Title: HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA
Author: Sunni
Category: - Adult het
Pairing: Ezra and mystery lady
Disclaimer:The show Magnificent Seven and those wonderful characters
are not mine....nor will they ever be. It's only in my fantasys do I
get to play with them. <sigh> You all know who they belong to and I
will never make any money off of them.
Summary: A little wine, a little chess...some hot jazz...can you guess where it all leads?  <grin>
Feedback: I welcome all comments. I think.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA
June 6th

There's a soft rain coming down outside, and I'm drinking wine and playing chess in front of the fireplace wearing Ezra's favorite blazer. I smile as I breathe in his unique smell. Ezra's the most stubborn, most intelligent, most incredible man I've ever met and we have gotten close in these last ten months we have been together.  We were suppose to be on a birthday date, his birthday being one day before mine, but he got stuck at work doing reports, so here I sit, all on mine own. I confess, I was still a little ticked about it, since all my friends had gone out too, but there's something cozy about the night with La Travieta playing on the stereo, a perfect accompaniment to the rain. I've killed most of the lights and lit candles to set my mood, and contemplate the chess game I am playing against myself. The sound of the key in the lock surprises me and I turn around on the couch to see Ezra letting himself in, shrugging out of his wet coat, and holding a CD in his hand. He closes and locks the door, hangs the coat, and takes in the scene: me in his blazer, the chessboard, the candles and the music. He smiles.

"What happened to your reports?"

"I got done early. Thought I might surprise you."
His smile gets mischievous. "Playing with yourself again?"

I shoot back. "Yeah, but I'd rather play with you."

"Sounds good to me."
He holds up a CD. "Jazz. JD burned it off earlier this week. Would you care to hear it?"

When I nod, he puts it into the stereo and then pours himself a drink from the bottle on the cabinet.

"The wine you procured for me is almost gone,"
Ezra says with only the slightest hint of a pout in his voice.

"It's okay, Ezra. When it's gone, I'll buy more."

The wine is more than two times older than I am and costs a fortune, but Ezra likes it, so it's worth it just to see that smile.

"Perhaps for my birthday tomorrow?" 

'Maybe."

  Apparently he's taken my comment about playing with him literally because he settles down into the chair opposite me and looks thoughtfully at the board.

That's okay, I think to myself, we can play this game too.

The rain is still hitting the windows in a soft staccato and it sounds just as good with the saxophone as it did with the orchestra. Ezra makes a move, then leans back in his chair and takes a sip of the wine, smiling appreciatively and briefly closing his eyes. I have already studied the board for quite awhile and so my responding move comes quickly and I go back to watching Ez. Candlelight is casting a golden glow over everything, throwing his face into shadow. The sax swirls around us, smoky and hot, like sex made into music.

For just a moment there's a contemplative crease between his brows, then he picks up his bishop and moves it to block my strategy.  I, however, have a back-up plan and when I move the rook, he frowns and leans forward. Oooh, apparently we're getting serious now.

He moves.

"Check." His voice is rich and deep, like a well-oiled and well-loved Stradivarius.

I study the board a moment, trying to figure what he is up to. Ezra crosses his legs and takes another drink of his chardonnay.

After a moment, I move my rook, taking out his knight. Ezra scowls.
He slides his bishop across the board, letting it come to rest next to my queen.  "Your move."

I think a moment, and then take the bishop.

Thinking it an unwise move, Ezra moves to take my queen, now vulnerable. Before he moves the piece, however, he notices the positions of my rook and one of my knights, and a bit of a smile moved across his face.

"Clever. Very clever. However, I've played a lot more chess than you."

He takes one of my pawns, lying on the outskirts.

"Yea, well that's because you are so much older." I pointed out, scanning the board for my next move.

Across the table from me, Ezra starts stirring the ice cubes around in his drink with his finger, and then he brings the finger out and licks the alcohol off it with the tip of his tongue.

Forget about all those pin-up men - the sexiest man I've ever seen speaks three languages and wakes up grumpy in the morning.

Another swallow and he's finished his drink so I get up to re-fill it, and get a traffic-stopping smile as a reward.  That grin remains until I take one of his rooks with the slightest edge of a grin on my own mouth. 

"King me."

"Ah, yes, quite clever, yet again."

"Your turn." I gloat.

"Fine, fine," he grumbles, and moves the rook that hasn't been captured, "And now it's your turn."

"I'm thinking."

"Hmm. We could be here ages," he quips.

"You're one to talk."

Ezra's again doing the thing with his finger, the drink and his tongue.
I'm trying to decide if he knows he's doing it or if it's just an unconscious gesture. It's hard to tell most of the time. Ezra's amazingly oblivious to the world when he's focused on something, but he's also an incredible flirt. He determined some time ago that I have a fixation with his hands and now spends a great deal of time doing stunningly obscene things with them, usually in full view of a large audience who don't seem to see it at all.

Finally, I make my move.

"Check."

He studies the play for a moment before retaliating.

"Check."

With a sly smile, I move my piece firmly and stubbornly.

"Check."

Ezra sighs and moves his king out of the line of fire, but is not able to keep the constant competition going.

He sucks the wine off his finger again and comments,
'You know, this music's got to me. Jazz always brings up old ... appetites. Makes me crave things."

Everyone associates jazz with sex -- that's why he brought it -- so it comes as a bit of a shock to him when I add, "Makes me wanna have some chocolate."

He purses his lips but I can see the amusement in his eyes. I got him and he knows it. He finally concedes me the point with a smile, leans back in his chair, and takes a sip of wine.  Then he sits forward and makes a move to go, but I stop him.

"It's my turn."

"Sorry."

I think a moment more and moves my piece.
"Check."

Ezra growls and concentrates. Obviously thinking that there had to be a way out of this . . .Silly man---there's no escape!

After debating with himself for a short time, he takes his turn.

Studying the board, I pick up my knight. After a moment, though, I decide against the move and place it back on its spot and continue to scan the board. Then I smile as I move my piece.

"Check mate."

He sighs and turns his king down, conceding the game to me.  Then he looks at me, with his emerald green eyes glittering in the firelight.

It seems the room's suddenly gotten hotter, but it could just be me. Watching him get glassy-eyed looking at me never fails to turn me on.

The jazz is smooth and hot, too. I reach out and take the glass from his hand and put it to my mouth. Around the taste of the wine, I swear I can taste Ez's mouth. The drink slides down my throat with the familiarity of an old lover, and sends a subtle thrill down my spine that I know he feels, too. He takes the drink out of my hand, and so I get up and go to the bar to place a couple of ice cubes from the bucket in a glass, pour water in it and take a drink.

When I return back to him, he's swaying slightly to the music and though I can feel the alcohol from his drink in my system, I'm really drunk on him. The weight of his gaze for the last hour has set off my endorphins in a way nothing else can. Everything about him is sexy tonight. I want to touch his hair, taste his skin, and run my hands over the hard muscles under that silk shirt. I want to feel him in my blood the way I can feel the wine.

Lazily, he takes another drink and then places his hand to cup my face. His thumb brushes across my lower lip and his fingers trail down my cheek. I catch his free hand in mine and raise it to my mouth. I smile at him over the tips of our entwined fingers, and then run my lips over his knuckles. He smiles as I part my lips and run my open mouth up and down the smallest finger of his right hand. Delicately, I lick the underside from the base to the tip, kiss the pad, and suck the length of it into my mouth where I wrap my tongue around it. Pulling it out slowly I nibble a bit on the tip, then softly lick it once more. The little finger folds down, and I repeat the process on his ring finger. His breathing is getting ragged and mine is as well. Slowly, slowly, I move to the middle finger, working my mouth and tongue over it, then add his index finger to the mix and suck them both as far into my mouth as they'll go. He moans slightly. I deep throat the two fingers for a few strokes, then pull back and spend some time exploring every dip, ridge and valley with my tongue. Finally I turn the hand palm up, gently arch the fingers back, lick the center of his palm, and graze it slightly with my teeth. He looks a little dazed as I replace his hand with his mouth. The taste of him slides into my blood, firing off a new round of chemicals in my brain, and makes me a little crazy.

Drunk with sensation, I pull back to smile at him and he grins back at me -- the grin he knows turns me inside out.

I feel something inside me go feral and when I lick my lips; I know how hungry I must look. His grin deepens and changes in response; his eyes darken.

Music and rain beat out a rhythm; I take the almost-forgotten drink out of his hand and take a small drink of the well-aged wine, then press my mouth to his and share it with him. He drinks it in, drinks me in, and his arms go around me this time and hold me close. Our hearts are beating fast under our clothes and I decide it's time to lose some clothing.         

Just a bit.

I back up, take another drink, set the glass down, and begin undoing Ezra's buttons. The soft silk of his shirt feels unbelievably good under my fingertips, but his skin feels even better. I move slowly, licking the skin as I go, and Ezra's moaning softly and running his fingers through my hair. Finally I've got the shirt unbuttoned and his chest exposed to my eyes and fingers and mouth.
I grin as an idea strikes me, and I look up at him with what I know is an evil smirk. He raises his eyebrows in a question. For the answer, I pull his shirt off him, up over his arms, without undoing the buttons at the cuffs, so that the shirt binds his hands. Then, gently, I push him down on the floor cushions. I take a drink, and hold the glass to Ezra's mouth. It's awkward, but he takes a drink, then licks his lips and waits for me. I'm falling further and further down into a tantric haze where the only things that exist are the sound of the music, the taste of the wine, and the scent of Ezra. I run my fingers over the lean planes of his chest, the softer lines of his stomach, and along his jaw.

He watches intently and remains perfectly silent, something that doesn't happen often with Ez!

I move in to press against him, swaying to the music as he was before, but moving in time to the beat against his body. My tongue slides down the line of his jaw, and I love the feel of the stubble. I continue licking and sucking a path over his throat, with occasional detours back up to his mouth and to the wine glass. When I get to the arc of his collarbones, I dip a finger into the drink and trace a line over the bone, following it with my lips and tongue. Ezra groans as he watches and feels me. I leave cool trails of the alcohol over the curve of his shoulders, down his breastbone, over the swell of his bottom lip, and I chase each line with my mouth. He's panting, moaning, thrusting his hips to press against me whenever he gets the chance. I give him another small drink, and seal my mouth to his before he swallows. After the wine has drained away, I'm still kissing him, capturing him, ravaging and drinking him in. He presses his mouth back against mine with all the strength he can. Ezra's a tactile man. Taking his hands away has shut down his primary means of _expression, but it opens up other sensations in him. I can feel the hunger pulsing through him; I can see it in his eyes. He's swimming in feelings now, bereft of control, losing himself to the desire. He watches raptly as I put one of the ice cubes out of my glass and let it melt away in my mouth. I dip my head and catch one of his nipples between my cold teeth and rub it with my cold tongue. Even knowing what was coming, he gasps in shock. I pull a larger ice cube into my mouth, hold it there for a while, then let it go back into the drink. Before my mouth can warm back up I press it to his other nipple, and am rewarded with another gasp. Then I set the glass down and start undoing the buttons on his jeans.  

He suddenly breaks free of his shirt and takes control, pulling me up to him. His face brushes lightly with mine; there's a soft kiss planted at the corner of my eye and another at the corner of my mouth. The need arcs through me like lightning. It takes nearly more effort than I can manage, but I meet his eyes. They're shining almost of their own light in the shadowy room, and it takes me some more time to focus on them.

Ezra's smiling at me, his knowing Mona Lisa smile.
"You okay?" he asks in a low, husky voice. His hand is stroking my body and I can't talk, so I nod.

"What do you want?" he asks, and I open my mouth to speak, but I only manage a groan. He stops the slow stroking, and holds me tightly. "Do you want me to keep sucking you?"

That ... that would be incredible, but no, it isn't what I want. I to feel him inside of me. I want ... I shake my head and he nods.

"Hold still," he tells me with a soft kiss to my throat, then lets go of me and steps away. I cry out at the loss of contact, but he shushes me and then he's gone. I use the time to get my senses together, to try and regain my balance. I manage to regain a little composure before he returns, holding a condom.

I reach out and grab for him, but he takes my wrist and pulls me back to the couch. I follow along and offer no resistance as he pushes me down into a supine position on the cushions. I start to sit up, but he pushes my shoulder and shakes his head with a quiet laugh. I'm coherent enough to start being frustrated and I growl a little at him.

He just laughs again and slides his pants off. At long last he's naked and after fitting the condom on, moves to straddle me. I touch the skin he's giving me like a drowning man clutches a life raft and he claims my mouth in a searing kiss.

My hands are all over him -- his chest, his arms, his legs, his back.
I feel like he's been teasing me for my whole life, like my body can't remember anything except this night and this room.

I hear him say, "Come for me."

That takes the last of my reserve and blows it to shreds and I'm the one screaming, shattering apart. The orgasm is incredible in its intensity, magnified by the waiting. I hold him close, whisper 'I love you' over and over into his neck, and hear it come back to me with the same repetition. He tilts his head up and kisses me deeply. He tastes like wine and Ezra, and I know I also taste like wine and Ezra.

Still panting, he leaves the warmth of my arms and crosses the room to where his glass remains on the floor where he left it. He fills it again, and comes back to the couch and offers it to me. I take a drink and give the glass back to him. He takes a drink and sets it down by the couch. Then he stretches back out on top of me. Affection and humor carry us through long, long minutes of kissing and light stroking, and then I realize he's starting to get hard again.

"Yes?" he asks with open-mouthed kisses against my throat.

I rearrange some pillows to keep from breaking my neck on the arm of the couch. Meanwhile my lover, who focuses like no one else on the damn planet, is putting serious effort into trying to eat me alive. I relax into the sensation while Ezra spends more time satisfying his new oral fetish. Perhaps it's something he should get therapy for, but I can't take the chance he'd get cured of it. I happily arch my neck and back to give him access, which is all the therapy I've decided that he needs. The CD has quit playing, and the only sounds now are the rain hitting the windows and Ezra's mouth on my skin.

After some wiggling I manage to get both of us on our sides, facing each other.

"I think I am ready for some sleep now." He's got an amused _expression on his face, but I have plans to divest him of his amusement.

"Fine, go to sleep on me then. You don' t mind if I use your body for my entertainment while you're out, do you?"

He gives a soft snort and kisses me gently. "That seems fair."

I start my own my oral exploration of his chest and, with a contented sigh, he lets me. My hands run over his arms and down his body.

Ezra's breath has gotten short again, and when he meets my eyes, I see the lust burning there with the love and amusement. I reach up to kiss him again and minutes slide by as easily as Ezra's fingers slide over the skin of my shoulders and back. He opens his eyes and meets my gaze when he's ready, and we both start maneuvering into a better position.

The rain pattering on the windows has slowed down, and we're moving slower, too. I can smell the smoke from the fire in the air and maybe the alcohol's still in my system, but I'm pretty sure the only drug that remains is Ezra. I can feel every quiver of his long, lean body -- better than I can feel my own, I think.

It seems simultaneously true that I last forever and yet come in moments. I don't want the feeling to end, but the need can't be denied. My voice is hoarse from screaming the first time; this time I hear myself quietly say Ezra's name, just once, then I'm gone. I remember saying his name as I came, as he says mine, now -- quietly, like a prayer. Then he sobs with release and pulls me to his chest.

"Ezra?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I love you." "

'Love you, too."

"Ezra?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"You weigh a ton. Get off of me."

"Very romantic." But he does sit up. We're sweaty and sticky...but Ezra's wearing his happy grin. And as long as we're moving...

"Ezra?"

"Now we have to converse?" he says with a whine.

I grin, it's only when he's tired that he doesn't want to talk!

"Want a bath?"

He considers that briefly. Very briefly.

"Yes, actually, I do, with you."

I send him in to start the water while I take the glasses to the kitchen, and pick up the discarded clothing. When the room's in order, I gate the fire, and then turn off the stereo and the lamp as I leave. Behind me the rain falls softly on the window as the clock strikes midnight. 

'Happy Birthday, Ezra.'


~ Finis ~