"Ain't gotta right ta be this cold this time of year," Buck remarked.

"And whose fault is that?" Chris asked as he dropped an armful of firewood down beside their small blaze.

"The weather? Not mine."

"No, but if it wasn't for you...."

"Me? Me? What about you...."

"I'm not the one who got us thrown out of that last town," Chris reminded Buck.

"You're blamin' that on me?"

Chris nodded strongly. "I'm not the one who was cozying up with the sheriff's only daughter!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who decided ta pull my gun on the sheriff, now am I?"

"I was only trying to save your sorry hide. Did you really want it filled with buckshot?"

"Well, it wouldn'ta been the first time," Buck spat back at him. "Why do you think they call it BUCKshot?" Then he began to laugh.

Chris shook his head as a smile spread across his face; he couldn't stop himself from laughing right along with Buck.

"Still, I already miss having a warm room ... a feather bed ... a decent meal...."

"Aw, hell, Chris. We can still have them things. Just ... not tonight."

Chris nodded in resignation. They were headed towards Nevada, but they were still several days' ride from the border. As they had traveled north, they'd climbed in elevation, up into what was known as the Coconino Plateau. If not for the dense, pine forests, Chris was fairly sure they could have seen the entire Arizona Territory from where they'd made camp. The air was colder than Chris had imagined it could get at this time of year.

As he settled down in front of the fire, Chris pulled his coat closer and tried to think warm thoughts. His mind immediately turned toward Buck. They'd met months ago, and at least for Chris, things had yet to become boring with Buck Wilmington in the picture.

The man had a way about him, that was for certain. Chris did miss that last town, though. Flagstaff. It was a little town, with lots of loggers felling trees to supply the ever-expanding Southern Pacific railroad as it made its way across the Territories. And any town with a steady industry like that had its share of whores. Chris had met a nice one, took a real shine to her — brown hair ... yeah, he liked brown hair ... always had — and light, sparkling eyes.

But Buck ... he couldn't take the easy path. He couldn't just sidle up to one of the working girls, pay her price and have his way. No, sir. He had to go find the only virgin in town, the only girl who didn't work at the brothel, the only girl whose pa would shoot his balls off just for looking at his precious little girl.

He shivered just as Buck was pouring him some coffee. Chris held the tin cupped between his hands, trying to will the warmth against his palms to spread through his body. They hadn't been expecting this weather. The season was closer to summer than winter and, until a few days ago, the air had seemed like it might be warming, but that was before they'd left Flagstaff, before they'd climbed up onto the great plateau.

Chris felt his teeth chatter and he stopped them by sipping at his coffee. Buck had spiked it with a splash of whiskey, for which Chris was grateful.

"You know we're gonna freeze ta death," he heard Buck say from somewhere behind him. "If I'd known, Chris, I swear, I'da been more discreet."

Chris let out a breathy laugh. More discreet — not more sensible or even more careful, but more discreet. Buck really did take the cake.

"Well, just for that, Buck, you're paying for the next room in the next town. And we're getting one with a stove and extra blankets, maybe even a tub with lots of hot water."

Buck laughed, and Chris wished he felt as warm as that noise sounded. "You got a deal, pard. But, that ain't gonna do us much good tonight."

"Nope," Chris said, hunching his shoulders and pulling his arms in a bit closer to his body. He hated sleeping out in the cold, especially when he could have had a warm bed.

"Can't think of but one thing ta do," Buck said as he came over and squatted down beside Chris.

"What's that?"

"Share a bedroll. Two bodies are warmer than one."

Chris looked at Buck through narrowed eyes. The man was right. Alone, he'd be stiff and aching in the morning, if he didn't die of exposure during the night, even if they managed to keep the fire going. But together ... they actually stood a very good chance. Chris nodded in agreement.

Buck rose and walked to the other side of the fire where he picked up his bedroll and blanket. Chris stood, wondering how best to arrange things for maximum warmth. Buck had a good few inches on him, so it made sense for Buck to spoon up behind him; but did it make more sense for Buck to sleep with his back to the fire or away from it?

Buck laid his bedroll on top of Chris's and picked up the two blankets. "Inside or out?" he asked. Chris shrugged. "Let's try it with my back ta the fire, then. If you're too cold, we can always switch."

Chris nodded and let Buck lie down first. Then Chris sat down before stretching out onto his left side. They scooted together until Chris's back and legs were flush against Buck before Buck arranged the two blankets over them.

"Buck? That better be your gun," Chris said after a few moments of feeling something hard pressed against his thigh.

Buck chuckled. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that...." Chris felt Buck's hands fiddling behind him, then Buck's hips bumped against his ass. A moment later, the blankets were pulled away as Buck reached up to place his gun belt out of the way, but still within reach. "There." Buck tugged the blankets back into place again and then slipped his arm over Chris's waist.

Where else is he going to put it? Chris reasoned.

The whiskey-spiked coffee was doing its job of warming his belly, and Buck was doing his job of warming his entire backside. It was almost pleasant, Chris thought, as he felt his head growing thick and his eyelids drooping.

Chris didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but something woke him. He was certain it hadn't been a noise, so he didn't go for his gun, but all the same he wasn't quite sure what it was, not until it happened again. Chris felt a slow pressure against his back and thighs; he felt Buck shifting slightly behind him, as Buck's hips pressed up against his ass.

"Buck," Chris whispered softly, and then harshly repeated the name. "You're dreaming!"

Chris heard Buck suck in a deep breath and then felt the warm air expelled against his neck. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine, which seemed to cause Buck's hand that had been resting against his chest to press against him.

"Shh," he heard Buck say as he felt the breath caressing his ear. "S'okay ... 'mm here, darlin'."

Chris let out a silent laugh and then closed his eyes. Just a dream.

But a few moments later, he felt Buck's hips press against him again. Chris realized the man's hand had moved a bit lower and was now resting against his belly.

"Buck!" he hissed.

"Yeah ... okay..." Buck said, with more warm, gentle breath against Chris's neck.

They settled again. Buck's hips stopped moving and Chris stopped waiting for them to move so he could scold Buck again. Soon, Chris drifted off, trying to dream of somewhere warm, but all he dreamed about was somewhere cold, with snow and ice on the ground, under his naked body, clinging to his hair and skin as his breath added to the cold mist surrounding him.

He shivered until he found himself awake. There was a soothing warmth against his back and he pressed against it.

"Warm," Chris heard himself mumble. No voice echoed back to him, but he felt something press against his neck, radiating more warmth into his body. He groaned and moved his head, exposing more skin to the heat being languished upon it.

Chris moved his hand to his crotch and cupped himself. He could feel the flesh swell even through the fabric of his trousers. He drew his palm over the growing length, encouraging it. Chris shifted slightly, moving his ass more firmly against the warmth behind him.

He heard a murmur this time, so close to his ear, and yet it seemed to resonate from within his own head. It was a comforting sound, and felt like liquid fire spreading through his belly.

Chris rubbed himself more firmly as he felt something thick and warm pressing against his ass. Soon, he was fiddling with the buttons on his trousers, needing more contact, needing to feel his own skin, hot and heavy against his palm.

As soon as he opened his pants, a draft of frosty air struck him; Chris shivered as he plunged his hand inside and wrapped his fingers around his dick. It had shrunk slightly from the cold, but Chris knew a little attention was all that was needed to revive it. He began to stroke over the length. His hand was nicely warming, and a heat was spreading from deep inside.

There was a hand resting against his belly; Chris knew it was there, but he'd nearly forgotten about it until the fingers splayed and the palm began to move in small circles over the fabric of his shirt. It felt nice and Chris refused to think on it anymore than that as he continued to pump his shaft.

But when the hand began to move lower, when it found his own hand, covered it and kept pace with his stoking, Chris couldn't fight the knowledge any longer.

It was Buck's hand. It was Buck behind him, pressing moist lips and hot breath against his neck. It was Buck's hips he felt, moving slowly against his ass and Buck's swollen dick, driving along the crease of fabric between the cheeks of his ass. It was Buck whose fingers twined with his own, wrapped around his own dick and stroked; it was Buck who was now directing the motion, how fast, how slow, and how much pressure to their grip.

These thoughts had Chris growing harder. So hard. He couldn't remember ever being this hard.

Then Buck's hand slipped away. Chris's stroking faltered for a moment, but when Buck's fingers moved over his balls, Chris renewed the cadence along his length. He rubbed his thumb over the head, spreading the slick juice around the bulb, as Buck gently squeezed and kneaded his sac and then began to caress the small patch of smooth skin just behind.

The heat in Chris's belly was now an open flame — burning and scorching, as it threatened to consume him like a wild fire. He was hot, sweating, and breathing heavily. He felt like throwing off the blankets and tearing off his clothes to bask in the warmth that was flooding over him.

His hips jerked forward and then back, driving Buck's dick against his ass. Chris jerked again and then ground against Buck's erection, wanting to feel it, wanting to feel its hot length move against his skin and disappointed that there was so much fabric between them. He thrust once more into his fist as hot jizz spurted from his tip, dripping over his fingers. He pulled at himself, as his hips jerked a few more times, as more come soaked his hand. Then he released himself and moved his hand downward, to his balls, to Buck's hand, which was still caressing his sac. He covered Buck's hand with his own and then twined their fingers together. He liked the warmth against his sac and didn't want Buck to desert him just yet.

"Buck," he breathed into the night air. "Buck..."

"Chris," he heard in response, hot against the side of his neck, followed by what could only be Buck's tongue tracing the outline of his ear. "Warm enough?"

Chris swallowed, as he closed his eyes, reveling in the heat still radiating through his body. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah ... thanks."

"Anytime, ol' pard."