Elder '02: Presence

Buck flopped back into the snow, powerless to prevent his body from drooping limply against the cold ground. He was laughing so hard his belly was tensed and tight, lungs fighting need for oxygen with the cold of the air. His nose was numb, ice gripping to his mustache. Snow filtered in a shower of icy fingers into his coat, tickling his neck and dripping down his back from where it loosened out of his hair. He let his head loll to the side, the whole of him grinning at the sight that met his blue eyes.

Ezra, so open and easy, laughing just as hard as he, collapsing into the snow right next to him. So close the wet chestnut curls pillowed on the crook of his elbow. So close Buck swore he could feel the wraithlike tendrils of breath tease against him when the southerner huffed in between the gasping laughter. He spluttered and wheezed, rolling to the side to face the undercover agent, legs curling in the snowbank they'd fallen into. With casual fingers he reached out and flicked snow from the splayed hairs drifting over the handsome face. Green eyes blinked at him, framed in crystals, snowflakes that clung to the impossibly long lashes.

"I think we won, Ez." He smiled, voice hoarse from the cold, the exertion, the laughter.

Those emeralds twinkled at him. "I do believe you are correct. By my last count only Mr Tanner remained - and after our final assault there at the end he too ran for the safety of the house." There was a pause then the man winked. "Wimps."

Buck laughed again, a low rolling chuckle that he had to hold his aching stomach through. Vin's escape had been almost a half hour ago and then he and Ezra had reveled in the victory, cavorting across Chris' snowy property, each man enjoying the cold, clear day filled with sun slanting against the blinding white snow. When they'd started out after lunch they'd intended on a ride, but JD had loaded a hand with a clomp of snow, throwing it at Buck. He'd ducked - and that snowball aimed for him had hit Chris square in the back of the head. A low growl coupled with a very, very slow turn followed, then all hell broke loose.

Alliances had been formed, JD, Ezra and himself against the other four. They'd run and pummeled, throwing well formed balls at first, towards the end resorting to tackles and showers of snow gathered by the armful. They'd lost JD when Nathan had shoved an icicle snapped from the barn's overhang right down the poor boy's jeans. One last desperate launch of the snowball still in hand then the computer expert had run for the house, cursing through laughter. He and Ezra had then divided and conquered, starting with Josiah and Nathan, cornering the men where they'd foolishly taken up position by the corral. Nate had gone down easy, three swift throws smacking in quick succession against the man's chest, snow spraying to soak the dark face. Hands had been thrown in the air, cries of 'give!' then he too had gone running for the house.

Josiah he'd finally gotten by charging and dumping face first into a deep drift, lodging the huge man before wheeling and running for his life, listening with terrified glee to the great roar that erupted when the profiler had stumbled to a stand. With that mouth open Ezra had struck, a single, perfectly thrown snowball landing right against the chin to fill the open cavern. Spitting and grumbling to hide laughter the anthropologist had made for the house. From there it was even.

Chris and Vin had put up a valiant defense of the small snowy crescent they'd built during the dispatching of Josiah and Nathan, but eventually his and Ezra's combined persistence and unwillingness to admit it was even cold out - much less that they were soaked through and nearly frozen - won the day. Now he was aching and stiff from the cold, the whole of him feeling like the snow they'd thrown around all afternoon. He stared at the body curled so close to him, just as soaked and just as smugly pleased and thought it was about as damn good as he'd ever felt.

Finally he made himself break away, grunting as he pushed up onto his knees, holding out hands so he and Ezra could lever opposite one another and stand. Playful green eyes flared with devilish intent and suddenly his face was full of cold and stinging snow, then a peal of laughter and he could hear the crunching of footsteps as they carried as fast as possible away from him through the slippery terrain. Buck howled, swearing vengeance and blights on Ezra and all his kin, letting loose a rebel yell before running in hot pursuit. They tumbled and spilled on the icy deck when he caught the man, both bodies slipping and sliding across the normally innocuous plane now a gauntlet with its glittering sheet. They laughed more, the two of them falling into the opening of the sliding door when his fumbling, numb fingers got it open. A firm voice halted their merriment and continued tumbling.

"Not another step! Through the kitchen and to the laundry with you..." Chris strode into the eat-in just off the kitchen, the glare completely negated by the humor in the hazel eyes, the twitching of the generous mouth.

Buck nodded. He wished he wasn't quite so cold. Their abrupt stop had put Ezra flush against him, the shorter man tucked neatly against his length, the agent's back pressed into his chest. He ignored the little voice inside that always teased when such things happened and pushed at Ezra.

"You heard the man. 'Sides, time to get out of these clothes."

A vibrating stutter was his answer. "Yess.sss in.deee.d Mr.r Wil.min.g.ton."

He was starting to shiver too. The mix of sweat and cold wetness from their activity and the sudden shift into being surrounded by warm air had started his muscles into overtime trying to get his body temperature righted again. To the utility room they trudged, in their wake slushy footprints that quickly melted in loose pools that eventually spread and joined creating a long line of ice cold water as their trail. The dryer was open.

"I'll bring you boys something to wear. Towels are on the washer."

"Right hoss, thanks." He winked at Chris then started to strip.

They moved awkwardly, cold digits and cold limbs not working in harmony, impeding the normally elementary processes of zippers, buttons and ties. The coats landed in a wet thumping heap along with all the others. Boots thrown onto the thick layers of newspaper set on a plastic garbage bag spread on the floor to join the already discarded. Buck reached under to jerk his sweater off and threw it into the dryer, then bent down to hook into his socks, one after the other. He bobbed a little, wet floor and his coldness making him unstable as he storked on one leg then the other. When he righted he almost groaned aloud.

Facing him was the back of Ezra's naked legs, the white sport socks still a slouch revealing shapely ankles. Thumbs were tucking into then pulling and next thing he knew boxers were whipped off, the bending motion revealing to him the gleaming vision of the man's ass. Buck thought his eyes probably bugged out, mouth dropping into a loose o as he stared. He blinked a few times then swore.

"Dammit Ez... why didn't you say something?"

"Hmm?" The southerner twisted once to the right then once to the left, head bent and neck craning. There was a livid bruise on the right cheek, marring the pale globe with its angry presence. Already it was dark and colorful.

Buck knew it had to hurt like hell.

Ezra made an annoyed sound. "I must have fallen... it hurt a little when I landed but I didn't really think about it. Then the whole of me was literally on ice, doubtless why I failed to notice. Now that I'm thawing, however..."

Buck could make out a wince on the handsome face profiled to him where it was still bent in study. Ezra could probably hardly see the bruise. "Don't think it's fatal."

His voice was teasing and the dixielander laughed warmly.

"Goodness but that's a relief. Imagine the indignity of the obituary... 'Federal Agent Standish dead after complications of an injury to the ass.'"

They shared a laugh, Buck squelching the spike of protective fear at the idea of Ezra hurt so bad he'd die. It was just a joke and he knew it, so he let it be that and that only. Without thinking he reached out, lifting the sodden thermal undershirt to get a better look. He clucked his tongue in sympathy, the free hand reaching out as if under its own power to oh so lightly stroke a single finger along the discoloration.

A sardonic voice broke the silence.

"I interruptin' something boys?"

Buck decided to go with matter of fact. No good blubbering and acting like it was nothing, because it was just nothing. He shrugged, still holding the shirt, keeping blue eyes firmly focused on the beautiful buttocks, using his free hand to point.

"Ez got himself one hell of a shiner." He grinned, redirecting everything with a barb that flashed in his mind. "Thought I saw one of you cuff him while we were skirmishing."

The undercover agent grumbled about the insult and he and Chris just laughed.

The blond nodded. "Yeah. With his smart mouth it's a wonder he doesn't have a bruised cheek all the time." Their laughter increased.

Ezra snorted, then said dryly, "Will we be graduating junior high anytime in the near future? I would like to amend my half-naked state and get into the clothing Mr Larabee doubtless brought."

The words 'half-naked' had Buck slamming into sobriety. He let go of the shirt and made himself step back to strip the rest of the way, working like hell to keep himself from shaking. Hoping if he did they'd all just think it was still him recovering from the cold. Briskly he scrubbed at himself with a towel then pushed himself into the underwear, jeans and tshirt Chris had thrown onto the dryer before turning on a heel with a last laugh. A sweatshirt over that had him starting to feel less like Mr Freeze. When he let himself look back at Ezra he was relieved. The agent was just shouldering into a flannel shirt, the final addition over cords and a similar nondescript tshirt. He was relieved but disappointed. He shut his eyes and reminded himself the same thing he always reminded himself.

No way no day. Now smile and be his friend like he needs and you need and dammit it's enough.

A sharp nod of his head and he opened his eyes again, blinking once then twice at Ezra, remembering to smile. He reached over and started the dryer, then swept a hand towards the kitchen. "After you."

The green eyes were a trace speculative but the southerner smiled softly, easily, and soon they were both trailing into the living room. Immediately Nathan pounced.

The ex-medic held out his hand, passing a large tube to the undercover agent. "Put some of this on. Chris told me about the bruise... don't need it to get any worse, especially with it being on your seat and all the use it'll get you can't avoid. This'll help with the tenderness and bruising, probably take the healing time down several days."

Ezra sighed very softly but didn't argue, taking the cream with a quirk of lips and a nod of the head. Brows furrowed over green eyes, then the man was turning to face him. "Mr Wilmington?"

He nodded.

"Would you... assist me?"

The others laughed and ribbed and they both took it in stride, ribbing right back, sparring playfully in the face of the catcalls. Neither of them even flushed, the others only teasing because they always did, not because there was malice or discomfort. He grinned, waggling his brows.

"Think I can find something good to do with this..." he looked at the tube the man had passed him after accepting it from Nathan, reading, "BHI arcania."

Ezra rolled his eyes but smiled at him all the same. That secretive, cheshire cat grin that made his toes curl and his groin snap to attention. He really should know better than to tease innuendos about Ezra. It was too close to his secret wants, almost too hard to make light of it despite all his attempts to do just that. Or better yet forget completely. Without a word the southerner strolled away, walking down the hall and he followed, forcing himself to wave a careless hand, grinning like homecoming king.

He shook his head. If only they knew.

Ezra led him into the room, light smile and easy manner making Buck believe that maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared.

Yeah. Right. Rubbing lotion into Ezra's ass was gonna be a walk in the park. No problems there.

He sighed and forced back every image that came to mind, concentrating instead on all that managed to kill his ardor. Travis in only his boxers and knee-high black socks with the sock suspenders... The busts where he'd crashed into the dirty, fetid apartments and what was found behind, especially when kids were involved and there was nothing anyone could do... Walking with Chris down some alley, both blitzed out of their minds, managing to throw up completely on one another instead of on the huge expanse of wet concrete that surrounded them, the rain only making it all worse...

Buck stayed on the details, working and working not to respond to Ezra more than would seem normal. Nice and easy, that was his plan. He cleared his throat.

"So, how's it feel?"

They were in the guestroom Ezra was staying in now. It felt suffocating and taunting. The huge bed anchoring it all. The tidy yet undeniable signs the man he'd been dreaming hopeless dreams about for so long scattered through the space. The smell and proximity of the man himself. The tube of cream in his own trembling hand... the sure hand of Ezra moving to unzip the casual deep brown cords. He gulped.

Green eyes held his steadily. "Certainly not the worst I have received." The southerner grimaced. "However, I cannot say I'm pleased to have such a bruise on my hindquarters." The elegant shoulder shrugged. "It hurts. But I do believe I'll be able to endure sitting through dinner. Though I may make a mad dash for the sofa at its conclusion. I shall need the cushioning."

A playful eye winked at him and Buck nodded dumbly. It dried his mouth out completely to think of why else Ezra would be a tad uncomfortable sitting... then the images brought about a hot rush of saliva that he almost gurgled over before swallowing. The steady hands were now holding onto the tailored waistband and he nodded, keeping his tone light.

"Okay. Drop yer Drawers!"

Ezra grinned at his bark, turning slowly so the muscled back was facing him instead. He devoured all that was being revealed, safely sheltered from observant emeralds. The midday sun chose that moment to spear into the room, as if someone from afar was holding up a waiting finger, tapping it into the air with a soft 'ah, now' once Ezra had found perfect placement so that the two may coalesce as one. It was a highlight gilding the edges of the undercover agent's body, brightening the room with illuminated dust motes and filtering shifts when naked branches followed wind's push.

It happened in an instant. No slow tease. No hesitation. Just the heavy pants pooling around ankles with a whisper, then silk boxers following suit. Supple black silk boxers, shivering down the pale legs just as supple, puddling on top of the open trousers. Buck stood rooted, tongue peeking out to lick his dry lips. The flannel borrowed from Chris hung loose, framing the narrow hips, the tail dipping down to conceal all but the full rounding that met thigh. Ezra moved slightly, the greens/blues flannel taking flight, fluttering against the waiting body, for a moment revealing a deep cleft that marched upwards to the small of the back, that apex exactly the size of his spanned hand. Also revealed was the angry bruise, now in matching greens/blues to the shirt working to hide it. The sight spurred him into action, reminding him of why they were here.

He knelt, flicking the top open with a finger and squeezed a generous medallion onto his palm. With gentle, softly spoken prattle he lifted his hand, slipping it between the floating flannel and the hardness of muscle. Ezra gasped lightly and he apologized. The cream was cold. He should have warmed it. A murmur of that being all right - it was simply unexpected. Buck grumbled nothings in response. His hand cupped around the bruise, around the perfect ass cheek. Fingers stretching so the longest pressed against where pelvis flared to start thigh, thumb brushing with deep motions along the arched line that was the underside of the globe.

For a moment Buck closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine. Then he'd open them again, wanting to fix this image to his memory for all time, something to call upon later. This was his dream come true yet it was nothing at all. He was so close that he was allowed to touch. So far that touch would mean nothing. His hand was starting to rub dry and he paused, loading it with another dollop of cream, this time warning contact was imminent. No gasp this time from Ezra, just a shift in stance as he continued the ministration.

Without thinking he'd wrapped his left hand around the base of Ezra's left thigh, thumb planted in the dimple behind the knee, fingers splayed around the column of muscle. Without thinking those digits began a slow movement, languid caressing to match the healing in guise of his right hand. Without thinking he continued to stroke the smooth cheek long after was necessary, long after a little bruise cream would require for application. Without thinking he accepted when Ezra accepted.

The butt pushing back into his hand, shifting in opposite motion to his, heightening the contact to something sensual, sexual. The southerner backing towards him a step, his left hand contracting from the loose hold to support the movement. His thumb disappearing in a delicate bump into and out of the dark seam as they both swayed. Buck forced his knees apart, feet rolling so his butt hovered less than an inch above the carpet. His joints screamed in protest, muscles stretching almost past the point of his limberness but he didn't feel it. He only felt Ezra and his own arousal, only felt the invitation of the sinuous body that had come to sudden, glorious life.

The southerner dropped onto him, knees bending and he barely freed his hand before the legs were folded completely. The bare ass rested against the sides of his open thighs, skin and denim whispering as Ezra and his hand continued to move. Buck leaned closer, nipping at the nape of the neck teased with chestnut locks, kissing to soothe where bites stung. A low moan and seeking hands were his answer. Seeking hands that pushed between the undulating bodies, fighting awkwardly with his fastenings before getting the jeans undone, pushing further inside to split the opening in his boxers and free his ready erection. Buck groaned hoarsely, shuddering when tickling fingers stroked once then departed and then the needy rocking began again.

He rocked in answer, hands moving to lock against Ezra's hips, fingers pressing into the flesh to hold them steady and so close together. His own hips jerked in response to the sensations, his arousal now nestled in that secretive, enticing cleft. Up and down they rode, circles growing as their bodies followed one another. Buck wrapped one arm around the strong chest, fanning his hand so he could press tight against the back ripping along his torso. The other arm drifted down, hand seeking and finding an answer to his hungry need, evidence of the man's obvious enjoyment. Up he pulled along the shaft, loosening the grasp of fingers to dust the column back to the base then again he'd pull. A breathy moan and those chestnut curls were tickling his face, Ezra's throat a pale arch of grace bowing before him when the man's head rested against his shoulder. Buck leaned forward, tilting at an angle, sucking at the collarbone as they continued their surging cadence.

A hitching sound against his ear then Ezra's body was a frenzy of movement, thrusting beside him, squeezing him where they were so intimately pressed, pushing them both to a raw, consuming crest. The gorgeous frame against his tensed, the back arcing in a vibrating curve away from him, the hands that had planted on his thighs gripping and gripping harder. Wet heat filled his hand and a low moan of his name then Buck was tumbling over as well. The aftermath was dizzying; full of completion and languor, sated needs and a hunger now growing from confidence and finding, at long last, true awareness of all that he'd dreamed possible from Ezra. Slowly, slowly he drifted back to earth, their rough gasps of air the only sound breaking the quiet of the room.

He was too pleased to fight when the southerner pulled away, hands loosening and feeling along the sweaty planes that shifted under them as the man moved. His blue eyes felt heavy, his body felt heavy. He felt perfect. A soft rustle then softness against his belly, cleaning gently. More soft rustles and he opened his eyes. Greens were waiting, vibrant and alive, mischievous and coy. The lightest of touches against his lips; their first kiss. It was to be nothing more, no substance and spit and grappling tongues. Just that bare brush then Ezra was moving away again, lithe body standing to rise over him, strong, steady hands gathering black silk and brown cord. The borrowed t-shirt tucked back into closing pants, borrowed flannel a wad in the left hand.

One finger trailed across his forehead then Ezra was gone.

Distantly he heard the southern drawl, muffled by walls and distance as the agent continued to travel away. Snippets telling him what was happening. The cream, on your shirt. My apologies Mr Larabee. Right into the washer it goes. Mr Wilmington? I believe he is washing his hands. Shall I set the table?

Buck groaned when he moved. From the knees down he was numb and useless, having lost all feeling from the constriction of his kneel. From the knees up he was on fire, the remembered glory still heating him. He flopped to the side and painfully drug his legs back where they should be, allowing them a long, tingling moment to suck up blood as it flowed back through. He stumbled to an unsteady stand, tucking himself - tingling for much different reasons - back into his underwear and pants. He walked to the bathroom and washed his hands, then stood for a long time studying himself in the mirror.

The blue eyes were still glowing, but other than that he looked normal. At least, as normal as one can look when their walking fantasy finally answers all of their fervent prayers.

He strolled easily for the kitchen to help finish dinner preparations, spring in his step and gleam in his eye that couldn't quite be concealed.

**

Buck rolled over in a jerk and huffed. This was nothing like it should be, nothing that he'd expected. The open delight in those green eyes after what he and Ezra had shared, the light kiss so sweet and real opening his hopes to allow all his tightly held dreams fly free. But after he'd left the room it had been nothing. Well, not nothing. It had been exactly the same as before.

Christmas Eve with his best friends. A shared dinner and a shared fire. Stockings opened, drinks poured. Teasing and laughter and easy company he always enjoyed. And that was it.

Sure Ezra couldn't come and snuggle in his lap. Sure they couldn't be all over each other in front of everyone else. But when he'd tried to steal away for a quick taste he'd been evaded, the man calm and steady as 'friend Ezra' - as Ezra had always been before. He sighed. He thought what they'd done changed things. He thought it was the man telling him the southerner knew. Knew and approved and dammit I want the same now let's get to it. Buck squeezed his eyes shut and made the tremor go away.

He'd been wrong before. Such things happened. He'd thought there was more when there wasn't. And he was guilty of thinking there was much less when the someone else wanted more. But never before had he wanted it the way he wanted it with Ezra. Not just hot and heavy release. Not just a best friend. But both rolled into one sleek, green-eyed package. With Ezra he wanted everything. He was ready to give it and have it, and give up everything else to keep it. Being wrong about this was going to break his heart. It was something he'd known all along, one of the reasons he'd so carefully guarded his growing wants about his friend. Losing Ezra as a lover would be much worse than never having him at all.

He tossed his body and slapped the mattress on either side with his fists. Dinner wasn't supposed to have been the same. A foot was supposed to find his under the wide wood top, socked toes teasing against his, emeralds flaring secret fire to answer his seeking blue flame. The man was supposed to sit an inch too close on the couch. Supposed to respond to the very sly, very subtle stroking of that elegant neck when he'd rested his arm so casually behind the man along the back of the sofa.

Buck cursed and covered his face with the empty pillow, screaming into the down then biting it harshly. Tomorrow was Christmas. One of his favorite days.

Great. Now it got to be ruined.

Despite himself and the churning of his confused heart and mind he eventually drifted to sleep.

**

Buck mumbled and groaned in appreciation. He arched his hips and strong hands kept him in place. He murmured soft words through his haze, hands seeking whatever it was that was making him feel so good. His long fingers encountered silken locks and tangled, body writhing in aroused looseness, heated from sleep, heated from sexual fire. The warm wetness left his erection and trailed up his body, dipping into his navel then exploring his chest and the matching excitement of his nipples, bumping along his stubbled chin then pausing.

He grumbled and opened his eyes. It's stopping? And why?..

Green eye were hovering above him, barely visible in the half-light of the very, very early morning. One hand was trailing up and down his flank, keeping him hot and wanting, the other soothing in a gentle brush tracing his eyebrows then nose then mouth. Ezra's eyes held his and then they kissed. Kissed as they should.

Buck's arms woke up first, lifting from where they rested against the mattress to band the naked form tight against his own. He twisted them so they were lying side by side, legs tangling, arousals trapped between them. His tongue pushed in demand against the bowed seam and those lips opened to him. He moaned in approval and kissed for all he was worth. Now it was Ezra's turn to writhe.

He licked and tasted and explored. Buck always held the theory that kissing was sex in and of itself, the parts doing exactly what 'real' sex did only in a way that was somehow so much more intimate. He worked to prove that theory here and now. He didn't give when he needed air, sucking in a snorted breath though his nose and just kept on kissing. When he finally drew away Ezra's body was limp everywhere but where it counted.

After a second of them drawing in heaving breaths the hands resting against his chest started moving again, dusting along his flesh in devilish twists and turns. Hips ground into his, answering hardness inviting his to dance and he happily fell into step. Soon they were thrusting and thrusting. He held fast to the clenched ass cheeks with each hand, urging the movement harder and faster as they drove each other to the brink then over. Ezra pushed against his chest, the pale body arching away from him, handsome face pulled, a mask of pleasure. Their wet heat of release mingled and they continued to move, riding out the ecstasy until the last wave abated. Buck buried his head against a sweaty shoulder, kissing softly again and again, pushing his hand against the small of Ezra's back, it fitting there to fit them together just as he knew it would.

Awhile later Buck stirred, goofy grin splitting his face that Ezra was still tucked close against him, their bodies still entwined, still sporting evidence of their activities where they were lying, skin to skin. He stroked in a long, slow line up and down the southerner's spine, fingers weaving as they felt, learned, and memorized the bumply path. The man next to him snuggled closer and sighed happily. Buck fought to keep everything else at bay but just couldn't, everything from last night rushing to crowd in, shuffling and forcing the sated contentment aside. He wondered if he should question now. Wondered what exactly was happening.

As if reading his rearing doubts Ezra stirred in his arms, a wet kiss pressed against his shoulder then rustling blankets and the chestnut curls were resting on the pillow next to him, green eyes blinking and happy and open. He couldn't help but smile in response, reaching out to touch. The southerner's smile warmed further.

"I assure you I am real, Buck."

He nodded. He knew that. He just wondered if this was real.

The emeralds softened, a slow hand smoothing his abdomen then resting above where his uncertain heart was beating.

Ezra licked swollen lips. "I would apologize for yesterday except I regret none of it." A brow quirked. "My approach was not at all what I'd intended... you forced my hand." The man pouted.

Buck narrowed his eyes. "I forced your hand?" That didn't seem at all right to him. Sure, taken literally it had been his hand doing the first of the action, but it had been Ezra that initiated it all. Yesterday and this morning.

The dixielander pushed forward and kissed him soundly then rested again on the pillow. "I had meant to..."

For the first time Ezra looked as uncertain as he felt, and Buck's heart turned over. He reached out and curled a finger under the dipping chin. "What honey?" The endearment slipped without his even knowing.

"I like that." The southerner's eyes flared again.

He laughed despite it all, forgetting everything for a second. He nodded and whispered huskily, "Good. Calling you that from now on...cause that's what you are - your voice, your body - to me, you're honey." He shimmied his hips and they both sucked in air.

A firm hand stilled their movements. Ezra was slightly breathless but the voice was determined. "I should explain. Then we can resume." He nodded, remembering that they had actually been discussing something important. The southerner held his gaze and continued. "I had meant this to be your Christmas present - to wake you like this, tell you all the things I've been hiding, find out if my suspicions you'd been hiding too were true."

Buck warmed from head to toe. A niggling worry stubbornly refused to be beaten, pushing through the warmth.

The southerner nodded, seeing that remaining doubt.

"Yesterday I simply couldn't stop myself. Your hands on me... the exhilaration that followed the snowball fight... the moment in the laundry room when I caught your eyes and you didn't know and I saw, really saw..." Chestnut curls whispered when the head shook against the pillow. Green eyes held his, suddenly fierce. The voice was so very quiet but still so strong.

"I love you, too."

That was enough. All doubts hereby killed.

With a groan he swept the man close again, snatching the body from the mattress so his hungry mouth could devour his holiday sweet. On they kissed, on they kissed.

Ezra pulled away after a time, the handsome face relaxed, cheek turning to rest against his chest. Buck let his hands explore in light trails along the warm, pale body. The southern drawl was muffled.

"Sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean what it must have seemed." A shrug played them against each other. "Partially I was trying to prevent myself from asking you to make love to me, right there and right now. And partially I was still trying to keep my gift something of a surprise."

He chuckled. "Have to admit I was wondering, Ez. Have to admit it hurt." Hands soothed and comforted and he smiled, soothing and comforting back. He teased gently, "It was a surprise. For certain."

The body levered up and green eyes sought his. "Good?"

He reached up and drug Ezra close, a soft kiss then a firm hug. "Better than good, honey. So good I don't even know to tell you. Other than I love you, too. Other than every other Christmas gift will be a disappointment after this one." The body so tight to his shook with laughter. He played into the silky hair with his fingers. In musing tones he said, "Don't think what I got you will at all live up to this..."

Ezra kissed his neck then popped up again, a sure finger tapping his nose then coming to rest against the cleft in his chin. "Never before have I known the rapture of Christmas. I'd say that more than equals mine."

Buck's throat tightened and he turned them, pulling Ezra close again, tangling them again. They kissed and he pulled away to whisper in an ear, "Every Christmas from now on, Ezra. Hell, every damn day."

A husky, answering whisper vowed, "Every damn day indeed."

He growled and let his hands roam. He was determined to cease all conversation, right now.

Ezra interrupted his intent with playful words. "I'll answer today."

He paused, jerking his head back, brows knit together.

Green eyes sparkled. "Ducking into the closet for a taste. Your toes with mine. The thumb so soft against my neck..."

Buck grinned. "A present I get to open all day long. You are too good to me, honey."

A happy laugh was his answer, strong arms pulling him close. He gave over and they kissed, his last conscious thought that they probably had a solid three hours before anyone else stirred and they had to concede the day to the others. He didn't mind at all.