ALL  IS  GRAY by C.V. Puerro
Whence comes solace? Not from seeing, What is doing, suffering, being; Not from noting Life’s conditions, Not from heeding Time’s monitions; But in cleaving to the Dream And in gazing at the Gleam Whereby gray things golden seem. On a fine Morning - Thomas Hardy. 1840-1928.

The afternoon, like most these past few weeks, was dragging. Buck was in the sheriff's office, cleaning his rifle. It surprised him how much he actually missed being on patrol, but his shoulder simply wasn't ready for it; the riding didn't bother him at all, but he was still fairly unsteady with a gun. Instead, he held down the fort. Spending most of his days in the office, cleaning weapons, leafing through wanted posters, and just generally feeling only slightly more than useless.

"Hey, Buck," Chris said, tilting his chin up instead of tipping his hat, as he casually strode into the building.

Buck smiled. Since Nathan had released Buck from the clinic, Chris had developed a habit of stopping by the jailhouse to see him. Sometimes they talked about the old days, other times they just sat, silent. It had been awkward at first, after what had happened between them. Buck didn't know how to broach the subject again, and Chris acted as if nothing unusual had passed between them, which couldn't be further from the reality of it.

Buck had caught Vin and JD together. He'd finally managed to tell Chris, but, amazingly, Chris already knew of Vin's infidelity and seemed not to mind, at least until Buck told him he deserved someone who really loved him, like Sarah did....

Like he did.

Chris had kissed him then, in a way he'd never been kissed before, by anyone — man or woman — with so much love and passion that it had taken his breath away. Chris had then said that he'd tell Vin it was over, no matter what it might do to their group.

Buck never asked him what had happened. If Chris had actually talked to Vin, it wasn't obvious from their manner towards each other; they seemed as comfortable in the other's presence as they had before. So, Buck had no idea where Chris and Vin stood with each other.

On the other hand, Buck still couldn't bring himself to talk to JD. Hell, he'd been avoiding eye contact with the kid since he'd caught him with Vin's cock buried deep in his mouth. The vision still hadn't left him, hadn't dulled at all in his mind, as he'd so feverishly hoped.

"Your shoulder still hurting?" Chris finally spoke, as he looked up from inspecting his gun.

"Aches some. 'Specially in the mornin'," Buck admitted, gently running his left hand over the joint.

Chris nodded. "It's been weeks. What does Nathan say about it?"

He shrugged, but only with his good shoulder. "Says if I'd been lucky I'da broke somethin' instead, since bones heal faster 'an joints. 'Member how long it took Ezra's shoulder to mend after the fight out at the Seminole Village?"

Chris nodded again. Then he rose, walking over to the desk that Buck sat behind. He glanced quickly out the window before leaning forward on the desk. Buck froze in place, fighting both the desire to lean toward the man and the urge to move as far away from him as possible without actually running out of the building. Buck could feel his heart racing and his breath coming faster, as Chris placed a hand on top of his.

"Come out to the shack tonight after supper. I think I know how to ease your aches."

Then the man stood up and walked straight out of the office, never looking back.

Only after did Buck realize the man had not asked him a question, but had given him a directive. Then his mind panicked, as the words played over in his head. "...I know how to ease your aches...."

Oh God.

Buck stood up and began to pace the length of the office, as he ran his hand nervously through his hair. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for this.

What had he gotten himself into?!

Vin tiptoed down the hallway of the rooming house. It was still early evening, but there was always the possibility of running into other borders, though he knew for a fact that the place wasn't nearly full.

He moved past Buck's room without any extra caution, knowing that the man had been spending most of his days — and nights — at the jail. And with JD's room being the last one at the end of the hall, he and the kid didn't have to worry too much about disturbing the other tenants. Though, they'd learned their lesson and regularly locked the door now.

Vin rapped lightly when he reached the kid's room and the door was quickly opened. JD smiled, as he allowed the tracker inside before closing and bolting the door.

"What's that you got there behind your back, Vin," the kid immediately asked, all curiosity at what his partner was obviously hiding.

But the tracker just smiled in a way Ezra would have termed devious.

"Come on, lemme see," JD continued, until, finally, Vin brought the object into view. "A feather duster? My room ain't that dirty!" the kid protested.

"Ain't for the room," he assured the young man, looking about the place. "Though it could use a good scrubbin'."

"Then what's it for?"

Vin grinned wide again, almost laughing. "You."

Buck had spent dinner pushing the food around his plate. "Are my tamales not to your liking, Señor Buck?" Inez had asked, her English still tinged with an obvious Mexican accent.

"Huh?" He'd looked up at her then, blinking.

"Where is your tongue, Señor? I've not had to defend myself from your advances in many days."

Buck just shook his head, as he stared back down at his dinner. "Guess I ain't been myself."

"I thought Señor Nathan declared you well," she said, leaning over to take his empty beer mug, the only thing he seemed to have touched. Her breasts, barely concealed beneath her thin, cotton blouse, passed before his eyes, within easy reach of his ever-wandering hands, yet he did not notice. "It is too bad, Señor. For tonight I might have finally given in to you."

Buck looked up at her again, but he had not heard what she'd said. "Darlin', ah, would ya mind bringin' me another beer?"

With a shake of her head, she walked back to the bar and Buck returned to his food, though nothing but the beer tasted good to him tonight.

"Come out to the shack tonight after dinner," that's what Chris had said and the words were like a churn in his stomach. His hand still burned from Chris's touch that afternoon, and he could still feel the man's lips against his own, though their kiss had been many weeks ago.

He'd admitted feelings to Chris he'd never before admitted to himself. He'd used them to break up Chris and Vin. And now he had to make good on what he'd said. That's when he made up his mind. He would get his horse and head for the small piece of land Chris was homesteading.

After he had just one more beer.

As the evening wore on, Ezra became bored with the pathetic amounts his fellow gamblers were willing to stake. "Gentlemen, I've wagered more against my own dear mother in a single hand of poker than I have against the lot of you this entire evening."

The comment about his mother raised eyebrows from the strangers who had never had the pleasure of meeting the charming Maude Standish, but elicited wry smiles from the two men who stood nearby — men he'd recently found the pleasure in calling his associates.

"Ezra, you'd wager your own mother if the stakes were high enough," Josiah remarked and Nathan nodded his head in solemn agreement, seemingly not realizing the former preacher was probably joking.

"Gentlemen, if you do not intend to play, then I'd be obliged if you would at least not deride my character before these fine, upstanding men here." He gestured to the dusty cowhands seated around the table.

Josiah and Nathan took the hint and moved off, back to the bar to deposit their empty beer mugs before heading out into the street.

"Now, gentlemen," Ezra addressed the men, laying eyes on each of them in turn. "May I interest you all in a game of seven card stud, deuces wild?" He then placed his ante, a single dollar bill — a day's wages in his line of work, possibly a week's for these common laborers — in the center of the table before beginning to shuffle through the cards.

JD was gasping for air, sprawled across his bed with Vin, equally as naked, sitting between his legs. The tracker swept the feather duster lightly over the kid's stomach, causing JD to nearly double over with laughter.

"Sta-stop!! Ya gotta stop!" he gasped.

Vin laughed back at JD, as he tossed the instrument of torture aside. Then he leaned down and began placing kisses on the stomach he'd just tickled. He plied his tongue to the soft, pale skin, then lips, sucking at places before moving on, upward. As he captured a nipple he could hear JD's racing heartbeat, could feel the swift rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath.

Vin then began to rub his erection against JD's thigh, reveling in the feel of the coarse hairs against his sensitive skin. He wanted JD. He wanted the kid, whom he no longer thought of as a boy, buried deep inside of him. He moved his mouth up to JD's neck, then finally, he captured his sweet lips in a kiss so full of longing that he felt he might come right then on the kid's stomach. It hadn't even been a full day since they'd last been together and yet it felt like weeks.

Things hadn't been like this with Chris. He'd taken pleasure from his times with the older man, and he'd always left sated. But with JD it was different. As intense and incredible as their couplings were, Vin was never satisfied. He always left the young man's bed wanting more, always looking forward to the next time they could be together.

Vin had never spent so much time in the company of another person in his entire life. He'd expected to hate it, to feel confined, restricted, but instead he felt free, happy, and content. He marveled at the kid's ability to so effortlessly make him feel this way. His lips met JD's once again, his tongue parting JD's lips to deepen the experience.

"Ya tired of me ticklin' ya?" Vin asked, finally breaking their kiss.

The kid just nodded, even more out of breath than he had been before.

"Then I think I know what we kin do instead," he grinned, and then reached for the small tin of lanolin JD had taken to keeping on his nightstand. "Roll over," he whispered and JD obliged.

Vin took a small finger full of the yellowish cream, and then gently parted the kid's cheeks with his hands. He spread the lanolin over the small pucker of skin, back and forth, then around in circles.

"Vin..." the kid began, but his voice trailed off.

"What is it, JD?" he asked, trying to curb his habit of actually calling him kid, at least when they were alone, intimate.

"I, um— Ah-aahh!" JD let out a shuddered moan, as Vin plunged a digit deep inside of him. Vin felt the sudden tightening of muscles around his finger, but he moved it back and forth, in and out, anyway, delighting in the feeling of JD squirming beneath the contact. "Vin..." his voice quivered. "Vin, I...." he was panting now and couldn't seem to get the words out.

Vin began to move his finger in a circle, deep inside of JD, and the kid buried his face in the comforter, as his body convulsively thrust back against Vin's hand, forcing the finger still deeper.

"Wwnn..." he mumbled into the fabric before turning his head so Vin could hear him. "Don't..." he gasped and Vin couldn't help but smile. "Can I ... be inside ... you?" he finally managed to ask.

Vin wasn't surprised. No matter how much pleasure he gave the kid, this was JD's usual preference. It didn't bother Vin at all. He loved having the kid inside of him — the shape of his cock as well as the depth and cadence of his thrusts always gave Vin the most incredible orgasms, whether or not there was a hand on his own cock.

"Was hopin' you'd say that," Vin replied. "But, first, I need ya up on yer knees."

The kid immediately complied. They often made requests of each other like this, without them ever sounding like orders. It was all part of the little games they played whenever they were alone. Vin preferred not knowing the why behind the requests, feeling that it leant more excitement to their times together and it seemed the kid always felt the same.

Vin plied his fingers to the lanolin again before reaching between JD's legs and slathering his cock with the thick salve. He heard a ragged breath escape the kid, as his hand move slowly from the base to the tip of his engorged cock. He stoked JD several times before releasing him, though with his one hand still on the kid's hip, he easily prevented him from breaking position.

Then Vin reached for the feather duster.

"Please don't tickle me again," the kid pleaded. "I'm tired of laughin' so hard."

"Got other plans for this here duster, JD," Vin assured him, as he spread a thin coat of lanolin over the handle.

As he inserted the wooden dowel into the kid, easing it deep inside, JD let out another ragged gasp. Vin pulled it out a few inches before sliding it back in, just a little further this time, until he felt resistance, then he pressed down on the feathers, gently changing the angle of the handle inside of the kid.

JD nearly screamed from the new sensations and Vin found himself hesitant to stop. He wouldn't mind making the kid come this way, but he had other ideas at the moment.

"Don't sit down, JD!" he warned before moving himself out from behind his partner. He lay down on his back, with his head resting on one of JD's two pillows, then handed him the tin of lanolin.

"Just gonna leave this stuck up me?" JD asked, turning wide eyes on Vin.

The tracker smiled, as he nodded. "Yup. And don't go touchin' it."

JD frowned then, obviously not knowing what Vin had in mind with this new, rather odd game.

Buck pulled his horse to a stop and stood staring down the trail that lead from the main road to Chris's shack. His heart was pounding, as if he'd galloped the entire way instead of walked.

He still wasn't sure if he could go through with this. He'd known Chris for near-on fourteen years and this was still moving just a tad bit too quickly for him.

Then again, maybe Chris realized this very fact as well. After all, it had been three weeks since they'd first talked and the man hadn't said a word about it since. Maybe Chris hadn't meant anything by what he'd said today, anything more than wanting to help ease the lingering pain in his shoulder. Maybe all the man had in mind was a few glasses of whiskey and talk of old times.

Buck grinned and nodded his head. "Yeah, that's all he means, eh there, pard?" he spoke to his horse, patting it on the neck. "Get along, then." He nudged the horse into a walk and headed down the trail. "Yeah ... glass a whiskey, a few laughs ... we done that a hun'red times."

But the moment Chris's shack came into view, Buck's heart began pounding again. "But what if he don't mean that? What if he means what I first thought he meant? He did squeeze my hand. That man ain't never squeezed my hand," he told the mare. "Hell, no man has ever squeezed my hand — well, 'cept JD that one time him and Inez were hoaxin' me with that Chinaman's love potion—"

Buck's heart then stopped beating all together. JD'd been funnin' him, but Chris hadn't. JD'd meant for Buck to think he was interested in him, but Buck knew for a fact that Chris was interested. The man had kissed him, after all — like he'd never been kissed before.

Buck began to frown and shake his head. "I am NOT ready for this," he mumbled to himself over and over, as he continued to approach the shack.

He got as far as the hitching rail, alongside the porch, before he swung his horse around, spurring the animal into a gallop back toward town.

JD dipped his fingers into the lanolin and began to spread it between Vin's legs.

Vin smiled again, closing his eyes, as JD pushed two fingers right into him. He was always more relaxed than JD and the kid was long over his concern about hurting him. He knew what painful was and the kid had never even come close to it.

Vin reached down and began to stroke his own cock, as JD fingered him, timing each stroke to the kid's thrusts until the tip of his cock became wet with the first droplets of jizm. He reached up then, with his free hand, and pulled JD down into another kiss, thrusting his tongue into the kid's mouth. Vin felt him shudder and moan and had to wonder if the change in position had caused the handle of the feather duster to shift inside of the kid.

He hoped it had.

Then Vin felt a shudder tear through his own body. It was time. He needed the kid inside of him. "Now, JD. Please."

When he felt the tip of JD's cock press against his ass, he smiled in anticipation, and then he shoved his head back against the pillow, as JD pushed deeply into him.

He took a breath and forced himself to relax against the much-desired intrusion. JD pulled back slightly, but then pushed in again, until Vin could feel their ball sacs pressed between them. JD then grabbed Vin's hip with one hand while wrapping his other around Vin's cock and began to thrust into him.

At first the movements were slow, easy, and shallow, but soon JD's strokes became long and deep. Vin stared up at JD and noticed an expression on his face he'd never seen before. With each thrust the kid's features convulsed for a brief instant into a mixture of pleasure and pain. His breath was ragged, as it had been before, and he could hear moans deep inside the kid's throat.

"JD? You okay?" he whispered and the kid nodded slightly.

Suddenly, he removed his hand from Vin's cock and grabbed his other hip; his eyes squinted tightly shut, as he cried out in a gasp Vin almost mistook for an orgasm. Then he gasped again and looked down at Vin.

"The duster..." he managed to say between breaths. "Movin'" — he thrust into Vin again, gasping — "each time" — he thrust again — "I do..." he said, as tears began to stream down his face.

JD began pounding hard into him, deep and fast; the kid's hands were now braced on the mattress on either side of him. As he felt a tingling deep inside of his groin, Vin took his own cock in hand and began to stroke it. With his other hand, he grabbed his balls and pulled them from between JD and himself, and then he squeezed them in time with his strokes, in time with JD's thrusts.

They were sweating now, grunting and groaning with their combined efforts. JD's teeth were clenched tight and his head was thrown back. Vin's stomach muscles were beginning to spasm, as the tingling in his groin began to spread.

"JD!" he moaned. His breathing was ragged now, too. He was desperate for the come, yet he never wanted this to end. JD's powerful strokes ... the tip of his cock grazing the sensitive spot inside....

Vin threw his head back onto the pillow, arching toward JD, then his whole body spasmed, all his muscles clenched, as wave after wave of intensity surged through him. Hot jizz pumped over his belly, as his fingers pulled and milked his cock, squeezing despite the growing sensitivity of the organ.

Moments later, JD jerked his head down, then back, his mouth wide in a silent scream a moment before he found his voice. As Vin felt JD's body tense and shudder, the room filling with his cry of release, he made his final thrusts quick and deep.

Vin grabbed JD's shoulders and eased him down so the kid was lying on top of him. He hugged the kid, still conscious of the duster stuck up his ass and not wanting any accidents to happen. When the kid stretched his legs out, Vin gently rolled him onto his side, then reached over and slowly pulled the wooden handle out of him. JD's now sensitive body spasmed from the sensation and he cried out again, as if from a small orgasm before relaxing once more. Vin placed the duster on the nightstand next to the lanolin, hoping to play this game again another night.

"I see your twenty," Ezra began, slowly easing the bills toward the large pot an arm's breath away on the felt-covered table. "And ... I raise you" — here he smiled, a spark of light from the chandelier above glinting off the surface of his gold tooth — "fifty ... dollars." Ezra eased himself back into his seat and waited, patiently, as the man across from him began to sweat.

"Are you in, sir, or out?" Ezra finally asked. "Sir?"

The small, thin man glanced from his cards to the pile of money in the center of the table, then back to his cards. He shot another quick glance at the pot before meeting Ezra's glassy green eyes. "Will ya take my marker?"

Ezra sighed. "My good man, we did agree at the beginning of this game that all stakes were to be in government-issued notes. Gentlemen," he said, addressing the three other men at the table who had long ago folded their cards. "Did we not all agree that this was a cash game?"

The other men nodded their heads, looking back and forth between each other, obviously wondering if there might be trouble brewing.

"Bu-but," the small man began. "I have this here deed—" He brought out the tri-folded piece of parchment, waving it in Ezra's general direction all the while keeping it close to his person, in case anyone should dare try to snatch it from his bony fingers. "It's a beautiful spread: lush valleys, rolling hills ... idyllic, truly idyllic," he fawned, and Ezra was immediately suspicious.

Oh, certainly, one always tries to up the value of anything added to a pot during a wager, friendly or otherwise. It was in your best interest. He'd do the very same thing, passing off a hunk of glass for a priceless diamond, if that's what it took to win a hand he was sure of.

Ezra did not bother to check his cards. He knew what he possessed, but, more importantly, he knew what the other man did not. "Cash, sir, as agreed. Or, I am afraid, you must fold."

"That ain't fair. I gots a lotta money in that kitty. Ya gonna cheat me outta my chance to win it?" The little man, now red faced, threw the deed on top of the money piled high in the middle of the table. "It's a deed. Better 'an any of this here paper money at any bank in the territory," he insisted.

Ezra just sighed. He hoped the land wasn't worth as much as the man was acting like it was. Finally, he just nodded his acceptance.

"I call," the man said. "Show yer cards."

Ezra laid down a pair of twos, followed by a pair of aces, and, finally, another ace.

There was a moment of silence in the room, followed quickly by the loud scratching of wood against wood as the small man shot out of his chair. "Ha!" he yelled, as he threw his unexposed cards onto the table. "Ya ain't got my last dime, so have the damn land, ya sharp, and yer welcome to it!"

Ezra frowned now, wondering how bad the land could be that the man was actually glad to have lost it. With a puzzled expression on his face he watched his opponent storm out of the saloon. Not a moment later, Buck strode in and the dower expression on the gambler's face did not change as he watched Buck head straight for the bar.

The man held up two fingers when he caught Inez's eye and she immediately brought over a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. Buck downed the first drink she poured and then scooted the empty glass toward her for a refill. He knocked back that one as well, then flipped her a coin, turned and left the saloon, not having exchanged a single word with anyone.

Ezra returned his attention to his earnings, as Buck disappeared from view. He straightened the money into a nice, neat little pile, and then picked up the parchment paper. He unfolded it and read the description of the land. It wasn't very far from town, only a few miles, northeast. Ten acres. Ten acres. And it was his. He began to wonder again about the little man's reaction to losing it. Maybe it was one big swamp — no, not way out here. More cactus and Joshua trees than anything else, probably. Still, it was his.

He quickly made up his mind. Bright and early tomorrow, he'd ride out to see it, decide for himself if it was worth anything. Yup, bright and early, right after lunch and his afternoon constitutional.

Vin and JD stood inside the kid's room, dressing. "Ya sure ya got patrol tonight?" the tracker asked. "Thought ya just had it."

"I did, but Ezra traded me. I figgered maybe we could go fishin' or somethin' tomorrow instead," JD said, grinning from the other side of the bed.

Vin just nodded, as he picked up the feather duster off the nightstand. From his pocket he pulled a bandana and wiped the lanolin off the handle. "Ya keep this thing safe, now," he reminded the kid. "And don't go usin' it ta dust nothin'."

JD cocked a grin before answering, "Don't worry. The next time it gets used, it'll be on you!"

Vin lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "That a threat?"

"Nope. It's a promise."

Vin shook his head at the kid, amused and happy that he was not embarrassed by what they did together. Vin then pulled open the top drawer of JD's dresser, which held only two pairs of clean socks, and tucked the duster safely away.

"Well, come on, then," JD said, impatiently. "Gonna look funny if ya leave here after me."

Vin turned away from the dresser and nodded. "Gonna look funny if I leave here with you."

"Oh, I don't s'pose it matters every now and again." He reasoned, "It's not like ya spent the night and are sneakin' out before sun up like them girls Buck brings home."

Vin grinned at the kid again. "Reckon you're right." They headed down together, luckily finding no one in the parlor downstairs, and made their way out into the street. The two men nodded good-bye to each other as JD headed off toward the stables.

Vin continued on past the Grain Exchange building and the blacksmith's shop to the boardwalk. The journey to the far end of the town's main street, to his wagon, would not be a long one, but Vin was in no hurry.

He lingered a moment in front of the dry goods store, peering in at the new farming implements displayed in the window. It was then that a faint reflection off the glass caught his eyes. Vin turned, pressing against the wall, into the shadows. He looked up and down the opposite boardwalk, but it was deserted, then he scanned the rooftops.

Suddenly, he saw it, a dark form just barely visible on the roof of the saloon, and, after a fashion, he caught a faint glimmer of light — there, then gone again.

Vin walked slowly back along the boardwalk, keeping his eye on the figure, making certain whomever it was didn't spot him. After he passed the bank again, the tracker crossed the street, then moved down the other boardwalk, toward the far end of town. When he reached the alley next to the saloon, he melted into the darkness. He then circled around, slipping in the back door, through the small kitchen, and up the back stairs.

Buck stood with his back against the door, staring at the beautiful blonde lying enticingly on the feather bed. His heart pounded in his chest. His breathing was shallow. His mouth was dry.

Blossom smiled as she teased the ribbons that held her dressing gown closed. "Buck, honey, you wanna come on over here, or ya just in the mood ta watch?" She smiled coyly, and might have even giggled had she been younger.

Slowly, she tugged at the end of the top-most ribbon until the bow dissolved beneath the attention. The second bow followed, but before she reached the third, Buck was beside her on the bed, his fingers now toying with the satin confection that still held her flimsy gown closed.

"Darlin', you are the prettiest woman. The way this candlelight dances through your hair — it's just like spun gold," he smiled sweetly at her, forcing himself not to look into her eyes, her green eyes, which could not compare to those of someone he was trying to forget right at the moment.

Suddenly, he yanked the third and fourth ribbons free, and then swept the dressing gown off of Blossom's creamy-white shoulders. Buck then buried his face in her hair, breathing in the soft scent of her tresses, the scent that always made him hunger for things other than food. He then began to kiss the soft contours of her neck, running his tongue over her round shoulders, even as his hands found the soft curves of her waist and hips.

He sat up then and quickly unbuttoned his pants, before throwing Blossom back against the pillows.

She laughed at the unexpected behavior. "Buck, honey, you are in a mood! You don't have ta rush, though. We got all night..." she purred as she settled herself down onto the pillows, spreading her legs wide to accommodate Buck's large form.

He eased himself down on top of her, kissing her again, his lips lingering on the twin mounds of flesh overflowing her corset. He scooted up closer to her, needing to be inside of her, needing to feel the warmth of a woman taking him in, but too late he realized that he wasn't ready for the act. His limp member hung unexpectedly disinterested between his legs.

This sudden betrayal by his manhood bothered Buck, but he did not let Blossom see the panic smeared like red paint over his face. Instead, he kept his head down, concentrating on her pleasure, on her ample womanly form. She was beautiful, that he could not deny, and he always loved their times together in bed. So, why couldn't he perform now? He certainly wanted to. He did. He wanted nothing more. He was a man, after all, and this was what men did! So, how could his cock fail him, now of all times?

"Buck? What is it, honey?" Blossom finally asked, somehow discerning there was something amiss.

"Nothin', darlin', nothin' at all. Nothing a little womanly affection won't cure," he added the last almost under his breath as he returned to lavishing kisses upon the beautiful woman enveloped in his arms.

Vin cocked his gun while he was still inside the building. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, so he thought it best to be prepared for the worst. Slowly, he eased open the door leading to the roof and stepped out. He'd lived with Indians long enough to know how to walk silently, even through dry underbrush, so the smooth, flat panels of the roof were no challenge to the tracker. In the far corner, a man was crouched down, his back to Vin. He was kneeling near the ledge, peering around the front facade of the building.

Vin approached slowly, cautiously. Vin froze when the man moved his right arm, previously tucked in front of him and out of Vin's line of sight — it came out, stretched slightly, then moved to undo his belt. Vin watched with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do.

The man scooted his loosened pants down just a bit and, in doing so, shifted just enough so that Vin could see his fingers disappear inside the fabric, reappearing a moment later, cock in hand. It didn't make sense to Vin. If the man was planning on staying a while, he ought to relieve himself at least a few feet away from where he was perched and, if he wasn't planning on staying, he ought to just hold it.

But, as soon as Vin saw the man's hand begin to move up and down, he knew exactly what the man was doing. He just didn't know why. Why up on a rooftop? Then the man shifted his weight again, undoubtedly trying to find the most comfortable position, and Vin saw a glint of light reflected off the brass of a spyglass. The man was watching for something, or, more likely, he was watching someone.

Vin remained still, his own cock growing hard as he observed the man stroking himself, slowly at first, but soon faster and faster. Vin allowed his weapon to dangle loosely at his side, his breath becoming just a little uneven with excitement, though he was still able to remain quiet and undetected. Vin reached down and pulled at the fabric of his pants, trying to readjust the hardening flesh trapped at an awkward angle inside, but when his fingers brushed against the bulge, a tingle shot through his body and he almost let out a gasp of pleasure.

He couldn't help himself as he began to run his hand up and down, over the swelling of flesh, stroking himself through the fabric. He was fighting now to keep his breathing quiet; he wanted desperately to free his cock as the man before him had, to stroke himself hard and fast until his warm jizz shot from him, ripping a cry of tortured pleasure from his lungs.

But he knew he couldn't let that happen. Not here. Not now. So he forced his hand away from himself, then he uncocked his gun and shoved it back into its holster.

The click of the metal hammer echoed in the silence of the night, catching the man's attention. Before Vin could even react, the man was on his feet; the hand which had a split second before held the hard flesh of his cock, now held the cold steel of his gun leveled directly at Vin's heart.

The tracker held up his hands in surrender.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vin?" Chris asked, not yet bothering to lower his weapon.

"Reckon I could ask ya the same thing."

Chris raked his eyes up and down Vin, as if pondering something, trying to make a decision of some kind. Finally, he reholstered his weapon, and then began to do up his trousers.

"Ya don't gotta do that," Vin said, his voice almost a whisper. He could hear Chris breathing hard, as if trying to prevent some bottled up anger from exploding. Chris gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together hard enough to blanch them white as the slivered moon above them.

"Been almost a month," the gunslinger finally managed to say. "Month hasn't felt so long in a good while."

"Wasn't me that ended things 'tween us," Vin reminded his friend, though all he received was a hard glare. Chris then finished buttoning up his pants and began to walk toward the door that lead back into the building. But, when he passed, Vin caught his arm and met his eyes.

So many emotions seemed to be swirling inside those green orbs that Vin couldn't isolate a single one. He had no idea what Chris was thinking, what he was feeling at the moment. It had been a long month if he'd lost the one thing they'd shared since the moment their eyes had first met across the dusty street below them, the gift to gauge what the other was thinking.

And that made Vin suddenly feel cold, isolated, alone again after all these months of being part of this group — of being with men he never would have guessed he'd become friends with, fight beside, trust, love.

Suddenly Chris twisted free, but only to grab Vin behind his head, yanking him forward until their lips met in a bruising kiss. Chris was hungry, desperate, and Vin could taste it in the blood oozing from the fresh split on his own lip.

He wanted Chris, too. He did. He'd never stopped.

As Chris's hands roamed over Vin's back, as he continued to kiss him with unrelieved passions, Vin's nimble fingers found the buttons on Chris's trousers and began to undo them again. Quickly he slipped his fingers inside the fabric, easily finding the hard shaft of flesh and wrapping his fingers around it. Chris moaned loudly into his mouth, nearly melting against him.

Vin began to stroke his hand up and down the warm flesh, tracing the veins, caressing the velvet skin, relearning every nuance he, not long ago, had memorized. In his ears, he could hear Chris's strong heartbeat, not yet racing like his own, like JD's would be. That calmness beneath the passion Vin found exhilarating, there was nothing like it, and he wondered at how quickly his mind had forgotten it, how quickly he'd eased into his solitary relationship with JD, as if he and Chris had never been together at all.

Love, sex, passion — he'd never found these things before, but now, in this town, he'd found two men who inspired him to all those things. How could he have so easily given up the one for the other? How could he not have held his ground and convinced Chris that his feelings for JD were simply different, and that the kid had not replaced his desire, his need, for Chris.

Slowly, Vin began to sink to his knees; he wanted to grovel at this strong man's feet, to beg him to take him back, to allow things to be as they had been, to plead for him to try and help make things work out for them all. Instead, he took Chris's thick flesh into his mouth, wrapping the warm rod in his own moist heat. His hand slipped down, beneath, to cradle his balls as he eased the man's cock gently in and out of his mouth.

Vin could feel Chris's fingers stroking his hair, tangling in the loose curls, clenching slightly whenever Vin flicked his tongue over the head of his cock. It felt so good to be touched by this man again. And, despite his time with JD not that much earlier, he felt like he hadn't been touched in far too long, not by fingers this powerful, this sure. With his own fingers, he slowly began to work Chris's pants down. Vin knew their roof top location, in the middle of town, wasn't the most secure of settings, but it was secluded from anyone's view by the gabled facade and it was unlikely anyone from inside would venture up onto the roof, even if the darkness wasn't growing quickly around them.

He now wrapped his arm around Chris's leg to caress his cheek with the palm of his hand. He could feel the muscles in the man's body begin to tighten, spasm; he was getting close to release. And, as much as Vin would have happily swallowed all the man had to offer, he knew it wasn't what he wanted, hoped it wasn't what Chris wanted out of this unexpected meeting either.

Vin stood up then, kissing Chris now as hard as the man had first kissed him, but quickly easing back, allowing his tongue to slip inside the man's mouth, to gently caress his tongue, to tease him, to implore him to let this encounter be just a little bit more than it might be.

His hands found Chris's and he led him over to a wooden crate that had been left just to the side of the door. Vin pulled it away from the wall, then undid his pants, allowing them to slip unheeded down around his ankles. He stepped out of them as he took a step toward Chris again, pulling him into an embrace.

"Chris," he said, only afterward fearing the name would break the spell, would bring them back to a reality where Chris would remember that he'd made Vin choose and Vin had chosen someone else. But, in response, he felt warm lips on his own neck kissing him, a soft tongue tasting him.

He then nudged Chris toward the box. The man kneeled down without a word, without a sideways glance, as always trusting that Vin would not place him in any danger. The man had never stopped trusting him with his life, and, it seemed, he still trusted him with others things as well.

Vin licked his palm until it was dripping with spit, then he wiped the fluid over the length of his aching cock before remoistening his fingers and running them between Chris's exposed cheeks. He lingered on the pucker of flesh, circling it, teasing it, and, finally, slipping inside.

The man was tight, was always, but Vin's touch immediately relaxed him. Despite his near-month of abstinence, or maybe because of it, Chris was ready in moments. Vin wasted no time in easing himself forward, pressing the head of his cock, now glistening with the first droplets of white jizz, against Chris until he slipped inside.

Chris flinched, tightening his muscles around the invading cock until Vin thought he'd cry out in pain, but soon he relaxed, pushing back toward Vin, slowly impaling himself on the man's hard shaft. Vin reached his hand down to caress Chris's balls, which hung loose beneath them, kneading them until he heard the first ragged breaths emanating from the gunslinger. Then, as his thrusting into Chris, naturally gained momentum, he slipped his hands forward, wrapping his nimble fingers around Chris's cock.

This was such a familiar position for them, one they had never tired of, and one he and JD very rarely used, though not from any conscious aversion on Vin's part. He liked the position, he liked being the one thrusting, setting the cadence, feeling the head of his cock strike what he knew was a sensitive spot inside his partner. It wasn't the control or the dominance that he liked, as both were highly subject to mood by both partners, no matter their positions, but it was the feeling of completing someone, of filling them, of giving them what he knew was the most pleasant of experiences.

He felt needed when he was inside someone else, wanted, in a way that having someone inside of him never quite made him feel.

Suddenly, Vin shuddered from a flash of sensation that shot through his body. He quickened his pace, his one hand on Chris's hip steadying himself as his other hand stroked Chris with equal amounts of longing and desire. He shuddered again and again, as he rammed his cock harder and deeper into Chris. He could hear the man's heartbeat now, thundering in time with his own, as he drove home all the passions, all the desires, all the feelings of friendship and admiration he'd ever felt for anyone in his life, all mirrored in what he felt for this man.

He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out when his hot seed finally pumped hard and deep inside the gunslinger. A moment later, he felt Chris's muscles spasm and the man's warm jizz spurted forth, coating his hand as well as Chris's cock with the slick, white fluid.

Vin stopped thrusting when he felt his cock begin to soften inside the man beneath him, when Chris's breathing and heart rate slowly began to return to their normal, calm state. Chris moved slightly to right himself and Vin pulled his cock free, standing. He stepped back into his pants and pulled them up to rest on his narrow hips, then removed a bandana from his pocket and began to wipe dry his cock.

He looked up at Chris then, finding the man performing similar acts, only Chris was still facing away from him.

Vin wanted to kiss him again, wanted to pull him back into that embrace they'd only minutes before shared. He stepped forward: "Chris, I—" he began, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, but Chris twisted away from him.

"You love JD. I know," he said as he yanked the door open, disappearing down the stairs without a backward glance.

Vin stood rooted to the spot, unable to force his mouth to scream, his feet to pursue. A burning then began, slowly building in his chest, like a bullet wound straight to his heart. That Chris could think so ill of him, that he'd speak another's name after what they'd just done.

Finally, he drew breath deep into his lungs, not realizing before that Chris's words, his actions, had stolen the wind from him. Immediately the ache in his chest eased, but it did not disappear. Vin knew it would not, not until the memory of Chris's leaving faded from his mind. And he didn't hold much hope of that happening anytime soon.

Turning his eyes away from the empty doorway, Vin found himself moving across the roof, toward the front facade. He wasn't looking for it, but there on the ground, in the corner Chris had been crouching in, he saw it: the brass spyglass Chris had been using. He knelt down and picked it up, only then realizing that it was his own spyglass. Chris must have taken it from his wagon, because Vin knew he had not left it at Chris's cabin, had not given it to the man to borrow. He'd used it only that morning on patrol and remembered tucking it away in its usual place, in the box just under the buckboard seat.

He ran his fingers over the smooth, cool surface, the tarnished brass barely reflecting the light of the thin moon. He wondered again what the man had been staring at when he'd interrupted him. With his hand down his pants, it had certainly not been a threat to the town or any of its occupants.

Vin settled himself to the ground, and then leaned around the front facade. He placed the spyglass to his eye and scanned from right to left, from one end of the street where his wagon sat to the other where the church, newly white-washed, loomed. He then returned his sweep, slower this time, raising and lowering the glass from boardwalk to roof as he went.

Finally, just a few doors up the street, and across, he spotted the only thing Chris could have been staring at.

There was a single window lit up at Virginia's, the boardinghouse Buck and JD did not rent rooms in, the one occupied by several discreet women Mrs. Travis didn't appear to know about. Inside that single window, with the drapes being blown wide by the growing evening breeze, Vin could make out the form of a woman, clad only in her corset and stockings, stroking herself ever so slowly as she lay on the bed.

Vin had no doubt this was the scene that had held Chris's attention — there was simply nothing else remarkable anywhere along the street. But why should seeing this woman, in this state, have excited Chris so? "Been almost a month," Chris had said to him, but did that explain his behavior, or, more importantly, his concealed presence on this rooftop, lurking in the shadows to spy on an unsuspecting woman?

That was not the man Vin knew.

Vin lowered the spyglass and sank down to the planks of the roof, resting his back against the wooden facade. He did not understand this, not the spying, not the desperate coupling they'd just had, nor the pain and regret in Chris's voice as he'd left.

"Buck, honey," Blossom smiled. "Come back ta bed. I got an itch only you can scratch." She fingered herself slowly, and, normally the action would have encouraged Buck, would have had him hotter than a horn toad on a rock at high noon, but not tonight.

Tonight, the enticement only made him uncomfortable, and he couldn't help but pace back and forth along the far wall, glancing every so often over at her, as if hoping this was all a nightmare and any moment she'd disappear. Whether he hoped someone else would appear in her place, or feared it, he wasn't sure. He just knew none of this felt right anymore and he couldn't figure out what to do about it.

Finally, Blossom sat up, and then crawled across the bed toward Buck. She slid off the mattress and sashayed the last few feet, then kneeled before him, placing her hands on the waistband of his trousers. He froze in place. He liked Blossom, he did. They had fun together, wild, passionate fun. She seemed to like having sex as much as he did and she was never possessive of him, never sought him out or gave him odd looks when they would meet in public.

And he certainly didn't want to do anything to offend her, to hurt her feelings, but, as much as he'd tried, he just couldn't bring himself to want this tonight. He shook his head. For the first time since his first time, he didn't want to have sex. He never thought this day would come, well, not until he was old and wizened with more important things to think about like, well, breathing.

Before he knew it, Blossom had his pants unbuttoned and her hands were slipping inside, caressing the naked skin of his thighs, closing in on his manhood. Buck's breath caught in his throat as her fingers encircled his limp flesh. As she took him into her mouth, Buck looked down at her. She glanced up, half of his large, flaccid cock still protruding between her luscious lips, but all Buck saw was JD's face, his wide, surprised eyes when he'd walked in on him and Vin.

"Oh," Buck moaned. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," he muttered over and over as he pushed himself away from Blossom, refastening his pants. He then headed straight for the door.

"Buck?" she called after him, obviously confused by his behavior. "Buck, honey?"

"I— I can't do this, darlin'. I ... n-not tonight. I'm sorry," he stammered as he fiddled around with the key in the lock. As soon as the catch was thrown, he turned the handle, flung open the door, and then fled down the hallway. He thought briefly of returning to his own room in the boarding house down the street, but as soon as he reached the front door he knew that wasn't an option, not if there was a possibility of Vin and JD being there, and they were both in town, so that was enough to solidify his decision. He turned left as he exited onto the boardwalk, immediately heading for the relative safety and solitude of the jailhouse.

In the morning, he decided, he'd move his things over and set up a more permanent residence.

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