Disclaimer: I don't own Magnificent Seven.
A/N: Just a little idea that came to me after seeing Inmate 78.
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Ezra gently stroked his fingers over the wound on Chris' side, the flesh shiny and soft. Nathan had taken the stitches out earlier, glad to announce that no infection had set in despite the squalid conditions. One last touch to the scar before he dragged his fingers across warm skin, hand spread over the flat stomach.
Chris was lax, completely relaxed, his breathing deep and even despite the fact he wasn't asleep. His body was more than ready for sleep but his mind wouldn't let him. He had finally retreated to Ezra's bed, hoping the other man would be able to help. While he occasionally found Ezra to be obnoxious there was also something oddly soothing about being around him. It had made sense to seek Ezra out, to sink into the familiar feather bed and hope for some kind of rest.
Ezra's hand was a comforting warmth on his stomach and he canted his hips, wanting the slow touches to continue. The rasp of barely there calluses, usually arousing was simply comforting in his exhausted state. He mumbled contentedly as the slow caress resumed, tracing random patterns on his skin.
Shifting so his knee was pressed against Chris' side Ezra rested his cheek against soft hair, the silky touch helping to ease some of his own tension. "I realize it is irrational, but I cannot help but feel partially responsible for your extended incarceration."
Blindly reaching out he rested his hand on Ezra's thigh, fingers rubbing over fine fabric and heavy muscle. "What gave you that stupid idea?"
The hand rested over his heart, fingers flexing briefly before settling. "Mrs. Travis was the first one to worry about lengthy sojourn from town. I had not really taken the time to worry about the length of your absence until she mentioned something. I however, allowed Mr. Wilmington's extensive knowledge of your habits to placate the insistent voice telling me something was wrong."
Chris slid his hand down to Ezra's knee, tracing the edges of the knee cap. "Earlier this year everything Buck said would have been true. This damn town makes disappearing like that impossible now. Even after three days I start getting antsy. I'd been planning on coming back the day after those bastards jumped me.
Pressing against the knee is his side Chris picked at Ezra's pants. "No more. This can continue tomorrow, but right now I really just want sleep."
"As you wish Mr. Larabee." Sitting up he turned and pulled his boots off before shifting so he could slide under the covers.
A strong hand closed around his wrist, squeezing lightly and he looked at Chris. Hazel eyes were hooded and he could see fond exasperation, along with something he couldn't bring himself to even try to label. Calloused fingers stroked the inside of his wrist.
"Planning on coming to bed dressed again?"
Unbuttoning his shirt Ezra draped it over the back of his rocking chair before turning back to the bed. "That sir, is an unfair attack. The last time was on the trail and because it was a bitterly cold evening. I had no wish to wake up wondering if my extermities were still attached to my person."
Chris smiled, just the barest upturn of his lips. "I was comfortable in what I was wearing. And you did add an extra layer."
Extinguishing the lamp Ezra skimmed the rest of his clothing off and left them in the rocking chair before moving back to the bed. He slipped under the covers, not surprised when Chris tossed them to the foot of the bed. Despite the lateness of the hour it was still rather warm and with the blankets it would have been to uncomfortable to sleep.
He waited until Chris had settled comfortably, head on his stomach, warm breath drifting across his flesh. Threading his fingers through soft hair he closed his eyes, gently rubbing as the rhymthic feel of Chris' breath against his skin eased him to sleep.
