Hazel '04: Exuviate (part I)

"Oh yeah."

Vin watched through his lashes across the campsite.

"Harder - faster."

He bit his lip, considering, observing.

"C'mon, dammit - harder. But use your fuckin' teeth and I'm kicking you."

Vin swallowed, ignoring the faint stirrings of arousal that skittered though his body. He continued to watch.

"Yeah, that's it - that's it. Harder… mmm… just like that."

Vin brought his fingers to dust over his temple, remembrances of what he wasn't seeing tingling the soft flesh.

"Close - shit, real close."

The words were harsh, more command than caress.

Chris' hips jerked. His head was thrown back now, face a tight grimace of near-completion.

"Fuck. God-dammit."

Vin watched Buck's mouth widen then draw off Chris' cock, the broad hands finishing the work of the blow. Four hard, twisting pulls and Chris came.

Buck leaned back, removing himself from the path of Chris' arcing jism.

The two men levered away from one another, breathing heavily, Chris coming down from the orgasm, Buck working his jaw and stretching his neck.

Chris pushed a bottle into Buck's flank. Buck took it with a short grunt of thanks. He drained a measure, swished it around in his mouth then spit it out. The bottle was upended again - this time Buck swallowed it thirstily down.

Vin followed the movement of Buck's adam's apple. A rivulet of whiskey escaped, trickling across Buck's cheek, down his neck to stain into his shirt. He let the bottle go with a gasp then darted his tongue out to catch what of the escaping liquor he could.

The gesture flashed a completely different image before Vin's momentarily sightless gaze. A vision that brought heat and awareness cascading over him in a rush of almost debilitating hunger and need.

He shook himself, realizing he was staring. Another minute and they'd catch him doing it.

Vin rolled up and busied himself with the fire, adding in enough fuel for the night, banking it down so it'd burn hot but slow. He waited for them to talk to one another but nothing came. Not even a laugh or a thanks filtered through the dry and darkening air. The idea that maybe they were busy doing something else flagged in his mind.

Hesitantly he glanced back over. Buck was still just sitting, easy as you please, one hand wrapped around the bottle, the other balanced against his knee. Chris was rising to stand, back still facing Vin.

The two didn't even look at one another.

Chris pulled up tall and stretched, head lowering to each shoulder. He let out a long sigh then held out his hand. Buck passed the bottle up without a word.

Silence rarely bothered Vin. For some reason, this one did. It wouldn't have before. It did now - after.

Vin let out a breath and pushed that away.

He watched as Chris' shoulders worked, watched elbows bend as the spent cock and balls were tucked back in. When that was finished Chris turned around. Their eyes met and Chris grinned.

"You needing anything?" he asked.

Vin glanced at Buck then back to Chris. "Nope. Just fine, thanks."

Chris shook his head. "Don't know what you're missing - the man's damn good." His smile was small, hazel eyes relaxed.

Buck chuckled and reached up for the bottle. Chris' fingers loosened and it slipped out to land against Buck's palm.

"Naw," Vin winked. "Said I was fine, meant I was fine." He bobbed his head. "No disrespect to Bucklin, a' course."

Buck just kept laughing and took another pull of whiskey.

Chris leaned down and grabbed the bottle. His body arched as he threw back a long swallow. When he leaned back down to give it back he wrapped a hand around Buck's shoulder and squeezed - a fleeting touch then he was gone.

It occurred to Vin that Chris' compliment and offer to share followed by that cursory contact was all the thanks - all of anything - Buck was going to get. He also somehow knew Buck wasn't bothered by that in the least.

Chris rounded their small fire and eased down next to his bedroll. He gave a minute to taking off his hat, then his long duster before dropping in a contented sprawl against the ground. His arm bent to cover his eyes and it wasn't long before his breathing was even and measured, carried in the cadence of sleep.

"You sure?"

Vin looked over to Buck. Blue eyes sparkled, willing without concern either way. It had been offered - even if by Chris - which meant Buck would give if Vin decided. It wouldn't mean any more than it had between the two moments ago; wouldn't mean any less because Vin was getting it second. All the same Vin repressed a shudder of faint disquiet, distaste.

"Chris ain't just whistling Dixie," Buck winked.

He lifted his chin towards where Chris had been kneeling in front of Buck. "Could see that," Vin retorted. They both laughed. Words surfaced in his mind, a remembered phrase. "Out and off in under five," he muttered.

Buck's eyes narrowed as he worked out the words. Then his face split with another cocky grin. "Damn, boy - take me less than five! Guar-an-teed." He pulled the syllables of the word out, then licked all the way around his teeth, making a lascivious show of his tongue.

Vin nodded. He supposed that was the point. Had always seemed that way to him. Had until -

"So?" Buck stuck out his tongue and the muscle thinned - he waggled it up and down before pulling it back in with a slurp then nodded with expansive confidence.

Vin welcomed the continuing interruption to his wayward thoughts. He shook his head. "Thanks all the same, but I'm good," he laughed through the words, waving Buck off with an easy hand. He eyed the whiskey. "Could take a drink though. Feeling a mite parched."

Buck grinned and boosted to his knees, stretching the bottle between them. He winked. "Take the rest."

Vin let the bottle slide between his fingers, the last few swallows swirling within. "Thanks," he said dryly, but he kept the bottle and drank it down all the same.

He dragged his sleeve over his mouth, looking out past Buck's shoulder towards the horizon. The last sliver of sun had just sunk under, slipping back down for the night, leaving the world to blues and shadows until another dawn.

Vin wondered how often they did this. Enough so the ritual had been comfortable between them, a known quantity. He wondered if they did it in front of anyone else. Buck likely would. He wasn't so sure about Chris.

Maybe that was why when it required three he often got taken along. Or if not him then Ezra.

Vin shivered, itching his scalp all the way down to his toes.

There was something about that idea and where it led that he didn't like at all.

"Whiskey burn ya?" Buck's soft, laughing tone broke through.

He reined his focus back, nodding. "Something like that." Vin smiled. Weren't no explaining otherwise.

Vin tilted his head and studied Buck, casting glances to Chris as he worked something over. He nodded. Before he could talk himself out of it he forced out, "You ever - I mean - ever do anything more?"

There was simply no good way for asking.

Buck's grin flattened. "Yeah, time or two." He shrugged. "When I was real lonely - get me? Real lonely." His eyes widened in exaggeration.

Vin's gaze darted across the fire to where Chris had fallen asleep. He bit his lip. "You ever…" he looked back at Buck, then back again at Chris.

Buck laughed, hard, head falling back against his blankets. "Hell no!" he wheezed. After a moment he looked back at Vin, only somewhat sobered. "You up to asking the man if he's interesting in bending?"

Vin didn't have to think that over.

Buck continued chuckling. "Didn't think so," he muttered. "Even real pretty-like and I say ten to one you'd get yourself plugged - and in no good way, either."

"Yeah," Vin breathed out slow, the single word his patent agreement. He shook his head. He was glad he'd never thought or wanted to bring it up. Glad he'd never had such inclinations towards the man.

"Only was the few times." Buck tilted his head. "Didn't really cotton to it, ain't no matter how lonely I was." His lips perked with a smile. "I like mine warm and wet and ready." He tightened a fist at each hip then thrust a few times into the air, brows wagging suggestively. He came to a stop, dropping back against his bedroll, face twisted with a pronounced wince. "Spit 'n assholes ain't exactly my idea of that."

Vin felt his jaw tighten. He wasn't sure what part of that insulted him but it stung sharply against his pride all the same.

Buck shrugged loosely. "Hand jobs or a blow - that ain't no big deal. Figure more than one cowboy knows what it's like to have it done to him by another." Buck's eyes tightened to slits. "Those other times - when I did a bit more - I was getting it where I could, needing to get it so I did." He licked his lips, pausing momentarily. "I might have slid it in a time or two, but I ain't funny. Never have been, never will be." He stilled then leaned towards Vin, emphasizing his next words. "Never took it back - ever. You get my meaning."

Vin shrugged. "Don't much care either way, Bucklin." It was true. He didn't.

But he also understood the difference. He knew the lines that were being drawn, the distances paced off, the baffling distinctions that were being made. Vin understood because he'd called upon them himself - once or twice, same as Buck.

"Just so we're clear," Buck said with a nod, shoulders relaxing.

Vin stifled a snort. Oh yeah it was clear - clear Buck cared, despite having just said it wasn't of importance. The whisper of angered pride tremored again, calling to mind the picture of Buck's lips wrapped around Chris' dick.

"If you ain't funny," he lifted his chin and rasped harshly, "how come you 'n your mouth are willing ta -"

"Give and take, Vin. Give and take." Buck's interruption was smooth and sure, negating whatever hint of speculation might have swirled within Vin's question.

He scowled, not understanding or liking the answer.

Buck lifted a hand, tossing it in Chris' direction. "I was returning the favor." His voice stayed low, almost a whisper. Blue eyes warned menacingly against this information being shared with anyone else.

"What?" Vin snapped, eyes narrowing back down after the shock had passed. He darted a glance at Chris then looked back. "When?" It seemed so unlikely - and yet. Vin shook his head. And yet it made strange, perfect sense.

"Recent. This trip - but never mind that." Buck shook his head then waved his hand dismissively. "Man don't like an audience." He shrugged. "To each his own."

Vin rolled his eyes. More of those fine distinctions.

Chris could sit there easy, get sucked off and curse his way through a come, no heed or mind of Vin - but god forbid he be seen hunched over Buck, tongue and lips dribbling with saliva and spunk.

"Well?"

Vin gave his attention back to Buck. "Well what?"

Buck shook his head with a long huff. "Your turn. How about it, Stud? You ever," he lifted again, mimicking his earlier hip-thrusting movements, tongue poking out between his half-smile.

Vin muttered something incoherent, grousing about Buck's question, hoping to put the man off. He stared into the fire, hands closing into fists in his lap.

"Oh c'mon, Vin. I told you," Buck wheedled. "Only fair - give and take and all."

Vin let out a long breath, tightly controlling the stream of air and his annoyance. He knew better that to try and put it off more - it'd only make Buck work harder for an answer.

"Once."

That's all he said. All he wanted to say.

Buck chuckled. "Oh-ho! And who was this lucky bastard backend, hunh?"

Vin could hear the leer. He shook his head, suddenly hating this conversation. It figured Buck would call the receiving end 'lucky.'

"Was a bounty. Young kid - younger'n me. He wanted me to let him go, like they all do." He laughed then, bitter and short. "When I asked him for a good reason why he offered." Vin closed his eyes.

Every now and again he remembered that time. The kid had been thin but strong, still so young as to be nearly hairless and not too bad looking. Vin had suffered the initial indignity of not being able to figure getting himself in that kid's hole - it'd just seemed strange, despite his pumping horniness and the grasping sides that beckoned.

Once he'd slid into place it hadn't lasted long. He'd stood over that bent kid, clutching the narrow hips with a bruising grip, eyes closed and head back as he pounded. In moments he'd been coming. It didn't make him see stars and certainly didn't make him hungry for more, but it'd been damn good enough.

When it was over the kid had stood back up, stretched and grimaced then grinned - and not because it'd been good for him.

There had been no conversation afterwards. Vin didn't offer any thanks. The kid didn't offer any praise. The kid had squatted, cleaned himself of Vin's semen. Vin had cleaned himself of the kid's shit. They'd been wordless, matter of fact. It had been as personal as staring into your rotgut, sitting shoulder to shoulder at a lively bar with a stranger.

Vin had stood and watched as the kid rode away. He'd taken off the other direction. He hadn't been keen on staying. He'd left and kept riding, never thinking on it overly - not particularly disturbed, not particularly pleased.

Letting the kid go wasn't a big deal to him - wanted for one robbery, not murder, not rape. Smalltime crook worth less than a hundred. It had made it easy to listen to his aching balls and take the free fuck; a good whore for the night woulda cost him as much or more than the bounty anyway.

That'd been the only time Vin had ever traded a favor for a bounty released. The only time he'd released into another man.

He hadn't disliked it, not outright. A small part of him that he carried deeply hidden acknowledged a potential appeal and considered the options of having it again, considered the options of whom to have it with.

Vin couldn't admit it but that was had been the greatest problem with that kid. Slim, willing and tight as it'd been it wasn't anything to Vin. Might as well be a whore and a whore he knew exactly what to do with; she knew exactly where she stood with him, too.

No, if was to ever be a man again - a man he'd sink full inside of and lose himself to - it couldn't be just any hole.

He shook his head. Was probably better not to think on that.

Vin looked back to Buck. "Guess you could say I know lonely - real lonely - myself." He forced a smile. "That kid offered and I took him-"

Buck guffawed, slapping a hand against his thigh. "Damn straight ya did!" he spluttered, eyes wrinkling at the corners just starting to water.

"Dammit Buck," Vin growled. He ran his fingers through the dirt and closed them around a small rock. It went sailing through the air, knocking against Buck's forehead.

It just made Buck laugh harder.

Vin fought his own laughter. "Aw shut up," he muttered. "Don't know why I even bother talking to you."

"Does this mean I can't ask if it was good?" The words were loosely formed, garbled over as Buck continued to laugh.

"Yeah. That's exactly what it means," Vin grinned.

Buck lifted his hands in surrender, smiling back, no arguments. Vin had said more than he wanted but wasn't upset by it, not really. Buck was one of the few people somebody could have this type of discussion with and have it feel close to normal. Still. He was relieved Buck's lewd humor had stopped it short.

"Damn glad we'll be riding back in tomorrow," Buck sighed.

Vin nodded absently in agreement and watched as Buck laid down flat, one hand resting open on his chest, the other already having his fly undone. Fingers drew his half-hard cock out and played then began to stroke. Buck's eyes closed, longer sigh leaving him, other hand now making lazy circles across and over each shirt-covered nipple.

Their conversation was most definitely over.

Vin pushed with his hands against the ground, spinning himself in place. He stretched out his legs, arms going up into the air of their own volition. A deep, shuddering yawn took hold and he indulged it, enjoying the way it made his spine feel longer, looser.

He eased back against his bedroll and made himself relax, concentrating on breathing and the ceaseless wind that had been playing over the desert near on weeks now.

It was dark enough so the stars were bright overhead, winking at him all blue-white or dusty red. There'd be no moon this night so that's how the stars would stay - brilliant, looking big enough to grab hold of, suspended against the blackened sky. It was nice that it'd finally stopped raining.

Vin wondered idly how long that'd hold.

A hand job. A blow. No big deal.

Anything else acceptable, so long as it wasn't you backing up.

Buck grunted; Vin ignored him. The light slaps became faster, more frenzied. Buck was already close; Vin didn't care.

The wind picked up and rushed across him, bringing with it the cool that was settling in over the land. Vin closed his eyes and reveled in it. The breeze washed over him, raising goosebumps on his skin. It felt too good and fresh to burrow under his blanket just yet.

He shook his head. It smelled wet. It smelled like rain.

It didn't matter, so long as you knew. So long as you were desperate or matter of fact or just easy. A lonely cowboy, not a funny one.

Buck grunted again then let out a long, deep sigh. Vin rolled onto his side, turning his back on the camp.

His eyes blinked back open and he studied the world beyond. Hardly anything to see, just the haloed rim of firelight that danced and weaved, following the wind, everything further out too dark to discern.

Vin let his hand wander down and down until the heat of it rested against his groin. He wasn't really in the mood to jack off; he was craving having any sensation there.

Buck's snore drifted over to him. Vin's fingers massaged, slow, easy - just enough to warm him a bit more, nothing else.

Quiet fear and dread spread through him, followed quickly by that rising tide of offended pride.

He closed his eyes again and thought about that day. A week gone now - the night before Chris had hauled him and Buck off on this damned errand. He thought about it and his fingers massaged harder, picking up pace.

Maybe he needed to jack off after all.

A hand job. A blow. No big deal. So long as you went fast; so long as you didn't really touch; so long as you came hard and good but didn't dare share.

Vin let out a long breath and considered - himself, what he'd just watched between Buck and Chris, the conversation that had followed, the unwilling realizations he had been fighting. He unbuttoned his fly and snaked his hand between the folds, opening his drawers so his fingers could wrap around his erection.

That night came back - vivid, breathtaking, beautiful. More than he'd ever imagined. More than he could quite figure out.

A hand job. A blow. After that night… no longer enough.

His hand picked up speed, the other drifting down to engage his heavy balls. The wind whispered over him, shivering contrast to the flush of his skin, hardening his excitement even more.

Vin bit his lip against saying the name that hovered on his tongue. He clamped his eyes tighter and pictured it all, remembered it all, willed himself to feel it all once again.

All those fine distinctions blurred as he remembered, falling away, shed like an outgrown skin.

*******

Vin took the stairs at an easy clip, gaining the landing with a light, extended step. He shouldered up to the first door, leaning against the jamb. He knocked then crossed one foot over the other as he waited.

"Ez? It's me." Vin shook his head at himself. "Vin," he clarified.

The door opened enough for one green eye to survey the hall. It closed again and Vin listened to the scrape of chain and metal. The knob turned and Ezra stood before him.

"Mr Tanner," Ezra grinned.

Vin bobbed his head. "Like ta come in," he said.

Ezra shrugged, opening the door wider. "Then by all means," he murmured, waving an arm in a long sweep.

He came in far enough for Ezra to be able to close the door again. He waited in mild silence as Ezra locked back up. His friend didn't come back to stand with him, instead continuing with the business Vin had no doubt he'd interrupted.

"This an alright time?" Vin asked. He wasn't looking to impose.

Ezra's fingers worked at the cufflink winking against his left wrist. It was burnished silver inset with turquoise, the stone so pure there were no black veins or flecks. He didn't watch as his hand completed the delicate task, deft touch smooth and familiarly capable. The action was repeated on the other side, thumb, fore and middle fingers removing the right cufflink while the other two held the left.

The cufflinks were deposited in a bluntly cornered rosewood box, its insides divided by a criss-cross of interlinked birch strips so thin they could likely be snapped in half with a finger. Each small square held a set of cufflinks, each set exquisitely unique and undoubtly expensive. The rosewood box was tucked into the top drawer. The rattle of the cufflinks was muffled by the box, the sound reminding Vin of a nut long dried up into its hull.

A smaller rosewood box of the same design was drawn out next, the lid slowly opened as it was set on the dresser. Long, sure fingers worked on the line of studs marching down Ezra's chest, the turquoise studs dropped neatly into the box, into their own little square, one after the other.

Ezra tilted his head, regarding Vin through the mirror. "I am indeed all right. Thereby making my time likewise," he teased, lips drawing up in a smile.

"Alright then," Vin replied, answering smile warming his features. He surreptitiously undid his gunbelt, easing it off his hips. It dangled for a moment in his hand and he swung it; the arc gained momentum then it landed with a dull clunk on the floor next to the dresser.

The last stud plinked against the others and Ezra flipped the top closed. He returned the box to the drawer and slid it firmly shut. He turned back, looking first to Vin's gunbelt on the floor, the up to meet Vin's gaze, brows raised.

Vin nodded. "Needing a favor," he began. The words were somewhat stilted; Vin hated asking for anything. What he was here to ask for made that even harder.

A dark brow arched higher. Ezra pursed his lips but didn't ask for or do anything more.

"It's kinda… personal, what I'm asking of ya." Vin's voice had pitched down several degrees. Unconsciously he reached up and clutched at his hat, closing his fingers around the crown. The soft, worn woolen felt crumpled into his palm. He pressed it to his hip. He worked at not fidgeting with it, making his other hand stay relaxed at his side.

"Certainly if I am able to assist you I will," Ezra answered after a thoughtful pause. He ducked his head, eyes still raised and locked with Vin's, a clear prompt for Vin to continue.

Vin shifted in place. "Wanna make something clear 'fore I ask." He didn't go further until Ezra had nodded, green eyes alert, intent. "I ain't asking you for this but once. Ya got no reason to feel beholden and iffen you say no I'll understand and not bring it up again."

Ezra had straightened to his full height, shoulders rippling under the loosely hanging dress shirt, the movement billowing the untucked tails. He was keenly interested at this point - as yet not anxious, but the atmosphere now crackled, sharp contrast to the casual easiness of moments ago.

The piano jangled downstairs. It sounded distant and strange. Glasses clanked. Chairs shifted and scraped over the grit-covered groaning floorboards. If he paid enough attention Vin could hear voices - laughter and sometime yelling interspersing the general hum of the saloon. He wondered if Ezra wouldn't prefer to be down in that, immersed in the patrons, the murky air, a canty game.

No… no. Ezra had said he'd the time. His preference was clear. At least for right now.

Vin squared himself, jaw set, resolute on finishing what he'd started.

"Thing is I've been a mite edgy past few weeks." His eyes wrinkled at the corners, squinted in consideration. "More'n that, really," he amended with quiet honesty. It'd been months, truth told. He was also well past the 'edgy' stage. Enough so to find him here, asking this.

Vin pulled in a breath and charged on. " 'Nother thing is ya know I ain't in no position to take chances, ta trust traveling to places where I might could find what I'm asking ya for." He shook his head. "Trouble enough ta be found just being there - never mind my hide being wanted."

Green eyes glittered. Vin could veritably see Ezra's mind working. He knew what he was getting at was becoming clear. Vin found himself distractedly relieved that Ezra - at least by all appearance - was unarmed.

Vin swallowed when Ezra took a step closer. It was deliberate, non-threatening. All the same he found himself mentally pacing the distance to the door, gauging the half open window for fit or as a temporary measure vaulting the bed to the far side.

"Vin," Ezra began.

His heart sank into his gut at the sound. It was softly spoken, guardedly quiet. Just the sort of tone employed before the gentle admonition of refusal.

He looked away and shook his head. He couldn't have known better and now he'd tried. He had his answer. Vin stuffed his hat back onto his head and nodded once.

"Vin," Ezra repeated, the name stressed differently this time, sounding exasperated, verging on command.

He stilled then straightened before meeting Ezra's gaze again. When green eyes locked with his he nodded, ready for what was to come.

Ezra took another step forward. It was the same as before - deliberate, non-threatening. The proximity had them sharing the same space, easily within reach of one another. The air around Vin started to warm, a balance of growing arousal and Ezra's body heat.

"You were not so cryptic for me to be left wondering what the hell you were talking about," Ezra said with a quirk of his lips, almost a smile. "But in such matters as this it is always best to be absolutely clear."

Vin nodded again, expecting to be asked in blunt terms - he was determined to answer with the same.

Instead of words Ezra reached out, slowly, fingers uncurling from his palm. The shirt cuff split against his wrist, falling to hang away from his forearm, a white lacy froth mimicking Spanish moss. Vin studied the rounded, smooth nails, the fine-grained skin broken by knuckle folds and powerful tendons. He found himself mesmerized by that hand.

His breath hissed out when the fingers brushed his thigh, smoothing in until each one was a blaze of sensation against his hardening dick, the tips resting in a touch so light it like to have killed him.

"Vin?"

He tore his eyes away from the hand wreaking havoc with every nerve ending he possessed. A warm green gaze was waiting.

"This is what you meant, yes?"

Vin nodded abstractly, movements jerky and uncoordinated. "Yes," he hissed. "That's what I meant."

Ezra's thumb pulled a line from the bottom of his straining cock all the way to the top button of his fly. Vin's breath left him in a rush. He gaped at Ezra, suddenly without words or even sound.

"What you ask," Ezra murmured with a smile, green eyes slanting, "I can most certainly accommodate."

The smile told Vin everything he needed to know.

Their past year and then some together he'd been tracking Ezra's smiles, cataloging them. Some would flash, lively and wide, full of devilish humor and charm. Others were small and secretive, inscrutable in their mysterious mirth. This one relieved Vin to see - it was the one Ezra showed when he was greatly complimented or sincerely pleased.

Vin sucked in some air. "Good." The single word rapped out, unsteady and harsh.

When Ezra's hand pulled away Vin had to fight himself from reaching out and snagging the retreating wrist with a crushing hold. He'd been about convinced to let it happen that way, coming in his buckskins, that scorching, light touch the method of his undoing.

Ezra stepped back, turning and walking to the closet while he spoke. "Why don't you ready yourself while I see to this." His tone was even, conversational. He shrugged out of his dress shirt, hands catching it as it fell away from him. Ezra retrieved a hanger. He glanced back over a shoulder. "Please," the burred murmuring was back, "see that you are comfortable."

Vin watched Ezra hang the shirt up, watched the devastating hands as they snapped the garment taut against the hanger, pulling the sleeves and the ends to rid it of excess wrinkles. The light summer undershirt came off next, muscles bunching and lengthening as Ezra's arms stretched overhead then dropped back down again.

Vin licked his lips and made himself look away. He undid the top button of his fly then held the waistband, right hand tugging out and down. Each button gave, one by one, easing the strain of his pants where they'd been pulled over his erection. He hadn't worn anything else.

It was still too warm for his union suit and he figured to save Ezra and himself the trouble of another layer. He hadn't realized how good the rough nap of buckskin would feel against him, particularly with Ezra's hand adding friction and pressure. It was something he'd have to keep in mind for another time.

Vin trailed his fingers up his dick, eyes closing as he drew it out. He listened as Ezra came close again - he could feel the man's approach. Vin continued to stroke himself lightly, not wanting to lose the buzz of arousal that Ezra's touch had generated. He grabbed at the ends of his shirt and balled them into his fist, twisting it across his torso to get it out of the way, planting it against his side.

Vin swayed very slightly in place and breathed. He waited for Ezra to begin, blood racing through him, pounding a pulse in his head and his aching cock.

When Ezra didn't touch him he cracked an eye open. The room was darker, only a single lamp at the bedside remained glowing, the wick shortened so the light being cast was low and dim. It flickered when the breeze picked up, smoldering blue flame dancing inside its glass housing. Vin's brows bunched then he nodded to himself. Hum. That was nicer.

He sensed Ezra coming near again but didn't hear a thing. Vin smiled. Ezra in bare feet, mostly likely. His smile deepened. For some reason that struck him as being a lot nicer too.

A single fingertip trailed across his back. Vin tensed; his mouth dried out. Ezra's shoulder brushed his, whisper soft, as the man came around. He tightened his fist around the abused ends of his shirt and turned his head. His jaw clamped harder and Vin hovered in desperate agony, tingling all over with the knowledge that it was almost time.

There was a long moment of silence between them. The sounds from below filtered back into Vin's awareness. The wind had picked up. It was cool, would likely stay that way from here out, but it wasn't unpleasant. The cool told him the seasons were on the cusp, heralding the brink of change.

"Vin?" Ezra's voice was soft, laced with hints of kind incredulity. "Is this…" He paused. "Is this how you usually do it?"

He made himself look back over. He'd been staring at the wall, making pictures out of the knots and whorls in the wood, waiting for Ezra to just get it done, knowing it'd be quick. If he watched those hands or Ezra's mouth on him he'd come in an instant; Vin wanted the fleeting pleasure to at least last a minute.

He furrowed his brow. "How I do what?"

Ezra took a step closer, lips pursing thoughtfully. "Out and off in under five, hmm?" he muttered, green eyes mocking.

Vin followed the hand that swept through the air, curving in and out as if tracing along his body but without actual touch.

He shook his head, not understanding. Of course it was - always had been, always would be; don't look, just close your eyes and pretend. That warm heat could be anyone then, not some whore, not some dirty, trail-beaten cowboy. So what about it?

"Ya got better ideas?" Vin snapped.

Ezra laughed in answer, a warm, rumbling chuckle full of confidence and promise.

Once again a single fingertip pushed Vin to near madness.

It tangled playfully in the coarse hair around his balls then skimmed up his cock. Ezra lifted a bead of moisture from the tip then smeared it back down the other side using his nail. He brought the finger up to his mouth and licked the remnants from his nail, tongue sneaking out to lash against his cheek.

Vin's knees threatened to give out - he buckled but didn't quite fall. His hands convulsed and he thrust blindly into the air, seeking, demanding, needing so much. A breathy, supplicating sigh escaped him, wraithing its way through the room, carried away by the swirling breeze.

Suddenly Ezra was dropping down, strong arm wrapping around him to support just under his ass against his thighs, the other reaching between them so a strong hand could wrap around his erection. Ezra's hand jerked up and down, fast and hard. Vin grunted; the sound elongated, rupturing into a coarse, thankful moan.

Two more strokes then Ezra's rough, wet tongue scraped over the crown. Vin's head fell back and he came.

It burst over him and now he knew Ezra had shown him madness.

The intensity of it shattered him, breaking him apart to drift unseeing, almost numb from the aftershocks. Random thoughts burbled through him, too fleeting to grasp and consider. That he should have asked this of Ezra much sooner; that the room smelled perfect, filled with that sweet outdoor air, Ezra's musk and his come; that if he begged perhaps Ezra would do that again.

He surfaced enough to hear talking, answered it the best he could with affirmative grunts or a lazy bob of his head. The arm stayed about him but it cinched higher, holding at his waist. Vin was walked backwards and he followed without question. When his legs hit the bed he stumbled and dropped heavily, sitting with a sudden foomph of expelled air.

The enveloping gray began to lift. Vin blinked, willing his brain to start back into motion. He shook his head and his eyes focused.

"Damn," he whispered.

Ezra stood in front of him, knees touching the edge of the mattress, legs fitted neatly between his. A smile Vin had never seen before animated the handsome features. Green eyes dazzled, reminding him of brook-bound moss and winter wheat saturated with dew. Ezra was indeed barefoot, wearing only his dark, pinstriped pants. His hair was unkempt, his face and posture openly relaxed.

The notion that Ezra standing there that way was the finest thing Vin had ever seen rose quietly in his jumbled mind, opening and spreading wide before subsiding just as quietly again. Vin didn't have it within him to deny it; he wasn't yet ready to regard the thought as epiphanal.

"That your idea of better?" he croaked. It sure seemed it.

Ezra's head tipped back and he laughed. Vin watched abdomen muscles ease and contract, watched the dexterous fingers play against themselves. Ezra reached out, cupping a hand against Vin's jaw, thumb circling over his cheek.

Vin's eyes widened at that touch. He smelled himself on Ezra's thumb, mixing with Ezra's heat and scent. The thumb continued to caress, lulling him.

"My version of better is just about to begin," Ezra murmured. He winked. "That was merely to dull your painfully incisive edge, my friend." He pulled his hand away. "This is to be pleasurable, not taunting. It seemed unfair to do otherwise before I started anything else."

Vin nodded dumbly, unsure of an exact answer. His heartbeat quickened; Ezra was going to do more, tonight, willingly. He couldn't speculate on what all that entailed but Vin was eager to see what Ezra's idea of better would bring.

Ezra removed his hat first. It was tossed through the air, skidding across the dresser top before stopping against the wall. Vin's eyes drooped when both of Ezra's hands worked through his hair, massaging his scalp, tangling, combing, coiling though the lengths. He tilted his suddenly very weighty head from one side to the other, following Ezra's lead as capable fingers brushed through and out, through and out, through and out.

Vin blinked sleepily. Ezra's hands traveled on.

They rounded his face, fingertips dancing over his forehead, across each brow, threading over his fluttering eyelids and flushed cheeks. He took in a sharp breath when Ezra's thumbs paused under his lower lips. They pushed up and over, fanning to either corner in a long sweep.

Vin's mouth opened instinctively. Ezra repeated the sweep, twice, moistening Vin's lips with his own saliva. Fingers probed into the hinges of his jaw and Vin groaned. The thumbs moved along.

His ears tingled when as Ezra's fingers traced over them, one after the other in a fanned cascade. Hands wrapped around his neck, kneading, warming his skin. They drew to the front, tucking to lift his chin. Vin's head fell back unquestioningly.

The buttons of his shirt were quickly undone. His bracers were pushed aside, each falling off his shoulders at the same time. Ezra's hands molded around his biceps in a strong grip; they ran down the length of his arms, the firm pressure never letting up. Fingers circled his wrists then they were pushing into him, almost too hard. Vin teetered, weakened as his vulnerable pulse-points were so erotically exploited.

Vin's right hand dropped carelessly into his lap when Ezra let it go and eased away. He looked through the narrow slits of his heavy eyes and smiled. Ezra smiled back.

The buttons at his cuff were undone, then both of Ezra's hands worked over his, fingers pressing into his palm, pushing between fingers, flexing them with a deep massage. Vin's shoulders slumped. He let out a long sigh.

Each of his fingers were traced by Ezra's single fingertip, then his wrist was released. His left hand joined his right, boneless against his thigh.

The fingertip swirled and weaved up his arm, across his shoulder, down his other arm. His right hand received the same meticulous treatment. Vin's shoulders loosened further. His sighs deepened.

His shirt went sailing through the air next. It landed with a soundless hush on the small brocade stool next to the dresser. Ezra came closer and leaned over Vin, arms wrapping up and over. He pitched forward, head against Ezra's torso, arms limp at his sides.

His undershirt was worked off slowly, each measure of revealed skin kneaded and caressed. When the undershirt was gone Ezra continued to massage, fingers working Vin's spine, loosening it, rolling it. He hummed when it cracked, the pressure that pushed seemingly forever present where it curved momentarily alleviated.

Vin found his hands had started wandering. He enjoyed the light wool that encased muscled legs, feeling the straining tension in them as they held and moved while Ezra massaged. He nuzzled closer, open palms skimming the length of Ezra's legs, up and down without end.

Hands worked to his front, tipping him back to sit upright once more. Vin gave a final squeeze around Ezra's calves and let himself fall away. His arms bumped into the bed and he lifted them to rest on either side of him. They felt wonderfully useless. He blinked up at Ezra. Both were still smiling.

Ezra bent and grabbed one of his feet. The smile cracked to a sudden grin - Vin was knocked flat on his back when Ezra yanked his boot off. He rocked on the bed, side to side, until he no longer felt like he'd fall off, laughing as he went. Ezra laughed with him. His boot knocked against the floor. The other soon followed.

Vin's socks were pushed off. Fingers tickled him and he tried not to kick too hard, hating his giggling but unable to prevent doing so. Ezra's hand wrapped around his ankle in a tight hold and the tickling intensified. Vin's leg bucked back and forth; he thrashed against the mattress, breathless with his giggles.

The punishment didn't last long. His ankle was gently kneaded and Vin let out a long, tremulous exhale.

He sat straight up again when his big toe was sucked into Ezra's mouth, that rough tongue swirling around it, teeth nipping just so at its base. Vin jerked and his eyes bulged. He rolled his lips into his mouth and clamped down, hard, fighting against crying out.

Sound still escaped him, a throaty grunt that scratched his insides.

Vin fell back onto the bed and panted. When he managed to look up Ezra was grinning at him around his toe. A devilish green eye winked then lips closed back around him, resuming the forceful suction. Vin's eyes twitched; his head lolled to the side. The voluptuous sensation shot straight to his groin, hardening his already painfully erect cock.

He was only slightly better prepared when the rest of his toes were nipped and tasted, each carefully attended, one foot at a time.

Ezra massaged up each leg but was moving faster now, sensing Vin's restive arousal. He lifted his hips and his buckskins were peeled away. Fingers dappled across the muscles of his thighs, tracing the lines, setting fire to his skin.

When Ezra patted him Vin just somehow knew to move. He pulled with his elbows, scooting along the bed until he lay righted upon it. He stayed boosted on his arms, watching hungrily as Ezra stepped out of the pinstriped pants, leaving them as a dark puddle on the floor.

The man was a sight. Pale skin stretched over fluid muscle, darkening at the places exposed to the sun: his neck, his wrists, a lighter tan staining his chest. His excitement and interest was as evident as Vin's, rising up from a thatch of black, whorled hair. Vin swallowed, lips parting, for the first time imagining things like taste and the velvety skin and the weight of it against his palm.

As Ezra maneuvered on the bed to join him Vin lowered back down, lifting a hand to feel, running his finger up Ezra's arm. How strange was it that Ezra's careful undressing of him seemed more intimate than when the man had been on his knees, mouth bringing him to come?

Ezra rolled back onto his heels. He grinned.

Vin's left ankle was clamped tight.

Ezra's grin widened. "We didn't get to this one," he whispered evilly.

Ezra tickled him mercilessly, past the point of pain. He rocked back and forth, wheezing, caught between gasping sobs and laughter. He heard himself beg that it stop; his cock ached, tightening and tightening as his arousal churned faster and faster. Ezra's strong hold did not relent.

By the time Ezra's hand loosened the bottom of his foot was so sensitized that a ghost of a touch sent him into a peal of giggles. Ezra continued to tease him but then the caresses firmed, massaging the sole of his foot with a sure, steady touch. The irritant of lingering ticklishness eased.

Vin's leg straightened against the sheet. His toes curled and he stretched. His other leg remained bent, ankle secured with an undemanding circle of fingers, foot propped on Ezra's thigh.

He was humming all over with the delight of this - the newness, the unexpected pleasure. Ezra hadn't even gotten him off again and already it was far better than any encounter he'd ever had with another man. It was also easily better than the women he'd known, if he ever allowed that secretive admission.

Patient fingers continued to trail over him. After he'd stretched they'd become interested in his length of leg, swirling over the protruding bone of his ankle, massaging with tiny, firm circles as they ascended his calf, tickling and shockingly arousing when they played, feather-light, with the thin skin behind his knee.

The hair on his legs stood on end when a spike of heat so intense it was cold ripped through him. Ezra's fingers tugged at them lightly then stroked up and down his shinbone, rasping over the hairs, calming his flush to simmer once more.

Ezra's other hand smoothed up his stomach then back and across. A finger dipped into his bellybutton, twirling inside. It poked firmly then eased, poked firmly then eased, repeating the action several times. Vin's hips released and his free leg spread wider.

His teeth chattered when his nipple was pinched in a bruising crush. Vin half lifted off the bed, his hips bucking erratically in the opposite direction. Fingers soothed the erect nub then they'd pinch again. It felt so good, sparks of fire cascading through him with each pinch, the soothing touches stimulating him further, pain and pleasure wrapped up as one. He writhed, the sinuous movement of his chest mute plea for more and more.

Ezra's fingers traded between his nipples; Vin was not denied.

The other demonic hand was busy as well, drifting from one leg to the other, up and up, approaching the apex where his cock entreated and throbbed.

He growled when his balls were cupped, breath hitching when Ezra's thumb pressed into their center. His muscles spasmed with the pleasure. His head fell back and he let it roll, mouth dropping open with another rasping sigh.

Ezra's fingers teased the smooth skin of his inner thigh, passing over his balls to the other thigh and then back again. Then the hand turned, pushing up under Vin, cupping his ass, thumb flickering over his anus.

Vin tensed. His buttocks clenched together, hips twisting against the bed. The foot resting on Ezra jerked - he let it fall onto the mattress. All the languorous heat shriveled up in an instant, leaving him vibrating with uncertainty and unspent arousal, fighting to stem the slow-growing tide of anger he felt deep within.

In response Ezra lifted his hands, clearing both away from Vin's body without further caress.

He immediately regretted the loss, wanted it back, but Vin had to make himself clear. He was lying there, letting Ezra do all this, sure enough. He'd come here asking, had invited it, had wanted to find out what all 'more' meant to Ezra. But just because he was enjoying it, just because it was good - god, so damn good - didn't mean he was some kinda…

Vin blinked, thoughts interrupted when Ezra's hand pressed solidly into his belly. The palm rested against his abdomen, fingers relaxed and splayed wide.

The touch was gloriously warm and solid. It felt safe; it secured him. The stillness of it, the balanced application of pressure, the firm, confident hold anchoring him.

"I'd never have presumed, Vin."

He met Ezra's bright green gaze. It waited for him patiently. Finally Vin bobbed his head once.

A thick curl of Ezra's hair fell forward, bruising the pale skin. He smiled - softly, gently, not quite hesitant. "I was merely indulging in an exploration, reveling in what all I found. There was no specific intent."

Vin looked away and sighed. He'd never explained himself to anyone, never felt the need or the obligation. Lying here, naked to Ezra - naked for Ezra - the compulsion to do so was undeniable.

"Ezra," he breathed. "I didn't mean-"

"I have never apologized for my pleasure, Vin. Not from where I take it or whom I choose to give it to." Ezra raised a brow. "I have also never apologized for ensuring what I am getting is exactly what I want, how I want." Passion-swollen lips tipped up in a smile. "I willingly grant you the same."

Vin mulled the words over, thinking them through one by one. On good days he understood most of what Ezra said. On bad days he just outright ignored the man. Right now he wanted it exactly as Ezra had first said - he wanted to be absolutely sure.

After a moment he nodded, lips quirking in a half smile.

It was all that Ezra needed.

Without his noticing his heel had once again been nestled in the bend of Ezra's hip. His toes started curling in and out, feeling along the strong flank. Those sure hands resumed, skimming over him, once again bringing him to proud firmness, tempting him, teasing him, reassuring in their maddening work.

Ezra laughed. The sound was open, musical, husky and warm.

It curled Vin's toes so tightly against the silky flesh he grimaced.

"Lord's mercy, Vin," Ezra murmured. "If this is what I must endure in exchange for your refusal of more," he let one finger rest oh-so-delicately just above Vin's rectum, pressing the span of flesh briefly before rounding away again. He looked up from where his eyes had been wandering, greens alight with desire and friendship, "then endure it I shall."

Ezra bent close, tasting Vin, lapping his skin. Vin moaned and slithered on the bed. Ezra kept upping the stakes, heightening what he was giving, heightening Vin's pleasure to a dizzying precipice.

More of that heated laughter clouded over him, singeing his flesh.

"Happily," Ezra licked. "Endure," another lick, "so very," licks then nips and more licks, "very happily."

Vin watched Ezra come forward, levering over him on extended hands. Ezra lowered and sucked at one nipple then the other, taking plenty of time over each. Vin found he couldn't help himself - he lifted his hands, weaving his fingers though Ezra's thick, luxuriant hair. The strands whispered over his rough skin, hooking and tangling against his calluses. One hand wandered down, resting around Ezra's shoulder.

He held it there, steady, enough pressure to encourage Ezra but not so much as to demand. Ezra bit a nipple then looked up with a grin, winking before submerging once more.

Wet trails were left to evaporate all down his body, Ezra's hands freed to once again roam over Vin's quivering form. He patted Ezra's shoulder when briefly his friend hesitated, hovering, mouth open, over his erection.

Vin tightened his throat, hips jerking when Ezra tasted him with a swiping tongue. Then a strong arm furrowed underneath him, wrapping tight to hold him in place. The sprawl of Vin's legs naturally widened and he didn't fight it, pelvis beginning a slow, rounding thrust into Ezra's mouth.

He looked down at Ezra, eyes hooded, barely able to take in and capture all the details before him.

Ezra's dark, silken hair fanning across his skin, tickling his stomach when his cock was fully consumed.

Ezra's powerfully muscular back arched away from his groin, each vertebra leading down to the round of two ass cheeks just visible, split by a generous cleft.

Ezra's hands, one pumping his dick, the other playing at random with his butt, his legs, his balls; both so defined and beautifully capable.

The curtains that flapped and twisted as the wind battered them about, pushing into Ezra's room, wafting over them in a cooling tide.

The dimness of the room, the wick of the oil lamp now spent, casting them both in blue and gray, enough light from outside and around Ezra's door so that Vin could still see.

His own body laid out, so trustingly unfurled, surrendered completely when he'd been the one who'd shown up with a hard dick and the intention of having it taken care of.

Suddenly Vin went blind.

His hand clutched at Ezra's shoulder, digging in hard enough to bruise. The other scrabbled across the mattress until it knocked against the bedpost and he grabbed hold.

Ezra pushed again at the inch of flesh between his asshole and his balls - Vin's hips surged, thrusting of their own accord and his orgasm peaked higher.

He felt Ezra's throat as it swallowed, felt it where his thumb was clamped tight, felt it along his dick where it was buried. The idea of it - Ezra swallowing, eagerly, readily - sent a dizzying rush of heat from his groin to his head so fast that he swooned.

He untethered completely.

Vin's skin broke open and apart.

It fell from him, loose and unneeded.

The next he was aware he felt Ezra's hands closed about his ankles, pushing, urging. Vin drew his knees to his chest, hips tilting to the side, following Ezra's lead.

"Your legs," Ezra gasped harshly. "Together - hold them together, tight as you can."

Vin nodded and did as he was asked, but he questioned how much his remaining, limited strength could do.

Ezra's cock dragged against his balls then snugged between his legs. Vin immediately understood Ezra's intent - he used both hands to help keep his thighs pressed together, wanting it to be enough.

It didn't take Ezra long.

Four rough, quick thrusts and he shuddered, teeth closing around Vin's upper arm to muffle his climax.

Wet heat slicked against his abdomen; Vin found he didn't even mind.

He let his hip drop back down, leg opening with a wobble. He reached out and grabbed at Ezra, fingers taking hold of anything. Ezra fell against him, chest rising and falling with harsh gasps, heartbeat pounding fast, visible just beneath the skin.

They oozed to their sides, Ezra nestled to Vin, arms wrapped around one another. Vin closed his eyes. He smiled. He felt drunk and weak and perfect.

A long time later Ezra stirred. Vin's hands had started wandering; he didn't stop them from questing, even as Ezra moved. He blinked his eyes open lazily. Ezra's matching languid gaze was waiting.

"Mmm," Ezra hummed.

Vin smiled back. He knew exactly what Ezra meant. Those beautifully capable hands played over him, loose and warm.

"Whatever prompted you to come here, seeking such things from me?"

"Figured you'd know what I was asking. Knew you'd keep it to yourself." Vin squirmed out of their embrace enough to prop himself on his elbow. He let his hand wander from around Ezra's side, lifting it until his finger rested, feather-light, against the dark widow's peak of hair.

"Knew even if ya said no I'd live through the asking. That you wouldn't go naming me elsewhere for doing it."

Ezra smiled at that, green eyes serenely pleased.

Vin trailed down the handsome features with his finger, feeling, memorizing. It felt so good - so damn good - to touch, to have this permission to touch. He rounded Ezra's smooth chin, down the ivory throat, stopping so his hand could press at the hollowed pulse point at the apex of neck and collarbones. The steady thrum felt exquisite under his fingers.

He smiled. "Figured I wanted it - wanted it with you." Vin swallowed. "I trust ya, Ez. Simple as that."

"Thank you," Ezra almost whispered.

Vin met his gaze, the two searching within one another for a long, contemplative silence. He nodded. Ezra was more than welcome - he'd more than earned it.

Ezra nodded back, smile telling Vin that he knew.

"When did you first think to knock on my door?" Ezra raised an arm and bent it behind his head. His brow arched to its customary position of inquiry.

Vin bit his lip. He wanted to lie but just couldn't. " 'Round'bout six months ago."

Ezra's eyes widened then crinkled as he laughed. "Were I not in such good spirits I would find myself moved to wail a lamentation," he chuckled.

Embarrassed heat flushed over Vin. Lying naked, groin-to-groin with Ezra it all seemed so simple now, so easy. He shook his head, smiling self-depreciatingly.

"Least I made it here," he snapped without any real heat.

Ezra hummed again, the sound light and merry from his laughter. He lifted his hand, cupping Vin's cheek. "I just as easily could have knocked on your door, Vin." He sobered, shifting so they could better face one another. "I well understand your hesitance. Respect it, know it. There is no shame in personal dignity or discretion."

The window rattled when the wind pushed through. It ghosted over Vin, now almost cold. The scent of rain billowed in with it, crisp and pungent. The storm he'd been expecting would be here tonight.

"Thank you," Vin whispered.

Moments ago surged to life, repeating itself with intimate purpose. Their gazes held, the two searching within one another for a long, contemplative silence. Ezra nodded, eyes placid and sure of all Vin had done to earn that abiding compliment.

Vin nodded back, smile telling Ezra that he knew.

A strong hand captured his, bringing it up to Ezra's mouth. He watched Ezra taste his skin, knew it would be a sharp blend of sweat, salt and cum. Ezra's tongue swirled and licked, pushing between each finger, teasing the creases where his knuckles bent. Teeth appeared, biting into the calloused pads of his palm.

Vin rounded into Ezra with his groin, eyes drooping, blood firing. He growled, the low sound emanating from his chest. Christ - the man could probably push him over the edge from this alone.

"I hope you find your request satisfied?" Ezra's voice was roughened but quiet.

Vin managed to open an eye. He even managed to arch a brow.

When he'd knocked on the door he'd expected to be pressed against the wall - if lucky allowed to sit on the bed - while Ezra fisted him off into a rag. What he'd been given far exceeded 'satisfaction.'

The two shifted around, burrowing against one another, relaxing into the bed as their bodies heeded the beckoning call of sleep.

"Damn," Vin teased lazily, his hand swirling aimlessly across Ezra's back. "I'd say. Better don't quite cover it. Though it sure as hell was that."

"Definitely better," Ezra confirmed, his drawl pronounced and sleepy.

He brushed a light kiss to Vin's temple, likely without even realizing it. Vin's entire body sharpened to a sudden, new awareness. The skin where Ezra's kiss had landed felt branded, the heat from it spreading slow and sure though him like a prairie wildfire. He lifted a hand and traced a finger over the spot.

Ezra sunk in beside him, unaware of what that single kiss had stirred. Vin continued to trace his temple, reliving the feel of lips pressing so softly against him, wondering over having liked that the most over everything else.

Eventually he let his hand fall, cupping it around Ezra's far shoulder. He tightened his hold and drifted to sleep, tangled with Ezra, the two tucked together while the wet, gusting breeze wafted over them, cooling their naked skin.

*******

The next morning Vin had woken to a pounding deluge and regret so deep it ached.

He'd pulled himself from Ezra's lax embrace and dressed in silence, listening to the rain punish the hard-shingled roof and the tin overhangs. His fingers had trembled over his buttons, legs unsteady when he'd balance from one to the other as he hitched up his buckskins.

Next he'd closed the window, wincing when it rattled and groaned as it shuttled into place against the sash. Vin had shied back from it, certain the noise would have disturbed Ezra from sleep.

He'd sighed with shaky relief when he'd turned back into the room and all was still quiet and sound.

Vin had left with Ezra's water pitcher. It had felt so heavy, the delicate porcelain in robin's egg blue with milk-white reliefs of columns and people in strange robes so weighty in his hands, even when empty. He'd filled it, bringing it back into the room with haste and care.

The pitcher he'd left by the washbasin. He'd filled the straight, utilitarian glass Ezra kept there and set it on the small wooden table next to the bed. He'd put small, clean cheesecloth towels next to each.

He'd stood for a long moment, watching the rain from Ezra's window. The curtains hung limply on either side, soaked through. They'd drip onto the floor but there was no helping that.

Vin had taken Ezra's key from the crystal dish on the dresser. He'd locked the door, then pushed the key back under it.

Then he'd turned and headed determinedly to gather his things and ready himself at the boardinghouse then made for the livery, despite the raging storm, steps never faltering, not even with one backward glance.

Vin shifted in the saddle. The respite from the continual storms that had battered the area had lasted almost through the night. Sometime before dawn the sky had cracked open once more, emptying the contents of the thick layers of clouds with renewed ferocity. They'd broken camp quickly, bedrolls heavy with water.

His ass was soaked, buckskins clinging uncomfortably, riding up his crack, chafing against his balls, bunching his equally soaked underwear. He stood in the stirrups and tugged at his crotch, settling back down with a shake of his head. It would be temporary relief. Another mile and his pants would be making their happy acquaintance with his nether regions once more.

The three talked little. Enough to check on one another, make sure all were still there, but the rain and the howling wind did little to encourage conversation or even a good natured silence.

Buck was hunched deep into his coat. The side of his hat was pushed flush against his face by the wind. Water dripped from his mustache without cease. The droplets landed against his saturated bandana, skidding across and on down, nowhere left to be absorbed into.

Chris had long ago spit out the stub of his cigarillo. It had disintegrated to almost nothing in the wind and driving rain, marking his cheek and chin with an umber stain. He rode with his head tilted acutely, flat brim of his hat shielding what it could of the storm. The tails of his black duster flapped heavily, slapping Pony's flank with dull snaps as they trotted.

Vin was miserable. He didn't much care about rain or storms. Wasn't one to mind a little wet, even when it was a touch cold. But this wind - this driving wind - it jangled his nerves, made him feel restlessly ill at ease. A rain he normally would have plowed on through without complaint was made harsh and stinging by that damned wind, the wet infiltrating everything.

The only thing left dry on any of them was their feet and tinned flint.

He blew out a sharp stream of air, ridding his lips of the water that had started to puddle there. Vin closed his eyes then opened them immediately. Too many thoughts he didn't need right now came right back to him when he did that.

All the same the picture of Ezra's room hovered before him: safe and calm, the bracketing storm muffled somewhere far outside, Ezra's warm, sculpted form rising and falling with breath slowed from sleep.

Vin cursed and shook his head.

Life and Vin's tendencies hadn't afforded him much opportunity for waking that way. There had been only a very few times he'd spent the entire night with someone he'd had sex with - either through choice or mere circumstance.

The first had been Ms Chantilly Gentile. It had taken Vin another several years to realize how very little of her made-up name other people would grant she lived up to, despite his relatively fond memory of her.

He'd been on his own for a while; too white for the tribes, too tribal for the whites, in no mood to make excuses for himself to either. Vin was a loner by nature - overall simply drifting and making his way suited him just fine.

Back then he'd been so alone there was no one to turn to when your fist just wasn't enough. He'd ridden into Carson City, loaded up with buffalo hides and the purse of his very first bounty.

It made him more than enough of a player to seek the kind of company he was needing.

Ms Chantilly Gentile had been a large woman, curves upon curves, generous smile and booming laugh with dancing brown eyes. Vin had no idea still what had made him solicit her - though if he thought about it there hadn't been much choice. He'd walked into the Perfect Petal Social Club and after one look she hadn't let anyone else near him.

Looking back he reckoned he could figure why.

She'd led him up to her room - it had been a sight, something like he'd never seen. Flowers and lace and frills seemed to cover everything. The carpet he stood on was thick and soft. His boots made no sound when he tread across it. There were overstuffed chairs and a long couch with only one arm and a bed so huge Vin had wondered if they wouldn't get lost on it, drowned amongst the pillows and scarves and billowing curtains that surrounded it.

He'd undressed with haste, leaving everything in a neat pile on the floor. She'd laughed at him from where she laid resplendent on the bed - that deep, hearty, throaty laugh. Slow down sugar, she'd urged. I ain't goin' nowhere.

Vin couldn't. There had been no stopping him.

He'd lain above her, grunting and thrusting, working to find her treasure box while she looked up at him, brown eyes warm with amusement and a soft remembrance of what tenderness was. She'd taken his hips in each stout, bejeweled hand and led him, winking when at last he slid home.

Vin remembered squeezing at her breasts, marveling at their pillow softness and size. Her skin had smelled sickly-sweet, cloying and rich, all woman-musk and perfume. She had all but dwarfed his skinny hide, her years easily doubling his own. He'd come so fast it seemed it was over before he knew it. He'd tumbled forward and fallen right to sleep.

By the time he was blinking with awareness again dawn was sparking the far horizon. Ms Chantilly Gentile was lying beside him, sipping at a cup of tea laced so thick with brandy he could smell it in the air. She'd reached over and patted his bare ass. Did real good, sweetheart, she'd murmured, echoes of her liberal laugh quieted in that still morning hour.

He'd fumbled to a stand and stammered, embarrassed he'd slept the night away, disappointed to his core he hadn't done anything more than poke her once. He'd gotten dressed in a hurry, back to her, shaking his head at himself, dizzy from the incense that lingered over everything.

She'd rolled off the bed - it had groaned a bit - then swirled to his side, all swathed in loose hanging robes of pink and red and dusky orange. She'd taken his hand and whispered, no charge, honey sweet. The first time is always free from Ms Chantilly Gentile.

Vin had gawped but hadn't argued. It wasn't like she was wrong.

He'd left her there in her room, big brown eyes merry, wide smile seemingly just for him. Someone else had shown him downstairs on Ms Chantilly Gentile's command and fed him everything he could eat. It amounted to quite a lot.

He'd ridden out and moved on, trading his hides for goods and made tracks south.

Vin had been fourteen.

The next time had been years later. He was verging on twenty, escaping a sudden winter storm he hadn't expected, angered at himself for being blindsided, relieved there was safe shelter nearby.

No Squaw had invited him to the winter camp a few seasons ago when last he'd ridden across their plains. Vin had said he'd think it over, would come if he could. The storm presented the perfect opportunity.

He'd been greeted with vague, guarded friendliness from most of the tribe. Vin had known then his first visit would be his last.

No Squaw had been delighted he'd finally arrived, taking Vin immediately into his warm, smoke-hazed lodge all dim and stooped, presenting his bride with proud flourish that would have done a rooster shame. They'd laughed, Vin teasing his friend about it, wondering if No Squaw had tricked her or made an underhanded deal with coyote.

Listens Without Words had served them dinner, had watched as they shared a smoke. She had made their beds ready, gave them a bowl full of sweet powdered pemmican and dried berries to share while she made the coffee Vin had brought. All the while Vin would make merciless fun while No Squaw made fun in return.

Vin asked everything he could think of that No Squaw would have been able to trade of enough value to finally gain him a wife. No Squaw asked how it felt to actually be white.

After a long silence Listens Without Words had stood, looking Vin over with a very stern gaze, her black eyes wide and knowing. No Squaw may be the ugliest Kiowa ever to have seen the sun come to rise, but he is a good husband, the best. His heart is not ugly. That is all I need. Then she'd nodded smartly. But you, she'd teased, will always have to live with being white.

Vin had been taken aback. He'd looked to No Squaw - his friend was clearly, hopelessly, eternally smitten - and their eyes had met and they'd laughed, traded barbs easily forgiven.

That night he'd watched them make love in their pallet of buffalo hides, deerskin and bartered-for quilts. The two had taken it slow; No Squaw had taken Listens Without Words twice. When it was over they'd rolled over with grunts and fulfilled sighs. No Squaw had lifted his head, caught Vin's eye. He'd winked.

We plan on many sons, he'd whispered with a wide grin.

The next day had been sweet haven for Vin; convivial, slow, familiar even if no longer for him or his home. It had felt good to be back, even if only until the snow broke and he could travel on. Listens Without Words had regarded him the entire day, watched as he and No Squaw laughed over stories of when they had been young and fearless and stupid.

That night the buffalo hide had been lifted. Listens Without Words had sat up abruptly and waved imperiously. It is cold, she'd stated. You and No Squaw have missed one another. You have no need to be lonely.

No Squaw had covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide laughter so hard it would disgrace his honor as a hardened warrior.

Vin spent four nights within that buffalo pallet, nestled tight between them, behind them, with them. He and No Squaw were no strangers to one another - they'd been perfect for each other, Vin an outsider despite living among them, No Squaw hardly a charmer with the ladies. Though all their youthful horniness could hardly have been described as intimacy or love. Listens Without Words was pretty in her plainness, wide face enlivened with her intelligent, expressive eyes. Vin had demurred to doing anything more than enjoy the texture of their flesh and heat of their touch; it had been well enough.

You want many sons, he'd teased, but you don't want them to be mine.

He'd stayed a last day after the snow had stopped, letting what had fallen settle down against the land. No Squaw and Listens Without Words had sent him off, bags full, thick buffalo coat wrapped around his shoulders. Vin had turned in the saddle where the trail bent him out and down from their sequestered canyon - it would be his last glimpse of his friends and what once had been. He'd waved and they had waved serenely back, bundled together within the same blanket.

Vin had been glad for the visit, his body sated, his spirit refreshed. He'd also been glad to go, ready to be on the move again.

He'd learned a few years later that No Squaw had been killed in a raid from a warring tribe. The clans had gotten more desperate and vicious in the years during and after the war, battling with a pitch and ferocity much greater than when they had roamed the entire continent alone and free. With their people squeezed tighter and tighter in an unforgiving noose they'd taken their fear and frustration and rage out on the only thing they could - themselves and each other.

Listens Without Words had taken her own life rather than live as a captured wife to an enemy brave.

It had hurt deeply when he'd found out - No Squaw had been a true friend. But a friend was all. His visit, those four nights, it didn't make him a part of their lives or bond between them an everlasting love; he hadn't longed for it to be that. Their deaths took only earthly friendship from him, nothing more.

The next on his list hadn't been very long ago. Vin grimaced thinking on it. He wasn't even sure it counted and yet he couldn't discount it.

The seven had still been too new to each other for him to trust in it the way he did now. When he'd seen Charlotte and the way she was treated it had fired something inside of him, a protective ire and a determination to see her freed from it. But it was, he'd ruefully admitted later, hardly enough. Or hardly love.

Their one night when they'd broken from the wagon train he'd lain behind her within his blankets, arms about her, listening to her breathe.

He'd started to get restless. Fidgety. Simply holding her didn't calm him. It wasn't the anchor he'd envisioned; the driving need to get her away from her abusive husband wasn't enough to maintain his purpose once they were alone.

Vin had left her and gone about making himself busy. Gathering useless wood they'd never have the time to burn and wouldn't carry with them. Cooking breakfast for her that would grow cold and congeal long before she'd awaken. Checking Peso's readiness for a long ride they were never going to take.

All his busyness were efforts to do for her, provide for her, make certain what she'd require would be there. None of his actions were steeped in longing or romance or even a growing kinship.

He'd known then he couldn't do this to her. That he couldn't do it to himself.

When she'd woken to find him on the other side of the fire she'd known the same.

Returning her to her husband hadn't been easy but it hadn't been the hardest thing he'd ever done. It would have hurt her more in the long run to keep her and keep lying to her. They were both well aware of that. Vin was equally aware of the lies she'd told herself, her discomforts and uncertainties with what he really was and always would be. They'd realized all too soon what they were - and were not - to one another and what that meant they would eventually have become.

Leaving her and returning to town with the boys had felt right - the first thing that had felt right since coming upon that wagon train. Any last doubts he'd had were absolved by that truth's bald simplicity.

Vin swiped across his face with his hand. Water clung to everything - his eyelashes, his brows, the lines in his cheeks, the divot above his lip. He shook his hand off to the side. The rain kept coming, quickly replacing what he'd cast off.

Ezra had been the only other person he'd slept with the night though.

Again aching regret spasmed through him. Bile choked him, sharp and rancid. Vin shook his head and spit several times, working his mouth and tongue. He sucked water in from where it rested against his skin, lifting his hand to cup more inside, wanting to break up the acidic burn that stung his cheeks and throat.

Vin clenched his jaw. Goddamn stupid fucking regret.

His eyes closed and his head bowed and he remembered. That night. Ezra's hands. Everything else.

That was the only time he'd woken and had wanted to stay.

Leaving had never been hard before; he'd woken up knowing he'd have to, the regret at doing so starting its ache the moment he'd stopped feeling the warmth of Ezra's skin against his. Vin wished he could make it go away, but it was stubborn mean with persistence against letting him be.

"I'm thinking we should just ride on. Only got a couple more hours and we ain't likely to get any more miserable."

Chris' shouted words jolted him from his thoughts.

Pony had come even. The two horses struggled to walk side by side, hooves sinking into the unsteady trail, the deep, suctioning pocks widening and joining as the horses kept stride. They'd been riding staggered all day - no one following the others' tracks, doing their best to preserve some of the stability of the quickly wallowing muck that used to be the ground.

Vin looked over, squinting against the rain. It'd turned into a fine mist, the air charged through with wet, dancing about like some bewitched fog. Chris was shouldered towards him, blond hair dark and bedraggled, thick lanks sticking to his forehead from under his hat. Water had spiked his eyelashes, giving him the appearance of having only about five on either side, thick and uneven. The day's stubble on his chin sparkled with moisture.

He nodded. " 'Spect that'll work." Vin found he had to shout back.

The rain might have slowed but the wind was still there, ever-present, screaming through the desert as if filled with mindless agonies unknown.

Chris simply nodded in return and fell back. Peso grunted, hoof landing in the mire Pony had just churned up. Vin leaned in the saddle and tightened his legs.

"Git on - git on," he urged.

He looked down, watched the mud as it held then pulled then finally broke, dropping away from Peso's lifted hoof in heavy, slopping globs. They listed then righted, listed and righted again. Peso's head dropped with discontent then kicked back up, mouth opening to surge against the bit. Vin rode it out, for once tempered with patient understanding of his horse's aggravation.

A firm nudge with his knee had Peso sidestepping. Vin took them off the trail a short distance. The ground was only somewhat firmer but he'd take any improvement at this point. Peso's ears tucked flat and they steadied. Vin loosened his grip on the reins and rolled back in the saddle.

He glanced over his shoulder. Buck had given up any pretense. His hat had been jammed further down, the bandana removed from around his neck. He was sitting up in the saddle, coat now lying across Lady, tucked in behind him. Vin understood it. Couldn't get much colder or much wetter. Sometimes the only way to get the better of something was to just surrender to it.

Chris had subsided to a middle distance between them, the three horses once again staggered along the trail. He didn't look perturbed or even particularly cognizant of the wet - just continued to ride forward and forward, hazel eyes locked in a thoughtful glare. His duster hung limp, both tails dragging to his right. They were too heavy with rain to do more, only the ends fluttering slothfully as the wind chased across them.

Vin shook his head. He'd be damn glad to see Four Corners and get somewhere dry. He felt like he'd been wandering blind and wet for weeks.

*******

The remainder of the ride took every bit of Chris' protracted 'couple of hours.' The three pulled into town exhausted and irritable. Vin swore he felt like his skin was going to wrinkle completely up and start rubbing off. He stopped in the doorway of the livery and glanced up and down the street, crossing his arms across his chest, working to stop a shiver.

Four Corners was faring no better under the bane of constant rain and wind. The whole town looked washed out and weary, everything in half-tones of mud and cold slate gray. The barrel fires that lined the boardwalks smoldered impotently, sputtering against the pervasive damp. Deep, water-laden ruts cut across one another in the street, intersecting to create a complicated weave of dirty canals.

It was early evening but the town felt deserted. The Clarion was dark, the furious sounds of the press silent. The hotel was staid, a few of the upstairs windows' pale glow working to penetrate the gloomy air. No one was coming or going from anywhere. Even the saloon looked lifeless, batwing doors hanging motionless, no lingering strains of the piano filtering out into the night. The sign above Potter's store provided the only noise other than the wind, banging up against the overhang, the hook-and-eye hardware protesting with metallic scrapes and whines.

Vin had left most of the work of dressing down Peso to Yosemite and his newest stable hand. Before he'd stepped tiredly away he'd stood with Peso in the stall, hands feeling the length of every muscle. They were quivering with fatigue, warm from the punishing exertion, but none felt hot to his touch. He'd backed away and nodded, satisfied that nothing had been pulled or strained - his gambling to speed the trip by taking the Notch Pass and keeping to a trot whenever the mucky trail had allowed had paid off. It would seem that no permanent damage had been done.

The notch trail bypassed Eagle Bend, cutting sharply in a north-south run instead of the sweeping curve the main route through the large town made. It wasn't always reliable. The rubbled aftermath of rockslides could block the narrow trail. Sometimes erosion took away enough of the hard ledge to make passing by on horseback feel precarious at best. But they'd needed those hours that had been gained.

Vin sighed and ducked back into the weather from under the livery's awning, a few steps behind Chris and Buck. They'd need Notch Pass again come tomorrow. He hoped it held.

They didn't even bother to try and step around the puddles, just marched through the clinging mud, faces set, eyes narrow and tight. Now and again Vin would lift his leg higher, kick to rid it of excess mud before letting it sink down to his ankle when he'd take another step. He wasn't concerned about anything but relieving some of the weight; there was no staying clean and he was already soaked to the bone. At this point he simply didn't care.

Chris pushed open the batwing doors and held them. Vin and Buck sidled in after. He blinked at how bright it seemed - he hadn't looked at anything but unbroken gray for days. It was warm and blessedly dry. Vin closed his eyes and fought against shaking himself off like a dog. No needing to punish Inez by splattering the walls and furniture. The three of them standing there dripping water and mud was going to be damage enough.

The saloon was as quiet as it had appeared from outside.

Two dedicated drinkers had propped themselves up with a bottle, one at the bar, the other at one of the tables to the right. That one was lying facedown, snoring, the rattling sound amplified by the solid round of wood. Inez was busy behind the bar, replacing stock and dusting then rearranging her display of decorative glasses.

JD and Ezra sat at the seven's usual table, a drink at each of their elbows, conversing quietly. Ezra was backed to the wall, facing both the door and the saloon. JD was across from him, sprawled forward in his pushed-back chair, bowler hat hooked on the left spindle. There was a basket of crisped sweet-spiced tortillas to the side - JD grabbed one and stuffed it in his mouth, munching with absent enjoyment.

Vin watched JD's hands, narrowed his focus on the cards he could just make out. JD picked one up from the pile between them and laid down a set of three. Another was selected and discarded. Vin smiled. The two were playing gin.

Ezra closed his hand around his snifter and swirled the dark, red-yellow liquid before taking a long sip. Green eyes never left the game. He was wearing the turquoise cufflinks again, but the black striped shirt was fastened with simple shell buttons, finished with a black ribbon tie. His vest was dark blue with black trim, pocket watch fob winking in the warm lamplight. Ezra's deep burgundy coat was laid out on the chair beside him, riverboat hat upturned upon it. He had his gunbelt on but that was all, the shoulder harness and derringer likely in his room.

Vin breathed in deeply at seeing the other man, relieved and settled without really knowing why.

"Aw hell, hoss. I'm finding a bed." Buck clapped a hand against Chris' shoulder then turned on his heel. "See you boys in the morning," he said wearily.

Chris nodded silently, unconcerned. There'd be no good arguing with Buck in this mood, no need to either. There was nothing left for them to do this night.

Vin watched him go, knowing that finding a bed meant something other than Buck's empty one at the boarding house. Buck stepped out onto the decking and pulled off his hat, running his fingers though his sodden hair before pushing it back down again. He glanced back into the saloon and Vin lifted two fingers, dusting his brim. Buck winked, the gesture strangely macabre in the flickering half-light, making him look like he had a deep, shadowed socket but no eye.

With that he was gone, running down the boardwalk, intent on company and catching some sleep.

When Vin turned back around Ezra was walking towards them. JD was swiveled in his chair, hand grasping the side, chin resting on his wrist. Both were clearly interested in why the three were back.

Ezra stopped a few paces away from them, clearly unwilling to come within the spreading halo of muck that was sloughing from their persons.

He raised a brow. "Misters Larabee and Tanner." He nodded to each, then frowned. "Whatever are you doing back - and under such dreary conditions?" His look clearly told them that up until now he'd granted them with better sense; it raked them up and down, checking for injury and signs of why they'd returned.

Chris shook his head. "Wires are down - couldn't get word out to anywhere, not even to be relayed."

Ezra narrowed his eyes, gaze darting to Chris then Vin. They held on Vin for a beat then landed once again on Chris. Ezra's posture hadn't changed but he was now more alert, not wary but no longer at ease. He pursed his lips but didn't press, instead waiting patiently for Chris to continue with the explanation.

Vin lifted his chin. "Ain't no one hurt, nothing gone foul. Just a change of plans."

He shrugged, the action scattering a cluster of water droplets that rained down onto the floor. They landed at a farther reach than the growing stain directly underneath Vin and Chris, soaking into the wood and the dust, small ovals of caked mud rising to bubble on the grain.

He and Ezra shared a long look. Relief flitted within the steady green gaze and Ezra nodded, stance loosening a noticeable measure. Vin nodded back then looked past Ezra's shoulder to JD before he went and said anything more.

"Travis needs you in Landram's Mill." Chris swiped a single finger across his eyebrow. A drizzling line of water pushed away, running down his hand. "Soon as we can get back."

Ezra smoothed a hand down his sleeve. "I had understood that my testimony would not be required for several more days yet?" He tilted his head, brow still arched.

"Shearouse's kin showed up. Offered an alibi."

Ezra pulled back, clearly surprised. "I would think any manner of alibi presented would be completely without merit - at best." The words were heavy with scorn.

Chris' scowl deepened. "Ain't just one involved. His three brothers walked in, each ready to swear on the Bible that Clay'd been with them the whole time. Makes it harder for Travis to discount outright."

"What of Shearouse Senior?" Ezra's tone was clipped and sharp.

This was a development none of them liked.

Vin shook his head. "None of them boys even made mention of Cargen. Just offered up for Clay. Cale, Cady and Cody, each foaming at the mouth to tell Travis all about it." He rubbed his chin with his thumb, scratching over his whiskers and clammy skin. "Easy enough to figure - Clay's alive, Cargen ain't. Waste a time to try and clear their daddy when their brother's fixing to stretch."

Ezra sighed and nodded. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Thereby making it necessary for my testimony to be given post haste in order to controvert the Shearouse brothers' falsified claims." He looked back up and stared outside, beyond the sheltered confines of the saloon. "Good Lord," he breathed, "I shall be willingly subjecting myself to that unremitting wretchedness in the name of truth."

Vin ducked his head and grinned. Chris coughed, tightening his fist against his mouth to hide his own smile.

"Sometimes," Ezra said dryly, "I do not care for irony one whit."

Chris rested his hand on the butt of his gun and straightened his shoulders. "We'll be leaving at dawn - meaning whatever breakfast you aim on eating comes before."

Ezra smiled. It was a small, mischievous curl. "But of course. By all means, Chris," he answered airily.

Vin snorted and buried his head further. He could feel Chris' glare. That just made him want to laugh aloud.

Chris sighed. It was put-upon but without rancor. "See you both then tomorrow. We'll meet back here." He nodded and turned away, the wet leather of his gunbelt and boots creaking, black duster slapping dully against his calves.

Vin looked up and met Ezra's eyes. The twinkling greens took his breath away. They stared at one another, without words or the need for them. After a moment Vin smiled, a half-quirk of his lips.

"I shall apprise JD of the situation. You should see about getting yourself dry and what rest you can." Ezra smiled back and inclined his head.

Vin let him go - then two steps away he called. "Ez?" His voice was sped, warbled with urgency.

Ezra twisted back to look at him.

He stammered then finally touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. "See ya tomorrow," he managed to say.

Ezra saluted back with his customary two-fingered casualness, warm smile stealing over his features before he winked and turned away once more.

Vin sucked in a long breath then shook his head. That openly fond acknowledgement had heated him all the way to his toes. It was a wonder the rain wasn't steaming out of his clothes. He pulled at his coat, tightening it around his body then he darted outside and beat a hasty retreat to his room at the boarding house.

*******

Vin tightened the reins and pulled back steady and slow. Peso loped then kick-walked before stopping. The black stamped and shifted, still holding a grudge against Vin that after getting home they'd gone back out into the oppressive wet and wind the next day.

The four had met for breakfast - predawn - then headed out. Buck had been half-asleep, shoving down coffee, biscuits, beans and bacon while the other three talked quietly about nothing. With no reason to linger they'd left Four Corners in much the same condition as they'd arrived the night before, exhausted and haunted by the howling wind and the continual rain.

The return ride had kept to their earlier practice, the four horses plodding through the muck in a staggered formation as they avoided one another's tracks. There'd been no quiet conversations, no enjoyment or remarking on the passing landscape. All four had been hunkered down in the saddle, making the best they could of their conditions and the pressing obligation that required they travel through it.

The wet and cold had made the overnight as miserable as everything else, their sketchy campsite in a damp, carved overhang filled with smoke from a fire without any heat. The four had huddled at the back of the makeshift cave, too apathetic for any of them to bother with or even suggest more, catching what sleep they could before braving the sodden, unruly elements come the following dawn.

Vin had ridden point with Ezra visible behind his shoulder, Buck and Chris trailing farther back. All kept a wary eye despite the dreadful weather. They were in no mind to run afoul of the three Shearouse brothers still running free.

They'd made it back to Landram's Mill, the two-day journey cut down so they'd be riding into town just in time for lunch on the second day. Notch Pass had held. The trail they'd been using since clearing the notch and descending the craggy ridges curved ahead of them, a thin thread joining the wider road that ran through the heart of town.

Two days north made it greener and colder. The land here was flatter than back home, dotted with tenacious scrub that could almost be described as leafy. There were mountains in a loose and widespread arc, but these were no jagged peaks, no bulbous, red rocks sculpted by wind and centuries gone water. The trees were bigger here, thick stands in green-black lines where the mountains rose from the ground, marching up and up, clinging to the rolling hills.

The rain and the wind were still with them, omnipresent and dour. Yesterday as they'd ridden they'd finally had a few breaks, strange bits of yellowed sky visible through the layers of clouds. It wasn't raining now but Vin didn't expect that to last.

He looked up, squinting at the dense cover overhead.

There were low-flying wisps, dark charcoal gray, twisting and swirling in a rush across the sky, sped by the whipping breeze. They looked close enough to touch, as if Vin could stand in the saddle and let them run past his spread fingers, curl them in and feel the cloud tangle around his hand.

Above those were scatterings of larger, thicker dark clusters, their anvil shaped edges sloping over the land like bowls. Lightning was tossed haphazardly between them, spearing up into the clouds with sudden flashes of blue and red and gunpowder green.

Higher still was a solid bank of black billows, enormous thunderheads heavy with unshed rain, their bottoms flat as if they rested on a shelf. They churned at a slow boil, unaffected by the wind below, ominous and threatening.

Ezra came even and stopped beside him. Peso snorted and kicked. Chaucer wheeled mildly, rump opening away from Peso to avoid the thrashing hoof, then with a bored nicker closed back in again. Ezra fluidly rode it out, almost without notice.

Vin waited and Ezra turned to him. He nodded with a smile. Ezra smiled back then returned to studying the land and the town. Vin continued to study Ezra.

His hat was the only thing that hadn't been traded in for something plainly utilitarian. He was wearing a light colored canvas coat with tails long enough to shelter both legs. Water beaded on the canvas and ran off without soaking in. Vin envied Ezra that coat.

Ezra wore sturdy, low-heeled boots with a broad, blunt toe. He had on plain black pants, layers of muslin shirts, a gray-blue pressed felt waistcoat and a stylish but still serviceable quilted brown jacket. No brocade vest, no tie, no pocket watch, no wink of turquoise or frill at his wrists.

Vin had also made an amendment to his gear. He'd poked through his small chest of clothes and found an old pair of dungarees, so well worn they were light blue with patches of white. They fit with an easy looseness and were comfortable, but his main reason for wearing them was the weather. These dried out faster and easier than his buckskins and were almost as warm with his longjohns added. They also didn't chafe at sensitive parts when soaked through.

He leaned against the saddlehorn, crossing one wrist over the other. He flicked two disinterested fingers towards the town. "Welcome to Landram's Mill," he deadpanned.

Green eyes met his. Ezra arched a brow and smirked.

They surveyed the scratch of buildings lining the single street laid out below them. Ezra sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes, misery redoubled. Vin just kept staring, watching the black pitch smoke cloud into the air from the few scattered chimneys as the wind grabbed it, streaking it to stain across the sky.

There seemed to be no color in the place huddled before them. Just the gray of the rain, the gray of the sandy earth in these parts and the gray of weathered wood.

To describe the town as bleak would be kind.

Landram's Mill had, for a time, been a pleasant enough place. Those who had moved here came following the promise of timber. Logging had been its mainstay, keeping Landram's Mill and her people in good stead for half a decade. The decadent disregard of the exhaustible resource was evident in the town itself - each original building made with hewn lumber, thick and true. Vin figured the old part of town could be pulled apart notch by plug and sold for a pretty penny.

It was snugged against a mountain, nestled in a basin valley where two rolling peaks tumbled together in a lazy V. It had been a fine home for the loggers, surrounded by the tall, swaying ponderosa pines interspersed with birch and the odd alder, humming with the busy sounds of churning sawmills and farther out the echoing cries of 'hiee-a-wah - timber!' calling just before the splitting crack of a mighty giant groaning in surrender as it fell to the earth.

Vin shook his head, bitter at the blind waste.

The gentle mountains were stripped bare. The eroding hillsides were stained with rusty-colored streaks where the tree stumps moldered. Feathered fronds of bunchgrass, thorny scrub and the waxy-green viper of transplanted Virginia Creeper were starting to take over, obliterating the remaining traces of the ancient forest. The land was atrophied; healing itself would take years.

Landram's Mill had once been alive. Now it was just a broken heap of humanity, clinging with desolate tenacity to a land made barren by the promise of prosperity. Mr Art Landram had long since moved on, taking his bankroll with him. What remained was jack-a-day labor for a pittance or simply existing without, living off what you had, could grow or trade.

The population had undergone its own change, further degrading what was left of the town. There were drifters who had blown in and never managed to get unstuck, harboring themselves, listless and useless, in the gray shadows. Wanted men and a few hardscrabble whores added the only bit of liveliness. Most of the rest were those who simply wanted to disappear, each for their own reason, fading away with the town.

Some of the loggers had remained, too short of funds or too in hawk to Landram to shake themselves free before the Mill declined and fell into its current ruin. Cargen Shearouse had been one of them.

Cargen had been a lumberjack most of his life, living in a place until the trees were gone then continuing on until he found more ready to be plucked clean. He'd arrived in Landram's Mill with his four sons and a dying wife. She'd been eaten inside out by consumption within their first two months at the Mill.

The trees hadn't stopped falling. Cargen hadn't stopped bringing them down.

He'd made a good wage from Landram; Cargen had been a specialty man, shimmying up into the dizzying heights and taking a tree down cut by sizable cut, rendering it manageable for the teams underneath to finally drop it. Toppers made good pay - half enticement, half hazard. More often than not toppers found their demise pitching to the ground right along with the tumbling treetops. Cargen had been a rarity, someone who enjoyed the perilous work while being damned good at it besides.

But Cargen had also been known for his hot head - the same swaggering bravado that had kept him alive all those years balancing the high wire also gave him a nasty temper. He'd had reprimands for drunkenness, insubornation and attacking a superior - non-fatally - with an axe.

The last year the mill had been in operation all five of the Shearouse men had toiled under Landram, Cargen swaying far up top, his boys down below, lobbing off the branches, burning the waste and felling everything in sight.

By the time Landram uprooted his operation, the next mill site had already been purchased and plotted. The mill town holding his namesake was just another useless carcass readily forgotten, left behind to rot in favor of mercenary determininism.

Cargen had been told he would be staying behind as well. That nasty temper and his surly ways had undermined him the final step too far. Even his skills and willingness to risk neck and limb couldn't save him one last time.

He and his boys had remained. Cargen hadn't gone in search of more trees. Instead he'd turned to crime, that burning temper, his furious anger at having been let go and his four boys all he needed to fuel his lawlessly self-entitled ambitions. The Shearouse clan had been running a petty criminal empire out of Landram's Mill ever since.

"My, my," Ezra muttered. "What a picture."

Vin snorted lightly. "It is that," he drawled derisively.

"We're actually going in there. Aren't we?" Ezra's resigned tone was almost drowned out by the rising wind. He shook his head. "The things I do for this … job."

Rain started to patter down on them, the drops fat and slow and sparse. It was time to head on into Landram's Mill. Even that was better than the rain.

The distinctive roar of a plow wind rushed over them. Chaucer and Peso stirred anxiously, fretting at the ground with shifting hooves. Buck and Chris had caught up with them - neither even paused. They just kept riding, heads low, their tack and coats whipping in the driving surge.

Vin heard it come.

Like a stooping peregrine the storm came, rising out from behind the mountain, closing back down over the hillside in an angry curtain. Water fell in heavy sheets, darkening the bulk of the mountain until it was obscured. Lightning ripped through the black, splitting thunder cracking on its heels without pause. Landram's Mill would be overtaken in minutes.

"Hell," Vin cursed.

He dug in with his heels and leaned forward, pressing his body close to Peso's neck. The black leapt into motion, racing across the flat break of land. Ezra was right beside them, Chaucer stretching to a full run, light canvas coattails tangling and coiling behind them.

The four steamed the final distance into town, thundering down the center of main street towards the livery. The wind chased after them, changing from the powerful, pushing gust to swirling eddies thrashing one way then the other.

The rain caught them as they were dismounting. It heaved down upon them, drenching everything in its path. Vin threw himself to the ground and grabbed Peso's reins, crowding into the livery with Buck and Chris.

Ezra ducked past them, still astride Chaucer, body held low and tight to the horse's barrel. The chestnut's steps slowed only after they were out of the driving rain, prancing lightly before coming to a gentle stop. Ezra rolled sideways out of the saddle and landed facing the three. He fingered his hat with a grin.

They all stood for a moment, catching their breath and regaining their bearings. The storm clattered against the warped timber roof in a deafening roar, making conversation impossible. Chris handed his reins to Buck and made a quick search of the livery. He returned with a shrug.

Apparently there was no one about.

Vin led Peso to the far stall in the back corner. The livery wasn't full; he was glad to have his choice. Peso didn't always take kindly to strange horses and Vin was in no mood for a fight. He backed Peso steadily into the stall then closed himself in and set to work.

Ezra took the stall next to them. Chaucer walked himself in then turned around, lifting his head in a regal preen. Ezra approached with a smile, hand outstretched, laden with a sugary treat. Chaucer grubbed against the flattened palm then leaned forward, letting Ezra take some of his weight as he nuzzled in, turning one way then the other. Ezra smiled affectionately and obliged, scratching behind each ear in turn.

Vin shook his head. Damned horse fancied itself an oversized dog. Although he supposed that's what happened when both animal and rider were too smart by half.

He watched Ezra's hands as they smoothed over Chaucer's face. First the leather drop-nose band and cavasan were lifted away, followed by the bridle then the bit. Chaucer let go of it easily, busy foraging in Ezra's clothing for more goodies. Ezra held the gear looped over one hand and brushed through Chaucer's forelock with the other. After a moment he stepped away, hung the trailing leather strips on a long nail then started in on the saddle, one hand idling up and along Chaucer's muscles in a reassuring caress the whole time.

Vin swallowed and focused his attention back to Peso, his body suddenly alive with remembered awareness. He shook that away and quickly untacked his black, efficiently working the same chore as Ezra. He treated Peso with respect and gave good care but had never spoiled his horse; he knew there'd be no living with the damned mule if he ever started.

He slid his saddlebags off and threw them to the front corner of the stall. He flipped the stirrups up and hooked them over the saddlehorn then started loosening the cinch. Peso let out a long, relieved grunt when the knot slipped open and the leather strap gave. Vin slapped the black's rump - Peso's idea of affection - and tugged at the saddle, catching it as it tumbled towards him. He set it aside then dug into his saddlebags.

The currycomb scratched over the smoothly gleaming skin briskly, wiping up from under the mane to travel muscle lines down Peso's barrel to his tail. Vin worked the sweat and rain wet hair, long strokes of the comb helping to dry out and relax his horse.

Vin pocketed the comb then backed his hip under Peso's foreleg, wedging himself firmly into place. He ran his hand down the hock and past the warm ankle, fingers tightening to tickle along the fetlock. Vin pinched just above Peso's hoof. The horse's leg lifted up on instinct.

He cleaned the hoof thoroughly, scraping away the day's accumulation of mud and debris. Vin duck-walked his way around the black, repeating the process with each leg. He righted and patted Peso's neck then gathered his gear.

There was a wall-mounted bracket for his saddle but Vin didn't trust leaving it. He tipped it onto the ground and lashed the bridle and bit around the horn then hefted the whole kit onto his shoulder, letting the bulk of it hang behind him. He backed out of the stall, lowering enough to snag his bags as he went.

Ezra was right there for him, closing the stall as soon as he was clear, hand already out with an offering for Peso. The horse chortled with knowing delight and leaned out past the door, standing serenely, allowing Ezra to stroke the white-blazed nose, eyes blinking lazily.

Vin shook his head and snorted. "Ornery cuss," he muttered.

Ezra turned and grinned, green eyes twinkling. He fished into his pocket and held out his hand, spreading his fingers, presenting his palm to Vin.

Vin grinned back and stepped forward, reaching out to grab the candy. Ezra's fist closed around it just before he could take it. He scowled, head pulling up and back. Ezra's smile returned but now his eyes smoldered.

He watched the hand open again. The lump of molasses candy made his mouth water; the idea that he wanted to taste so much more than the proffered sweet nearly had him drooling.

He leaned over Ezra's hand and closed his mouth around the dark brown treat, making sure his lips dragged over the textured skin as he picked up the candy with his teeth. Vin worked it to the back of his mouth then swiped the tiny, sweet shards from Ezra's palm with his tongue.

Ezra's hand dropped away and Vin stood up abruptly in response. He looked at Ezra but his friend was already turned around. Vin was suddenly bewildered.

"Reckon we'll settle up later. Gotta come back anyway - can't find wherever they keep their feed." Chris' spurs jangled dully against the sawdust and hay covered floor.

Vin nodded in agreement and spun on his heel. Chris, Buck and Ezra stood in a loose circle around him, each one with their saddle over a shoulder. Ezra caught his eye and winked. He quirked a half-smile in answer and tipped his head, momentary bewilderment assuaged.

The four walked to the door of the livery and paused, each looking out into the rain and the dilapidated town. The storm had spent its violence, the crashing plow wind and chasing deluge already miles gone. The rain had slowed to a steady, heavy drizzle and the wind, though constant, didn't feel like enough to knock a man down.

Ezra sighed. "So it begins," he said.

Buck clapped a hand over Ezra's shoulder and hitched his saddle higher with the other. "C'mon, Ez. We'll show ya to your room." He jammed his hat further down and strode out into the rain, determined stride making fast work of the deserted, muddy street.

Vin and Ezra followed and Chris brought up the rear, each keeping to Buck's brisk pace. They passed the main set of buildings that comprised the heart of Landram's Mill, all short, squat and sturdily built save for the spire of the church that rose defiantly into the stormy skies. Six buildings in all. The livery and the small church; a murky, uninspired saloon; a general store that was also the town's bank, wire and post; the restaurant that was open daily but only for three, two-hour windows to serve meals and a large lodge that had at one time been for dancing and meetings but had since been converted into a boarding house.

There were a few saltbox houses on the outskirts and a line of shithouses behind. They were headed to the far side of town and a ramshackle clutch of tiny, clapboard bunkhouses. The cabins were leftover from the days when there had been more loggers than places to live, hastily built to accommodate the teeming workforce then left behind like everything else.

Buck walked the line of them and stopped at the one on the end. He grabbed the knob and jimmied it then had to shoulder the door open with a strong shove. When they'd set out for Four Corners two days ago they'd left it unlocked. There was nothing in the room worth stealing with all of their gear packed back up and taken along.

They all filed in and stayed bunched at the open door. It was somewhat dank inside. The right back corner had settled, pulling the walls away from the roof. A steady seep of water stained the warping wood. The wind funneled in through the gap, whistling its way across the small cabin to rush out the door.

Buck shoved the door closed again and the wind died down, becoming a low, persistent hum in the background.

Chris walked in and struck a match, broken chimney on the lamp cracked far enough down so he didn't have to lift it away. The wick sizzled wet then the flame took, casting dancing shadows around the barren, windowless square. They all stared at the small room, for the moment without anything to say.

The amenities were piteously meager.

There were two beds, each against the wall on either side. There was no bedding or pillows on the flat mattresses, the ticking now brownish green instead of white and blue. The lamp sat on a small, rough-hewn table at the far end. Aged whitewash peeled from the walls, flecks of the milky paint littering the floor, ground into the knotty boards. The roof was flat and close overhead, tilted from front to back for water or snow runoff. Buck's hat dusted against it.

Ezra turned in a slow circle. "This is our accommodation?" He voice dripped with distaste. He stopped and arched a brow at Chris. "All of ours?"

The match burnt down and sputtered against Chris' thumb and forefinger. He flicked the charred stick towards the back corner. "Yup," he answered. "This is it - ain't nothing else." Chris shrugged. "Better than camping." He grinned. "Almost."

Vin snickered and let his saddle drop down next to the door at the end of the bed. He rocked it up onto its end then swiveled around, offering for Ezra's. Ezra came back towards him and handed the weighty bundle over. He tucked it beside his own. Buck and Chris stowed their tack on the other side of the door.

He came to the center of the room and stood next to Ezra. He waved his hand across the sad interior. "Welcome to the Ritz," he deadpanned, tone an exact repeat of earlier.

Ezra met his gaze and smiled that small, pleased smile of secretive amusement. Vin felt it from his scalp, through his groin and on down to his toes. They curled tight with delight up into his boots.

Buck nudged Ezra with his shoulder and pointed at one of the two hay pallets sagging disinterestedly on their rope supports. "Chris and me'll take this bunk. You n' Vin can have that one." He winked and waggled a brow. "Unless a'course you find me just too damn irresistible, wanna throw Vin in with Chris instead."

Ezra laughed and nudged Buck back. "I do believe I shall survive, thank you all the same." He laid his saddlebags on the bed Buck had designated for them then turned back around. "However, if the temptation becomes too great and the need too dire, I will certainly see to altering our arrangement." He grinned wickedly.

Buck chuckled happily, tossing his bags onto the other bunk. "You do that, Pard," he laughed.

Chris thumped Buck's arm. "C'mon. Let's go find Travis, tell him we're back."

Ezra took off his coat and shook it out before leaving it to hang from one end of the table. He shuffled back to the bed and drew out a short, coarse bristle brush. The riverboat hat twirled down into his hand and he started brushing it. He was clearly disinclined to join them.

Vin nodded. "See you boys in a bit." He winked. "Give the Judge my regards."

Buck snorted and rolled his eyes, but he tipped his hat with a smile then turned for the door. He yanked it open with a grunt and a heave. It had stuck when just the three had stayed before and the continual rain had made the wood bloat even more. Buck staggered when it finally gave. He shook his head and stepped out into the swirling mist.

Chris nodded back. "In a bit," he confirmed.

Vin walked behind him and stopped just inside, hand wrapped around the door to hold it open against the wind. Chris paused on the threshold, glaring out into the drizzle and mud.

"Cowards," he said, looking in to Ezra then back at Vin, hazel-green eyes alight with humor.

Vin lifted a finger to his hat with a smile. He watched Chris catch up with Buck, the two falling into step as they paced uncaring over the muck underfoot. Buck's hands started gesturing busily and now and again Chris nodded. The light rain continued to fall, pushed about by the blustering wind in whirling gray-blue sprays.

He raised his arms and hooked his fingers around the doorjamb then leaned back, hipshot, as he stared into the bleakness. It was windier with the door open, the cold of it raking over him where he stood but he preferred that to the dank dimness when it was closed.

"I hate it here," he stated firmly.

Hate of a place wasn't usual for Vin. Normally he wasn't of a strong mind one way or the other. Any further opinion came from the nature of his reasons for being somewhere and how long he had to stay. But in his very brief tenure here he had come to truly hate Landram's Mill - and all the damnable things that had conspired to bring him here not once but twice.

Normal circumstances would have dictated that he, Chris and Buck not make the return trip after once back in Four Corners. Of course, normal circumstances didn't include monsoons that knocked wires out, requiring them to ride hard for two days just to tell Ezra his testimony was going to be needed sooner than they'd planned on.

Testimony that had pulled the seven inexorably into a growing, clinging web of complication.

As soon as Travis had realized that at the very least Standish would be involved, he'd requested the boys provide a greater presence of 'law' in Landram's Mill for the trial. The Shearouse clan was something of an institution, respected and feared by the local citizenry as well as the sheriff and his drunkard deputy. The Judge liked to see justice delivered and order maintained. He well knew the seven's loyalties to one another, counted on it in fact. Travis also knew they'd come for Ezra if nothing else.

They hadn't called his bluff.

The three had set out, intent on arriving and establishing themselves while they assessed the situation and any potential threats. Ezra had been to join them later, in time for his part in the trial but no earlier. They'd all agreed the less time he spent at Landram's Mill and the possibility of a run-in with the Shearouse brothers the better.

JD and Nathan were to bring Ezra halfway, meet up with the rest then head back to Four Corners. Josiah was nursing a broken arm and its lingering fever; Nathan would go back to keep an eye on him and help JD mind the town. JD returned because he was the sheriff and it was right that he be there. Because they'd decided from the start that Nathan and JD shouldn't be gone from home too long Vin, Chris and Buck had done what had been necessary.

Nobody traveled alone anymore. At least so far as could be prevented. If one of the boys chose to go solo on personal business it was ultimately their call, but none of them had to. Ever since Chris' ordeal in Jericho with the crooked sheriff and warden that had seen him forced into prison, riding with backup was the given expectation.

The appearance of the remaining Shearouses come to witness on the behalf of their brother's innocence had made them uneasy about leaving anyone behind or sending just one of them back. Travis had suspended the trial, waiting them out until they returned with Ezra.

Vin shook his head. It'd better prove itself out as worth it.

"Your detestation is quite understandable, Vin."

Ezra's voice was quiet. It threaded over Vin's shoulder, tickling his senses. He felt the heat of Ezra radiate from alongside, come to stand in the doorway with him. Vin glanced over and their eyes met.

Vin nodded. "Will be damn glad when we ride away from here."

"Without having to return," Ezra chuckled.

Vin's heart flip-flopped. The husky laugh broke against his skin; it spread and it spread. He dropped his hands and shifted to the left. Ezra stepped closer. Vin was almost giddy-warm now, heartbeat accelerating, blood starting to fire. He moved back over, pressing his arm against Ezra's. He chanced brushing fingers with his own, locking them into a fist after the bare touch.

"Thanks for the candy Ez." Vin's voice was somewhat labored. It caught over 'Ez.' He smiled, eyes still busy watching the misty rain.

He took in a sharp breath when his fingers were brushed back. Then that single finger he remembered so well followed the side stitching in his pants, up his thigh, sneaking under his coat to skim the waistband. The finger paused at the small of his back then plunged down, touch so light, tracing the thick seam. It rounded along the curve of his ass and dragged softly back out to his thigh. Then the teasing journey began all over again.

Ezra chuckled again, tones deeper, warmer. "It was my distinct pleasure." His finger continued its lazy pursuits. "Hmm. You know…"

Vin could hear Ezra's smile. He knew it'd be suggestive, the full bottom lip pouting upwards, green eyes glowing. He swallowed.

"Know what?" he choked out.

Ezra folded a bit of material between his thumb and forefinger. He stroked the worn denim, knuckles pressing into Vin's flesh. "I like these." He turned to face Vin and grinned.

Vin met Ezra's gaze. It was as hot and beautiful green as he'd imagined. "Yeah," he breathed. "Nice 'n soft, ain't they?"

Fingers uncurled to spread around the back of his thigh. Ezra's hand smoothed upwards, coming to rest just cupping his butt.

"Delightfully so," Ezra murmured, pupils spreading, eclipsing the green with raw, dark desire.

Vin ensnared Ezra's wrist with a fluid, swift motion. He twisted it, pushed it, directing Ezra, turning them away from the door. He walked them a step, backing Ezra into the wall, pinning the devastating hand against the splinter-rough wood, fingers tightening around the nimble joint.

He widened his stance and let both knees knock into the wall, one on either side of Ezra's. Vin reached between them, hand furious, ripping at the buttons of his fly. When he huffed in frustration Ezra's free hand appeared, resting against his a moment then they began to pluck the buttons open. The two worked quickly, getting both their needy groins free of their confining layers.

Vin fell forward and let his weight tip into the balls of his feet, pressing hip to chest to Ezra's sturdy frame. He ran his hand up and down Ezra's flank, wishing desperately for skin, knowing there wasn't time. Ezra's thumb passed over his cock and he jerked, hips thrusting automatically at the sensation. The thumb swiped again and Vin kept thrusting.

He groaned when the thumb was replaced by Ezra's throbbing hardness, fitting against his, two surging as one.

The wind started raging through the bunkhouse, rattling the rickety structure, blowing the door Vin had abandoned somewhat ajar closed. It rapped into the frame and banged open again. The wind kept coming and the door kept banging.

His breath came in sharp, erratic gasps. Vin worked his hand back up and pressed his thumb into the soft flesh under Ezra's jawline, fingers closing around the straining neck. The strong pulse he found there thrummed and quickened, matching his hunger, his clawing need.

Ezra's hand dove into his waistband, gripping his ass, fingers kneading. The heat of them soaked through his longjohns, the nubbly material bunching and twisting as Ezra pulled them tighter together.

Vin became aware of making sounds - low, throaty grunts. They repeated every time he surged into Ezra, charging up from his solar plexus to escape between his tightly clenched teeth. Ezra was answering him, rough, thick drawl urging him, telling him things he couldn't make out but could well understand.

The door burst open again, swinging wide. It slammed into the wall, impact sending it creaking back once more. The wind took it, pushing and insistent. Hinges protested shrilly and the knob thudded into the wall with persistent, rat-a-tat syncopation.

He opened his eyes and stared blindly, lost in the movement, the thrust of hard flesh against his, the searching fingers shoving his underclothes into his butt crack. Vin blinked then blinked again. He managed to fight past the haze, arousal lifting enough for him to recognize the two forms approaching the bunkhouse.

Buck and Chris, ambling back, kicking and sinking their way through the mire.

"Shit," he cursed.

Vin let his hand fall from Ezra's neck. He fumbled with his bandana, tearing it up from around his neck, his hat flying off to the side. He forced the cloth between them, wrapping his hand around their erections.

Ezra's pelvis tipped up. His hand splayed wide, fingers bent, nails biting into Vin's ass.

Their thrusts came hard and fast. Vin's eyes bulged as he watched Buck and Chris. He pressed his temple to Ezra's and tightened his hand into an almost punishing fist around their aligned cocks.

Ezra's muffled gurgle of completion came seconds before his. Vin closed his eyes tight, turning so he could rest his forehead against Ezra's. For a moment the two struggled to breathe, muscles tremoring with the aftermath of exertion and release.

Vin lifted his face, letting his lips drag Ezra's sweaty forehead then he leaned back. He balled the bandana into his hand, secreting the wet evidence against his palm. His fingers loosened and he caressed Ezra's wrist then turned away.

"Company coming," he rasped. Vin spun on a heel and stepped over to their gear. He knelt next to it, concealing his exposed state as he continued to come down.

Vin was shaking. He could still feel Ezra - body heat, breath, hard dick, sure fingers. The sensations were with him like a second skin, a haunting, erotic specter. He closed his eyes and sucked in air, trying to control his body and slow the trembling.

The door kicked against the wall.

"Damn boys. Ain't that a bit annoying?" Buck's boots scraped wetly on the grit-covered floor.

"We had just commenced searching for something that might serve as an adequate door stop." Ezra's voice was calm, even.

Vin shivered. The others wouldn't know to hear it but he could discern the subtly quavering threads, leftovers from the urgent roughness that had scraped over him during their fervent, hurried bout.

Chris' spurs sounded dully, clogged with mud. "Restaurant just opened for lunch. What say we head on over. Can fill you both in on what Travis had to say, see what we can find out about these Shearouse brothers." He paused. "Nothing much fancy being served but if we don't go now we're stuck until dinner." Chris chuckled. "Will save you the trouble over the door if nothing else."

Vin looked over his shoulder. He nodded at Chris and started fishing for something in his saddlebags. There was nothing he needed but he couldn't exactly stand up just yet. From the corner of his eye he saw Ezra, moving with that captivating, unaffected grace.

"Does the saloon not offer a repast?" Ezra flipped his hat onto his head then grabbed his coat. He twirled it through the air as he stepped into it, canvas tails arcing wide, a perfect distraction.

Vin grinned and stood up. He tucked himself up and hastily buttoned his drawers and fly. He turned around, hanging back while the other three filed towards the door.

Buck snorted. "Sorry Ez. The saloon has a few tables and plenty of wet stuff, but it ain't got much by way of vittles. What they do sling onto a plate tastes worse than the restaurant's." He shook his head. "And that ain't saying much."

Ezra sighed and closed his eyes briefly, pausing over the buttons of his coat. "The afore seeming ample purse I became endowed with in Eagle Bend is fast becoming nowhere near enough to cover the encumbrance having been there has caused."

Chris grinned and let himself fall out of the door, shaking his head as he laughed quietly. Buck rolled out next, blue eyes twinkling.

Vin stopped and secured his mare's leg, retying the leather strip around his thigh. He righted and tugged at his coat, straightening it from its uncomfortable twist. His thumbs hooked at his belt buckle and he went to follow the others.

Ezra was suddenly there, blocking his path, hands closing to tangle with his fingers. A lock of soft hair whispered across his brow then Ezra's forehead was resting on his.

"I have missed you as well," Ezra murmured. He tightened his hands then pulled away.

Vin's lips twitched to a warm half-smile. He nodded, eyes busy taking in the man standing so close to him. Ezra grinned and shoved Vin's hat onto his head.

Green eyes subsided to friendly neutrality and Ezra winked then turned away, pulling his black hat forward, adjusting it to a rakish line before stepping out.

Vin was at his heels. He grabbed the door and flicked the lock with his fingers then pulled it closed behind him, rattling the bunkhouse from truss to tread.

*******

Ffffffth.

Cards slid against one another, smooth and controlled.

Ffffffth.

They were split down the middle, pushed back together in a neatly cascading bridge then split again.

Ffffffth.

Cards shuffled sideways and were stacked. The stack broke down into four parts. Each part spun then returned to the deck.

Ffffffth.

Bent from the sides they whispered against one another again, landing in a neat pile between Ezra's hands.

He began to deal.

"Gentleman," he grinned. "Draw poker."

Vin watched as the cards landed in front of him, one after the other. They fell in a tidy fan as if carefully arranged that way. He waited until his entire hand was dealt. Vin didn't like to look until they were all there, wanting to give them a chance to get to know each other before picking them up.

He ordered the cards in his hand, thinking about which to hold and which to throw. The two he didn't want he pushed up and out to the left, staggered from the remaining three. Vin nodded and looked away, studying the others as they regarded their cards.

"Ya know, Ez, every time you do that," Buck's fingers danced through the air, elbows bobbing up and down in an exaggerated mimic of Ezra's shuffling, "split, twisty, turny, split nonsense I always get my ass handed to me in a sling." He scowled at his cards.

Vin grinned. "That tactile sensitivity getting the better of ya again Bucklin?" He shuddered faintly, eyes glazing as flashes of sensation were remembered. It certainly had of him.

Buck glared at him. Vin's grin deepened when Ezra chuckled. He'd noted Buck grabbed his cards up as soon as they were dealt, wanting to see what was there right away. Chris was like Vin, waiting for the hand to be complete before giving them a look.

He wondered idly what that said about a man. Chris, Josiah and he were all waiters; JD, Buck and Nathan weren't. Ezra always dealt, but he suspected the man would be the waiting kind.

Ezra fanned his cards out for inspection and began arranging them. It was likely just pretense, good possibility being he knew what everyone held.

Chris chuckled. "Ain't always the dealer that can be blamed for your miserable luck, you know." He grinned across the table at Buck.

Buck shook his head at the cards and threw them down in disgust. "Shoot fire Ez-" he began.

"These cards have about as much chance of winning as a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest," the others cheerily supplied.

Vin looked over his cards at Chris and grinned. Chris was using his to shield his face, lips dancing as he fought a burst of laughter.

Ezra gathered Buck's cards. "He folds," he said mildly, tone alive with humor.

Buck pushed back in his chair and stood, taking his empty beer mug up with him. "I'm gonna go see about something I can guarantee getting lucky with." His free hand waved through the air in complicated flourishes, indicating the barmaid almost spilling out of her top weaving between the tables. "I'll see you boys sometime later."

Vin threw one of his wood chips into the pot. He ticked his finger against his forehead.

Chris matched the ante. "Nite, Buck," he said without looking up from his cards.

Ezra raised. "Good evening then, sir. Do enjoy your, ah, fairer pursuit." His gold tooth sparkled in the yellowed lamplight.

Everyone called the initial blind then traded in their cards. Betting took another turn around the table. Vin stayed in. Chris folded. Ezra matched Vin's ante and the two spread their hands.

Vin took it, ace over tens.

He pulled in the pot and Chris tossed his cards to Ezra. Another game was dealt.

They'd been in the saloon for several hours, foregoing supper at the restaurant. After seeing the fare offered Ezra had determined taking their chances with the saloon would be no worse. Better, if one considered the addition of alcohol.

The saloon was wide and squat, the one storied building supported by thick, squared columns that broke the expanse of the room, rising up to meet exposed header beams. The entire left side was taken up with a substantially built bar, the rest inhabited by mismatched tables and chairs. There was no piano, no game table and the working girls were hard and plain; it wasn't plush but the service was adequate and the drinks were wet.

Traces of what it once was remained. The thick tongue and groove pine, oblivious to humidity and time, covering the walls, the ceiling, the floor, still plumb and true beneath the layers of built-up soot. The intricately carved batwing doors with filigreed pinecones and sawtooth designs, likely crafted by one of the loggers who held within themselves the spirit of an artisan. The mellowed solidity of the place that gave an air of competent comfort.

But the saloon, like everything else, was surrendering, lost to the grip of apathy that had taken hold of Landram's Mill and would one day see her defeated.

They'd taken the table at the front corner, out of the way with a clear view of everything. Their dinner had been filling. That was all there was to recommend it. The rest of their evening they'd played poker together and watched, observing the townsfolk, eavesdropping on what they could. Talk in the saloon was monopolized with speculations, curses, gossip and dark looks over the trial.

Ezra had demurred inviting any of the locals to a game. He was already unpopular here. Wisdom dictated he not provide them the opportunity to take a shot at him. I may not be a cheat, he'd quipped, but that hardly prevents the assorted and ired accusations I endure that I am. Vin and the others had laughed at that. Chris had said only reason Ezra didn't cheat was because he was too good to bother, not from any code of ethics the gambler ascribed to. Ezra had shrugged artlessly, eyes gleaming, unapologetic and without argument.

Vin threw four cards in. Ezra exchanged them with a raised brow. He just smiled, not worried over Ezra's advice that folding is the wiser course if four of five aren't of any use. He rearranged his cards. Now he had a pair of jacks - his one hold and a new one dealt.

After their lunch they'd killed a little time, browsing in the general store, taking stock of who was around and what potential threats there might be. Chance had spared them hunting down the livery owner. He'd been at the restaurant for lunch - with most of the town and parties from outliers who'd been drawn in by the excitement of a trial that could end in the spectacle of a hanging. They'd secured feed care and their stalls for the next three days.

"Damn," he complained. "Two more days of this place." Vin shook his head and added two chips to the loose pile in the center of the table.

Chris stood pat with his cards, threw in and raised. "That's only if Travis wraps the trial up tomorrow and Shearouse gets stretched the day after." The unlit cheroot tucked at the corner of his mouth twisted as he chewed at it.

"Let us hope justice is indeed swift." Ezra matched Chris' raise. He looked around the saloon, lips pulled in a disapproving frown. "This is not the sort of locale I should like to become mired within for any length of time."

"Amen to that, Ez," Vin muttered. He called the raise.

Chris and Ezra both checked. They turned their hands.

Chris took it, two pair.

Ezra gathered the cards and shuffled.

Vin watched the dexterous hands, watched the cards as they were handled. There were points when he couldn't quite follow the fingers as they manipulated the deck, the strong, capable digits moving with confident speed. He liked the sound of them as they danced across one another, the solid rap of the deck when the end knocked against the table, the light whisper over Ezra's skin as the edges were thumbed. Fifteen cards flew through the air, tossed with quick, efficient energy.

He smiled to himself, skin warmed with a tingling rush. Ezra really was so very good with his hands.

Vin organized his cards as he picked them up, one by one. He closed the fan between his thumb and finger then laid the small stack face down on the table. He looked to Chris with a nod.

"Travis doesn't seem to think there'll be any delays. Said the facts were straightforward and Ez's testimony tomorrow is gonna pretty well seal the deal." Chris scowled at his cards then tossed three at Ezra.

Ezra flipped three back to Chris, lifted from the resting pile with a mere flick of his fingers. They landed just under Chris' waiting hand. Ezra winked.

"I will endeavor to give a command performance, thus leaving no doubts to Mr Shearouse's guilt and allow for an ironclad judgment and fair - but damned hasty - reprisal." He studied his cards, took two then palmed the five. "Anything to speed the plow, as it were."

Chris equaled Vin's bet with a nod. "See that you do, Ez." He grinned. "Hell, that silver tongue of yours'll have this town convinced in record time." Chris nodded firmly. "We'll be outta here in two days."

Ezra smiled - quite pleased and just a touch smug. He matched the bet and raised seven chips.

"Two days," Vin echoed. He tilted his head and considered his cards, fingertips counting seven from his stack of chips. He threw them on the pile.

Chris called then raised again. Ezra matched and so did Vin. They turned their hands.

Ezra took it, spade flush easily besting Vin's tray of nines and Chris' cold bluff behind a deuce medley.

With a wink and a grin Ezra gathered the cards and shuffled.

Vin leaned further back in his chair and sipped at his beer, eyes hooded. He couldn't stop watching Ezra's hands, couldn't help but think about all they could do and all he wanted done to him by them.

Ten weaving tips trailing against his skin, setting him afire to burn in a slow smolder. One hand combing through his hair, gently removing tangles, making him feel his scraggly locks were the most luxurious thing ever touched. Strong fingers wrapped tight around his cock, pumping with a driving, maddening pace, thumb caressing the tip and teasing into the leaking slit.

"Vin!"

He managed not to slosh his beer into his lap and turned his head with a jerk. "What?" he asked, sounding breathless and distracted. Which is exactly what he was at the moment.

Chris' brows came together. He shook his head and laughed. "It's your turn."

Vin looked down at the table. Five cards lay there, waiting. Chris and Ezra already had their hands arranged, back against the table in neat piles. He shook himself, wondering how long he'd been lost in his erotic contemplation.

"You feeling okay?" Chris lifted his chin towards Vin.

Vin sighed and gathered his cards. "M'fine. Reckon I'm tired is all."

Chris stared at him for a minute then nodded.

"Perhaps we should call it an early night. I too am feeling less than energetic after our rain-soaked days in the saddle. I can only imagine how the condition would be worsened in your cases." Ezra tapped a finger against his cards.

Vin studied Ezra, able to see marks of fatigue other people would miss. Light bruising under each somewhat dulled green eye, frown lines deepened between his brows, posture still perfectly aligned but not effortlessly so.

He nodded, not liking the idea of Ezra being tired. "Fine with me," he agreed. Vin threw two chips in the pot.

Chris folded and nodded then collected his hat where it hung down his back from around his neck. He fit it on then stood, slipping into his duster as he straightened. "I'll wait outside." Chris looked at them both then turned away, pushing out of the saloon without a backward glance.

Ezra met Vin's bet. He checked, not bothering to raise. Ezra checked. They flipped their cards.

Vin took it, ace of hearts, ace of spades.

His lips teased up into a half-smile and he bobbed his head, feeling foolishly pleased at the cards he'd been dealt.

Ezra winked and gathered the cards. Vin herded all the chips into a pile then scraped them off the table into a small bag using his hand. He stood, tossing the bag onto the table to land in front of Ezra. They used the wood chips whenever they played just to pass the time; Ezra got enough of their wages as it was.

The two pulled on their hats and coats and exited in tandem, Vin waiting for Ezra so he could watch his friend's back as they left. Chris was leaning against the saloon puffing on his cheroot. They nodded at one another and started down the road to the bunkhouse.

The air was smudged with drizzle but it was light. Vin could see patches of black sky and the faint wink of stars in the distance. It didn't offer encouragement enough to make him think the rains would stop, but at least it wasn't pouring. He clutched the collar of his coat and tightened it around his neck. The wind bit at his skin, its chill heightened by the wet.

They stomped into the small cabin in silence, working as much mud from their boots against the sloping threshold as they could. Ezra went in and lit the lamp then began to matter of factly strip, coat hung from the side of the table as before, boots toed out of and left underneath.

Vin rubbed his hands together and shivered. He stood for a moment, trying to decide which would be more uncomfortable: sleeping in everything he currently had on but his guns and boots or exposing himself to the dank air of the shack. Finally shook his head with a disgruntled huff and looped his gunbelt around the bedframe then took off his coat.

Chris finished his cheroot and flung the butt into the street. He slammed the door shut and walked out of his boots. They didn't lock it when they were inside - too much bother and the lock barely worked besides. The black duster was perched on a large splinter jutting from the wall, discarded overshirt hung over the coat. He crawled into bed with his gun. Chris slipped it under the pillow then flopped onto his back, unbuttoned his denims and covered his eyes with his arm.

"Nite, boys," Chris sighed quietly.

Vin was down to his union suit and socks when he looked back up. Ezra was waiting by the bed, all layers gone save for the finely knit woolen underthings. He bit his lip, holding back the words that rushed to his tongue. Complimenting Ezra with how he looked in his underwear might be overlooked - huskily inviting that the underwear come off definitely wouldn't.

Ezra's face warmed with a knowing smile, green eyes sparkling with mutually unspoken invitation. He didn't comment, just waved his hand over the bed, still smiling. "After you," he offered.

Vin smiled back. He stared at Ezra for a moment, blood rushing to his head. With a long breath he nodded and dropped down. He scooted across the narrow mattress and pressed his back into the wall. This gave him a clear line of sight to the door and the security of solid wood behind him. He wondered if Ezra had guessed this is how he'd be the most comfortable or had simply known.

He watched his friend tuck the small stack of shed clothing back into saddlesbags and smiled. Ezra had simply known.

The door burst open and Chris was up, gun cocked and aimed in less than a second.

Buck shook his head and tsk'd lightly then grinned. "Now that ain't no way to welcome your bed partner," he teased, blue eyes dancing. He kicked the door shut behind him and pulled at his bandana. Then he storked on one leg then the other, shucking his boots to leave by the door.

Chris made a noise somewhere between a curse and a laugh and he laid back down, pushing the gun under his pillow.

"Thought you'd found yourself somewhere else to hunker down for the night," Vin drawled. He eased his hand from his mare's leg, letting it slip back down into the holster. He raised a brow. "Somewhere you'd prefer."

Buck winked. "I did. But that lovely, lovely miss didn't think her husband would agree." He laughed and slung his coat over the end of the bed.

Ezra shook his head. "Buck, Buck, Buck," he began, tone as dourly admonishing as a dried up schoolmarm's. "Have we not counseled you to have better sense than to bed the married portion of the female citizenry in the places we must stay for more than a few hours?"

Buck crawled over Chris and landed heavily on the mattress. The metal frame and ropes groaned and Chris jostled and almost fell out. With half his attention Buck curled an arm around Chris and hauled him back on the bed.

"I didn't know she was married when I asked if we might better acquaint ourselves!" Buck laid down and fished on the floor for his gunbelt with his free hand, tugging it up to hang off the frame.

"Naturally you couldn't think to request such a small detail as her marital status," Ezra sighed, slowly shaking his head.

Buck's hand spread where it was resting on Chris' middle. "Hell, Ez. If I asked then I'd have known." He harrumphed and rolled his eyes.

Vin chuckled. "Yeah, Bucklin. Exactly."

Buck just stared, clearly believing that her husband not finding out was just as good as having avoided potential trouble altogether.

Chris was grinning, wide smile just visible from under his bent arm. Ezra rubbed his eye and yawned, mouth stretching to a grin. Vin shook his head and sunk back down on the mattress.

Ezra twisted around and turned down the wick. The lamp extinguished, small point of red glowing in the sudden blackness as the last of the burning heat spent itself.

For several long minutes there was no movement as they all adjusted to the near-complete dark. Vin blinked several times but couldn't see a thing. It was like being blind, wide-open eyes lost in shadow.

Suddenly their situation came into sharp focus. The one room, all four of them in it, about to spend the night together. Somehow it felt a whole lot different than lying head to toe around a campfire. Vin swallowed. It sounded louder than the wind and the rain.

There was a muffled thump followed by a short curse.

Buck laughed, low snicker disembodied, sounding through the dark. "How's that toe there, Ez?"

Vin grinned. He looked across the room but couldn't make much out. Given time outlines and murky highlights would appear, break through the oppressive black. He continued to blink, watching, knowing they would show themselves.

"Still attached," Ezra quipped dryly.

They all chuckled, shared laughter loosening the tense, stilted atmosphere of four grown men snuggled together in two small beds in a single tiny room.

Ezra's careful, dragging footsteps carried to the bed then his weight was easing onto the mattress. Vin pulled in a breath, full of uncertain, anxious anticipation.

The ropes creaked and groaned, uneven metal frame knocking against the floor as Ezra worked down into the blankets - their shared bedrolls. He twisted about, tugged at the pillowroll then relaxed with a quiet sigh.

"Gentleman," Ezra muttered, "I shall see you sometime after dawn."

Chris' dry laugh vibrated quietly. Buck's already slowed breathing jumped in a light snort; it pulled longer, turning into a snore.

Vin laid perfectly still, his awareness drawing to a fine point, everything attuned to the man next to him. The pattering rain, the hum of the wind through the shack, the others' small noises of sleep - it all faded away.

He could make out Ezra's form now, a darker mass against the dark of the room. The round head, the graceful sweep of neck rising into a shoulder, the strange lumps tucked under one arm telling him where the blankets began.

The awareness was almost painful. It itched all over, tantalizing in its torment.

Vin stretched his hand under the covers in a tentative reach. His fingers hovered, unsure. Ezra stretched and shuddered; Vin could hear the rasping yawn. He snatched his hand back, unaccountably startled. Ezra nestled back in, legs curling behind. Their feet touched, warm toes rubbing in light caresses over Vin's bare skin.

He acted without hesitation.

Vin's arm clamped around Ezra's middle and he pulled, dragging them to spoon tightly together. Ezra melted into him, fitting with satisfying rightness. He tucked his face against the soft, rain and soap scented neck, lightly nuzzling the silken nape of hair and his eyes drifted naturally closed.

Tension forgotten, body now wonderfully content, Vin fell easily into a deep sleep.

*******

Vin took in deep breath and tightened his arms. His face was buried beneath a wing of soft hair, nose pushed behind an ear, cheek pressed against the pillow. Legs tangled with his, hooked over and under one another. Fingers were curled around his forearm in a loose hold. He and Ezra made a solid mass under the blankets. It was as if they were one.

He blinked several times and yawned. Vin fought against allowing the naturally following stretch to pull too deep but couldn't prevent it entirely. Ezra just stretched with him then burrowed back close. He nuzzled at Ezra's neck, indulging in the sleepy, languorous warmth that held him captive. Vin's mouth opened and he kissed Ezra, tasting the fine skin, liking the distinctive flavor and the way it felt beneath his lips. Without thought he kissed again. Then again.

Ezra turned in his embrace, enough to shoulder into his chest, face moving to cradle against his neck. Vin smiled lazily and lifted his chin. Ezra nestled further. The hand on his arm smoothed up and down in slow strokes then stilled, hooked at his bent elbow.

They settled back into one another, weights pulling them together with an inescapable gravity. Vin nudged his knee to slip back between Ezra's legs and let his head give into the heaviness. It sunk deeper into the pillow and his eyelids fluttered as he declined back towards sleep. He turned his head slowly from side to side, enjoying the rasp of his whiskers over the tousled, silken strands.

"Mmm yeah darlin'. That's it. Mmm-humm. What? Oh yeah… yeah, me too… humm? 'Course I do darlin'… that's right…"

Vin's eyes snapped open. His muscles pulled tautly with surprise. He swallowed and held his breath; suddenly he remembered where he was and who all he was with.

"That's right… old Buck'll take care of ya… mmm-humm…"

Buck snorted then smacked. Vin could hear the bulk of Buck's body shift the small bed. He relaxed his lungs in a long, steady stream, quickened pulse skipping then slowing. He stared into the dim of the bunkhouse, head held above Ezra's, arm planted protectively in front.

Chris and Buck were still asleep, neither bothered by Buck's mumblings. Chris was in the exact same position as when he'd lain down, the arm that had been shielding his eyes now dropped to the floor. The back of his hand rested against the dirty wood, fingers curled inward.

Buck was sprawled on his stomach, head shoved next to the wall face down. One long arm was slung across Chris' chest, fingers moving in and out with slow distraction. The other was pinned beneath him, shoulder working absently.

Vin cursed and shook his head then flopped back onto the mattress. He blinked several times and breathed, working to calm the tremors that were rippling from his gut outward. He rolled away from Ezra onto his back. The hand that had held his arm let go and slipped away.

They were fine, he repeated to himself. It was fine. No one saw anything; no one knew.

Ezra moved closer, seeking, but Vin scooted further back, preoccupied with the idea of Chris waking soon and discovering them. Lying side by side was one thing. Even having Buck pinning you in place, mindless in sleep, didn't mean anything. But the way he'd been wrapped around Ezra - the way he'd been so comfortably draped, fitted so tight - Vin didn't want that to be known.

Not even by Chris or Buck.

He watched Ezra in the darkened light, pensive and unsure. The handsome face was relaxed, body curved towards him, open and inviting but without demand. Vin longed to fit himself to that curve, to pull Ezra tight against him. He reached out, hand hovering with indecision.

Chris took in a long breath and Vin retreated, pressing harder into the wall. His hand jerked to drag though his hair. He glanced from Ezra to Chris then back again.

Vin swallowed.

He just. Couldn't.

Chris stirred, lifting his arm as he rolled onto his side facing Buck, shifting comfortably under the weight of Buck's trapping hold. He snuffled lightly then stilled.

Vin looked at the broad back presented to him. He looked down at Ezra, so appealingly curved. He closed his eyes.

If he didn't fall back to sleep he could. He would hear then. Would be able to move when he had to.

Vin eased down onto the bed and rolled onto his stomach. He slid carefully, moving his pelvis first then followed with his torso - his legs were still tangled with Ezra's. Up and over he crept until he could insinuate himself to the body so easily welcoming him. Vin smiled unconsciously as he nuzzled into Ezra's neck, the scent intoxicating and soothing, the warmth filling him. His arm closed around the sturdy form and he released a long sigh, muscles uncoiling as his fingers gently caressed Ezra's side.

Ezra's breath stayed deep and sure, comfortably trusting of Vin even in sleep.

He was fighting the seductive lull of joining Ezra when then unmistakable sound of bullets whistled close overhead.

Vin acted instinctively. He pushed forward into Ezra; the two tumbled onto the floor, bed upending in a crash, mattress flopping to fold over them. Almost immediately after Chris and Buck landed on top of them, the four jumbling in a surprised, disorganized heap of limbs and blankets.

The hail of bullets kept coming. Vin gritted his teeth when his hand wrapped around his thigh, reaching to draw his mare's leg by rote. It irrationally pissed him off that his gun wasn't just right there with him. Getting to it would best be done while they were busy reloading. He cursed lightly and tried his best to count the shots as they screamed through the bunkhouse but the confusion and his still-waking state made it difficult.

"I would say there are three of them," Ezra whispered from the bottom of the pile.

Vin boosted onto his palms and leaned away, taking his weight from Ezra. He narrowed his eyes, listening. Three distinctive reports echoed as their attackers continued to fire. He met Chris' eyes and Chris nodded. Three indeed.

A bullet struck the upturned bed. It groaned and fell back, landing against the floor with a weary rattle. More shots punched through the walls, tearing through the wood, shredding the sagging ropes. Vin counted what should be some of the last few - true to his estimation they paused.

He sucked in his breath and risked peeking above the battered bedframe.

There was a line of bullet holes in the wall. If he hadn't eased back into Ezra they'd have gone straight through him. Vin blinked at the small points of light, absently taking in the dull splinters that broke the wall and scattered across the floor, distancing from the moment as the feel of relaxing beside Ezra flushed up in heady remembrance. His lips parted, tingling rush chasing itself across his scalp as he stared.

Hands pulled him back down. He went without fight, slipping naturally back down to snug against Ezra. The four laid still and silent in the strangely shadowed half-dark as they listened.

Chris had his gun in hand. He was moving slowly, careful not to disturb anything as he sat up.

Buck slithered on his belly under the bed then delicately retrieved his gun from its holster. He stilled a beat, holding his gun, listening, waiting for reaction. When nothing came he crawled backwards then rolled up onto his heels once clear of the bed, crouching low, making room for the others to maneuver.

Before Vin moved he squeezed his hand as tightly as he could around Ezra's shoulder. The fingers wrapped around his ribs pressed back. He nodded then crawled away.

Vin could hear talking. It was low and indistinct but close. He figured their attackers were discussing the likelihood of them being dead yet. Vin could barely reach his mare's leg. He stretched out on his side, fingers of his left hand just brushing the butt of his gun. He had to lift the bed to get it free. The frame wobbled but didn't betray him. He slid the gun across the floor, right arm straining to hold the bed as he worked it closer.

When he had the mare's leg under his chin he let go of it and eased the bed back down with both hands, fingers tight and steady. He stretched into the holster to retrieve a handful of bullets then crept back to the center of the room.

All four studied one another. Ezra lifted a finger and circled it in the air then pointed down at the floor. Chris glared at the spot then nodded, turning away slowly, gun ready. Ezra spun and backed into Chris. Buck winked at Vin then did the same. Vin was the last to back in, closing the gap.

They created a low, tight circle - the best defense they could muster given the circumstances.

Shadows passed, eclipsing the bullet holes one after the other. Vin tracked the motion, watching the pace, guessing where the man would be once past the holes. He counted to ten and fired.

The roaring boom of his mare's leg shattered the tense silence. Vin cocked and fired again.

His first shot plugged a sizable hole in the front wall of the cabin. The second one ripped away an entire patch of clapboard. He stared intently at the revealed portion of street, watching for movement, fingers reloading by feel as he waited.

Bullets and powder burned around him. All he could hear was firing. The bunkhouse throbbed with the close-quarter violence; it was starting to become hazy, the gray light provided by the growing bullet holes casting murkily though the smoke.

Vin rolled back onto his haunches and pulled the trigger. The four were firing without cease now, five guns overlapping, giving no quarter. Even their reloads were synchronized, ensuring there would be no break in the assault.

Hay and mattress ticking were thrown into the air when Chris and Buck's bed was shot again and again. It puffed up and floated lazily like a strange snow, landing innocuously as it trailed back down. The bullets kept coming, passing straight down, through the bed to sink into the floor, large holes ripping the ceiling.

"Damn," Vin muttered, shaking his head. They'd moved onto rifles.

He swiveled on his heels then sunk onto his back, just to the side of Buck. Buck leaned away, attention on the far corner where Ezra was concentrating fire.

Vin shot at the spread of holes in the ceiling. A string of curses filtered through the din and Vin fired again. Lurching footsteps sounded overhead, heavy and uneven.

Chris fired into the ceiling, chasing the steps, coming to a stand with each bullet - once, twice, a third time.

Whomever it was gasped then gagged. The crush of his fall could be heard behind the bunkhouse, a dull, weighty thud.

Then all went silent.

Vin was breathing hard. Adrenaline seared through him, twitching his nerves, heightening his senses. His ears were ringing and his eyes and nose burned. The others moved with sure deadliness, captured by the same pounding pulse of struggle and survival.

After a moment he stood shakily, mare's leg ready, eyes darting about, ever vigilant.

They stayed bunched together, the aftermath of the fierce gunfight feeling out of synch, without time or sound. Vin backed to the door and turned, shouldering the wall. Buck met his eyes and nodded.

Buck wrenched the door open, gun raised, body low. Vin covered the street at an angle, Chris just behind.

There was nothing but more empty silence, a lightly falling rain and the never-ending wind.

Vin stepped carefully outside, flinching distractedly at the cold sting of mud as it pushed up between his toes. Buck and Chris followed him. They circled in place, scanning the quiet town, ready against a renewed attack.

"Figure we'll finally see the sheriff?" Vin asked, eyes busy.

There were no horses tied nearby, none running away in agitation - these boys had probably arrived on foot. The tracks in the mud were deep and wet, rapidly losing shape as they wallowed and spread. He shook his head, knowing they'd be of no use to him.

Ezra came out into the street, gun in each hand, body language wary. He was wearing his pants and boots, both pulled up over his light underwear. Green eyes studied the street, up one side then down the other. They met Vin's and their gazes locked, searching, full of needy concern.

Vin made a serious search of his own then smiled - a bare warming of his face - and nodded. Ezra's eyes softened, reassured. He let out a breath, at last letting go, trembling with relief. Vin's shoulders sagged and he fought to keep his grip on his mare's leg.

Chris lowered his gun but it was hardly a stance of passivity. "Sheriff or not we're gonna have to see someone," he muttered. "Can't leave this mess to lie." He shook his head. "Think maybe somebody's not interested in what you have to say for the trial, Ez?" Chris grinned - it was a mean humor.

Ezra smiled slyly back. "So it would seem," he drawled. Green eyes sparkled mischievously. "Either that or the evening's indiscretion between Buck and his paramour has been - regrettably - revealed."

Vin rubbed his chin with playful thoughtfulness, lifting it towards Buck as he spoke. "Yeah. There ain't been a one yet that's taken too kindly to yer indiscretions." He nodded. "Ya might be onta something with that, Ez."

Buck snorted and started complaining good-naturedly. The other three just swapped grins and glinting looks.

Ezra sobered and broke away. He narrowed his eyes and walked along the bunkhouse. The man Vin had killed was sprawled in the street, hat pushed up at an odd angle, face buried in the mud. Ezra kicked the body over, head tilted in study and he bent down. After a moment he looked up.

"This gentleman was staying next door."

Buck smirked, studying the quiet cabin in question. "Well, that explains why we ain't got any complaints yet." He rolled his head back to look at Ezra and winked.

Ezra felt along the body and reached into the man's coat pocket then he stood, a single key dangling from his hand. He strode to the neighboring shack, unlocked it, then stepped carefully inside, gun drawn.

Moments later he reemerged. "Nothing of note," he shrugged.

Chris nodded, still glaring at the fallen man. "He ain't a Shearouse but I'd say he was working for 'em."

Vin skirted the body and around the bunkhouse to the back, stepping somewhat gingerly though the rocky muck. The man they'd shot off the roof was denting the mud, glassy eyes staring with unseeing shock at the clouds. He was bloodied from multiple wounds and covered with splinters.

There was nothing remarkable - nothing identifying him as anything particular other than a man in an ugly striped overcoat. Even his rifle of choice was ordinary. Vin continued his study then narrowed his eyes. This unremarkable man had very big feet.

Vin paused. That sparked something in him - a slow smile spread across his face. Reading tracks might be near impossible in the mire passing itself off as the ground, but feet that size he could follow easy.

He studied what he could, chasing the large footprints, making note of the two smaller sets that had walked with the dead man. Already the tracks were almost formless, lost in the mud to become oval puddles, blending together where the men had crossed paths while tramping through the muck. But Vin was able to discern their route, where they'd come from around the shack next door in a wide, circular berth to avoid approaching from the street.

One of the three sets of prints joined them at the rear corner of the bunkhouse. Vin crouched over them, running his finger along the deep, muddy ridge. This man had been wearing boots with a sizable heel - small triangles of earth intersected the prints, wet and crumbling but still visible. He squinted and looked up, tracking the line several paces out into the far field of scrub behind the town.

Vin stood slowly, thinking about the scene, picturing it in his mind.

Three sets of footprints, two leading from the bunkhouse, one from the field. The ground was churned up out there - he could see the built up clumps of mud, the haphazard chaos he knew to attribute to horses made to stand in one place too long. Vin set his jaw.

Someone had met up with the two - one Ezra had identified, the other with big feet. Someone else - or someones - had watched.

He'd put money on finding a set of horse prints that approached at one weight and retreated at a much lighter one. Vin turned back around. One body left.

Vin darted between the small shacks following the deeply rutted tracks. He emerged back into the street. He scowled and glared back into the small alley then mentally retraced his steps around the bunkhouse.

There was no third body.

Meaning the horse path he'd find would be light coming in and heavy on the getaway. Those tracks hadn't led from the field in - they'd been an escape route when the ambush had gone sour.

Vin looked down the muddy street, past the line of bunkhouses and into town. He shook his head and sighed. With that mess there'd be no telling where number three had come from.

"Anything interesting?" Buck had sauntered over to join Vin. He'd retrieved his rifle - it was slung with lethal casualness over his shoulder.

"One of 'em got away." Vin lifted his chin, indicating the close of the alley next to them. "Rode out sometime during the fight. Likely before we nailed the guy on the roof."

Buck's eyes narrowed. His jaw set, lips flattening beneath his moustache. "Won't be for long."

Vin nodded in agreement. They stood staring into the dark alley for a moment, the rain washing over them, howling wind pushing through to his skin, making him shiver.

He tucked away details of what he'd found; at the trial later today he'd have at least some idea of what to look for. Vin wiped a line of drops from his brow then turned around to face the street.

Ezra was talking with Gib Sutter, owner of the depilated run of shanties they'd been staying in. Chris was standing with them, looking ready to plug the small, jumpy man.

"When'd he get here?" Vin pointed at Sutter.

Buck yawned. "You were still 'round back. He came flying outta the boarding house up yonder like his ass was on fire." He rubbed his eye and shook his head. "You'd think this damn town woke up like this every day."

Some of the people of Landram's Mill had started to react - albeit disinterestedly - to the commotion the brief gunfight had erupted to break the predawn quiet. A man was standing in his longjohns on the threshold two doors down, absently scratching his balls, craggy face squinting out from his dirty beard. After a moment's assessment he tossed a hand in their direction and retreated back inside, slamming his door behind him.

The restaurant was showing signs of life, preparing itself for the breakfast crowd. The couple who ran the place were peeking out the front window, talking between themselves, looking vaguely speculative. After a moment the wife pulled away, gone from view. The husband stayed, towel in one hand, large metal bowl in the other.

Some of the curtains in the front windows of the lodging house were parted, whoever was watching concealed by shadow.

There was still no sign of the sheriff or the deputy.

Vin rolled his eyes and went to stand with Ezra and Chris. Buck was right with him. He glanced at Chris and raised a brow. Chris smirked, clearly enjoying Ezra's running circles around Sutter, frayed temper for the moment held in check.

"Look what you've done to my building!" Sutter whined. He was pacing back and forth, hands worrying in fidgety knots. He was wearing a nightshirt and a split-tailed dressing gown, pair of pants bunched awkwardly at his ankles around his boots. He stopped short and pointed at the listing shack. "It's ruined!"

Ezra raised a brow. "Precisely. Which is why we will be taking up lodging in the neighboring 'cabin' for the remainder of our stay." He pursed his lips. "Though 'ruined' seems a flourish of exaggeration, considering its original condition."

Sutter stammered and came to a stop. "Someone's gotta pay for it. That's my livelihood! What am I going to do with a ruined bunkhouse?"

"Perhaps sell it for tinder?" Ezra asked disingenuously, tone patently mild. Both his brows arched and he smiled blandly. "As for restitution, I propose you take it up with the gentlemen who assaulted us."

"But they're dead!" Sutter spluttered indignantly. His ruddy cheeks were staining darker and darker purple, the color fascinating contrast to his white muttonchops.

Ezra sighed, hand pressed to his heart, but his green eyes sparkled. "That, sir, is a matter even I must suffer impuissance against."

Sutter blinked a few times then his face screwed up. "Hunh?" he breathed.

Ezra closed his eyes, expression pained, and shook his head. After a moment he regarded Sutter again, smiling falsely. "If you are indeed so concerned you could address the matter with our employer, Judge Travis." His lips bent humorlessly. "I do believe you can find him lodging at what had been the remaining decent place to stay in this … fair burg."

Chris coughed lightly. He licked over a tooth then smiled - just the corners of his mouth tipped up, eyes gleaming. "If I were you I'd stick to the dead men."

Vin chewed on his lips, fighting a smile. Buck laughed outright. They all turned from Sutter, dismissing him as one. The man continued to vent, following them closely, heedless of their weapons and overall lack of patience.

The four gathered their things and transferred them to the bunkhouse next door. Vin took a moment to study the bullet holes but the wood was too dowdy to reveal anything useful. He shook his head and hefted his saddle, giving a last look to the perforated cabin before stepping away.

They'd been damn lucky.

Sutter nipped at their heels, offering a ceaseless, petulant diatribe, dressing gown billowing behind him, the tails now heavy with mud.

Vin ignored him easily - traveling with bounties tended to make a man good at that. He waited in the street as the others passed, watching their backs, sure there'd be no more trouble that morning but having no reason to overlook caution.

Buck smiled as he trudged by, sardonically amused and completely disinterested in helping Sutter or shutting him up. Chris was starting to look twitchy, fingers straying to the butt of his gun as Sutter flitted too close.

They all filed inside, taking in their new room, organizing their gear just as they had before. It was cleaner than the other one, warmer too, the walls holding relatively plumb keeping it from being dank. The beds were no better looking and the oil lamp had no chimney. Vin would take warm and dry any day.

Sutter was pushing in to join them when Ezra intervened. Vin let his saddlebags drop back down and he came to lean against the wall next to the door so he could watch the exchange.

"Mr Sutter," Ezra clipped with a commanding drawl, arms crossing over his chest where he stood, filling the small doorway.

The man stopped short, mouth left hanging open, his hands lost in the air where he'd been gesturing. Sutter nodded dumbly.

"Have you water?" Ezra asked.

"Water?"

"Water," Ezra repeated firmly.

Vin rumbled with a low laugh. He glanced in at Chris and Buck - the two were shaking their heads, murmuring an ongoing commentary as they laid out their things and made the bed.

Sutter considered the request for a moment then nodded. "Yeah. I've got water."

Ezra smiled. "Well then, how perfect. You may find yourself made useful by collecting some and bringing it back while my compatriots and I continue to settle into our new quarters - pleasantly unhindered." His tone had started out bright then cooled by several degrees as he stressed the last words.

Sutter scowled and looked ready to argue but Ezra lifted his hand.

"See that you fetch your erstwhile sheriff as well. He might be disinclined to seek answers from us regarding this incident but we should like some from him." Ezra nodded and waved, smiling politely. "Thank you. That will be all."

He spun away neatly, leaving Sutter to stand just outside, still full of impotent bluster but completely foiled. Vin lifted two fingers and saluted Sutter with a wink then he rolled away from the wall to follow Ezra.

Vin looked down at his feet and wriggled his toes. Clumps of mud loosened and broke away, but his skin was still covered with a thick layer of dirt, tightening against him as it dried. He smiled and looked up.

"Thanks for thinking of the water, Ez." Vin scraped his arch across the bridge of his foot, dislodging more mud.

Ezra retrieved his saddlebags from the floor and deposited them on the small table. He met Vin's gaze and winked. "Mere self-preservation, my friend," he grinned. "I have no desire to see the filth the three of you acquired make this hovel any worse than it already is."

Buck laughed and came up behind Ezra, clapping his hands on either shoulder. "Sure, Ezra," he grinned. He leaned close. "Thanks for thinking of getting water." Buck nudged Ezra then turned away, trail of cracking mud left on the floor in his wake.

Ezra shook his head but didn't argue.

Vin finished cleaning his feet the best he could and started making the bed. He grinned when Ezra's hand closed over his, safely obscured by the lump of blankets. Their fingers played for a moment, weak heat rushing to fill him at the sensation. Vin glanced around then risked trailing a finger up Ezra's arm, lingering a breathless moment at the heated skin over Ezra's pulse before he moved away.

They untangled the twist of covers and laid them on the mattress one at a time, Ezra at the head, Vin at the foot. Vin tugged at one of them playfully, getting Ezra off balance enough so when he tugged again his friend stumbled forward. Ezra narrowed his eyes. Vin's smile widened.

The blanket at the middle of the bundle was covered with clinging shards. Ezra jerked it soundly; Vin was caught unawares. He'd been busy staring and now it was his turn to pitch ungainly forward.

Green eyes glittered when Ezra smiled back. He balled the blanket into his arms and took it to the door.

Vin watched him walk away and sighed, deciding he quite appreciated Ezra's current look of pants and underwear and nothing else. It allowed him to see more of the man than usual. Vin liked that. Liked that a lot.

"Son of a bitch," Ezra breathed, the blanket tumbling open from his loose hold, splinters spilling to land just outside.

Vin tossed the pillow on the bed and grabbed up his mare's leg. He was at Ezra's back in an instant. He stood, looking over Ezra's shoulder into the street, hands tensing on his gun.

"Whacha see there Ez?"

Ezra's head fell forward and he sighed deeply. His voice was muffled against his chest. "That pale, gentle light blossoming at the far horizon - what would you call it?"

Vin took another step and craned his head out the door. He let his body press against Ezra's, enjoying the excuse for proximity. He squinted. "Looks like dawn," he answered simply.

"Exactly," Ezra muttered. He gave the blanket a snap then gathered it in. Ezra shook his head wearily and turned back into the room, hand ghosting over Vin as he passed.

"Son of a bitch."

PART II