Love and Honor missing scene - How Josiah got Buck relaxed enough to sleep after that nightmare.
Feedback: Feel free to discuss and comment. I want to improve my writing, so I'm grateful for constructive criticism.
Disclaimer: They are not mine, they were not mine, and they never will be. This story was written for entertainment purposes only, the author does not make a cent with it.
Dedication: To Ra, new friend and terrific beta.
Story Notes: The first parts of the dialogue are taken directly from the second season episode 'Love and Honor'; or rather, from Zen's transcripts at http://www.geocities.com/zennerd/transcripts.html
Author's Notes: I browsed the archives recently and noticed that there's only one (very short) Buck/Josiah fic. I like Josiah. I suspect he has lots and lots of experience. Shame to let that go to waste, I reckon. And then there's Buck. Who's also got lots and lots of experience, and who, it seems, mostly has to be the strong one in a relationship. "Hell," my evil mind whispered happily, "let's throw 'em together and see what happens." This is the result.
In the darkest hours of the night, Josiah Sanchez decided that honor was a double-edged sword. A man without it was an unpredictable and deceitful creature, feared and despised. So men did stupid things in the name of honor, dangerous things. Men hurt and bled and died for what they considered honorable causes; for a highly subjective, abstract code of conduct that could be as treacherous as it was redeeming.Just look at our momentary situation the gunfighter preacher thought grimly. Don Paolo -- damn his mangy hide -- considered himself a man of honor. He'd been violently rejected by a woman, had taken a not inconsiderable blow to his considerable ego, and promptly reacted by demanding satisfaction. Buck Wilmington -- damn his quick temper and notorious lack of preservation instinct -- had seen a damsel in distress and fallen victim to yet another bout of what Ezra called his White Knight Syndrome. The two men had almost immediately succumbed to a severe case of mutual dislike and opposing definitions of honor. Like two accursed rams butting heads. Only this particular battle would end with one of them dead, and Josiah was scared shitless at the thought that by the end of this day he might have to bury the bloodied body of his friend instead of the enemy's carcass.
Blood and Honor, the eternal dyad.
As he stared through the gloom at the man sitting in front of him in nothing but tan pants held by suspenders and a loose, white shirt, he felt a stab of mixed anger and protectiveness that surprised him in its intensity. Buck looked so tired and scared and determined... so heartbreakingly human... it almost tore Josiah apart. He wanted to grab Buck by the shoulders and shake him until the stubborn cuss realized what he was doing not only to himself but to his friends.
J.D. was young enough to still cling to the illusion of his mentor's immortality, but too experienced by now to really believe in it anymore. The kid had been edgy all day, caught between optimism and panic. Vin, who in his days as an army scout had seen the damage the long sword blades could do to human flesh and bones, was ghosting through the town like a troubled spirit. The tracker looked as if he wanted to get away before blood was spilled, yet found himself unable to desert his friend. Ezra, as always, showed more self-control. A body could've thought he wasn't touched by the situation at all, but Josiah had noticed the gambler had -- after a few moments of somber consideration -- picked up his little black book from where he'd thrown it into the dust when Buck accepted the Don's challenge, and was now resolutely manipulating the odds in Buck's favor. It was his way of praying, Josiah supposed; a request for Lady Luck to grant a favor.
Nathan had never been good at just standing at the sidelines and watching when he thought he could offer help, and Josiah hadn't been surprised when his friend had fetched an old blade from the trunk beneath his bed and taken on the task of refreshing Buck's sword fighting skills. It gave him an outlet for the fear he tried so desperately to hide.
And Chris...?
Josiah had seen what Buck's decision had done to the taciturn gunslinger. Chris had become... brittle... around the edges. He took great pains to avoid his oldest friend; but, like Vin, always seemed to end up close to Buck anyway. There was a tenseness in his every move; an air of detachment around him, as if he was trying to steel himself against yet another crippling loss. Not that he could, Josiah thought. Buck was too important to Chris, too important to each of them. If he died, it would shatter them all.
He listened now as Buck recounted the nightmare that had driven him from his bed and back into the church despite his desperate need for sleep. The words came quietly, hesitantly, as if voicing the memories out loud might somehow conjure the specter of blood and destruction that accompanied them. "It was like... I was still there. The Seminole village... the Colonel... and his sword when he..." Josiah almost closed his eyes when he heard the infinitesimal break in his friend's voice at that particular recollection, saw him reach up unconsciously to touch his hand to where the long saber scar was hidden beneath his shirt. If Buck hadn't reacted so quickly then, if he hadn't thrown himself back even as he pushed J.D. out of harm's way...
"...do you think it's a sign?"
For a second or two he wrestled with the temptation to tell Buck that yes, it was a sign; a sign that he was going to die, a sign that he should stop this madness and call off the fight. But even as his lips trembled with the desire to open and spit out those demands, common sense sealed his mouth. No matter how much he wanted to scare the other man into backing down, he knew it was an impossible wish. This had never been about pride (though Josiah suspected both parties were guilty of harboring their fair share of it). Buck was scared like Josiah had never seen him before, but he would not give in and he would not give up, not with Inez' freedom being the prize in this ridiculous duel; because, for some reason, Buck seemed to have a disturbingly good idea about the torments the feisty woman would suffer at the mercy of this rotten little peacock and he would rather die than damn her to this kind of life.
So Josiah swallowed the words that would only hurt but not dissuade his friend, and tried to offer what solace he could. "Yeah, it's a sign," he said softly. "It's a sign you're scared. Fear is part of who we are, Buck." And wasn't that the truth? "Every time we go into a fight, I know there's a piece of me wonders if I'm gonna come through it. I can feel it in my hands... my head... my gut."
A long breath trembled from between Buck's lips in a sigh that never quite took form, yet caused the hairs on the big preacher's arms and neck to rise in a combination of apprehension and sympathy. He saw those long, deceptively slender fingers clench into fists then unclench almost reluctantly. "No gunfight ever made me feel like this." It sounded half like a confession, half like a frustrated statement of fact.
And there they were again, the fury and the protectiveness, like blades and honeyed milk in his stomach. He looked at Buck and saw a tall man sitting hunched over on a hard wooden pew in the middle of the night, weary and scared and lost, and suddenly he understood that it wasn't fear of the saber's edge or the possibility of dying that was pounding through Buck's veins. This was an old terror; one that had to do with Don Paolo, or maybe just with the special sort of bastard he was, and Josiah didn't know enough about this hidden wound to treat it.
"Well," he began slowly, feeling his way through what were murky waters at best. "It's all right. God gives ya fear 'cause... fear helps you fight." His gaze met the younger man's eyes and didn't let go. "God wants you to fight, 'cause he wants ya to live."
Long lashes lowered then rose again in a slow, contemplative blink, as Buck chewed on that bit of wisdom, working through the logic like a man not used to philosophical discussions. "So do you..." he paused, swallowed. "You think this... uh... this dream's a sign that I'm gonna win?"
He wanted to lie. God, but he wanted to lie, and give his friend the peace of mind he needed if he wanted to have a chance of catching at least some sleep tonight. What could it hurt, he thought, if he let the man have this bit of hope, granted him the merciful illusion of safety? He stared into those dark, trusting eyes, and knew he couldn't do it.
"Unless it's your time to die."
His tone was serious, grave. He felt like smacking himself. Bravo, Josiah a little voice in his mind snapped. Very encouraging. And it clapped invisible hands in an ovation conveying enough sarcasm to teach even Ezra a thing or two.
For a long minute, the little church was completely quiet. The only movement came from the flicker of the many candles illuminating the corner of the room they'd chosen for their talk, and from the rhythmic breathing of the two men staring at each other. Then Buck bowed his head and sighed, loudly this time and without the disconcerting fragility that had haunted the little almost-sigh earlier. "I don't want t' die," he said simply.
Josiah almost smiled then, because there was something in those words, in the sound of that low, smoky voice, that was so undeniably and inimitably Buck, that he couldn't fight the sudden surge of confidence that flooded his heart. He knew it was illogical and probably foolish, because no matter how strong and full of life the man was, he was still human. He could stumble, he could fall, he could fail.
He could die.
Then Buck raised his head and looked at Josiah, and the play of light and shadows changed the familiar, handsome features into the face of a stranger; proud and strong and self-assured. Or maybe this was no stranger at all. Maybe this was what Buck was like at the core, when he was stripped of all his many masks and layers.
"I want to live."
The fear was still there, right beside the determination, but it seemed more controlled now. Looking at the man in front of him, Josiah felt like he had slipped from the solid reality of his church into a different place, full of fire and shadows and magic. He had always been conscious of Buck's attraction; the man exuded raw sexuality even when he came back from a solitary patrol, covered in dust, grumpy, and exhausted. He was aware of the fact that the sensual rogue didn't seem to care whether his lovers were female or male, and had contemplated approaching the younger man before. Somehow, the time had never seemed right; but now, at this moment, in this place, everything seemed possible.
His hand moved almost of its own volition, rose until it rested against Buck's cheek. He could feel the warmth of sun-bronzed skin and the soft bristle of whiskers, and then Buck turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Josiah's hand and his own skin seemed to catch fire. He took a deep breath, wanting the other man so badly it hurt, yet unable to go any further without at least an attempt at being reasonable. "You should go back to bed," he murmured, even as his thumb started to stroke lightly back and forth over the smooth cheekbone. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."
Buck shook his head slightly and leaned into the hand that still cradled his face. "No use," he said quietly. "I'm too tense." He smiled a little, a hint of the familiar imp shining through. "I could use some company right now."
A low chuckle rumbled through the church, then Josiah turned serious again. "You sure I'm th' company you want?"
Soft lips brushed against his palm again. "Can't think of anyone I'd like better right now," Buck whispered. "I need..." He smiled ruefully. "I just need somebody to lean on, 'sia. Just for a while."
So Josiah stood up, pulled Buck into his arms, and simply held him. It was a bit awkward at first, as if they didn't quite fit together, then, with one last shift, their bodies adjusted to the other's unfamiliar frame and molded together comfortably. The preacher's right arm came up to cradle the dark head as Buck pressed his face against the crook of Josiah's neck, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin in a gentle rhythm. The left arm snaked around the man's hips and tugged him even closer.
This was their chance, Josiah realized. Maybe the only one they'd get. In the still of the night, caressed by candlelight and sheltered by the sturdy wooden walls of the church, past and future didn't seem to matter. Blood was going to be spilled in a few hours, probably Buck's, but right now the man was alive and whole, pliant in his arms. The burly preacher tightened his grip instinctively. He could feel Buck's heartbeat thrum under his hand in a frantic flutter that belied the rogue's outer calm.
Josiah's fingers curled protectively around a trembling flank, then started to stroke Buck's side and back through the light material of his shirt. The fabric was soft and loose enough to heighten the erotic sensation of this thin barrier between them, and he couldn't resist dragging a shirt fold back and forth across his partner's spine. The younger man shivered in reaction and inched even closer, the hard nipples evident even through two layers of cloth. A low, almost painful moan broke the silence, changing the mood abruptly and heating Josiah's blood like a cauldron of Greek fire.
Lord God Almighty. If Buck was this responsive with all his lovers, it was a miracle the man hadn't been roped into marriage or a long-term relationship long ago. Inez had to be a fool to refuse him. Or maybe she was just scared she might come to care too much about the lively scoundrel. She was a smart lady; she'd doubtlessly figured out that Buck's heart was either already taken, or still searching. Personally, Josiah suspected the former.
Resolved not to think about these things while he had Buck rubbing against him enticingly, Josiah turned his head until he found himself face to face with the object of his desire. Eyes full of hunger and need met his gaze and held it, and not for the first time Josiah was amazed by how quickly this man could cast aside the part of the carefree mercenary to reveal a different element of his personality... be it the deadly gunfighter or the passionate seducer. This was the first time he had the full force of Buck's ardor focused on him, and he had to admit, it was a heady experience.
He didn't know who made the first move, but when their lips met for the first time he decided it didn't matter anyway. He traced the soft mouth with his tongue, found it silky and ticklish, and pushed gently until his lover opened up and let him come inside. Buck tasted of wild mint (probably courtesy of Vin Tanner, who was firmly convinced chewing the stuff helped a man focus), faintly of whiskey, and of something slightly spicy, salty, that was all Buck. It was a good taste, a subtle blend of flavors that hit all the right spots for Josiah.
As he probed deeper, he slowly insinuated one leg between Buck's thighs, urging him to lean against the solid pillar of Josiah's powerful form. He didn't have to get any more direct. Buck Wilmington had spent a good part of his life dancing this dance and he never hesitated to give up some of his balance in favor of more friction. This time the moan that rumbled through the room was Josiah's when he found himself with a lapful of slowly undulating, very happy gunfighter.
Never once interrupting the kiss, Josiah threaded his fingers through Buck's thick hair; he ran them down the arched neck, over a broad shoulder and along a quivering side until he reached the sweet curve of a firm buttock. Buck's rhythm faltered for a second when a strong hand started to knead his ass possessively, then he groaned into Josiah's mouth and initiated an oral counterattack that left the preacher weak-kneed and near incoherent.
Finally they broke apart, panting and aroused. Josiah noticed with satisfaction that he'd obviously succeeded in taking Buck's mind off the duel -- the shadows in those usually so bright, midnight blue eyes had been burnt to ashes by a blaze of want. They stared at each other through the gloom, tried to regain their equilibrium and slow things down a bit. It might have worked, if Buck hadn't been... well... Buck. He smiled, a sexy, speculative little smile. The tip of his tongue sneaked out to moisten his lips and Josiah's erection threatened to choke in the confines of his pants. Of course Buck couldn't leave it at that. No, he had to tilt his head to the side and fan those dark lashes and rasp in a tone that bypassed Josiah's brain and shot straight to his loins: "I really, really, really want you t' fuck me tonight, Josiah."
That, the preacher decided, was doable. He moved close again, not touching yet, just letting Buck see the hunger in his eyes as he took in the flushed, disheveled figure in front of him. "Any particular... preferences?"
Buck's eyes widened at the deep, rumbling inquiry. His breathing quickened. His tongue darted out again to lick his lips and Josiah's gaze fastened on it greedily. He wanted to lean forward and catch that agile little devil with his own lips, wanted to suck it into his mouth and maul it into submission while he shoved a hand into Buck's pants and took possession of the man's most intimate parts. When he looked up again, the look in his lover's eyes made him realize some of his thoughts must've been mirrored on his face. Buck swallowed heavily. One of his hands clenched into a fist at his side, the other twitched towards his groin. Josiah caught it by the wrist and shook his head without letting go of Buck's gaze. "Uh uh," he breathed. "Not yet."
A shiver ran through Buck's body at those words, but he didn't avert his eyes, didn't try to fight the firm grip. "I want it hard," he whispered hoarsely, the raw desire in his voice sending little licks of pure lust up and down Josiah's spine. "Show me what ya got, 'sia. Show me I'm still alive."
Josiah could feel a wild grin stretch his features. Oh yes. Definitely doable. He released the wrist he'd been holding and the arm fell aside without any further attempt of encroaching on Josiah's territory. With an appreciative nod, he grabbed the broad shoulders and spun Buck around, guiding him past the pews towards the back of the room until he had him right where he wanted; in the no-man's land between firelight and darkness.
"Put your hands against th' wall," he ordered quietly.
Buck obeyed immediately, seemingly unaware of how a raised arm plunged the lower half of his face into shadow until all that was clearly visible were his eyes, burning with anticipation. He stood motionless when Josiah unsnapped his suspenders and dropped them carelessly to the floor, where they landed in loose coils around the scoundrel's bare feet. The pants slid down a little until they were stopped by the angular protrusions of the gunfighter's hipbones and the twin mounds of his buttocks.
With an appreciative murmur, Josiah slipped his hands beneath the hem of the white shirt and touched his lover's back. Liking the little moan his action provoked, he allowed his fingers to travel up to the smooth planes of Buck's shoulder blades, then followed the ridges of the ribs to the sparsely haired chest. He stood so close now that the bulge in his groin pressed hard and hot against that delightful little ass, and he humped the sweet behind slowly while exploring the front of Buck's body. Buck gasped when the rough fingers started to play with his nipples, rubbed them, pinched them, scraped against them with blunt nails until they were hard and tender and every touch caused a soft cry and a tiny flinch. Josiah kept tormenting him for a while, until the sounds spoke of more pain than pleasure, then he slid his hands across the long, straight saber scar down to the firm, flat abdomen.
This time, the whimper that escaped Buck's lips sounded almost like a sob as his belly was rubbed and caressed lovingly. Josiah could feel the younger man tremble against him, and not for the first time wondered about his friend's past. Experienced as he was, used to sexual contact of just about any kind, it didn't escape Josiah that Buck reacted strongest to gentleness. It was amazing and a little disturbing how he could visibly enjoy the almost brutal attention his nipples had suffered, yet at the same time almost fall apart at the light, gentle stroking of his stomach.
As if sensing the threatening shift of mood, Buck bit down on the wounded sound that hovered in the air between them and ground his ass back against Josiah's erection in blatant invitation. "C'mon, Preacher," he breathed. "Stop thinkin'."
Josiah groaned at the sensation of the strong, masculine body writhing against his. "One day, you 'n me are gonna sit down and have us a good, long conversation," he muttered, though he knew it was most likely an empty threat. Buck could talk a mile a minute, but for the most part he didn't actually say much. He wasn't going to reveal the hidden scars and secrets of his soul if he could help it, no matter how much he trusted a person.
Remembering his original intention of distracting them both from the bloodshed to come, Josiah let his hands wander further south to the fly of Buck's pants. He smiled when he discovered the prominent swelling there and cupped his hand around the trapped erection, massaging it firmly until the other man's involuntary thrusts turned erratic.
"Not yet," he told Buck. His smile widened into a grin at the strangled profanity that followed the command and the sudden lack of stimulation. "Hold still," he ordered, then quickly undid the buttons and released the weeping penis from its denim prison.
"God, yes," Buck hissed. "Finally!"
The relief and frustration evident in his tone made Josiah chuckle, even though his own, still almost suffocating, dick didn't share his amusement. "Impatient, are we?"
"Josiah..." It was half threat, half plea.
"All right, all right," Josiah soothed, still grinning. He wrapped one hand around his lover's cock and stroked it firmly, while hastily opening his own pants with the other. He was just about to pull down the material obstructing his view of Buck's ass when a different kind of thought made him stop. He groaned and dropped his head forward to rest against the tan skin of the broad back in front of him.
Buck muffled another curse and shifted, trying to look over his shoulder at Josiah. "What now?" he asked with forced patience.
Josiah sighed. "Lube. Any ideas?"
Silence reigned for a few seconds, both men's brains scrambling to find a quick solution. "Didn't ya work on them door hinges yesterday?" Buck ventured finally.
"Yeah. So?"
"Still got some of the grease ya used for getting' rid of that toe-curlin' squeak they used to make?"
The grizzled head shot up in delight. "Grease! You're good. Give me a moment." And off he went, to fetch the tin of grease standing in the corner with the rest of his supplies. He almost dropped the container when he turned around and found Buck leaning against the wall, naked, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes and almost absent-mindedly playing with his cock and balls.
Inez wasn't a fool; she was insane.
Gripping his own cock firmly by the base to keep himself from getting a tad too excited, Josiah crossed the distance between them with two quick strides, seized the back of Buck's neck in a solid hold and pulled him in for a long, deep, and very thorough kiss. Like before, Buck responded eagerly, clearly used to the rasp of stubble that accompanied the caress and the pressure of a sturdy male body against his.
When Josiah reluctantly pulled away and gave him a gentle nudge, he turned around readily, rested his hands against the wall at shoulder-height, and spread his legs to give Josiah a nice view of his butt. The tight little opening was hidden in the shadowed groove between the taut cheeks, but a slight move of one of Buck's legs revealed a glimpse of the man's balls, round and soft and inviting intimate exploration. And who was Josiah to resist such blatant provocation?
A low, happy moan drifted through the room at the first touch of calloused, greasy fingers against the heavy testicles, and Josiah's cock promptly stiffened even more. Damn it, but Buck could drive a person crazy with that dark, breathy tone of voice he used as soon as the promise of sex was in the air. Reflexively, Josiah slipped his hand completely between his lover's thighs. He rubbed the silky patch of skin between anus and balls, discovering that repeated stroking there made Buck's legs tremble and his breath hitch; he fondled the velvety sacs and their precious load, rolled them in the palm of his hand, kneaded them carefully, and enjoyed the low, purring sound this action provoked; he slowly, lightly, ran two fingers up the veiny underside of the hard cock, then down again, loving the helpless tremor that was his reward.
By the time he skimmed a slippery digit over the creased opening he coveted, Buck's skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat and shimmered in the warm candlelight like living bronze. It made every curve and ridge of muscle and bone stand out in relief, turned every barely perceptible movement into a play of dancing shadows. When Josiah breached his body, Buck's spine arched as he lowered his head until it rested against one forearm; the sharp lines of his shoulder blades rose and shifted as though attached to a pair of invisible wings.
Mesmerized by the sensuous display, Josiah slowly drove his finger deeper, past the gripping muscle into the hot passage beyond. Judging by the way the sphincter clenched and spasmed around him, it had been a while since his lover had done this. Josiah imagined Buck likely preferred to be in control of his sexual encounters, especially when dealing with male partners. The gunfighter might be cheerful and confident most of the time, but he was no fool and he didn't believe in man's 'inherent goodness'; for a natural born optimist, he could be quite the cynic on occasion.
The realization of how much Buck trusted him was humbling. It made Josiah proceed with much more care than he'd intended at first; made him stop and get more lube before inserting the second finger; made him take the time to thoroughly stretch and prepare the tight hole. The simple fact that Buck didn't protest the slowdown told him his friend was aware of his body's limitations and grateful for the consideration.
Only when he was sure Buck was as slick and open as necessary did Josiah withdraw, though he didn't go far. He cupped the nicely rounded buttocks -- noting how perfectly they fit into his hands -- and pulled them apart to study his handiwork. His cock twitched at the sight of the exposed, loosened entrance. Lord, he wanted to move in and ram his entire length into the man, wanted to feel him buck and writhe as he was speared and fucked mercilessly. He wanted to bend Buck over and take him deep and hard, just as he'd asked; to split him open wide, to make him scream, make him cry, make him come.
What he did was hold his aching cock with one hand to keep it lined up, while stroking the other down a tense flank soothingly until Buck breathed a faint moan of surrender and shuffled his legs further apart in mute invitation. The puckered entrance felt tiny and hot against the head of Josiah's penis as it stretched painfully to accommodate his girth. He had to stop for a moment when he was about halfway in; both to give Buck a break and to get himself back under control. There were times when he cursed his aging body, hated the way the years had made him slower and less agile... but then again, in some situations age and experience had their merits. He'd learned restraint (and it hadn't been an easy lesson), had gotten to a point where he made up for his slowing reflexes with stamina and self-discipline. He could hold out as long as Buck needed him to, and he waited patiently for the signal that it was all right to go on.
Buck didn't make him wait long. He pressed back against the massive pole with a dogged little grunt, the muscles in his back bunching and rolling with the effort to push down towards his lover. Josiah put a steadying hand on the narrow hip and shoved his pelvis forward, sinking inch by inch into the clinging heat that surrounded his cock like damp satin. Sweet Jesus! How could a man who spent so much time fucking be so incredibly tight? If he hadn't known better, he'd've thought Buck was a virgin.
With a final nudge, Josiah found himself buried balls-deep in heaven. Buck's pulse throbbed and thrummed around him. Rhythmic muscle contractions massaged the thick base of his cock, making him almost dizzy with want. He swallowed dryly, forced his fingers to ease up on the death grip he had on his lover's hip, and somehow managed to ask, "You all right?"
"Just dandy," Buck bit out. "Move."
Thank you, thank you, thank you Josiah's libido cried in the screaming chaos of his mind. He retreated a little, gasped at the feel of the tight ring of rubbery tissue dragging along his sensitive cock, then thrust back in a lot harder than intended, with a rough, jerky jab that caused a blinding wave of pleasure to shoot through his being. Buck couldn't suppress a muffled shout as he was thrown forward against the wall, barely able to cushion the blow with his arms. "Ahhh, Gawd." It was the last thing he said for a while, because Josiah just placed a quick, apologetic kiss on his neck before repeating the movement with even more force.
In. Out.
Hot and tight and willing, moving against him like sin incarnated, and Josiah couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. It had been too long since he'd allowed himself the freedom of taking his pleasure when he needed it. He hadn't been celibate -- he knew himself too well to risk such a build-up of tension, even in the name of penance -- but he'd seldom given in to sexual desire. Doing this now, in this place, with this man, felt so right he groaned in satisfaction.
In. Out.
He could smell the melting candle wax, the fragrant wood he'd cut only a day before, the underlying odor of dust that still clung to the building no matter how often he aired the big room; and above it all, he smelled the salty scent of clean male sweat, a whiff of cigar smoke and hay from Buck's hair, and the heady tang of their mingled sex.
In. Out.
If he concentrated, he could hear the monotonous chirring of the crickets outside; an ancient song as familiar in the warm New Mexico summer nights as the occasional creaking and sighing of the church's wooden planks and rafters. The tranquil sounds provided a strangely alluring counterpoint to the harsh rasping of the men's breath; the muted murmurs and moans that broke the quiet; the rhythmic slap and slide of skin against skin.
In. Out.
He leaned forward, pressed his lips against a wide shoulder, and tasted salt and passion-heated skin. He licked his way to the nape of his lover's neck, closed his mouth around the vulnerable knob of bone there, and suckled gently, amazed by the pungent flavor of sweat and sex and Buck.
In. Out.
Glistening pearls of moisture trailed gleaming paths down Buck's broad back, like diamonds on raw silk. They caught on the tiny ridges of scars and vertebrae, changed their course, mingled, separated, painted patterns like long forgotten runes on the living, breathing work of art moving with Josiah in perfect unison.
In. Out.
He could feel his orgasm build, like a storm front rising in the skies. Buck's body, slick and solid and strong, was searing him; the snug furnace of his ass the focus of Josiah's world. Every thrust, every shove into that maddening tightness, every impact of his balls against that heated body, drove him closer to completion... and yet he still refused to let go. Snaking an arm around Buck's waist, he found the other man's cock and nudged his lover's hand away from it to wrap his own fingers around the smooth length, stroking it, squeezing it, working it in time with his thrusts until all that kept his lover standing were Josiah's arms and the erection impaling him from the rear.
A whimpering gasp announced the end of Buck's endurance. Powerful muscles tensed as the first faint tremors of climax ran through his overtaxed body. He pushed away from the wall, trusting Josiah to hold his weight as he threw back his head and started to ride the preacher's cock with the single-minded determination of a man in desperate search of relief. One hand came to rest on top of Josiah's when the older man changed his hold to keep Buck securely anchored, the fingers of the other dug almost painfully into Josiah's thigh.
It took Josiah a couple of seconds to realize the soft cries that tumbled from Buck's lips actually formed words, though not very coherently... a string of breathless "God God God"s and "Yes Yes Yes!"... then the guttural, urgent chant found its echo in his own mind as the seizing sphincter closed around the base of his cock and tore away the last remnants of his restraint.
Buck jerked in his arms when Josiah plunged deeply into his rectum, savagely seeking his own pleasure now, both of them completely caught up in the maelstrom of sensation that shook their bodies and shattered their control.
One, two, three almost brutal thrusts and Josiah was coming, coming like he hadn't come in years, shooting his load with a choked scream that would've woken Four Corners had it been voiced at full volume. Buck wasn't far behind. The involuntary clenching of Josiah's fingers around his penis pushed him over the edge with a hearty kick, milked him dry until he sagged against the burly form of his lover with a weak groan. Luckily, Josiah was still just lucid enough to catch him.
They stood like that for the duration of several heartbeats; their swaying, exhausted bodies entangled so ingeniously they kept each other vertical despite quivering muscles and knees that seemed to be made of wet clay. Buck shivered when Josiah's softening member slipped out of him, though it was difficult to say whether his sigh was one of relief or regret.
Finally, Josiah regained partial mastery over what he suspected were liquefied bones and molten tendons. He looked around until he located the nearest pew, then carefully steered them both there and sat down with an undignified little 'oof'. It took some maneuvering, but somehow he managed to arrange Buck's long, lanky frame on the bench so it was stretched out more or less comfortably, the dark head resting in Josiah's lap.
He wasn't quite ready to get up and find a piece of cloth and some water to clean them up. It was late, he was old, and he'd just taken the ride of his life. He needed a break.
So he sat on the hard, wooden seat, hoping he wouldn't get too many splinters in his bare ass, and carded trembling fingers through Buck's tousled, damp hair, memorizing the texture of the ebony strands and the way they curled around his digits. He stroked a sweaty temple, traced the even, familiar lines of his friend's face. He ran a finger down the bridge of the straight nose, touched the dark, slightly coarse moustache. He tried to imagine the peaceful features without it, and was startled to realize how young and vulnerable the man would look smooth-shaven.
"Like what you see?" Buck muttered. His eyes blinked open to fasten sleepily on Josiah's face.
A sudden wave of affection and tenderness coursed through Josiah, and he had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in his throat. By this time tomorrow, those beautiful eyes might be broken, that exquisite mouth slack in death. The passionate, blazing spirit might be gone.
Don't go out there today. Don't fight. Don't die. The words hovered at the tip of Josiah's tongue, eager to spill from his lips. He bit down on them ruthlessly. Buck had made his decision. If there ever had been a choice for him, it had long since passed. To try and change his mind would accomplish nothing... it would only bring back the tension that had been gnawing at Buck since his first meeting with Don Paolo.
"Let's go to bed," he suggested, and smiled at the look his friend gave him. "Believe me, you'll only get a crick in your back if you sleep on the pew."
"Voice of experience, hmm?" Buck chuckled, but didn't wait for a reply or assistance before he clawed his way up into a sitting position with a series of grunts and groans. When he finally sat upright, he winced and grimaced. "Ow."
Remembering the unexpected tightness of his lover's ass, Josiah felt a flash of worry. He hadn't noticed any blood on his cock, but then, he hadn't inspected Buck's behind yet. "You all right?"
"I'm just happy I only gotta fight a duel today, not race the Don on horseback," Buck said dryly. "Help me up, would ya?"
Eventually, they helped each other up, cursing and moaning and laughing. Buck made a beeline for the cot, weaving precariously at times but staying stubbornly on course, while Josiah went to fetch some water and a rag. They arrived at the bed at the same time, which made the older man wonder if Buck was in any condition to fight at all.
"Don't look so worried. I'll be fine," the aspiring sword fighter told him even as his legs gave out and he crashed onto the mattress like a felled tree. He grinned sheepishly, stretched his tired limbs, and sighed in contentment. "Have a little faith."
Josiah raised an eyebrow, but resisted the temptation to voice his thoughts. He used a soft fold of an old cotton shirt to clean Buck of sweat and semen, noting with relief that while the dark little pucker was loose and a bit sore, there were no signs of tears or extensive bruising. By the time he had run the wet cloth over his own body, Buck was fast asleep, sprawled all over the small cot.
With a deep sigh, Josiah grabbed a pair of pants and his discarded shirt and dressed, then sat down on the nearest pew. He wasn't going to sleep this night; might as well stay up and watch over the beautiful fool who, in a few hours, was going to fight and maybe lose his life to an honorless prick who wasn't fit to even look at him.
Was honor worth this? Was it worth seeing the body he'd caressed and loved only minutes ago bleed and hurt... or worse? Was it worth seeing Buck die?
Have a little faith.
Maybe that was all that did remain at the end.
Faith.
Blood.
And Honor.
THE END