"Idiot. Fool," he was saying. He just didn't understand it, and he supposed he never would.

He heard the horse approaching, but did nothing about it. His gun was at hand, should he need it, but he refused to draw, to appear scared and weak, despite the fact that his heart was racing. Not that strangers were necessarily bent on evil ways, but many things could turn a man to wrong doings, as he'd seen himself earlier that week.

"Chris?"

He heard his name just a moment before the light of the fire revealed the identity of the rider.

"Buck," Chris replied, nodding once. He sat back, relaxing the muscles in his body that he hadn't realized he'd tensed. "Come to say goodbye?"

Buck dismounted without answering Chris's question. He led his horse to a nearby shrub and tied him to it. Then he sat down beside Chris on the bedroll and warmed his hands before the fire.

"Ya don't have to leave, ya know," Buck finally said.

"You could just leave with me," Chris replied.

Buck gave a low chuckle, but said nothing. It was just another version of the same argument they'd been having all week; the same old push and pull of wills and differing opinions.

"It's not like there's even any girls in that town," Chris continued.

"All the more reason for ya to stay," Buck replied, though there was no longer laughter in his voice.

"All the more reason for you to come with me," Chris countered. He turned as he said this, to stare at Buck. The campfire made Buck's light eyes seem distant, and his lips warm with moisture. The heat from the flames made his own cheeks burn.

"They need a sheriff," Buck said. "Ya know that. Ya saw it yerself. Why not stay and help 'em? Help me?"

"Be your deputy?" Chris almost laughed. While he might respect Buck's opinion and his often-unique view of situations, he could never take orders from the man. Hell, he refused to take orders for anyone these days. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start handing them out himself.

"No. Just ... stay awhile. Keep me company."

Now Chris did laugh. "Keep you company? Buck, do you have any idea what people would do to you — to us — if I stayed to keep you company?"

"Ain't what I meant, Chris."

"Isn't it?" Chris asked. "Isn't it, Buck? There aren't any women in that town. There's not a soul you can approach without getting your balls shot off—"

"That ain't gonna happen. I can keep it in my pants, despite what ya might think."

Chris sighed. He'd seen little evidence to support Buck's statement, but he also had little to say in rebuttal. "So, fine. What are you gonna do with all your free time then? What are you gonna do until the day some gunman wanting another notch on his belt comes looking for you?"

Buck didn't appear to have an answer for this. He just sat staring into the glow of the campfire.

"Don't make me come back to this God-forsaken town, Buck, just to speak at your funeral."

"Not that yer capable of sayin' anything nice — or respectable — at a man's funeral," Buck replied. It was meant to be a good-natured jibe, despite the edge to Buck's tone.

"Oh, I imagine I could think of a few things," Chris finally replied. "Here lies Buck Wilmington; he stoked a good fire and made a damn-fine roast squirrel."

This made Buck laugh. "That's it? That's the best ya can think up?"

"If you want something better, you're gonna have to give me more time. About twenty or thirty years."

"Chris, I'm stayin'." Buck was serious again, and Chris knew there was no changing this man's mind once it was made up. He could be as stubborn as a mule if he wanted to be.

"I know," Chris replied. "And I'm going."

"When?"

"In the morning."

"Then, I guess we better make this night count."

Buck leaned over and brushed his lips against Chris's neck; they felt cool against Chris's warm skin.

"Buck, I—" But before Chris could finish, Buck's mouth was covering his. He'd miss this, he knew; he'd miss this once he was gone, like he'd miss sunshine or fresh water.

He twisted his body, bringing it up against Buck's, and then he pressed his tongue forward, parting those soft lips. Chris didn't want to believe that this was the last time they'd be doing this; hell, he couldn't believe that they'd ever done this at all. But, the truth was, it had been going on for weeks — growing out of the times they'd shared side by side and then the times when they'd lent the other a helping hand, each time growing more comfortable together. It had been coming on so gradually that Chris had rarely even spared a thought about it being wrong or damnable. It just felt right when he did think about it, so he forced himself to leave it at that.

Chris felt the man's powerful hands gently caressing his hair, his hat now just gone. He pulled Buck closer, needing the man's warmth to fill in all the spaces the heat from the fire didn't touch. He knew he'd be cold once he left Buck behind, but he tried not to think about that now. He tried to think only of the feel of Buck's body against his, of how strong the muscles along his back felt beneath his hands, how powerful his thighs were, now pressed against his own.

"Buck," he said, breaking their kiss. "Buck, I—" but this time, the words simply died in the air between them, pushed aside by Buck's warm breath against Chris's face. "Buck—"

"Shut up, Chris," he finally said and Chris was pulled back into the man's embrace.

Chris soon felt Buck's hands on his coat, pushing the heavy material from his shoulders and down his arms. It wasn't a cold night, and the heat radiating from the fire and from Buck was enough to ignite a smoldering warmth deep inside Chris. He didn't wait for Buck to start in on the buttons of his shirt; Chris did it himself, making quick work of the task. Soon, his shirt was tossed aside with his coat, but before he could set to work on Buck, he felt his friend's soft lips on his neck, his wet tongue drawing patterns over the skin.

Chris closed his eyes as he imagined the shapes Buck was forming, the words he was writing, as his mouth moved slowly over and across his shoulder, down his chest.... Buck licked circles around Chris's nipple, then sucked it into his mouth, sucked it into a hard, sensitive peak. Chris moaned low in his throat; Buck was fanning the flames, fuelling the fire that was growing inside Chris like a fever.

He ached; he burned.

"Buck," he moaned again. His fingers carded through Buck's thick, dark hair. His other hand moved to Buck's shoulder, then slipped beneath the collar, slipped forward to the placket and then tugged the material aside. Soon, without interrupting the kisses and licks over Chris's chest, Buck shifted and discarded his coat. Chris worked now — when he could, when he wasn't distracted and consumed by the attention Buck was lavishing on his chest and belly — he worked to loose the buttons on Buck's shirt, needing to feel the man's skin, needing to do the things to Buck that Buck was doing to him.

He pushed the suspenders from Buck's shoulders as he pushed his shirt down his arms. Then Chris realized it was now a simple matter to work Buck's trousers off his hips. He slipped his hands beneath the waistband and wiggled them deep. Buck rose to his knees, which allowed Chris to push Buck's pants down to his thighs, though Chris's hands lingered for a few moments on Buck's hips and then his buttocks. Buck didn't seem to mind, so Chris lingered a while longer.

Unfortunately, Chris's hands were still blocked from touching skin by the fabric of Buck's damn union suit. Chris nearly growled in frustration, but then he felt Buck's hand rubbing his erection through the fabric of his pants and he thought of nothing else for the next few moments. Chris pushed his hips up, almost involuntarily, pushing his hard length against Buck's grinding palm, and then he pushed again.

They'd never been this bold before, never this aggressive. They usually fumbled, like adolescents drunk on their first spirits, doing as little as possible to the other. It was as if they were afraid of slipping back into old habits; watching each other come, or even bringing the other off by hand. It was as if neither wanted to retrace those steps, neither wanted to go back to the simplicity of those earlier days of their budding friendship. They'd moved north in their travels — they'd moved on — and there was no way either planned to turn back. At least that was how Chris interpreted what had been happening between them.

But tonight, he knew all roads met here, both traveled and untraveled. Tonight, they would do everything, as if they'd never done any of it before, as if they'd never do any of it again.

Buck was working at Chris's belt buckle now, loosening it before moving on to his pants. Soon, they, along with Chris's long johns, were pushed over his hips. Chris stood, to step out of the trousers, and that's when Buck leaned forward, taking Chris's firm length into his mouth.

Chris grabbed Buck's shoulders when he felt his knees about to give. And then he felt nothing except the fire that spread through his loins, inflamed by the cool moisture of Buck's insistent mouth. Chris closed his eyes as Buck licked and sucked at his length, drawing him in, until Chris felt that he would soon choke Buck on the end of his pole, but Buck apparently thought different — or didn't care — as he continued to pull Chris deeper and deeper. Chris felt himself grow harder and when Buck reached up to caress his balls, Chris did not think to fight his urge to thrust into that willing, talented mouth.

Chris smiled, realizing that mouth could do far more than spin an interesting tale. Tail, he thought to himself, and then smiled again.

He gripped Buck's shoulders firmly and pushed himself away. Buck gazed up at him, wet mouth agape. Chris fought past his racing heart and swallowed a lungful of air before speaking.

"Bend over, Buck, 'cuz I'm taking you now."

Buck grinned wide and his body shook slightly with a silent laugh. Then he turned around and dropped the back flap on his union suit.

Chris put a hand on the man's back and pushed him gently down onto all fours, and then he grabbed the oil he'd earlier used on his tack and slicked up his hand. He drew one finger down Buck's crack and back up. Then he slicked himself and pressed forward.

"Easy there, pard," Buck said when the tip of Chris's dick touch his hole. "Give ol' Buck a chance to get ready—" His sentence was cut short by a sharp gasp as Chris pushed forward. An instant later, Buck was pushing back, driving Chris deep.

"You're always ready, Buck," Chris grunted out.

"Well, ya got me there," Buck said, chuckling, and then he groaned loud and low as Chris pulled back some.

"Got you here, too," Chris replied as he began to work himself deep again.

"Oh, yeah," Buck moaned. "Here ... there ... anywhere ya want...."

"Want you here, now," Chris told him. One hand was on Buck's hip and the other was on his shoulder. He rode Buck like a bronco, a wild stallion no one could break.

Buck threw his head back as he let loose another groan. Chris began to thrust harder, deeper, loving the feel of Buck writhing beneath him. He slipped a hand forward, intent on grabbing hold of Buck's length, jerking him off while he rode him, but Buck reached back and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. He pushed Chris's hand back to his hip, then lowered his head toward the ground as he pushed back to meet Chris's persistent thrusts.

"Buck," he breathed heavily. "Buck!" His voice rang of desperation. "I'm so close.... I'm gonna...."

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Buck managed to gasp. "Just ... come...."

And Chris did, with a force that sent white-hot sparks shining behind his eyes. He gripped hard to Buck's hips, pulling himself in, pulling them together, as his hips jerked forward again and again, shooting his seed deep into Buck.

And then he leaned forward against Buck's back. The fabric of Buck's union suit quickly absorbed the sweat covering Chris's body; the heat from the fire fought with the cool of the night for possession of what moisture remained on his skin.

Buck straightened slightly and Chris took his cue to pull out. He slumped to the ground, his legs on either side of where Buck was still kneeling.

As he panted for breath, Chris watched Buck turn. The light glinted off Buck's light eyes, turning them feral against the night. Chris's heart skipped a beat and his mind wondered for an instant where he'd dropped his gun belt.

"You didn't come," Chris finally managed to say. It wasn't a question, or an apology. Hell, he wasn't certain what it was.

"Not yet," Buck said. He was grinning and his eyes now held a mischievous mirth that sent a chill racing over Chris's spine.

"Buck... no..." Chris breathed as he shook his head.

Buck just grinned even wider as he reached down and grabbed the ankles of Chris's pants. As Chris squirmed to back away, Buck tugged and soon his pants lay off to the side, on top of the earlier discarded jackets and shirts.

"Buck, this isn't fair," Chris protested, but Buck's raised eyebrow told him that was the wrong thing to say. "I mean, I've never ... we've never...."

"Don't be scared, darlin'," Buck said as he laid a gentle hand on Chris's flushed cheek.

At that Chris stiffened and then stilled. He glared up at Buck until the man pulled his hand away. "I swear to God, Buck, you ever call me darlin' again, I'll tan your hide."

Buck nodded, as if contrite, but too soon a grin spread his lips again and Chris caught the renewed twinkle in his eyes. "Promise?"

"Buck!" Chris exclaimed as he took a swing at the other man, landing a firm, but hardly damaging blow to the man's upper arm.

"Well, come on then, Chris. Yer gonna let me, right? Can't leave me here saluting no one, can ya? Not in good conscience. Wouldn't be right. Wouldn't be ... fair."

Buck stared at Chris and Chris stared back. Chris knew the man was right. He knew that he probably owed it to him. But.... "Aw, hell, Buck," he said, yet he still felt scared inside, not scared by the pain he knew he'd feel, but scared by everything that went along with it.

"I won't hurt ya, Chris. I promise, and ya know I keep my promises," Buck reminded him.

"I know...." And finally Chris nodded, though his heart was thundering inside his chest and he could feel the sweat collecting on his brow. He started to turn over onto his hands and knees, but Buck stopped him, holding down his hip.

"Ain't no women in town, remember?" Buck said.

"So?"

"So ... I wanna see yer face."

"Buck, I'm not gonna—" But his words were cut off by Buck's lips pressing against his own. God damn it, Chris thought. God damn it all to hell, and me right along with it.

He allowed Buck to deepen the kiss, parting his lips enough to allow the man's warm tongue to slip inside and tease his own. He felt Buck's hand on his cheek again and knew the man was thinking the word "darlin'" even if his mouth was too busy to say it.

Chris slipped his own hand down Buck's body, and grabbed his cock. He began to rub, gently at first, but soon more firm and deliberate. If he could bring Buck off like this, before the man had a chance to—

But Buck pulled away, obviously aware of what Chris was doing. He was smiling though, as if he refused to fault Chris for trying. Buck reached down and cupped his hand around Chris's sac, gently caressing it. This was something that Chris liked, he'd always liked it, but he liked it best the way Buck did it. Too often women either avoid it, or they went at it like a ball of dough; Buck knew better. He always touched it with just enough pressure not to tickle, but not so much that Chris felt overwhelmed by the sensations.

He couldn't help but relax as Buck continued his attentions. Realizing he was now on top of his bedroll, Chris lay back and closed his eyes. Maybe Buck would just do this for the rest of the night, he wondered. Maybe Buck would do this while he brought himself off, just staring at Chris's naked form, illuminated by the flickering of the slow burning campfire. Chris smiled to himself; he liked these thoughts.

But then he felt Buck's other hand on his skin, on the inside of his thigh. The man rubbed up and down the skin and Chris's dick twinged slightly in response. So, Buck wasn't going to bring himself off. Chris was all right with that; at least that's what he told himself. Still, he kept his eyes closed, just in case.

Buck's hand moved along his thigh until it reached his crotch. Buck caressed the smooth skin there, between Chris's leg and balls. Then his hand moved down and in, between Chris's legs, into the cleft of his buttocks. Chris's breath caught in his throat when he felt a gentle caress over his hole. It was nice, he decided, and hoped that Buck would do it again. Buck did, and Chris forced himself to relax, to just enjoy this while he could.

Too soon, Buck's hand left Chris's balls; a moment later, Chris felt something cold along his cleft, something slick being rubbed over his skin. It had to be the tack oil he'd used earlier on Buck. His heart thudded loudly in his chest; he knew it wouldn't be long now.

"Buck...."

But the man shushed him gently, and did not cease his intimate caresses.

Suddenly, Chris realized that he'd drawn up his legs, that his heels were nearly touching his ass and his knees were spread wide. Buck had a clear view of him, and easy assess. Chris fought the urge to tense; he knew from what he'd done so many times to Buck that that would only make things worse. His stomach suddenly felt like it was flopping around like a fish gulping air.

Then Buck pushed a finger into him and Chris gasped aloud. It didn't hurt, not really, not like he thought it would, but it stung, right at the entrance. He sucked air in through his teeth, trying to breathe through the uncomfortable sensation.

But when Buck began to move his finger back and forth, slowly in and out of Chris's body, the sensation waned and was replaced by a pleasantness akin to what he felt when Buck fondled his balls. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he'd imagined. After all, Buck sure seemed to like it and Buck wasn't one for putting up with too much, not even from Chris.

But then Chris felt his hole being stretched wider; another finger entered him. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but Buck began to caress his balls again and Chris was able to relax a bit and allow Buck to have his way, at least for now.

He wondered how long Buck would keep at this, how long before he grew impatient, eager. He'd never spent this much time attending to Buck; then again, Buck always seemed anxious to have Chris inside of him, far more anxious than Chris felt at the moment. He couldn't imagine why; he could be happy like this for a long time, just having Buck finger him, slowly and gently.

After a while, Buck slowed the thrusts of his fingers and began to remove them entirely in-between plunges. Chris liked the sensation: the loss and then replacement, the relief and then sudden contact. Chris felt Buck's fingers leave him again, but the next thrust felt entirely different than the last.

There was a softness to it that hadn't been there before, but at the same time a width that stretched him almost painfully.

"Buck!" he cried out, realizing what the man had just done. He sat up on his elbows as his eyes flew wide. He saw Buck's head thrown back slightly as the man pushed into him, deeper and deeper. Chris muffled a cry of shock and discomfort and need that he didn't know he could feel.

Buried to the balls, Buck lowered his head and stared down at Chris. He was smiling, not wide, but soft and sweet — a lover's smile. Chris's breath caught again and burned his lungs. He wanted to kiss this man and draw him even closer, until their bodies were melded together.

Buck leaned forward and down, pushing Chris's knees against his chest. Buck pressed his lips to Chris's as if he'd read Chris's mind. His tongue wetted Chris's suddenly dry lips before delving inside, tasting Chris like a condemned man savoring his last meal. Buck felt heavy against him, and Chris's lungs and muscles began to burn. He pushed back with his tongue, wanting Buck to move, to give him some relief.

And Buck did, finally easing back before starting to rock against Chris. Chris gasped for air as he scrabbled for something to hold onto, finally settling on Buck's long, powerful arms. He could feel the muscles working beneath his fingers as Buck leaned forward, driving into him, and then pushed away.

Deep inside, a new fire was kindled, a spark and then a flicker that then grew steadily into a hot, burning flame with each thrust Buck made. Chris angled his hips, rising to meet Buck, needing to feel him again and again. This wasn't anything like he'd imagined it would be, and he suddenly understood why Buck hadn't minded being mounted all these past times.

Chris's head lolled back as waves of heat flowed over him, external heat from the fire combined with internal heat from the friction of Buck's motions. He closed his eyes again, riding the waves, his body undulating beneath Buck's powerful thrusts. Soon, Chris became aware of a pressure building deep inside of him, a pressure that fanned his spent dick to life again. He felt himself swelling; he felt the heat of his length against the sweat-cooled skin of his belly. He felt Buck's hairs gently caressing him and causing even more growth and desire.

Chris heard Buck grunting quietly into the night air, straining with each thrust, as if he were trying to restrain himself. But that's not what Chris wanted. He wanted to come again. He wanted to come with Buck deep inside. He wanted his come to send Buck over the edge, screaming his name. And he wanted to never forget this night.

He pushed his hips again, matching Buck stroke for stroke, driving himself closer and closer. He could feel it, and yet he knew he was still too far away. Buck would come before him, Buck would pump into him and be done and then it would be over.

Chris trembled with the effort, as he willed himself closer, as he spurred his body to respond to Buck's actions. He could feel the sensations shooting down his arms and legs; he could feel his toes tingling. He clenched his muscles; he focused his mind.

He heard Buck gasp, suddenly, and then he felt the man's thrusts increase in both speed and depth.

And then everything narrowed into the finest point, white-hot like the center of a single intense flame. Chris squeezed his eyes shut against the light, but there was no escaping it; he held his breath, and then suddenly, he felt himself burst and a pleasant warmth spread easily over his body.

A moment later, he heard Buck cry out his name. Buck pushed into him, his smooth, rhythmic thrusts suddenly sharp and uncoordinated. He felt the bones of Buck's hips dig momentarily into his thighs; he heard the man's balls slap against his ass.

And then Buck was still, except for his rapid breathing — Chris could feel the warmth against his face — and then he felt the muscles of Buck's arms tremble beneath his fingers.

He reached up and stroked Buck's cheek. Then he straightened his left leg and allowed Buck to collapse beside him.

"Damn," Buck breathed near Chris's ear. His hot breath tickled and Chris smiled; he couldn't have agreed more.

Buck's hand rested on Chris's come-and-sweat slicked belly; Chris reached over and twined their fingers together as he stared up into the clear, dark sky. The stars seemed a little closer tonight, as if they burned just a little brighter, a thousand tiny campfires dotting the night. The fire beside them crackled, keeping warm Chris's one exposed side.

After a while, Buck nuzzled a tender kiss against Chris's neck, just below his ear, saying softly, "Stay."

But Chris had plans, places to go and things to do before he stayed anywhere. And he wasn't Buck's keeper. If the man was foolish enough to pin on a badge, well ... Chris sure as hell wasn't going to stick around and watch him get—

Chris looked over at Buck, not wanting to think about what tomorrow would bring them. He angled his head until his lips brushed against Buck's. They kissed long and slow, as if the fire would never die.

"Come with me," Chris finally said.

Buck grinned and his shoulders shook slightly with laughter.

"I just did."