Buck’s fever broke that evening and, after finishing a whole cup of broth and two of the biscuits Ezra had made, he dropped into the first truly peaceful sleep he’d had since being stabbed. Ezra, worn out from more than three days of constant care of and worry for him, lay down at Buck’s side, rolled himself into his blankets and dropped almost immediately into deep and dreamless sleep.And somewhere during that night, Buck’s arm found its way beneath him and he curled easily into that long, lean body, molding himself perfectly, contentedly, into Buck Wilmington.
7~7~7~7~7~7~7
"Ya got a real talent for this, slick," Buck sighed in utter, unabashed contentment as Ezra dragged a cool, wet cloth slowly over his shoulders and down his chest.
"Yes, well," Ezra answered with a gold-toothed grin, sliding the cloth between the man’s well-defined pectorals, "as an unrepentant creature of pleasure myself, I simply understand the salubrious power of a bath."
"Well, I got no idea what ‘salubrious’ means, but," Buck let his gaze drift down to his groin, where he felt an all-too familiar stirring, then lifted his eyes back to Ezra and grinned wickedly, wagging his dark brows suggestively, "you fer damn sure got another power goin’ here."
Ezra felt a wholly uncharacteristic blush heating his cheeks, but couldn’t deny his delight. He had stripped Buck of his filthy trousers and underpants, to much lewd teasing by the big man, and had them soaking in a bucket of water. To preserve Buck’s modesty, or whatever passed for that in Wilmington’s case, he’d draped a blanket over the man’s middle. Yet now he could see a slight tenting in the blanket at Buck’s crotch, and absently licked his lips as he felt his own cock stirring in response.
"You, sir, are a hound," he accused breathlessly.
"Yeah, I know," Buck answered happily, sliding a hand to Standish’s thigh and stroking slowly. "Ain’t it a beautiful thing?"
Ezra shivered as that slow-moving hand ignited a delicious warmth in his flesh and sent a most pleasant tingle along his nerves. He’d had other lovers, male and female, some pleasurable, some merely convenient. Yet never had any of them touched his heart simply by touching his body.
Still, he was keenly aware of Buck’s weakened state and knew any true exploration of their feelings, of their bodies, would have to wait upon the man’s recovery. "Be careful not to begin anything you cannot finish," he warned. "I am not certain that either of us has the strength to see you through a relapse!"
"Aw, now, Ez," Buck protested with a pout, blue eyes dancing wickedly. His hand slid a bit further up Standish’s thigh, and he was delighted to feel the unflappable man squirming beneath his touch. "You wouldn’t deny a sick man a little fun, would ya?"
Ezra reached down to stop that hand’s advance and arched a chestnut brow in mock severity. "Why do I get the impression that your idea of ‘a little fun’ and anyone else’s are not entirely the same thing?" he asked dryly.
"Maybe because I’m a whole lotta man?" Buck retorted with a wink.
Ezra dropped his head with a dramatic sigh. "My God," he moaned, "what have I gotten myself into?"
Buck freed his hand from Standish’s and resumed its slow movement upward. "Reckon that’s fer me ta know an’ you ta find out," he breathed in a low, sultry voice.
Ezra shivered again and exhaled unsteadily as that voice and Buck’s touch sent tendrils of desire shooting through him. Heat pooled in his belly and blood drained to his cock, but he warred against the sensations swamping him with an effort, determined to keep his head.
Dear Lord, how had Inez withstood this man for so long?
Buck saw the flush of heat rising in Ezra’s face, watched the jade eyes darken and deepen, and felt a wicked twinge of triumph. As much as he admired the gambler’s command of himself and his emotions, knew what an asset that command had made Ezra to their band, he also understood that it was a defense the man had been forced to cultivate to protect himself from a truly hurtful life. Ezra had grown up in a world where trust was a luxury he could not afford, where every weakness would be cruelly exploited for another’s gain, and had learned early on to hide the most vulnerable parts of himself for his own safety. Buck bitterly regretted that Standish, that anyone, should have to learn such hard lessons, and was now determined to start teaching some infinitely sweeter ones in their stead.
He wanted, needed, Ezra to believe that he never had to hide any of himself from him.
"Perhaps … we should continue this … later," Ezra suggested unsteadily, gazing helplessly into the midnight eyes that refused to let his go. "When you are stronger–"
Buck lifted his other hand to Ezra’s and closed his fingers gently about the man’s wrist, holding that hand where it rested against his chest. "I’m fine, slick," he breathed, slowly stroking Standish’s wrist with his thumb. "I ain’t gonna do nothin’ foolish, I promise." He smiled tenderly, all teasing gone from him. "But I like the way ya touch me, an’ I want you ta get used t’ doin’ it. I plan on us doin’ a lotta touchin’ from now on."
Ezra’s lips parted slightly as another wave of warmth slipped through him. This time, though, it was not Buck’s passion that moved him, but the man’s unmistakable love. For him. "That sounds … most appealin’," he drawled softly.
"Glad ya think so," Buck murmured, shifting his grip on Standish’s wrist to pull the man down to him. "Got a few other ideas ya might like, too."
"Oh?" Between Buck’s unspoken invitation and his own desire, Ezra was soon draping himself over the man, careful not to jar his wound in any way, yet fitting himself as best he could against him. "Pray tell me what … ideas … you might be entertainin’," he urged in a low, husky voice.
Buck wound one long arm about the Southerner’s trim waist and pulled the man closer still, then lifted his other hand and cradled it to the back of Ezra’s head, smiling into smoldering jade eyes. "Somethin’ just a mite better’n touchin’," he breathed, pulling Ezra’s head down to him and claiming his mouth in a long, slow, tender kiss.
Ezra moaned softly and melted into that kiss, all but undone by the utter, aching sweetness of it. Then Buck’s tongue was playing at his lips, seeking passage between them, and he gave it willingly, desperate now for whatever taste of this man he could get. Buck’s tongue slipped into his mouth and his own rose at once to meet it, the two twining, twirling, teasing in an intricate, intimate dance. He groaned and clutched at Buck’s shoulders and buried his mouth hungrily in the man’s, abandoning every last vestige of control and knowing without the smallest trace of doubt that it was safe to do so.
When at last the kiss ended, he exhaled unsteadily and dropped his head against Buck’s shoulder, breathless and trembling and more content than he could ever remember being. He tried to remember why he’d resisted this for so long, what he’d ever thought he had to fear from this man. And then let such thoughts go, knowing they no longer mattered.
Nothing mattered now, except the knowledge that he’d finally been granted his fondest hope.
"Think we’ll be doin’ a lotta that, too," Buck breathed, cradling Ezra to him and slowly stroking his back. "Always wondered if ya taste as good as ya smell."
"And?" Ezra asked softly, sliding a hand down Buck’s chest to his heart, treasuring the feel of that strong and steady beat against his fingers.
Buck thought a moment, licked and smacked his lips noisily, then shrugged lazily. "Ain’t sure," he muttered thoughtfully. "Reckon it’s gonna take a lot more kissin’ fer me ta really tell."
"Ah," Ezra breathed. "A thorough man." He smiled and turned his head, pressing a kiss into Buck’s warm throat. "I do so admire a thorough man. Attention to detail is everything."
"Oh, yeah," Buck agreed, a broad, bright grin splitting his face. "An’, trust me, pard," he turned his head and winked roguishly at the gambler, "I plan t’ study ever’ one of yer details with all the attention I got ta give!"
7~7~7~7~7~7~7
"Buck, please!" Ezra slapped away the hands grabbing at him and scowled imperiously down into Wilmington’s devilish eyes. "Your clothes are dry, and I do believe it would do us both a world of good if you would put them on!"
"Rather take yers off," Buck countered, making another grab for the gambler’s shirt. "See what I’m gettin’ myself in for here."
"Trust me, you will not be disappointed! Now, behave yourself and–" He broke off suddenly and cocked his head to listen as a distinctive sound filtered in through the shack’s two broken-out windows. "Horses," he breathed.
Buck’s playfulness immediately faded and he struggled to sit up, hissing sharply as his wound pulled painfully. "Shit!" he whispered tightly.
"Be careful!" Ezra snapped, immediately taking the man in his arms and supporting him against his own body. "I will not have you doing any further damage to yourself."
"Help me get my pants on an’ gimme my gun," Buck rasped, waiting for the pain to subside. "Then you get my rifle, see if you can tell who’s comin’."
Working with a quick efficiency, Ezra helped Buck don underpants and trousers, but left him to button them himself. Once certain that Buck could manage, he rose smoothly to his feet and went for their weapons, donning his gunbelt and then grabbing Buck’s revolver and his rifle. He crossed back to where Buck sat and knelt down beside him.
"Are you certain you’re all right?" he asked anxiously, his eyes frantically tracing Wilmington’s pale face.
But Buck smiled thinly and took his gunbelt. "Ain’t got a choice, do I?" He leaned forward and quickly kissed Ezra. "Amazin’ what a man can do when he ain’t got a choice," he breathed, echoing his own words from days earlier. "Now, let’s see who’s comin’ fer dinner."
Ezra helped him stand and buckled the gunbelt about his waist, then led him to one window, not liking this one bit but knowing they had no choice. He drew Buck’s gun from its holster and pressed it into his hands, then pulled the man down to him for a tender kiss. "Be careful," he whispered against his lips.
"Always," Buck breathed. "You know me."
"Yes," Ezra retorted archly as he drew back. "And that is precisely why I mentioned it." He winked at Buck, then crossed the shack to take up his position at the other window.
"Hello, the shack!"
The call rang out even before the riders came into view, startling both men. The voice was distinctive and deeply familiar.
"Chris?" Buck asked sharply, throwing a puzzled glance at Standish. "How the hell did he find us?"
"Bucklin’, Ezra, y’all in there?" hollered another familiar voice, this one a raspy Texas drawl.
Ezra chuckled quietly and relaxed. "Well, I suppose that answers your question," he quipped, lowering the rifle. "Mr. Larabee brought along his human bloodhound."
"I swear that boy could track a flea in a sand storm," Buck sighed, wilting visibly as the rush of adrenaline receded.
"Oh, good Lord," Ezra breathed, hurrying to the sagging man. He took Buck in his arms and lowered him carefully to the floor, propping him against the wall. "Stay put!" he ordered harshly. "I will not have Mr. Larabee taking it out of my hide if you’ve broken that wound open again!"
"Aw, hell, Ez," Buck groaned weakly, "Chris ain’t so bad–" As a chestnut brow lifted sharply, he reconsidered his words. "Well," he amended with a faint grin, "he does have his good moments."
"Indeed he does," Ezra agreed, rising to his feet. "And the very moment I witness one, I shall have Mrs. Travis publish it in her newspaper." He eyed Buck a moment more, shaking his head slowly, then turned on his heel and went to the door, opening it and stepping out onto the small ruined porch.
Moments later, Chris, Vin and Nathan rode into view, obviously having been waiting behind the trees for some sign that it was safe to approach. To his own surprise, Ezra felt a sharp rise of relief at seeing them, and wondered yet again just when he’d gotten so dependent on these men.
"You all right?" Chris asked as he drew up rein before the shack, his sharp gaze sweeping intently over Standish. "Heard there was some trouble in town."
"I am fine," Ezra assured him as the three dismounted. "But Buck was wounded. Stabbed–"
"We heard," Nathan said, grabbing his medical bag and rushing forward. He stopped just long enough to cast an anxious, appraising gaze over Standish, then rushed inside.
Ezra turned a puzzled stare upon Larabee, but got no answer. The gunman was only a few steps behind Nathan and disappeared quickly inside. Ezra heaved a sigh and clamped his mouth firmly shut.
"Don’t mind him," Vin advised, moving with his customary unhurried ease to the porch and stepping up onto it, then curving into his familiar lean against one of the posts supporting what was left of the overhang. "He’s jist pissed."
Ezra stared at the tracker in a mixture of curiosity and dread. "Pissed? At whom?"
Vin lifted two brows and stared at him as if the answer should be obvious. "That shitty excuse fer a marshal in Cedar Springs," he drawled. Then a sly grin played about his mouth and he winked. "Hell, I reckon that sonuvabitch is still pissin’ himself!"
Ezra had no idea what Vin meant. Not an unusual occurrence with the laconic tracker, but this time he felt as if he were missing something he should know. "Could you please explain yourself?" he pleaded. "And, for once, try using complete sentences."
"Always do," Vin answered simply and with absolute innocence.
"Good Lord!" Ezra groaned, wondering why in the hell he had missed such maddening men.
"Aw, hell, Ez, where’s yer sense a’ humor?" Vin asked. When the gambler fixed a withering stare upon him, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "All right." He thought a moment, then, as if talking were a taxing chore, sank down to sit cross-legged on the porch. When the gambler made no move to follow, he squinted up at the man and invited quietly "Why’n’tcha sit a spell? Y’ look plumb wore out."
Unable to argue with that assessment, Ezra sank down onto the porch with a weary sigh, only now realizing just how much the past four days had taken out of him. "Please proceed," he invited quietly.
Vin nodded once. "When y’all was late comin’ back," he began, his words as unhurried as ever, "Chris got worried. Y’ know how he c’n be. So he wired Cedar Springs. Marshal wired back, said y’all’d left, ever’thing was fine." He shrugged. "So we went back ta waitin’. Only y’all still didn’t come. Chris didn’t bother wirin’ this time, jist grabbed up me an’ Nathan, said we’s goin’ after y’all." He fell silent and nodded again, as if that explained it all.
Except that it didn’t, and Ezra only barely resisted the urge to reach over and strangle the man. "And?" he prompted through clenched teeth.
Vin’s lips twitched as he recognized the gambler’s impatience. As with Larabee, he could never quite resist the urge to needle the Southerner, thought they both needed to let go of their precious control more than either would admit. Might get him shot one day, but he figured a man did what he had to do for his friends.
"Marshal weren’t around when we got t’ town," he finally continued. "We went ta the saloon, heard some folks talkin’. Mentioned a fancy-dressed gambler an’ a big cowboy." He grinned slightly. "Figgered that was y’all."
"Your powers of deduction never fail to amaze me," Ezra muttered.
Vin scowled at him, but continued. "So we started askin’ around. Folks didn’t say much at first. Then," he grinned wickedly, "Chris got pissed, an’ they seemed ta open right up after that."
Ezra had to chuckle at the mental images Tanner’s words invoked. "I can well imagine!"
"We-ell," Vin frowned and scratched his chin, "once we got the story outta them folks, we went lookin’ fer the marshal again. Found him this time, an’ Chris had a real nice chat with him." Blue eyes narrowed slightly and hardened. "Took a few minutes, but he finally told us ever’thing."
Ezra heard the undercurrent of ice that had slipped into the soft, raspy drawl and couldn’t help feeling intrigued. "And was Mr. Larabee the only one ‘chatting’ with Marshal Dobbins?" he asked.
The coldness melted away as if it had never been and Vin shrugged again. "Hell, y’ know me, I ain’t much fer words." Mild blue eyes returned Ezra’s gaze. "I jist kinda stood there. But I reckon I’s bored, started playin’ with my knife some."
Ezra smiled thinly at that. He’d seen Tanner "play" with that wicked Bowie knife before, knew how good, and how frightening, he was with it. And felt a malicious glee for what terrors that wretch Dobbins must have suffered.
But Vin’s mildness faded, his eyes and voice growing hard. "Bastard told us he’d made you an’ Buck leave even though he knew Buck was hurt," he growled. "Said he done it ta prevent any more trouble." He slanted a predatory look at Standish. "Reckon he’s got a whole new understandin’ of jist what ‘trouble’ means now," he said in a low snarl. "Sonuvabitch had no right doin’ that ta Buck or ta you."
Ezra blinked in surprise. "Me?"
"Yeah." Vin arched a brow. "Buck was hurt an’ you was left with the responsibility of carin’ fer him an’ tryin’ ta git him home. Couldn’ta been easy on ya, thinkin’ on what all could go wrong. Had ta weigh real heavy on yer mind." He paused a moment, then added more softly, "An’ on yer heart."
Ezra gasped sharply and stiffened at those words. "Mr. Tanner, I … I have no idea–"
"’S all right, Ez," Vin assured him. He unfolded his legs and rose to his feet with a limber grace. Hitching his thumbs into his gunbelt, he smiled gently down at the gambler. "Been wonderin’ when you was gonna come ta yer senses." He tossed down another wink, then turned and slipped into the shack.
Ezra remained seated where he was, too stunned to move, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
Epilogue:
Chris picked up the card Ezra dealt him and scowled at his hand. "How long’s it been?" he growled.Vin picked up his new card, tucked it into his hand, then slouched loosely back into his chair. "Mebbe five minutes since the last time y’ asked," he retorted. "Damn, Ez, could ya make these cards any worse?" he complained, ignoring the glare Larabee was leveling at him.
Ezra grinned at the tracker. "Would you like me to try?"
"Shit," Vin sighed, tossing his cards face down. "I fold. And it ain’t even been a minute," he said as Larabee’s mouth opened again, "so don’t even bother askin’."
"Hell," Chris growled, reaching for his beer. "Man’s only been outta the clinic a week, and already he’s roamin’ around the countryside! Fishin’!" He took a long drink of beer, then slammed the glass down on the table. "Why the hell did he need ta go fishin’?"
Vin shrugged lightly, watching Ezra from the corner of his eye. The gambler seemed utterly relaxed, but Tanner couldn’t help noticing the barely perceptible tightening of his fingers against the cards whenever Buck’s name was mentioned. "Likely did it jist t’ piss you off," he answered Chris.
Again Larabee glared at Tanner, and again he was ignored. "Hell," he spat, "don’t he know that’s your job?" He sighed and threw down his cards. "I fold. I’m gonna go drag his ass back–"
"Why’n’tcha let Ez here do it?" Vin suggested mildly. Two startled green gazes flew to him, and he returned both easily. "Man ain’t done a lick of work since they got back." He ignored Standish’s scowl. "An’ Nathan’ll be pissed if he has t’ put Buck back t’gether ’cause you done beat the shit outta him."
"Let me see if I understand this," Ezra put in before Larabee could draw his gun and shoot their tracker. "You are inferrin’ that I should leave a perfectly good saloon and ride out into the wilds in the heat of the day just to retrieve Mr. Wilmington, who for all we know is well and happy where he is?"
"Fresh air’ll do ya good," Vin said, only barely fighting back his smirk.
Ezra picked up his brandy. "And if he doesn’t wish to return?"
Vin watched the man put the glass to his lips and take a sip, then said easily, "I reckon you’ll find a way ta make him come."
Ezra choked and spewed brandy across the table, and all over Chris. Larabee shot to his feet with a curse and glared at the gambler, then immediately shifted it to the tracker. But Vin only shrugged innocently and Larabee stalked away, muttering under his breath about his piss-poor choice in friends.
Vin rose to his feet a moment later and slapped the still-coughing Standish on the back. "Have a nice ride, Ez," he said, then turned and went to join Chris at the bar.
As Ezra finally stopped choking, he had to remind himself that if he shot Tanner and claimed the bounty, Larabee would likely kill him for denying him that pleasure.
7~7~7~7~7~7~7
Buck lay contentedly on his blanket at the water’s edge, reveling in the feel of the sun’s warmth as it poured over his body. He’d been cooped up in town long enough, had started to chafe under the constant attention of his friends. He knew they meant well, knew they’d been worried about him, but he’d never been one to feel comfortable on a short leash, so he’d chosen today to make his bid for freedom. But, not being a fool, he’d also made sure all six others knew exactly where he was going.
No sense making it to too hard to find him for whoever Chris sent to drag him back.
He chuckled softly at the thought of the gunman, and at the image he presented to the world. The man could snap and snarl and growl with the best of them, could be cold as ice and hard as iron, could make the biggest, meanest man hunt for cover with just a look. But none of that was the real Chris, the man Buck had known for more than a decade. Try as he might to hide or deny it, the man cared, and cared deeply, about his friends, about the little town they’d all hired on to protect. Chris Larabee’s soul might be singed and scarred, but it was still there, and Buck treasured it as he did his own.
As he did Ezra’s.
He wondered if Chris and Ezra had any idea just how alike they really were. Hell, how alike they all were, despite the vast differences between them. Each one of them battered by life and sometimes damn near broken, yet somehow finding a healing, a wholeness, in the strange band they had formed. Buck gave thanks daily for whatever fate had thrown them all together. He couldn’t imagine not having any of them in his life now.
He especially couldn’t imagine not having Ezra.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of an approaching horseman. With a sigh, he rolled over and picked up his watch, then grinned as he checked it. Hell, Chris was gettin’ awful damn predictable in his old age! He let the watch fall back to his shirt and sat up, turning on his blanket to await his visitor. And grinned delightedly when he recognized Ezra.
God love Chris Larabee.
Ezra smiled when he saw Buck, then gasped and reined his horse to an abrupt stop when he watched the man sit up. Good Lord, he was stark naked! Then Buck rose to his feet with a leisurely grace, and Ezra very nearly choked.
The man was beautiful.
Gone from him was every trace of his recent injury and illness. The ruddy glow of good health had replaced the pallor in his flesh, and once again his body radiated strength and power. Ezra’s gaze now tracked slowly over that body, drinking in its long, lean lines, the supple play of hard muscles beneath smooth flesh, the easy, loose-limbed grace. He’d never in his life get his fill of looking at the man, he knew. Today, though, he would finally be able to do more than look.
God love Vin Tanner.
He shook his head to clear it, then urged his horse forward, gazing raptly at Buck from beneath the brim of his hat. As he drew nearer, he watched Buck set big hands on trim hips, then let his gaze slip slightly downward to the thick shaft of flesh jutting proudly from a nest of black curls.
"Well," he drawled, absently licking lips, "may I surmise that you are pleased to see me?"
Buck saw that tongue dart across those lips and grinned wickedly, then slid one hand from his hip to his erection, curling his fingers about himself and stroking slowly. "Perfect day just got better."
Ezra swallowed hard, then stopped his horse and slid from the saddle, ground-hitching the animal. In a fluid gesture, he removed his hat and sailed it through the air, barely noticing as it landed precisely on Buck’s clothing. He started slowly toward the big man, shrugging out of his dark green jacket as he walked.
"A bit warm out, don’t you agree?" he asked in a low and throaty voice, tossing the coat onto the growing pile.
"Very warm," Buck agreed hoarsely, mesmerized by the man approaching him. Ezra’s green eyes shimmered like a forest in summer, deep and dark and filled with heat and promise. A promise he intended them both to keep.
Ezra stopped a few feet from Buck and held the man’s indigo gaze with his. "I have been sent to retrieve you," he explained quietly. "Yet before we undertake such a long ride in this infernal heat, I believe I should first ascertain the exact state of your health." He tipped his head slightly to one side and arched a chestnut brow. "Make certain of your … endurance … as it were."
Buck’s eyes widened, then darkened, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Like you said before," he breathed, "gotta admire a thorough man."
"Details," Ezra reached up and slipped the first button of his brocade vest through its hole, "are everything." With unhurried movements he unbuttoned his vest, nimble fingers almost boneless in their grace. When he had finished, he slowly peeled off the garment, swung it loosely from a long forefinger, then added it to the pile of clothing. "Damned heat," he purred. "Most uncomfortable."
Buck could only watch in rapt and helpless fascination as Standish made a seductive show of disrobing. Whatever uncertainty the man might once have felt about this new relationship was gone without a trace, replaced by the unwavering certainty shining from the jade eyes.
And Buck Wilmington fell in love all over again.
The gambler’s gunbelt disappeared, followed shortly by his crisp white shirt and pristine undershirt. Boots were toed off and sent flying, socks quickly dispatched. Now only the fine black trousers remained, and Buck found himself staring hungrily at the prominent bulge at their front.
"Seems yer … happy t’ see me, too," he rasped, taking a shaky step closer to the Southerner.
Ezra smiled, his gold tooth winking in the sunlight, and dropped a hand to his crotch, brushing long fingers over the hard ridge of his swollen flesh. "Dear Mother, for all her faults," he breathed in that molasses-thick drawl, "always taught me that a gentleman never arrives at a party without bringin’ a gift."
Buck swallowed hard and licked suddenly dry lips. "Always said," he croaked, "your mother’s a fine woman."
Ezra snorted softly. "My mother should be locked away to ensure the continued survival of civilization," he retorted. "But at least she is wreaking havoc far from here, and we are, I believe, alone." Again that chestnut brow lifted and his fingers trailed slowly over the tenting in his trousers. "Whatever shall we do?"
"Oh," Buck stepped closer still, then reached out and grasped Ezra’s arms, pulling the smaller man slowly to him, "I’m sure we’ll think of somethin’," he whispered, bowing his head to capture that inviting mouth with his own.
Ezra moaned softly and melted into that kiss, opening his mouth in invitation for still more. Buck responded immediately, slipping his tongue between Standish’s lips and teeth in search of the treasure that awaited him there. Ezra’s tongue rose at once and joined with his, sweeping against it, dancing around it, and Buck growled low in his throat and pulled the man closer, burying his mouth in the gambler’s.
Ezra shuddered at the fierce urgency of that kiss and wound his arms around Buck, pressing himself as close against the big man’s hard body as he could. Heat erupted within him and sparks shot through him as Wilmington’s thick cock raked against his own, bringing him to greater fullness still. For days now, he’d fought to keep this want, this need, under control and hidden from any potentially prying eyes. Now, though, he could finally release it in the joyous knowledge that at last he was to have what before had only been a faint and fragile hope.
They kissed and caressed each other with an unhurried thoroughness, refusing to rush, determined to savor every moment of this time. Mouths and hands roamed freely over flesh, lips suckled, teeth nibbled and tongues tasted while long, hard fingers stroked and kneaded and committed the feel of each other to deepest memory. And time after time their mouths came together in deep, demanding kisses, each feasting hungrily upon the other, neither man able to drink his fill, both knowing they never would.
This thirst between them, this hunger, would never die.
With a groan, Buck pulled away from Ezra and sank slowly to his knees, burying his face in the gambler’s crotch and inhaling deeply of his scent. Smoke, tobacco, soap and rich musk washed over him, through him, in a heady cloud, filling his mind and settling into his soul. This was Ezra, and he never wanted to draw another breath that didn’t carry this scent upon it.
Ezra exhaled unsteadily and buried his hands in Buck’s thick dark hair, moved almost to tears by the man’s worship of him. He had never in all his life been loved like this, completely and in his entirety, had never known such a love existed. Yet he felt it in exactly this same depth and enormity for Buck, couldn’t imagine now how he’d ever lived without it.
God, how empty his life had been!
Buck rose once more to his feet and smiled tenderly down at Ezra, blue eyes dark and infinitely deep. "You sure?" he whispered.
Ezra smiled in return and trailed a hand lovingly down Buck’s chest, jade eyes shining brilliantly. "Completely," he answered simply.
Without another word, Buck took Ezra’s hand in his and led him to the blankets he’d spread for himself earlier. Once there, he went again to his knees and turned his attention to the gambler’s trousers. Long, skilled fingers made quick work of the buttons, then he was dragging them and the underpants beneath down Standish’s legs, unable any longer to deny his need for this man. They pooled down around Ezra’s ankles and Buck steadied him as he stepped out of them, then snatched them up and cast them carelessly aside, never taking his eyes off Standish. A low, unsteady gasp escaped him, then he leaned forward and nestled his face into the thick thatch of hair surrounding the man’s hard, thick cock, again breathing in that miraculous scent.
And all this was only for him.
He looked up at Ezra, took the man’s hands in his and tugged lightly at them. "C’mon down here," he urged softly. "Think we’ve waited long enough."
Ezra obliged willingly, eagerly, sinking down onto the blankets and, at Buck’s insistence, lying back against them. Buck loomed over him, gazing raptly down at him, and Ezra shivered at the naked love and want darkening the man’s eyes.
Buck lowered himself slowly over Ezra, covering the smaller man’s body with his own and reclaiming that sweet mouth with his. But the kiss lasted only a few moments before he pulled away and slid slowly down, his mouth tracing a wet path down the Southerner’s body. He licked a trail between the man’s pectorals, pressed gentle kisses to his flat belly, tongued his shallow navel and blew soft puffs of air through the thick chestnut curls at his crotch. But that cock beckoned to him, and he couldn’t resist. Turning his face to it, he pressed his tongue against its thick base and licked slowly, slowly along the prominent vein to the flushed and weeping head. He slid his tongue under the foreskin and lapped cat-like at the salty-sweet fluid leaking from the slit, nourishing himself, his soul, upon this taste.
Ezra cried out softly and dug his fingers into Buck’s broad shoulders, then arched his back and cried out again as Buck drew him into his mouth and began sucking slowly, hungrily at him. Fire shot through him in white-hot torrents, threatening to melt his bones and sear the flesh from them and sending his blood boiling through his veins. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but cling to Buck as his entire world erupted into a firestorm of sensation.
Buck feasted on Ezra as a child would candy, licking and sucking ravenously, growing drunk upon the man’s taste. He took Ezra as deep as he could, then slipped a hand between his legs and grasped his balls, rolling the heavy sacs between his fingers and squeezing them as he sucked ever harder at his cock. As Ezra groaned and shuddered violently, Buck released his balls and trailed his hand to the tight hole behind them, rimmed it slowly, then slipped his finger into it.
Ezra cried out harshly as that finger penetrated him and played inside him, as the man drove him over the edge. Heat churned within him and pounded through him in a molten tide, engulfing him, consuming him. He was powerless to stop its rise, was swept helplessly along upon its crest. Then Buck’s finger brushed against his prostate and Ezra howled as the heat exploded, as he erupted into shattering orgasm and jetted into his lover’s mouth.
Buck caught that stream and swallowed it eagerly, greedily, sucking ravenously at Ezra’s cock and milking his balls for still more. Only when he had drained Standish dry did he let the softened flesh slip from his mouth, licking the last drops of the man from his lips. He slid back up Ezra’s body and reclaimed his mouth in a tender kiss, sharing the man’s own taste with him. Then he lay down and drew Ezra into his arms, cradling the shaking body close against his own.
Ezra nestled into that embrace, spent and elated. As Buck’s hands rubbed slow circles into his naked back, he wondered yet again how he’d finally managed to let down his walls long enough to let this man into his heart.
You’d be surprised what a man can do when he ain’t got a choice.
Buck’s words from the day they’d been forced to leave Cedar Springs came back to him, and he smiled. And he supposed they were true; he really hadn’t had a choice.
His love for Buck hadn’t left him one.
"Yer lookin’ awful happy there, slick," Buck said softly, still stroking Ezra’s back.
"Really?" he drawled lazily, tracing small circles on Buck’s chest with a forefinger and smiling to himself. "I cannot imagine why."
Buck chuckled softly at that. "Ya don’t give nothin’ away, do ya?"
Ezra raised his head and set his chin on Buck’s chest, gazing earnestly into the man’s blue eyes. "On the contrary," he said quietly, soberly, "I have given everything away. To you."
"Yeah," Buck breathed, cupping a big hand gently to the gambler’s face. "An’ I reckon that makes me about the luckiest damn man in the world. I love ya, Ez," he breathed tenderly. "An’ that ain’t ever gonna change."
Ezra gazed at him a moment longer, then made yet another choice. He pulled out of Buck’s arms and rolled onto his back, smiling up at the startled man. "Show me," he invited softly.
Buck stared at him, almost afraid to breathe. He knew what Ezra was offering, knew what it meant, and was stunned by the gift. There could be no going back from here. "You sure?" he whispered.
Ezra took his hand and smiled. "Absolutely certain," he said. "You said you would teach me how to hope again and you have. Now let me see that I have not hoped in vain."
Buck’s head swam, but an enormous grin split his face. Almost immediately, though, that smile dimmed as practicality intruded. "Hell," he sighed, "I didn’t bring nothin’–"
"Look in the inner pocket of my coat," Ezra instructed with a small smirk. Buck arched an eyebrow at him and he gave a dimpled grin. "As I said, I have learned how to hope."
Buck’s brilliant smile returned and he sat up quickly, snatching up the jacket and reaching eagerly into its pocket. He found a small tin inside and cast away the coat, then lifted off the lid of the tin, catching a whiff of the fragrant salve inside. "This how ya keep yer hands so soft?"
Ezra arched a brow. "Calluses interfere with my shuffling," he said primly.
"Can’t have that now, can we?" Buck teased. He slipped two fingers into the salve and scooped out a generous portion. "This oughtta do the trick–"
"Wait," Ezra interrupted, "please." He sat up and wiped the salve from Buck’s fingers onto his own, smiling into the big man’s eyes. "Let me do this for you." Buck merely swallowed and nodded, and Ezra leaned forward and kissed him. As he did, he reached for and closed his hands around Buck’s cock, slicking him with slow movements.
Buck gasped and shuddered as that hand stroked and pulled at his shaft, as deft fingers tormented him into throbbing fullness while coating him with the salve. When at last he could stand no more, he growled and grabbed Ezra’s shoulders, bearing him back against the blankets and slipping between his legs. Another shudder racked him as Ezra bent his legs and spread them to open himself more fully, as Buck realized he was truly about to have what he’d wanted for so long.
God, this couldn’t be real!
But it was, and his breath caught in his throat at the wonder of it. His heart throbbed heavily in his chest and his hand shook as he extended it to slide a long finger over the man’s balls to the puckered hole behind them. He rimmed the hole slowly, stroking, pressing, and his own cock twitched in urgent need. Unable to wait a moment longer, he slipped his finger into Ezra’s body.
Ezra gasped sharply as that finger entered him, as Buck slowly stretched him. A second finger slipped inside, the two pressing deep, and Ezra felt his cock filling again in response. A third finger entered and he moaned, a hard shudder running through him.
At last Buck felt the tight ring of muscle loosening and withdrew his fingers with a ragged gasp. Trembling and sweating, his every nerve on painful edge, he pressed his aching cock to that hole and pushed carefully inside.
Ezra cried out sharply and arched his back as the pain of that penetration assailed him. But Buck’s hands gripped his hips and steadied him, the man’s voice spoke softly, soothingly to him, and within moments the pain was gone, replaced by the incredible pleasure of Buck’s hardness filling him.
"Move, please!" he begged.
And Buck did; slid slowly, slowly in, forcing restraint upon himself, sheathing himself in Ezra. Then he withdrew just as slowly, until only his head remained, and pushed once more forward. Time and again he slid in and out, gradually increasing the strength and speed of his strokes, until he was driving into Ezra with a furious force, impaling his lover upon his hard and hungry flesh.
Ezra thrust just as urgently against Buck, seeking to drive the man more deeply still into his body, needing to feel the man driving into his very soul. Then Buck’s hand closed about his cock, stroking and pumping in that same frenzied rhythm, and Ezra all but came undone from the ruthless assault on his senses. Worked inside and out, he abandoned all restraint, all control, and surrendered to the primal pleasure of being claimed body and soul by this man. Buck hit his gland again and again, and he shrieked and bucked wildly as intense, unbearable pleasure exploded through him, then howled again as he burst into release.
Ezra’s muscles clenched hard about Buck as he came, and that pressure, coupled with the feel and pungent scent of Ezra’s seed, sent Buck over the edge and into shattering climax. He threw back his sweat-sodden head and loosed a harsh cry, then strained furiously into Ezra and cried out again as he poured his seed into his lover’s bowels.
Empty and trembling, he slipped out of Ezra’s body and collapsed to the blankets at his side, his breath coming in sharp, heaving gusts. But, unwilling yet to be separated from his lover, he reached out and gathered the smaller man into his arms, holding Standish close against himself.
Ezra exhaled unsteadily and relaxed into Buck, treasuring the feel of the man’s arms around him, of his warmth against him. Peace and contentment unlike any he’d ever known before washed through him and he let himself sink into them, let himself sink into the knowledge that, with this man, he had all he’d ever need. And more than he’d ever hoped for.
"Chris give ya any certain time he wanted us back?" Buck asked at last, his voice breathless and slightly slurred.
"None that I recall," Ezra murmured, nestling still closer to the man. "Why?"
"’Cause I ain’t sure I can walk." Buck lifted his head slightly and smiled down at the man resting against him. "Damn, slick," he breathed, "I never woulda guessed you had that in ya!"
"Yes, well," Ezra turned his head and gave a gold-toothed grin, lifting two chestnut brows, "as a wise man once told me, you’d be surprised what a man can do when he doesn’t have a choice."
"No choice, huh?" Buck asked.
"None whatsoever," Ezra sighed, pillowing his head against Buck’s chest and letting his eyes close. "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."
THE END
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