He knew he was vocal; he always had been. He also knew that Chris knew he was vocal; generally speaking, however, Chris wasn't. He rarely gave chorus, even when they were on the trail and Buck would be singing some tune; every once in a while, Chris would chime in, but it was rare.

That's probably why the noise caught Buck by surprise. Oh, he'd heard Chris before, jerking off in the night -- hell, he'd even watched him when the occasion presented itself, though he doubted Chris was aware of this fact -- but the man had never made these noises before. Buck chalked it up to the experience, to this particular experience. Chris was the type who liked to get things done, liked to see results. He wasn't a man who lingered or dallied or lollygagged about. If he had some place to go, he just forged ahead until he got there. It was never about the journey for Chris, it was always about the destination; though, Buck never thought Chris seemed all that satisfied when he'd reach wherever he'd been going.

But tonight, this -- this -- was about the journey and Chris seemed to finally understand that. He'd been real quiet the whole time, resting back against the log, slowly stroking himself as he sat with Buck beside their campfire. Chris was doing a fairly good job, from what Buck could tell, though Buck still had the urge to reach over and show him a finer point or two to the art. But he resisted. He knew Chris wasn't ready for that, not yet anyway. The man had nearly jumped out of his skin when their shoulders had bumped not long after they had settled in to this.

The night surrounding them probably helped Chris, as did the few swallows of whiskey they'd downed after supper. Chris had also closed his eyes since their inadvertent contact. Buck didn't think Chris had opened them again, at least not long enough to notice that the flickering glow of the campfire was actually highlighting his taut belly, the not-quite roundness of his balls, and the long, hard shaft he fisted while they sat, side by side, mere inches apart.

Buck had given voice to the physical sensations all along, but he'd also watched, and compared. Chris didn't seem to mind, if he even realized what Buck was doing. And now, Buck could see that Chris was close; up to this point, Chris's features had been relaxed, far more than usual, but beyond that, his cock simply looked harder, and the flames showed a rosier hue along the length while lending a purplish cast to the swollen tip. Buck's own hand slowed; he wanted to relish Chris's release; it was rare that he had such an unobstructed view, such a precious opportunity.

Chris's mouth widened as his breath came quicker, as small guttural gasps emanated from low in his throat. Buck liked these sounds; they made him ache and throb, they made his heart quicken, because they made him think as-yet-unspeakable thoughts. He fought now, only now, to keep silent, all the better to hear Chris. He watched as Chris's hips began to jerk slightly, forcing his shaft up into his encircling fingers. When Chris's head lulled back, Buck's attention was drawn upward and he saw the tip of Chris's pink tongue licking briefly at the corner of his mouth. A shivering spasm raced through Buck's body.

When Chris's mouth opened again, when he let out a long, low, desperate-sounding groan, Buck had to bite his lower lip and still his hand in order to prevent himself from coming right then. Buck's eyes flickered down Chris's body, watching as glistening spurts of white arced into the air to land on Chris's exposed stomach.

For the second time, Buck had to fight the urge to reach over and touch Chris. His fingertips itched to play with the slick, silky liquid, to spread it over the pale skin of Chris's belly, to use it to coat his fingers and hands and cock as he continued to coax himself closer and closer to release.

Buck was panting nearly as hard as Chris. His cock ached with a building pressure. He ran his hand along the length, unable to stroke himself hard enough, fast enough. If only Chris would touch him, if only he would just reach over and touch him -- run a hand across his chest and stomach, move a thumb over the head, a finger down the underside of his cock to his heavy balls...

Buck closed his eyes. Chris was not a passive man, he was not a man who sat idly by and simply watched things happen. He was aggressive, decisive; he was a man of action. It was easy for Buck to imagine Chris reaching over, stretching out his arm until his fingertips touched molten flesh, until his hand grasped Buck's smoldering shaft as surely and securely as if it were his Colt revolver.

Buck let out a sharp, shuddering gasp. Cum shot quick and hot from his dick, landing in delicious little splatters on his hand and stomach. He continued to pump himself, imagining it was Chris doing the honors, until his lungs stopped aching, until his groin stopped throbbing, until his fingers and toes and arms and legs stopped tingling.

Only then did Buck ease open his eyes. The light from the fire in front of him seemed overly bright. He turned his head away and looked at Chris. The man was still breathing hard, his chin slightly lowered toward his chest; Buck could easily guess what those heavily lidded eyes were gazing at so fixedly; then again, perhaps it was only wishful thinking.

Buck allowed his eyes to travel down the length of Chris's lean form, stopping only when they reached his lap. Chris's hand was still curled around his now-softening shaft -- loosely, though somewhat possessively, protectively, Buck thought.

"Damn," Buck breathed just a few moments before he really had enough excess air to expend on speech.

Chris glanced up as if startled out of a deep slumber, some enchanting dream. Buck thought he saw a blush, though it could easily have been the casting of a flare of light from the log that shifted on the fire, throwing sparks high into the cool night air.

He looked up again and found Chris looking back. "Better than a quick crouch behind a tree, ain't it, pard?"

Tiredly, Chris nodded in agreement, as he gave a breathless — perhaps even a bit self-conscious — laugh.

Buck grinned wide, at himself, at Chris, at what they'd just shared. He had a sure feeling that this first time wouldn't be the last for them. Somehow he just knew there was more for them, somewhere down this road they'd both found themselves traveling together.