and he turned, reading the intent look Chris gave Buck even though Chris tried to look casual and unconcerned. Vin could clearly read the warning Chris gave, that Buck had better not even think about accepting the offer.

"Can I take a rain check, Vin?"

"Buck's with me tonight," Chris said, his tone a challenge.

So tonight was the night, then. No slipping into their room when he got back, because whatever they'd be doing would be something he didn't want to see. Vin nodded between them. "Some other time."

"Thanks, Vin. Soon," Buck whispered.

Vin kissed him once and left without a backward glance.

Chris finished his drink and walked back around the counter to take up his place again between Buck's legs. Buck slid his arms around Chris' waist and nuzzled his face into his partner's chest.

"Anybody else gonna try to get you into bed tonight?" Chris asked, unable to keep a sour note of irritation out of his voice.

"They're just trying to be good friends, Chris," Buck soothed.

"I can see I'm gonna have to keep you on a shorter leash," Chris said gruffly.

"Any fucking shorter and I'll choke," Buck murmured.

Chris pulled his head up sharply. "I want you here, when I get back," he said. "Understand?"

Buck nodded. "I'll be here," he replied. He understood, maybe better than Chris, where his place was tonight.

Buck had rarely been in this building alone on a work night. It was unnaturally quiet; if anyone was home they were locked in their suites, because the building felt abandoned, and it worked on Buck's nerves when he really didn't need any help in that department.

Maybe it was just his mood, or maybe the fact that he'd prefer everybody being gone, tonight. Buck wandered into the den, flicking on the radio and scrolling through the preset stations, trying to find something that wasn't bleeding heart country, Vin's favorite, or the deafening blare of grunge rock, which had to be the kid's choice. In the end he gave up and turned the radio off, flooding the room again with stifling silence. He went up to his and Chris' rooms, took a shower, and tried to settle down in the sitting room but the walls kept closing in on him. Better to be downstairs, where the open floor plan gave him more room to breathe.

Josiah was in the den, and Buck stopped short, not sure if he wanted company, not sure if he wanted to intrude. But Josiah looked up before Buck could decide.

"Evening, Buck," he said, and Buck stepped through the wide, double doorway.

"Hey, Josiah." He went straight to the bar at the end of the room and poured himself a drink, promising himself it would be his last tonight. Chris wouldn't want him drunk. "You want anything?"

"No, thanks, I'm working later."

Of all of them, Josiah had the strictest control, the toughest self-imposed discipline. Buck figured it was because of what he did, the kind of fetishes he hired out for. All he knew for sure was that Josiah Sanchez had never been fined.

He wandered around the room, stopped at the stereo and glared at it, knowing he'd find no help there.

Josiah looked up from his book, and his mouth drew up in the smallest of smiles. "Go ahead, I don't mind."

"Nah." He started prowling again, stared longingly at the bar for a minute before moving on, looked up and down the rows of bookshelves on the back wall. Finally, he gave up and headed for the overstuffed chair next to Josiah. "This is late for you, ain't it?" Buck asked.

Josiah looked up from his book, and Buck felt vaguely guilty.

"Unusual for you too, not to be out yet," Josiah countered mildly. Then, "Mine starts at ten. An overnight with a new couple trying to learn the ropes."

Buck smiled at that, picturing hairbrushes and stern warnings and frilly black costumes... control games and tension, stress and surrender. His smile faded.

Too wound up to stay in one place for long, he drifted over to the bay window and looked out onto the quiet street below. He wondered idly whether Chris would use the belt or the crop on him tonight, and had a sudden powerful memory of the last time this had happened, himself trembling under the onslaught of the thick leather belt Chris had used at the end, tearing into the welts already laid down by the crop. He felt a rush of heat through his body and shook himself to try to dislodge the thought. The last thing he needed right now was to start sweating the details.

"Buck? You all right?"

"Yeah," he said, waving the question away.

Josiah closed his book and set it on the table, and Buck was unaccountably glad. "I'm surprised to find you in on a Friday," he said.

"Well, what with Chris all moody..."

"So it's tonight."

Buck flinched at the simple statement. Here he was trying to forget that, at least for a little while longer, and Josiah just said it out loud. He swallowed hard, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Want to talk about it?" Josiah offered, and Buck looked over at him, weighing the sincerity in his tone. Maybe Josiah was best suited to-- but no. This wasn't something he'd willingly talk about to any of these men. None of them had been there, when Chris and Sarah had met. None of them had seen the two of them together, had witnessed her death. None of them could understand what drove Chris.

This wasn't about Josiah's area of sexual expertise. This was about guilt, and grief and self-flagellation. Buck swallowed hard, and looked down at the carpet. Chris would fuck him tonight-- brutally, savagely, in a way that would make Chris press charges on a client who tried to do the same. He would need Buck to embrace the pain for him, to take it without complaint. He needed to dig into hard muscle, to see where his fingers had bruised his lover's flesh, to brand him with more severe marks of submission and possession, without the mutual attention they shared when they played this game purely for the pleasure of it. Chris needed to smell masculine sweat and the heavy scent of sex. He needed to erase the softness, the tenderness, the fragility of Caroline Wallingford.

Because she reminded him so strongly of Sarah.

Buck remembered the first time he had seen Caroline at one of Jennifer Moore's parties. He had immediately recognized the similarities between her and Sarah. It wasn't just that they looked alike, it was also in Caroline's gestures, her laugh, the tilt of her head when she spoke. Buck had been genuinely spooked and couldn't believe that Chris had not made the connection. But Chris had never said a word about it, and there was no way in hell that Buck was going to point it out. Then Chris accepted an appointment with Caroline and when it was over he came back home and beat Buck into a bloody mess. And Buck knew that he had made the connection after all.

"Buck?" Josiah prompted.

"Sorry, Josiah. I can't talk about it," Buck said. "It's private."

"I don't need to know the why, Buck. Didn't mean to intrude." Then after a moment, "But I do know the what, and I've got an hour. I can look after you for that long."

Buck jerked his eyes up, looking for amusement or indulgence he knew he wouldn't find, but couldn't help seeking. Josiah just seemed to care about people, and wasn't ridiculing him. "Look after me?" he asked anyway, embarrassed. Truth be told, he could use a little looking after, right now.

Josiah shrugged. "Sometimes the waiting's harder than the doing. I've seen that enough, in some of my clients."

"It's not the same."

"No," Josiah replied, with a gentle smile. "No, it sure isn't. Most folks don't know how to give like you two give, or how to take like you two take."

Buck frowned, meeting the pale eyes again. He didn't take. Chris didn't take. That wasn't what they were about at all. "We don't take anything from each other," he said, somehow needing to clarify this in his own mind, if not for Josiah.

Josiah's head tilted, and Buck waited for whatever that analytical brain was chewing on. "No offense," he finally said mildly. "Asking for things is a very vulnerable condition, Buck. Maybe the partner will say no. Maybe they'll say yes but it'll turn out bad. Maybe they'll say yes but find a limit, overstep one. I've never seen that happen, with you two, never seen one of you deny a need of the other. And I've never seen your relationship suffer for it. That's real trust."

Huh. He'd never thought about it in exactly those terms before, but he supposed Josiah was right.

"Come on," Josiah urged him, "turn on the television and find something for us to watch."

Buck retrieved the remote, and Josiah got up and hustled him toward the couch, to get a better angle on the screen.

It wasn't until he was engrossed in "On the Waterfront" that he realized Josiah's arm was draped around his shoulder, that he was leaning comfortably into the man, and that he wasn't sweating about what was going to happen later. He sighed, wondering what the hell he'd done to get so lucky as to have these friends around him, and settled a little deeper into the embrace.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin and JD were the first to return later that night. Vin stepped up close to Buck and leaned in to kiss him passionately, hooking a hand around the back of Buck's head and holding him tight and close. Buck returned the kiss gratefully, enjoying the taste of champagne and whiskey in Vin's mouth, as he listened to the sounds of the bar refrigerator and a bottle opener. Vin eventually pulled back, although he kept both hands on Buck's body. "Missed you," he whispered.

"You're back early." Usually he and Vin would have been out until the small hours of the morning. Buck lifted his head to find JD behind the bar, sipping a beer. "How did you make out?" Buck asked him, dragging Vin toward the bar.

JD smiled. "Good. They're nice. I liked the brunette."

Vin grinned, angling a friendly look JD's way. "He was great. You know JD. They're all suckers for that little boy lost thing he's got going."

JD grinned back and flipped him off. "I'm heading upstairs. See you guys tomorrow."

"G'night, kid," Buck called, and they both watched him leave.

Vin turned back. "Wasn't the same without you. The girls weren't interested in watching me and JD. So we just screwed them and had a couple of drinks together."

Buck sat on the edge of a bar stool and pulled Vin up against him. "I should have gone after all, and saved myself the money," he said.

Vin grinned at him. "If you had, we'd still be there going at it. And JD and I didn't get the usual tip."

Buck groaned. "Don't tell Chris, or he'll make me pay for that too."

"Don't worry about the money. Just worry about the fact that I'm headed for a cold shower."

Buck shook his head, smiling a little, "The sisters really heated you up, huh?"

Vin shrugged. "I'm spoiled, I expect a better fuck whenever I see them. Wanna come up for a while and take care of it for me?"

Buck hugged him closer and nudged their groins together, mute apology. " I can't, Vin. Chris will be home soon. You know I have to be here."

Vin nodded wordlessly and leaned down to cover his mouth. They kissed, soft, lazy kisses that had just started to heat them both up when Buck heard the front door open and slam shut. He felt Vin tense in his arms, relaxing only when Ezra walked into the room. He wondered if his own eyes reflected the relief he saw in Vin's. He hoped not.

Buck smiled at Ezra. "Did everybody's dates finish early tonight?" he asked.

"My client had to go back home to her husband," Ezra said, "which suited me just fine. I don't have to ask if Chris is home yet."

Buck gave him a small smile. "Soon."

Ezra stepped behind the bar and poured himself a large drink. "Can I get you something, Buck? A little dutch courage, maybe?"

"Nah. Thanks, Ez. One of us should have a clear head tonight."

Ezra's mouth tightened in distaste. "You know it isn't too late to change your mind. My offer is still on the table. Come sleep with me tonight."

Buck winced and shook his head. " You know I can't."

"I don't know why you put up with his shit," Ezra continued, his voice rising in anger. "You don't have to. You have other choices."

Buck bowed his head. "Please, Ez. Don't do this."

Vin spoke before Ezra could open his mouth again. "Do you think you need to make this any harder on him?" he snapped. Ezra cursed under his breath but he subsided.

All three heard the front door open then slam shut. A silence descended on the room, each of them trying not to look at the other, and Vin stepped a few paces away and slid onto an empty bar stool. They all tensed as footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Buck thought that in other circumstances this would have been quite funny, like being in a scene from a horror movie. In his most gravelly of voices he hissed, "The call is coming from inside the house."

Ezra glared. Vin cracked up.

Chris burst through the door and walked quickly across the room, and Buck saw the coiled tension in every muscle, every ground-eating step. He came to stand in front of Buck, and for a moment just stood there, his green eyes glittering, so many emotions it was difficult to know what he was thinking.

"Chris..." Buck whispered.

Chris slid a hand behind his lover's head and pulled him sharply forward until their mouths were glued together. He began to kiss Buck passionately, sucking hard on his tongue, biting down on his lip until Buck moaned and tried to squirm away. But Chris held him firmly in place, pulling back only when they were both breathless and panting for air.

Chris looked wild-eyed, desperate. Buck could feel his whole body tremble. He saw Vin and Ezra exchange a worried glance. The man was wound tight as hell, they could probably feel the tension radiating off him.

Chris let go of Buck and ordered, "Get into the bedroom."

"Let me just..." Buck began.

"Now, goddammit," Chris snapped, and Buck flinched, measured his own movement in the widening of Ezra's eyes. Damn it. He collected himself quickly; this was no time for self-indulgent squeamishness.

"Calm down, Chris," Vin said softly.

Ezra poured a large scotch and pushed the glass across the bar.

"At least take the time to have a drink," he said. Chris grabbed the glass, and for a moment it looked as if he would fling it back across the bar. But he made a supreme effort to steady himself, although Buck noticed how much his hand shook when he picked up the glass.

"How was the date?" Vin asked, raising hopeful eyebrows Buck's way. Buck groaned inwardly before Chris even lifted his head. The man couldn't have chosen a worse way to try to distract Chris right now.

Chris' head shot up and his eyes flashed fire, making Vin recoil a little. "None of yer goddamned business," he snapped.

Buck reached out a steadying hand. "C'mon, Chris. Let's go," he said, worried that this would get ugly and out of hand.

Ezra slammed his hand onto the bar. "You cannot go with him when he's like this, Buck. He's out of control."

Chris pulled away from Buck and stepped closer to Ezra, his face a mask of fury. "Since when do you have one goddamned word to say about what he can or cannot do?" he growled. "You might fuck him from time to time, but that doesn't give you any claim over him."

Ezra's whole body tensed. "Despite what you might think you DO NOT own him," he shouted. "You have no fucking right to treat him the way you do."

"You want to take his place?" Chris snarled.

"Don't flatter yourself," Ezra spat back. "If you think for a second that I'd--"

"You're the one who's flattering himself," Chris talked right over him. "You couldn't take half of what Buck--"

"Shut up, both of you!" Buck shouted.

Everybody froze, that teetering stillness of the car balanced precariously on the edge of a cliff. Buck stepped between the two men, facing Chris, deliberately turning his back on Ezra. "Ezra," he said without turning his head, "Drop it. Chris, I'm going to the bedroom now. You need to come with me," he said firmly.

For a moment he saw a look of pure fury cross his lover's face, then Chris nodded curtly. He took a last hard look at Ezra. "You'd better learn to stay out of my fucking business if you know what's good for you," he snarled.

Buck gave him a small push and started to back him away. "C'mon, Chris," he whispered. "Come on."

Chris shook him off but turned and began to walk away. The two had almost reached the door when Vin called Chris' name. The man turned.

"Remember. You're gonna feel differently about this tomorrow," Vin said softly. "Don't hurt him any more than you mean to." Anger flashed in Chris' eyes, but he actually appeared to think about it, nodded once, and then followed Buck out of the room.

"Goddamnit to hell," Ezra exploded when they had left. He turned to Vin "How can you just stand there and let that happen?" he yelled.

Vin just shook his head. "You're a fucking idiot," he said. "You couldn't leave it alone, could you? Now he's twenty times more pissed off than when he got home. And who do you think he's gonna take all that anger out on?"

Ezra flinched and his face drained of color. "Buck," he whispered.

Vin nodded. "You've probably just earned him another bruise, another couple of licks of the belt. You happy now?"

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Buck had barely closed their bedroom door before Chris pressed him up against it. The move startled him, because Chris had pressed, not pushed, not shoved. There would be no mark or bruise from his contact with the wood. Chris' cock poked at his ass cheek like a bar of hot iron, and the raspy sound of his breaths did what it always did to Buck; it turned him on.

"Why don't you get a shower," he said, thinking maybe he could strip, save the shirt he was wearing.

"Don't want to," Chris muttered, and though the strain was obvious in his voice, so was a passion long familiar. "Want to make love to you."

Buck tensed again, off balance. They didn't make love, at times like this. They didn't even fuck before all the other shit happened. But there was no mistaking the gentleness of trembling hands that defined his rib cage, then eased over his waistband and, like feathers, brushed at his cock through his pants.

"Really?" he blurted, and instantly regretted it. Questioning Chris at this particular moment... not a good idea.

But Chris' forehead rested against his shoulder, and he felt the tiny nod. "Yeah," Chris said. "Really."

And Chris was inspired. It was as if he was channeling all his energy, all his rage and grief and darkness, into this most intimate of experiences between them.

Buck had the eerie sense he was in the eye of a hurricane. God, it was a great place to be. Chris' mouth consumed him, Chris' sweat, faint behind the weird, familiar scent of women's perfume, filled his nose, Chris' hands and weight and body defined his own, Chris' cock, slicked and shining, took him with such force, with such care, that he cried out, a syncopated, gasping call as each thrust ended, just before Chris pulled out to begin again.

His tension funneled down into the moment, too. He stared into Chris' eyes, holding him so tightly he knew there'd be bruises on the smooth, pale skin tomorrow, watching a conflagration of emotions in the stormy green: a love he depended on, a need he intimately understood, a wealth of emotions that he had shied away from for years, even as he accepted them, part and parcel, with this man.

Chris reared back, picked up the pace of his thrusts, reached down between them to press the heel of his hand, like a bar, between the base of Buck's cock and his balls. Damn, Chris could hold him off for hours; he'd never come this way.

"No," Buck pleaded, head thrown back into the pillows, body arching like a bow off the mattress. "Chris, no..."

"Wait for it," Chris whispered, intent, voice rich and dark and giving, his hips thrusting harder, rolling, filling Buck with a pleasure so intense he couldn't think.

Finally, an eternity later, when his hands fisted so hard in the sheets that his fingers were cramping and a fine sweat had covered his body, Chris removed the restraining pressure and grabbed up Buck's cock, jacked him fast, strong, and all Buck could do under the onslaught was suck in great, tortured gasps of air. Then it was on him, and all he felt was everything Chris wanted him to feel. All he saw was the intent green of Chris' eyes, hazing and fuzzy as orgasm swamped his brain and shorted out his senses and went on forever.

He came back to earth slowly, noticing first the dead weight of his lover pressed against him, and the quiet, whispered words: "Yeah, that's it," Chris was saying against his ear. "Yeah, love, that's right, that's perfect. Come on." They were both soaked in sweat.

Buck sucked in enough air to make words. "Oh, God... Chris..." he wrapped his arms around the man and squeezed the breath from him, floating so gently, so blissfully back toward his body where it sprawled on the bed. A fine tension thrummed through his lover, and Buck knew that Chris hadn't come. That was all right. No problem. Sometimes they liked to wait, and give everything to the other. Chris' mouth pressed gently against his own, then Chris eased out of him, off of him, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Allowing himself a few more breaths before he rolled to his side, Buck smiled at the tense back. The crisis was averted, though Buck had no idea how or why. Vin would be relieved. Nathan would be glad. Ezra, hell, Ezra'd probably be pissed, because now he couldn't stay mad at Chris.

"Just give me a second," he whispered, and reached to stroke his hand along a pale, smooth flank.

Chris flinched forward and away, and padded across the room, his movements stiff and slow. He paused at the bookshelf, head turning left and right. Buck frowned, wondering what he was looking toward. Away from? Suddenly it hit him: Chris was staring at the cabinet in the corner, the one that stored the sex toys, the instruments of pain.

"Chris?" he asked, his voice a pale echo of itself. His brain refused to consider that after what they'd just done, Chris could still be able to hurt him.

But damned if Chris didn't walk to the cabinet and flip the doors open wide.

Panic chased the pleasure through his body, raising goose bumps in its wake. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening even though it was, even though Chris stood there and ran his fingers over items that rested in the darkly shadowed shelves.

"No..." he breathed.

Chris must have heard him, because his hand darted out quick as a snake and he turned, holding a long crop.

"Yes," Chris said. His voice was even, but the tip of the worn black crop quivered, communicating Chris' tension. Not sexual, even though his cock was still erect. The other thing. The dark thing.

Buck swallowed and tried to get his body to move. "I thought we'd just jumped to the end," he said blankly.

The crop quivered harder, and Buck realized he was staring right at it, could barely see the hand holding it or the body next to it, his vision had tunneled down so tightly: just the quivering rod, and the twitch of the stinging loop of leather at its end.

Chris' voice was smooth and cold, like glass. "We haven't even started yet."

"Chris..." he swallowed again, his mouth desert-dry. "I don't think I can--"

"Don't waste your time thinking, Buck," Chris growled. "Not now. Just get to the floor."

Buck dragged his eyes away from the whip and looked up. Chris' eyes had taken on a wilder cast, and Buck's chest went hollow and empty. His mind shied away from it, unwilling to reconcile the generous and profound intimacy of a moment ago with the desperate, violent man who stood before him now. "Wait a minute, I just--"

"On the fucking floor," Chris snarled.

Time stretched out. Chris' face darkened. It felt like betrayal, like Chris had just tricked him. Probably not true, probably just Chris needing to remind him he was loved. Yeah, that's it, Wilmington, work with that.

"You're taking your god damned time," Chris observed quietly.

Buck jerked and forced himself up, trying to ignore the aftershocks of pleasure that increased with the movement, radiating out from his pelvis. He was taking too long, he needed to get there now: physically, wherever, however Chris needed him; mentally, some place where he could let go of all that sweetness of a moment ago, and wrap his head around the pain he was about to take on.

He stood up, nerves making his fists clench at his sides. "Where?" he asked.

The whip pointed. "In front of the mirror."

Shit.

He did as he was told, dropping to his knees and trying not to stare at his reflection.

"Right side to the mirror," Chris said, "knees and elbows. Get your cock out of my way if you don't want it to get a taste of what's coming."

Buck reached down with a shaking hand and settled his genitals forward, then squeezed his thighs closed to present the safer target.

"Elbows together," Chris said, so quietly Buck had to strain to hear it. "No, damn it, together. Hands too."

The position was unfamiliar and demanding. His balance was off, centered down the narrow line between knees and elbows. Buck dropped his forehead to his wrists and waited, sucking in deep breaths, trying without success to pump himself up. He was still reacting to the circumstance, to the pleasure thrumming in his body that had twisted sickly to fear. Keep breathing, wait for it, you'll be fine, he coached himself. Clenching his muscles experimentally, he waited for the first blow.

A hand touched his neck, gentle and so startling, he almost fell over. Chris' soft exhale sounded loud in the silent room.

"Lift your chin, Buck," he said, voice frighteningly gentle. Chris' hand cupped his chin and turned his face toward the mirror, and Buck had an agonized moment where he stared at himself and saw what Chris saw: abject surrender; the acceptance of anything, everything, total, unquestioned; his own desire to be here, because it was where Chris wanted him to be. In that one single moment, he hated himself for all of it.

Chris let go his chin and stepped back, but Buck remained frozen in position.

"Look at me," Chris said, voice still eerily quiet and devoid of rage.

Buck looked up, met Chris' eyes, watched with sick dread as Chris' arm raised high. He heard the snap of leather on skin and felt his body jerk forward almost before he felt the pain. Then the stripe caught fire and the shock of it rolled through him, made his muscles tremble like a racehorse's. The whip fell again and he grunted, gritting his teeth together, squeezing his clasped hands until his fingers went numb and bloodless. It only took the third stripe to make him break out into a new sweat; Chris wasn't pulling his punches, and the burn throbbed across his ass and down the backs of his thighs. But he kept his eyes locked on Chris, who wasn't even looking at the marks, wasn't paying strict attention to where the whip landed. He was looking right back at Buck with a look of lust that wasn't really lust... or wasn't only lust. A glitter of emotions too convoluted to understand swam in the green of his eyes. The whip landed again.

Damn it, it hurt! He couldn't shift gears fast enough, and Chris' face went hazy as Buck's eyes filled with involuntary tears. He was sweating freely, his body shaking with it. Chris had started hard and fast, too fast for his endorphins to catch up, too fast for him to feel anything but the harsh lancing pain. He dropped his forehead to his clasped hands, using everything he had to hold back the whimper that wanted to climb out of his throat, and Chris paused for the longest of moments. Buck gasped in relief for the respite.

Then, a band of pain more devastating than anything so far hit the backs of his thighs. "Look--" again it bit at him, rocking him forward, "--at--" barely a second could have passed, "ME!" Chris shouted and Buck almost dropped to the carpet. The last strike landed straight across his shoulder blades, and he knew he was bleeding now. The pain tore a ragged scream from his throat, and his head snapped back of its own accord. He sought wildly for Chris' eyes, trying so hard to obey before Chris could lash him again, and met the dark glittering green gaze. Chris just stood there, trembling, his entire body shaking, the end of the crop vibrating like a rattlesnake's tail.

"Keep looking," Chris said, without emphasis of the crop. "Don't look away again. Do you understand me?"

Buck nodded.

Chris, ever unpredictable, dropped the crop, and Buck almost cried out in relief. Even if it was just for a few seconds, as long as Chris wasn't holding it, Chris couldn't use it.

Even when Chris broke eye contact, Buck didn't look away. He just watched the strong profile as his lover stepped forward and straddled his calves, knelt down and placed one examining hand on his ass. Buck could barely feel it, in contrast to the pain.

"Open your legs," Chris said quietly, voice as calm and still as a lake.

Buck shuffled his knees open. A finger ran down the crack of his ass, stopped to probe gently inside him. Chris' other hand slid on further, cupped his balls.

"I want you to get hard for me," Chris whispered.

Buck groaned. He'd say Chris asked the impossible of his body, if it didn't always do what Chris told it to. Chris worked him intently, inside and out, until pleasure spiked through the haze of pain and had him thrusting between Chris' probing fingers and tunneled hand.

"Come now," Chris ordered, and bright lights went off behind his eyelids. He dropped his head, arched his ass up, spine curving as he shot, swimming in a twisted mix of sublime pleasure and extreme pain, and gasped into the darkness between his wrists.

Chris's hands slowed and stilled, and he felt the movement as Chris hunkered in close, hovering over him. Soft lips moved across his back, and warm breath touched the stripe on his shoulders. "Buck?" Chris' voice whispered over his skin.

Buck shook his head once, hard, trying to clear it. Chris was waiting for an answer. "What?" he finally managed.

"Where are your eyes right now?"

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris lifted his head, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings after a shattering orgasm. He was lying halfway across his lover's back, still buried deeply in Buck's body, his cock twitching. One hand was pressing Buck's head down to the carpet, the other gripped his partner's hip so tightly that it took a massive effort to unclench his fingers. He blinked and stared at the bruises he had put there.

Buck was spread out underneath him, his legs pressed so far apart that they trembled with effort. His breathing was harsh, ragged, pained. Chris lifted himself off his lover's back and winced at the evidence of his past hour's work. He pulled out as gently as he could, listening to the moan Buck was unable to suppress. Buck shifted and straightened his legs, and Chris could see the muscles quivering underneath the skin. He climbed shakily to his feet and headed for the bathroom to grab a washcloth. When he returned, Buck was lying on his stomach on the carpet, his face hidden in the crook of his arm. Chris knelt beside him and reached out to touch the back of his lover's neck. Buck startled and his head snapped around, eyes wild, panicked.

"Shhh," Chris soothed. He wiped the cloth gently over Buck's face, washing away tears and snot and traces of blood.

"You have to get up now, Buck," he murmured.

Buck stared at him blankly for a minute, then began to move, wincing, groaning, the whole process a symphony of pain. Chris helped Buck to his feet and they limped into the bathroom. He positioned Buck in front of the washbasin, and his lover stood, hands clutching tightly to the porcelain, head bent, eyes closed in weariness.

Chris ran warm water into the basin and added a generous amount of soap. He wet and wrung out a washcloth and pressed it firmly to the welts across Buck's shoulders. Buck flinched and his head shot up, eyes flying open to search frantically for Chris' eyes in the mirror. When they locked on him, Buck whispered in dread, "Chris."

Chris spun him around and clamped careful hands to the sides of Buck's face.

"It's over," he said firmly. "It's over. Understand?"

Buck's eyes widened in relief. He swallowed hard, lips dry and cracked, then nodded. "Kay," he breathed, no more than a sigh.

Chris turned Buck around slowly and continued to wipe at the cuts that lacerated his lover's back. He knew that Buck would have preferred to crawl straight up onto the bed and collapse, but Nathan had told him that the wounds had to be treated immediately otherwise they could fester or leave a permanent scar.

Chris winced every time Buck flinched away from his touch, but his lover had never failed him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to fail Buck now. He kept up a soft stream of whispered encouragement and endearments and when he was finished, he reached up to cup a hand to Buck's cheek.

"Can you sit down for a minute?" he asked.

Buck shook his head. "I can't, Chris," and his voice was almost an apology.

"Okay. Don't worry. Give me a second."

Chris opened the medicine cabinet and quickly unscrewed several bottles, shaking a couple of tablets out of each, then pouring a fistful of pills into Buck's hand. He ran cold water into a glass and handed it to Buck.

"All of them."

Buck nodded docilely and began to swallow the pills, washing them down with gulps of water. Nathan had come up with a cocktail: pain pills, arnica for the bruising, some kind of herbal sedative, and high doses of B-complex and vitamin C. When they were all dutifully swallowed down, Chris led Buck back into their bedroom and watched as he struggled up onto the bed to settle on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms.

Chris reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the cream Nathan had given him, lanolin, vitamin E oil, and a prescription antibacterial. He unscrewed the small jar and dipped his fingers in, scooping out a generous amount. Leaning over, he bent to whisper into his lover's ear, "You know this is gonna sting a little."

Buck nodded, and hissed out a breath when Chris drew a line along his shoulders, following the mark of the crop, rubbing salve gently into him. When Chris had worked his way slowly over Buck's body, ensuring that every mark was treated, he pulled a sheet up over Buck's ass, leaving his back exposed to the air. He used his discarded shirt to wipe the rest of the sticky salve off his hand then sat back against the headboard of the bed. As he expected, Buck huffled around to lay his head on Chris' stomach and throw an arm around his waist, squeezing tightly until Chris soothed him with a hand pushing through his sweat-soaked hair.

They lay together in silence, Chris stroking over and again through the tangled dark mass. He felt a huff of breath tickle his belly and heard Buck laugh, a pale imitation of his usual exuberance, but a laugh nonetheless.

"What?"

"Just thinking of the look on Winston's face when he sees this after I tell him I don't do the rough stuff."

Chris tensed. "You're not working tomorrow," he said flatly.

Buck lifted his head, grimacing at the pain.

"You're gonna call Winston in the morning and cancel," Chris continued.

"He's one of my best clients, Chris. I'm not canceling."

Chris started to protest but Buck cut him off. "I'm not arguing about this," he said firmly. "I'm going out tomorrow and that's final."

Chris knew this was not a fight he was going to win. Winston was a rich weasel, one of Buck's most regular clients. Buck let him get away with far too much, and even though he paid a considerable amount for the privilege, Chris didn't think the money was worth the shit Buck put up with. Chris wondered why he resented the man so much. Just a trick. Just a handsome, rich brat of a trick who liked to pay to keep entanglements to a minimum. And who acted less as though he hired Buck by the hour, and too much like he owned him.

"If he tries anything stupid ..." Chris started.

"Aw, Chris. Don't go jumping the gun. I can handle Winston. He just wants to add a little spice to the sex."

Chris cupped his lover's chin and pulled his head up sharply. "Spice better not include hurting you or marking you up," Chris growled.

"He'll just..."

"No!" Chris snapped. "He does not get to beat on you and I don't want to hear anything more about it."

"Alright, Jesus, relax. I'll make sure he knows the rules before we start."

Chris squirmed around until he was lying on his side. He stroked a hand gently up and down Buck's arm and watched as his lover began to relax and nod off a little. "You never told me why you ditched the sister act tonight," Chris said.

Buck's eyes snapped open. "You never asked," he pointed out.

"I'm asking now."

Buck glanced over at Chris. "Promise you won't get pissed at me."

Chris stilled his stroking hand. "Spill it, Buck."

Buck looked away. "Caroline Wallingford," he murmured.

Chris tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know how you get afterwards. I know you need me to get you back on track. I wanted to be here for you, and if I'd gone with Vin we'd have been out all night."

"You wanna explain that to me," Chris said tightly, trying and failing to keep his anger out of his voice. Buck looked up and Chris saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes, and the look made him feel sick inside. "Sorry," he muttered, wrestling hard for control. "What about Caroline Wallingford?"

Buck swallowed. "I figure it's because she reminds you of Sarah..." he began, and stopped when Chris flinched in surprise. Buck sucked in a deep breath and tried again.

"You did this last time you had a date with her," Buck said softly. "You came home and you... and the time before, too. I just figure that it's too much for you, tricking somebody who brings back all those memories."

Chris looked incredulously at his lover then rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. He cast his mind back to his last date with Caroline. Coming home at the end of it, frantic to find Buck, practically dragging him out of the den, barely letting the man pull off his shirt before he was laying into him with the crop, fucking him so hard that he bled. And the time before that, his first date with Caroline, a hazy memory of blood and pain, and Buck lying at his feet, huddled into a ball. How the hell had he never made the connection before? And how the hell had Buck made it and still stuck around for what he knew was coming?

Chris groaned aloud and he felt a gentle, tentative hand ghost across his chest. "It's okay, Chris," Buck soothed, and Chris was struck again with how messed up he was, that he was the one who needed comforting, right now.

"It's not okay," he said bitterly. None of it was okay, not Caroline being here, not Sarah being gone, not Buck's pain or his own. None of it was okay.

"Why don't you stop seeing her, Chris?" Buck's voice whispered. "If it bothers you this much. One of the others could take her on."

Chris looked into Buck's eyes, looking for his soul there, and found it. Found it in the sudden widening of eyes, in the heartbroken ... expression and the glance away.

"Oh," Buck said hollowly. "Oh. I get it."

He grabbed Buck's wrist when the man started to move off the bed. "No, Buck, it's not--"

"It's exactly what it is," Buck said slowly, and jerked his wrist free. He rolled carefully out of bed and climbed stiffly to his feet.

"Buck..." Chris began. He scrambled out of bed and stopped Buck before he could leave the room.

"God, I've been a real idiot," Buck said. "I thought it was so hard for you being reminded of Sarah like that. I thought it was tearing you apart. But you love it, don't you?"

Chris looked away, refusing to answer, not knowing how to answer in a way that didn't make him look any more goddamned foolish than he already did.

"So, what happens, Chris?" Buck demanded. "You suddenly remember it isn't really Sarah you're screwing? You realize that you're fucking a ghost so you come over here and kick the shit out of me 'cos you sure can't take it out on Caroline Wallingford. And I get to pay the price for your fucked-up obsession?"

"It isn't like that, Buck," Chris pleaded.

"What the hell is it like?" Buck shouted, his face contorted in anger. Suddenly he stilled and his voice took on a whole new menace. "At least tell me she's paying for it. Tell me you ain't giving it away for free 'cos if you are you can stick your five grand fine up your ass and--"

"Of course she's paying for it," Chris shouted back. "I'm not that fucked up yet."

"So, she's just a trick?" Buck snarled, cruelly. Not that Chris could blame him, now.

Chris flushed and turned away, saying nothing because he couldn't tell Buck what he wanted to hear.

Buck's voice, when he spoke again, was a dark, ugly sound. "You ought to be the one bleeding on the fucking floor right now, you bastard."

He should. Buck was right. "I know, I didn't mean--"

Buck talked over him, still snarling. "And you have the fucking nerve to come to me stinking of her..." he stopped cold, a light of recognition dawning in his eyes. Chris groaned inwardly, knowing what Buck had just realized. "It's her perfume, isn't it?" he said incredulously. "It's the perfume Sarah used to wear. What, did you buy it for the trick?""

Chris felt about as stupid and embarrassed as he'd ever felt in his life.

"Do you have any fucking idea how sick and twisted this is?" Buck spluttered. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

Chris squirmed because he knew exactly how sick and twisted it was. Craving the feel, the smell, the taste of a woman long dead, trying to recreate those things in somebody else, savoring every moment spent in this dream, this world of memory, hating it too because it wasn't the real thing, torn apart because it never lasted long enough and because of the many different ways it was hurting the man he loved.

"I don't know!" Chris shouted, crowded in by Buck's bulk and size, shoving him away. Buck's back hit the door and he hissed in pain, flinching, and Chris froze, unable to move forward, unwilling to move back.

"I don't know what I'm trying to do," he whispered. "I only know that for a few hours a couple of times a year I get to remember what my life was like before all this. What it was like to make love to a woman instead of just fucking her. I want the feeling of her skin, Buck. I want to run my hands through her hair, I want the smell of Sarah in my face and on my body. I want all the things I once had."

Buck stood rigidly still, his face a mask of desperation. Chris reached up, allowing for the flinch that shook Buck's body, then cupping his hands to the man's face and holding him carefully.

"But it's not real, and it's never enough," Chris said, his voice wrenching from his painfully tight throat. Buck's face went cloudy as tears of frustration welled in Chris' eyes. "So when she's done with me, I need you." He paused, wondering how deeply he was shoving the knife here, and how much Buck was trying to hide. " Nobody else will ever give me what you do. Nobody else will sweat and strain for me, or tremble, or moan."

"Shit," Buck snarled, low, "people would line up for it if you just..."

"Shut up," he hissed. "Just shut up. It's not that, it was never that." He took a shuffling step forward, and pressed his forehead to Buck's sweat-slick chest. "I don't want anybody but you," he whispered. "I don't own anybody but you. In spite of everything I put you through, you still belong to me, and I need that. I need everything you are that she'll never be able to offer, everything I gave up when Sarah was alive. But that's not enough either, to wipe her out, to make me forget. So I need everything else."

Buck surged, pushing Chris off him, but didn't try to move away. His breath was coming in hard gasps and he drew in deep gulps of air to steady himself. Chris watched him for a moment then tipped Buck's face up with a finger under his chin until the man had to look at him.

"I want to keep seeing her, Buck," Chris said harshly. "I want to fuck her then come here and fuck you. And I want you to scream for me and bleed for me and beg for me 'cos it's what I fucking need from you. Tell me now if you can't handle it."

Buck snapped his head back and Chris stepped back a pace and watched his lover intently, easily reading the conflicting emotions that crossed Buck's face, although he couldn't see the outcome. Chris' stomach clenched in anxiety as he watched his lover's struggle. Buck looked at him once, hard, penetrating, confused. And Chris saw the exact moment when a decision was finally reached.

"Okay," Buck whispered, but so tonelessly that Chris had no idea what the word meant. His stomach turned over in a sickening roll when Buck pushed past him and walked away. Chris expected him to grab his clothes and walk right out of the room and his mind couldn't work fast enough to process what he was seeing. Even when Buck stopped beside the bed, then climbed up onto it, Chris didn't register what Buck was trying to tell him. Only when Buck settled on his knees, pushing them widely apart then dropped his head to rest on folded arms did Chris begin to recognize the answer to his question. And when his lover threw a glance over his shoulder and repeated the word, "Okay," Chris huffed out a breath and felt a wave of gratitude wash through him.

Chris climbed up onto the bed and knelt behind Buck. He felt such a profound jolt of arousal at the sight of the body spread out for him that his cock swelled and hardened almost instantly, despite the fact that he had fucked his lover so many times tonight. He knew Buck was still loose and slick from their earlier encounters. He also knew the man was in pain, hurting in so many different places and in so many different ways.

But Chris needed so desperately to be inside Buck it hardly mattered. He reached out, placed a hand on his lover's hip, and the tightening of muscle felt like its own kind of lash. He wrenched himself away, falling backwards onto his ass. Buck would let him, would grind his teeth together and take it, otherwise the man would not have crawled back onto the bed and surrendered himself so completely.

"Get to it," Buck growled.

"No..." Chris didn't know if he was talking to himself or Buck, only that he couldn't do this and look at himself tomorrow. Not now. Before, yes. Much later, absolutely. But not now.

Buck hissed as he turned, his eyes a mix of confusion and pain and something like anger that Chris intimately understood. "What?" Buck snarled.

His cock felt like a railroad spike it was so hard. "Fuck me instead," Chris said.

He was sore himself. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't be what he wanted most, but he had limits, even if Buck had none.

Deep furrows marked Buck's forehead and his eyebrows curved hard. "I--" can't, he started to say. Chris knew it. But Buck stopped himself, and sighed, and crawled around on the bed.

Chris looked down his lover's body, saw the limp, spent cock, and bared his teeth. "Get it up for me," he whispered. "You always swore you could get it up for me. Anytime."

"Not every time," Buck grated, but Chris knew it was a lie. Buck tipped him onto his back, shoved three fingers hard into him and he gulped air, clawed at Buck's forearms to find purchase before Buck pushed him down the bed.

Buck's hand pressed hard on his stomach, holding him against the mattress while Buck's fingers speared him, pushing, jabbing for what might have been an eternity. He gasped for air, frustrated tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

He felt manhandled; he was manhandled. Buck dragged at his legs, pulling his knees up tight against the wide ribcage, and Chris expelled a sharp gasp of air as Buck shoved into him in one fast, hard thrust. He was sore. He ached, inside and out, and Buck's size split him open and carved its way inside, reshaping him.

He blinked his eyes open, looked up to witness the tight white lines of pain that defined Buck's face, that made tendons stand out in his neck, and he realized with a perverse thrill that every thrust must be pulling at the welts on Buck's ass and back. Grabbing hold of Buck's hips, he fit his fingers to the bruises he had put there earlier and squeezed, watching as Buck tensed and cried out, yelling as Buck thrust violently inside him.

Buck didn't end the thrusts just because he was buried balls-deep. He kept pushing, his pelvic bone hitting Chris' ass, pushing the pain up for both of them. Chris thought about the lines on Buck's back, thought about the split skin across his lover's shoulder blades. If he reached his hand around Buck's shoulder and tugged, he'd open the stripe again... and he did, watching Buck's face contort in a look of rage and pain, feeling the cadence of his thrusts increase until Buck was slamming Chris' hip bones up into his spine, and lifting his ass off the mattress. Chris' head hit the footboard and he had to reach back with one hand to anchor himself, to keep Buck's thrusts from sliding him off the end of the bed. With his free hand, he kept scratching, pulling at Buck's shoulder until his fingers felt sticky and wet, and a rivulet of blood trickled alongside Buck's neck. Groaning as his lust spiked at the sight, Chris began to writhe, under Buck's weight.

Buck growled, and bent over him to bite at his nipples. Chris yelled, and surged up against the sharp teeth that chewed at tender flesh, shuddering at Buck's moans, watching the trickle of blood as it gathered at Buck's collarbone and thinking that he was lucky he wasn't the only sick bastard in this bed. Buck kept gnawing, kept fucking him so hard that his arm gave out and his head hit the footboard with every thrust.

When a droplet of blood finally trembled and dripped from Buck's chest to his own, Chris would have said he'd never been harder.

He'd have sworn he was still hours from climax.

But then Buck lifted his head and glared down at him, eyes so dark and hard that Chris held his breath. And when Buck said, "Come," he spilled instantly, mindlessly. Endlessly.

Vaguely, Chris felt the hard thrusts lose their rhythm inside him, and realized Buck had shot his load deeply into his body. Buck collapsed down onto him, they both sobbed in harsh, ragged gasps, fighting for air.

Chris bore Buck's weight as long as he could but eventually had to breathe. He squirmed pitifully trying to dislodge the dead weight, finally slapping Buck's back ruthlessly with his open hand. Buck flinched and pulled out and crawled onto the bed beside him.

They lay together quietly, not touching until Buck murmured, "Tell me when you have a date with Caroline. I won't schedule an appointment against her next time."

Chris nodded because words seemed trite and insignificant. He reached out a shaky hand and brushed away the tears that tracked down his lover's cheek. Reached further, and used the sheet to wipe away the trickle of blood. Buck tensed, then rose stiffly from the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom, and Chris managed to crawl back up to the head of the bed. Buck came back with his own handful of pills, and handed them to Chris. The vitamins, the arnica... Chris figured his ass would feel like hamburger, in an hour, and wondered if he would have to cancel his Saturday trick and how much he should fine himself if he did.

He swallowed dutifully, wordlessly, and curled onto his side. Buck stretched carefully beside him, and Chris threw a careful leg over his lover's bare calf.

"You're gonna have to forget about the short leash for a while, Chris," Buck said quietly, "I need some space."

Chris nodded, even though his stomach lurched at the words. Although it cost him dearly he offered, "You don't have to say here tonight, if you don't want to. Ezra's already pissed at me and you know he'll go fucking insane when he sees you like this, but Vin would take good care of you. Maybe he'd be better for you than I would tonight." Chris hoped he sounded sincere, even though he wasn't - not really. He wanted Buck here, with him.

Buck shifted restlessly and murmured, "I'm where I wanna be, Chris," and Chris felt a shockingly strong surge of gratitude. He pulled the sheet gently up over their bodies and settled in as close to Buck as he could get without irritating any of their various aches. He wound his fingers through Buck's and held tightly to his hand, drifting off only when he heard Buck's gentle snores and knew the man was asleep.

But when Chris woke up the next morning, Buck was gone.

The End
Continues in The Ones You Love