Den of Chaos Fiction
The Magnificent Seven


Spit and Shoelaces
by Sig

Warnings: Pure Smut, no redeeming plot whatsoever. Sex.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Used without permission. Making no money from this.

Notes: A spontaneous E/V short for Sihn because she mentioned she'd had a horrible day. Hope it helps:-)


Ezra looked around in resignation. "How do I always allow myself to get into these situations?" The question was muttered in a low tone to avoid upsetting the already frustrated sharpshooter stomping around near him. He glanced around again. Nope, the view had not deigned to change; they were still stranded in the middle of nowhere. Ezra heaved a sigh and decided to make the best of the situation. As he watched Vin continue to pace back and forth, muscles rippling smoothly with each exaggerated movement, Ezra decided that the current situation might have more to recommend to it than he had originally thought.


His name being uttered in a sound caught somewhere between a growl and a shout sent a flicker of desire to his groin and pulled him from his lustful contemplation of the figure now stalking towards him. He tilted his head in inquiry, to let Vin know he was paying attention, but quickly found his brows raising in surprise. It appeared that Vin was holding a shoelace. A shoelace, of all things. Even knowing that to laugh was to take his life into his hands--laughing at a pissed Vin was never a good idea--Ezra just couldn't help it. He could hear Buck's disgruntled voice from their last camping trip, "That boy could make a bow and arrow from spit and shoelaces."

Ezra bent double with laughter, arms clenching his shaking sides. Looking downward in an effort to contain himself, he missed the changing expressions on Vin's face. Anger had slid swiftly to incredulity and then into impishness. If Ezra hadn't been overtaken by mirth he would have seen the furtive, calculating look that appeared for a moment before it was softened by good humor and love.

Caught without warning, Ezra suddenly found himself flat on his back with a lean, feral looking sharpshooter straddling his body and restraining his wrists. Deciding that appeasement was in his best interest, Ezra attempted to explain the cause of his hilarity. Somehow Buck's comments must have lost something in the retelling, for the only reaction from Vin was a narrowing of his eyes and a tightening of the hand holding Ezra's wrists together. Ezra watched as Vin carefully manipulated the shoelace around the wrists he had been restraining, twining it so they were firmly but comfortable bound. At Vin's subtle shake of his head, Ezra closed his mouth and instead communicated his acceptance by completely relaxing, knowing Vin would accurately read what his body was conveying.

Ezra watched, breath catching in his throat, as Vin's tongue slid out and traced over his lips, leaving them glistening in the sun. He wanted those soft, shining lips on him. Wanted to feel them moving hot and slick over his body. As if Vin was reading his mind, Ezra found himself stripped and laid bare, a feast for Vin's hungry mouth. That mouth moved over him, gliding wetly across his skin. It nipped and licked, searching and finding every pleasure spot on Ezra's body. It wasn't enough.

He was moaning almost continuously now. The gentle breath of the wind against the moisture on his skin deepened his desire, until the craving inside him was all he knew. He felt Vin's tongue trail past his balls, dipping back toward the entrance of his body. This was what he needed. To feel the hot wetness of Vin's mouth against his most intimate place. Vin's tongue pressed inside him, the slick glide of it moving in and out of his body. Nothing had ever felt so right. With one last convulsive shudder Ezra came, screaming his release to the sky.

Lying there, sprawled wantonly in the dirt, covered in sweat and spit, wrists tied together with shoelaces, Ezra thanked all the gods that Vin hadn't needed a bow and arrow for anything.


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