ATF Alternate Universe
"What time is it?" Buck Wilmington's tone was perilously close to a whine and Ezra Standish sighed in exasperation as he replied, without looking at his watch."It is precisely five minutes and thirty-nine seconds later than it was the last time you asked me that question."
"You didn't even look at your watch." Buck accused, sitting up straighter in the rather rickety chair which was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Ezra was slouched uncomfortably in the room's only other chair. A dilapidated table completed the sparse furnishings.
"That is because it has been exactly that long since the last time you asked me that question. And the time before that. And the time before that. You, Mr. Wilmington, are far more reliable than any mere timepiece," Ezra drawled the words languidly, knowing exactly how much it would annoy his companion.
"You know I hate it when you do that," Buck complained, scratching irritably at his back.
"Precisely the point." Ezra allowed himself a small grin at his companion's disgruntled look.
"Will you stop that?" the southern agent demanded a few minutes later. It was his turn to be annoyed. Buck had been squirming around, rolling his shoulders and scratching at his back almost frantically for the past several hours. It was grating on Ezra's nerves worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
"Can't help it. Damn thing itches." Buck glanced at Ezra who sat glaring at him.
"Here. It bothers you so much, you can do something about it." Buck pulled off his faded t-shirt and started walking as he spoke. He knelt down when he reached Ezra's chair and presented his back to the southern agent.
"Scratch," he commanded.
Ezra stared at the broad back for a moment. It still had the remnants of a tan. Absently, he noted the smooth texture of it, despite the lack of care from its owner. The word sunscreen was not in Buck's vocabulary. Then his gaze was caught by a small area in between the shoulder blades. There was a half healed patch of raw, flaky skin, complete with scab and everything. He wrinkled his nose fastidiously.
"Scratch it yourself." Ezra could be short and to he point when he chose.
"Awwwww...come on Ez. Please." Buck wiggled his shoulders pleadingly. "I'll tell ya how I got it." he offered, turning his head to leer in at his companion.
Ezra recognized that look. "Pray spare me the details of your amorous exploits, Mr. Wilmington."
"But it's a good story," Buck protested, turning around. "There's a blonde and the floor in..."
"Unless you care to hear about the forty two different ways of removing a spot from silk, I suggest you save this story for a more appreciative audience." Ezra held up his hand.
"Fine," Buck muttered. "But you're just jealous because you aint got any stories like that."
"Oh really?" Ezra was not about to let that one pass. Besides, he was bored too. This stakeout had come together at the last minute, leaving the two agents no time to prepare.
"Do you see this?" Ezra carefully removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. On his forarm were three parallel lines of white running from wrist to elbow.
"Yeah. So?" Buck reached out and grabbed the proffered arm.
"Let us just say that the dark haired enchantress I was with exhibited some tiger like qualities." Ezra's tone of satisfied superiority did not escape the other agent.
"Well, come here and look at this." Buck tugged on Ezra's arm, noticing how muscular it was. And how fine and soft the hair on it was. Probably conditions it. Buck snorted at the thought.
"That?" Ezra crouched down and peered at the taut muscles of Buck's abdomen. It was much firmer and flatter than it had any right to be, given how much junk food Buck and JD consumed on a regular basis. There was a puckered, circular area about an inch in diameter marring the smooth skin.
"Bullet from a .44. Saved Chris' life back when we were on the force," Buck explained in a lofty tone.
"Impressive," Ezra agreed blandly and began unbuttoning his shirt. He folded it carefully and placed it on the chair beside him. Then he turned around so the scar on his back could be seen and appreciated. Buck noticed the contrast between the sleek, pale skin and the area in question. ".38 caliber. Saved a pregnant woman whose husband was trying to kill her."
"Ok. Ok. How about this?" Buck pointed to a diagonal pinkish line underneath his collarbone. "Knife wielding maniac." Ezra's glance travelled down from the collarbone to the light dusting of hair on his companion's chest. He jerked his gaze back up to a safe level as he realized he was staring at Buck's nipples.
"A knife wielding maniac and his gun toting girlfriend." Ezra pointed to an area along his ribs. He was assidously avoiding the memory of what his companion's chest had looked like. And told himself sternly that he did not wonder what it would feel like.
Buck removed his socks and sneakers and began unbuttoning his jeans as Ezra watched with a vague feeling of alarm.
"Here. Top this one, Ez. Spring break in Florida. Tangled with a shark who thought I was gonna be his next meal." Buck indicated a long jagged scar about six inches in length on the inside of his thigh.
Ezra reached out a finger and ran it gently over the scar. The skin felt slightly rough there in contrast to the soft skin around it.
"Your turn, Ez." Buck's voice was slightly husky.
Ezra watched in fascination as Buck's cock twitched and sprang to life at his touch.
"Hmmm...? Oh yes." Ezra cleared his throat and removed his hand from Buck's thigh.
Pulling the leg of his pants up, Ezra tapped his knee lightly. "Skiing accident when I was twelve. Took a jump on the course they use for Olympic training."
Buck trailed his fingers over Ezra's knee and down his leg. The delicate touch caused the other man to shudder involuntarily. When Buck's questing hand began removing his shoes and rubbing his feet gently, Ezra moaned.
"I do believe it is your turn, Buck. Unless you wish to concede this particular contest." The words came out in short little gasps as Buck removed Ezra's socks and continued rubbing his feet with large, warm hands.
"Concede? Doesn't that mean surrender? Buck's voice was a seductive growl as he moved his hands up to the waistband of Ezra's pants.
"Yes." Ezra leaned back slightly, allowing Buck easier access.
"Thought so. And I accept." Buck's lips hovered teasingly over the southerner's for a moment.
"Accept?" Those lips were so close. He could feel the slight tickle of the other man's mustache and knew this had spun way out of his control. And he didn't care in the slightest.
"Your surrender." Buck kissed him then. Lost in sensation, Ezra barely noticed as both his and Buck's remaining clothing was removed.
He found himself flat on the floor, with no recollection of how he got there, laying on his back while Buck kissed his way down Ezra's body slowly and deliberately. Making Ezra writhe shamelessly in need.
"This is changing the meaning of surrender as I know it." Ezra arched his back as Buck nibbled at a particularly sensitive spot.
"Just wait until you accept my surrender," Buck whispered in his ear as he ran his hands over Ezra's quivering flesh.
"Oh my." The rest of Ezra's words went unspoken as he wrapped his arms around his companion's broad back, twined his fingers through the dark hair and kissed him senseless.
THE END
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