Ash '05: Impressions [of permanence]

Vin closed his eyes and breathed in the heat of the day. He could smell the sunshine, mixed with horse and leather and sawdust.

He pressed his hips to the right then shifted his weight to the left. He thought about turns and leads and getting his mount to go where he wanted.

Sweat that had been gathering at his nape burst to trickle down his neck, tickling over his too-warm skin to spread across his back, his already damp shirt soaking darker. More wet trails ran in thin rivulets along his forehead and temples and a single thread clung to the edge of his nose.

Vin bit his lip with concentration and tightened his thighs. He pushed off with the balls of his feet to gain a bit of lift then he landed again, square and sure. Vin grunted, the sound low in his chest, rumbling to escape his guardedly closed throat. He lifted and landed again, then again.

Breath passed between his parted lips, misting the sweat gathered there, ragged and textured as he suppressed wanting to cry out, channeling the sound into a rasping moan while he pressed his shoulders back, carriage expanding as he focused on this act of riding.

The sweat cascading across his hidden skin caught at his collarbone and seeped out towards his arm; it lost itself to bead against an imperfection that sat in tiny raised pearls along the meat at the round of his right shoulder, a scarred crescent that meant everything to him.

He'd done it himself, beneath the brightness of vivid stars that shone with an intensity not dimmed by the moon, absent as the earth went about her business of phases and turning. He'd carved a constellation on his flesh, wincing at the twinkling spots of ice-blue and dusky red above him as he'd worked.

Vin had made a specific ash for the job, taking a bit of his hair and a bit of Ezra's, bundling them in the cloth they'd used earlier that night for the inevitable necessity of clean up. He knew of no ritual that required using such elements, but the hair and the soft, long-carried cloth wet and drying with their shared essences meant something to him - and that was well enough.

He'd rolled a hot coal from the core of their small campfire and watched the bundle burn down, watched the flame dance over Ezra's sleeping face. With the tip of his knife he'd pressed the ash into the half circle of punctures Ezra's bite of ecstatic completion had left in his flesh, then he'd scraped his nails over each, spreading the ash to stain his skin.

It was miserable, searing pain, churning his stomach to wrench with upset bile, his muscles quavering in protest, but he'd remained steady and sure, watching Ezra's face, wanting that brand of ownership and belonging on him for always.

When he'd finished he'd sat with his arms weak at his sides, pulse throbbing in his veins, shoulder burning with itching heat from the battered intrusion, covered head to toe with a slippery sheen of sweat.

Much like he felt at this moment.

Vin's head fell back and he continued to thrust up and down, rolling his hips, toes bunched tight in his boots. The arches of his feet cramped and pulsed with hot stabs of contraction but he ignored the brief pain and kept on.

Too close now to stop.

He rolled forward and back with his pelvis, chest rising, hands clutching into the leather belt they'd been holding fast around. Vin opened his thighs and clenched with his ass, internal muscles rippling as he sunk down to a deeper and deeper seat.

Suddenly Ezra reared up to meet him, one hand digging into his hair, the other pushing through the haphazard gap in his some-unbuttoned shirt, seeking the beads of flesh that scarred his shoulder. The fingers in his hair tightened and Vin eagerly answered.

The two came together for a breathless kiss, both surging, Vin riding on and on, Ezra bucking powerfully beneath him.

Vin pushed one of his hands around Ezra's waist, beneath the wet cotton shirt, skimming the bunching muscles covered with smooth, creamy skin, all hot and slick, twitching randomly in response to their erotic coupling.

His fingers well knew the way and they sped unerringly to the high curve of Ezra's right shoulder blade. There they lingered and circled, lovingly caressing the dimples and rises in the proud flesh, feeling over and over along the memorized shape that was the oval of Vin's mouth.

That moonless night while Vin had sat recovering Ezra had awakened, sleepy smile and murmured words of nothing questioning and complaining Vin's absence from their bedroll. Then Ezra had blinked back the rest of his sleep and had sat bolt upright, blankets hastily turned aside, the dark fabric of his pants thoughtlessly ground into the dust as he scrambled across the small distance separating them.

Vin had smiled and captured Ezra's timid hand, hovering over the bloodied welts on his shoulder. He'd murmured back, kissing the horror from Ezra's green eyes, kissing the mouth back to the relaxed, contented line he thought of as a constant so long as they were together. Ain't from your bite, Ez, he'd laughed warmly.

He'd explained the angry red marks. The process by which he'd created them, the special ash he'd made. He'd taken particular care telling why he'd wanted them, why he'd endured the pain that was already receding.

Ezra had kissed him back then, fiercely, understanding Vin's need for the permanence, moved by it and all-fired aroused at it besides.

A steady hand had closed around Vin's and led it, circling Ezra's back, awkward in reach but straining enough so his fingertips ghosted over a new flaw in Ezra's skin.

Vin had cupped his other hand around Ezra's jaw and kept on kissing, fingers tentatively exploring the deep bite he now remembered leaving as he'd buried himself into Ezra during their first ardent bout of this long, star-scattered night.

He never questioned the request, though he knew it'd take longer and end up hurting more than what he'd done to himself. Ezra wanted his mark, wanted it as part of his flesh for always, wanted for them both to be adorned with matching proof of their bond; Vin wanted it there just as desperately.

The mark on his shoulder was an arch, only the top of Ezra's bite enough for him to create the scars. His bite on Ezra had closed around the bunching muscles and flesh as they'd rode together as one, leaving behind a delicate, full circle of punctures, like beads on a string.

They'd kissed and turned in one another's grasp, Vin helping Ezra to lay down, Ezra sinking easily into the bedding, the expanse of his bare back revealed in trusting readiness. He'd kept at tasting Ezra for a time, licking the skin made golden by the fire, fingers massaging and soothing, lips and teeth sure and thorough. Eventually Ezra's breathing had slowed and broadened, not asleep but nicely, fully relaxed.

Vin had quelled his instinctive repulsion against ever hurting Ezra, fingers at the first brush hesitant before he'd thought of all it meant and pushed on without reservation. He'd gone about the task, his specially made ash just enough to complete the vital work. When he'd finished he'd cleaned them both with scalding water then laid a cooling poultice over the fresh wounds. The following days he'd smear the dark amber stickiness of his boiled down urine over the healing welts - though he'd never quite explained to Ezra what it was, only that it was doing its job, taking out the heat and keeping it free of infection.

That night they'd lain in a close embrace, Ezra spooned behind Vin, their hands a tight knot, exhaustion and fulfillment collapsing their bodies into one, neither willing to give into sleep and lose the moment or the feel of the other.

It wasn't vows or out loud affirmations. Both knew they'd just promised one to the other, everlasting, as formally as they'd ever be allowed.

Vin used his last burst of strength to push up a final time. Ezra's hands were clamped around his hips, urging that he move, moving him when his efforts weren't enough.

He felt the quivering pulsations then came the rush of wet heat deep inside. Vin worked his muscles expertly, heightening Ezra's pleasure, his own redoubled that Ezra would surrender even more into him. Ezra's hands found his straining cock and tugged once. Vin came with a sharp gasp, body bending backwards, head bobbing between his shoulders.

Somewhere in the gray of aftermath filled with incandescence and the simmering heat of completion Ezra found him - like always. They kissed softly, bodies moving in rhythm, reminders of that just spent consumptive white-hot passion, sparking gentler sensations to warm through them.

Vin's head fell heavily forward. It came to rest on Ezra's shoulder and he turned so he could nuzzle and taste the salt-sweaty neck. He held his tongue against Ezra's pulse point and felt the diminishing thrum. Vin tightened his arms and sighed, so deeply and so replete, his fingers idling over the circular trail of bumps.

His handiwork had healed nicely. Neither had suffered a fever or lancing into the intentional scars to rid them of infection. Soon the redness had faded, then the purple-white. In time both had blended back into the natural skin tones of the owners, invisible save for the tactile presence.

He preferred it that way. They knew what they bore and why. It was more than enough for both.

For all his outward flash Ezra wasn't genuinely any showier than Vin - this was particularly true when it came to personal matters for each. The marks, now almost invisible, and the silent avowals they represented seemed perfect emulation of themselves and their relationship.

He felt more than heard Ezra's low chuckle.

"Hmm, I quite agree," Ezra said quietly. "You put me through the paces with a wonderfully dedicated perfection."

Vin forced himself to listen beyond their intimate sphere. He caught the dying scatter of applause and a last whistle of appreciation. He shook his head against Ezra's neck and grinned.

Four Corners was hosting a rodeo. The town had been abuzz ever since it'd been announced a month ago, preparing for the neighboring ranches to descend with their stock and cowboys fit to contend. They were well into day three of the competition. Some scrawny olive-skinned kid named Moseby who had himself a lovely senora for a momma and a rangy cattleman for a dad down from Forester's place was leading the pack.

Unless something drastic changed between now and the next few days, Moseby would return to Tall Pines rodeo champion.

Vin had been competing as well and didn't mind he was trailing first place by several ranch hands who outpaced him a fair measure in almost every event. JD and Buck were faring better than he was in that crowd. His hold on Ezra tightened. His participation was being more than adequately compensated, far as he was concerned. He wasn't even put out that all of Ezra's money had started out on Moseby and wasn't looking to budge.

Each time he'd hitched Peso up after a go in the ring Ezra was there, stealing away with him for a congratulatory kiss and if they were lucky and had the allowance of time a few copped feels - and now even more.

Ezra had mentioned it'd be criminal not to take advantage of the town so desolate, all attention on the outskirts where the rodeo had been set up. Vin couldn't see one rational fault in that logic.

Vin smiled when Ezra's fingers played over his scar. It was something both did without thought anymore, finding their physical point of promise and connection, lingering over the feel of it.

He winced then groaned. "Much as I hate to say it," he began.

Ezra pulled away, hands coming to rest on the top of Vin's thighs. "You can no longer feel your feet?" he asked, green eyes alight, smile dancing on his still sweaty skin.

Vin wiggled his toes and nodded, grimacing as the blood tried to return.

They moved together, untangling as they went, Vin for the life of him not able to figure on how they ever managed this position. In the heat and flush of the moment it had seemed so easy - those heavy, amazing kisses, the strength of Ezra lowering to sit on the hay bale, Vin's pants bunched down enough so he could straddle then take the full length of Ezra in a single movement, his knees kept bent acutely by the taut line his pants created across Ezra's chest, feet pressed into the livery wall behind them.

When he stood he wobbled; Ezra was there, wobbling too. They laughed and held each other up, sharing kisses while fingers were slowed in the task of redressing, distracted by exposed flesh and damp, mussed hair.

Ezra was doing the last button of Vin's fly when he looked up with a smile.

It stole Vin's breath, the beauty of his lover, glowing with the drying sweat and their shared satisfaction, dark hair curled tighter from the moisture that had seeped into it, lips passion-red and larger than their normally generous size.

The air around them was thick with filtered sunlight and lazily suspended motes, the sawdust ground soft underfoot, leather and horse and the faint odor of their spent musk clouding the atmosphere.

Vin captured Ezra and leaned close, smiling when the crowd cheered again just before their lips met. Arms fitted around him with equal vigor and snugness; they stood in a locked embrace long after the distant applause had faded and quieted, slow, loving kisses and long appreciative sighs melding them together.

Vin pushed his fingers into the luxuriant chestnut hair and cupped his chin on Ezra's shoulder. "I'm done for the day ya know," he whispered mildly.

They didn't have to do anything but go back to the cluster of folk enjoying the liveliness of the rodeo. He was letting it be known he'd be just as happy finding other pursuits to fill their day before the evening's festivities of outdoor cooking where he and Ezra could sit too close under the darkened sky and share a plate mostly unobserved began.

Ezra's fingers poked into his shirt and swept across his skin to rest on the beads of his scar.

"I've no further engagements to keep."

Ezra's drawl was as warm and slow as the midday air enveloping them.

Vin's other arm wrapped tightly around his lover, his palm flat against Ezra's scar, feeling it despite the shirt between them. They angled for a last kiss then grabbed up their hats, grinning and laughing as they chased down the deserted main street from the livery into the saloon, hands kept in a daring, brazen link as they ran.

They fell into Ezra's room - cooler and more hushed than the livery - then fell together into the wide, waiting bed. Vin pushed Ezra's shirt aside and found the mark, kissing it, tasting it, reveling in it and the man it bonded him to.

They kicked off their boots and writhed from their clothes then Ezra was pushing him down, green eyes intense, lowering to taste him and his mark in turn.

Vin smiled and pulled Ezra up and the two shared a long, languorous kiss. Hands caressed and teased, fingers bumping the familiar lines of their bodies and the lasting promise both were willingly marred by.

They rolled on the bed, intent on their pursuits, the quiet town and the rodeo falling far away from them, left behind and forgotten.

The midday sun passed overhead; shadows lengthened into twilight.

Vin fell asleep, Ezra cradled to him, fair cheek pressed to his shoulder with lips pressed to his scar, his fingers endlessly circling the beautiful rises on Ezra's skin as he drifted away.

End