Where Angels Fear to Tread

The shrill ring of his telephone jarred Chris Larabee awake. Making no attempt to pry his eyes open, he fumbled for the receiver, muttering to himself, “Someone’s gonna die.”

“Larabee,” he yawned into the phone.

“Where are you?” Ezra’s soft Southern accent sounded almost exasperated.

“What?” Chris ran a slow hand through his tousled blond hair, willing the grogginess to clear.

“Travis has been waiting in your office for over 45 minutes. He is not happy.”

A quick glance at his bedside clock confirmed 9:45 in bright green digits. “Fuck,” Chris groaned, “stall him. I’ll be right there.”

Chris scrambled out of bed, stumbling over the clothes strewn across the floor in his rush to get to the shower. His mind raced as he stepped under the lukewarm spray. What the hell happened? He’d never in his life overslept like this on a workday. Slamming the faucet closed, he stepped out of the shower, not bothering with a towel as he reached for the electric razor on the vanity. Its buzz echoed in the small room as he finally lifted his eyes to the mirror.

There he paused, razor lifted halfway to his face.

His reflection stared back. A bright red passion mark stood out starkly on his shoulder, bringing with it a flood of memories concerning the previous evening’s activities.

“STANDISH! You bastard!”

Chris stalked back to the bedroom, naked, still dripping from the recent shower.

Ezra was waiting there, sitting casually on the bed, wearing a tank top, sweatpants and a huge grin as he waved his small cell phone in Chris’ direction.

Larabee glared, growling, “It’s Sunday.”

The grin faded. “Now, Chris,” Ezra placated, lifting his hands to ward off the heated look, “April Fool’s Day jokes work the best when you’re not expecting them.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” Chris bit off through gritted teeth, prowling closer, “because, now, your ass is mine.”

“Chris,” Ezra shook his head, shifting back on the bed.

The blond man jumped, wrestling Ezra to his back, arms up over his head. A quick snap of handcuffs and Ezra was left prone, arms secured to the bed frame.

Grinning wickedly, Chris leisurely slid his hands under the hem of Ezra’s tank top, pushing it up to expose the other man’s sculpted chest. Next tugging at the loose sweats, he pulled them off, arching a brow at Ezra’s lack of underwear.

The younger man blushed.

“Time to pay the piper.” Chris straddled Ezra, letting his cock brush lightly against Ezra’s as he leaned over, tonguing at the flat brown nipples he’d bared earlier. Well aware of his lover’s sensitivity to that particular caress, he made no move to ease the scrape of morning whiskers along tender skin.

He was rewarded with Ezra’s gasp, as he arched up beneath the older man, pressing his nipples into Chris’ mouth.

Chris slid his fingers lightly along Ezra’s ribs, eliciting another gasp from the prone man.

“Oh God, Chris,” wide green eyes pleaded with the older man, “please, don’t.”

“Payback is a sweet, sweet thing,” Chris warned with an evil chuckle, tickling his fingers once more up and down Ezra’s ribs.

Loud gasps for air battled with uncontrollable laughter as Ezra writhed and bucked under Chris. The blond knew every one of his lover’s most vulnerable, ticklish spots and he made sure they all felt the touch of his knowing, tormenting fingers.

“Please,” Ezra gasped, writhing desperately, “Chris, please.”

Chris was quite enjoying the ride, every buck and twist his lover attempted grinding their erections together.

“Chris!” Ezra wailed.

The blond shifted, lifting his partner’s legs and settling between them as he pushed two fingers deep inside the writhing man. He grinned, finding Ezra already slicked, open and ready for more.

He pulled his fingers free, green eyes locking onto green, and in a single, slow, powerful push slid the full length of his cock home. “Mine,” he gritted.

“God, yes, Chris,” Ezra sighed, “Do it.”

Pulling out, he pumped back in, setting up a frantic rhythm, adjusting his angle until the sweet whimpers escaping Ezra’s lips told him he’d found the younger man’s prostate.

“Chris, Chris, Chris,” the panting gasps punctuated each thrust. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” he whispered directly into Ezra’s ear, “Now.” He latched his teeth onto the strong arching neck, marking what he’d claimed as his own.

“Yes!” Ezra cried out.

Warm jets pulsed between their bellies and Chris gasped, thrusting hard as Ezra shuddered under him, ass clenching around Chris’ pumping shaft.

Chris grunted, shooting his own climax deep inside Ezra, before collapsing into a boneless heap half beside, half on top of his lover.

Bit by bit, their breathing began to slow and even out.

Ezra tugged lightly at the cuffs. “Release me?”

A slow grin lit the older man’s green eyes. “What makes you think you’re done paying?”

Ezra groaned softly, shifting, his cock twitching against Chris’ hip. “Chr-is,” the name was a long, drawn out whimper.

“I told you Ezra, your ass is mine. And I’ve got all day.”

His lover’s eyes widened at the suggestive leer.

“By the time I’m through with you, you won’t be able to crawl into the office tomorrow morning, let alone walk.”

“Chri-”

The name degenerated into a swallowed sigh as the man in question locked his lips over Ezra’s for a deep, breath-stealing kiss.