Authors' Note: English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do, so consider yourself warned. The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are. Don't speak any Latin either.
Sequel to Tenebrae

To Brian.

ex adyto cordis (lat) from the bottom of the heart

It's dark.

I'm sitting at home, on the couch, a beer in my hand, and it's dark.

JD's not at home, maybe he's out with Casey, I don't know.

My beer must have gone flat and it was warm because I'd been holding it for so long.

I'd only taken a few sips, and realized it had no taste.

The conversation we had today keeps rerunning in my mind over and over again, and I try to make sense of it. I still hear your voice, your smooth silky voice -- with its steely undertone. No, you're not a victim, but there's something that has made you - bitter in some way, and I hate to notice that. What had happened to you, in the past, to leave such a mark?

~~

"They... didn't take it too friendly."

"Did they..."

"Nothing too serious at first. Things like missing files, crashed computers, undelivered notes or misplaced messages. Then a little pushing around in the restroom, a little calling of names, the usual. I received letters, one day I found my car... well, it doesn't matter. Later on I received phone calls and at the office things began to get a little out of hand."

~~

Mobbing, that's what it's called.

Ugly thing that. Can cost a man his life and his health, both physically and mentally. Yep, you're right, this knowledge isn't first hand. Am not too keen to change that, either.

"He tried to rape me."

One hell of bastard, that former boss of yours. I feel disgust rise deep inside of me -- I know enough about rape to know it has nothing to do with sex. What it has a lot to do with, is dominance and power.

"He tried to rape me."

I can't forget the look in your eyes when you said these few words.

Their weight seemed to bear down on you, heavily, then. Yeah, you worked the guy over good for that attempt, but still... the simple fact that he thought he could get you that way -- and get away with it, what that must have done to your self-esteem, I can't even imagine.

"How much would you be willing to bet on that? You have told me about Chris's reaction when you both were younger. How do you think would our esteemed leader react now?"

"He tried to rape me."

"What about JD? Sure, he's young and open minded, but to [get it rubbed under one's nose] that the man you have looked up to, respected as your older brother, lived together with for several years, is into men? Would you really want to see it in his eyes, the shock, the disgust, when he flinches away from your innocent slap on his shoulder? Would you want to experience the way he won't be able to look into your eyes when he tells you he moves out?"

I contemplate on those words... no, JD wouldn't do that, nor would Chris.

Would they?

"Would you rely on Vin watching your back as closely in the next bust as he had done in the last one?"

Neither would Vin. Not our Vin, who has seen more shit than I could ever imagine.

On the other hand -- I didn't think you had, too.

Wait a minute...?

~~

"They... didn't take it too friendly."

"He tried to rape me."

"Would you really want to see it in his eyes, the shock, the disgust?"

"Things began to get a little out of hand."

"Would you rely on Vin watching your back as closely in the next bust as he had done in the last one?"

~~

Oh -- shit.

Epiphany hits me full force.

Mobbing, yes. But I bet there's more. Much more. I already know you lied to me about just wanting to fuck me. Hell, I've seen lust before -- nothing wrong with that, too, have displayed it in the past as well -- but there was more in your eyes. Yes, you flung those ugly words at me, but it hurt you doing it. You hated doing it, and I could see it, so -- why?

Why are you pushing me away, Ezra Standish?

What are you hiding?

You are an agent, Buck Wilmington. Your job is to find things out. So, stop whining, go and find out, tomorrow.

And then -- tell him you love him. Until he believes it.

Make him believe...

*

I hear the slight knock on my office door, and from its shyness I would have thought it would be JD. I am surprised to find Buck leaning in the doorframe.

"Chris, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, come on in."

The rather reluctant way he moves tells me that whatever's on his mind, it must be something big. He closes the door before he sits down. Hm... bad news, huh?

"I need to know something, Chris."

I lean back, watch my oldest friend with a frown.

"Shoot."

"I need to know why you requested Ezra for the team."

Now where did that come from?

"Why?"

"Just tell me, okay?"

"Okay. We needed an undercover agent, he was available. You know that Buck, you were there. Why do you ask?"

"There's more behind that, Chris. Surely you have heard about all the rumors and gossip, surely you have seen his file."

Ah, we're getting somewhere. Don't know if I like it though.

"So? Never figured you to be into rumors."

"Am not. But fact is, he beat up his boss, and I never figured YOU to be one to ignore such a fact."

Now, where did he get that from?

"So, this is all about you being concerned about my well-being? Don't, I really can watch my own back here."

"I know that."

Buck's running his hands through his hair now, looking concerned, worried and hollow-faced. If this is about Ezra...? Wait a minute... I lean forward, examining him closely.

"Chris, please, I got to know? Why did you ask for Ezra?"

"All right then. Yes, I did know about the rumors. AND that he beat up Ingram, his boss. I knew the man. Connor Ingram was a reliable man, a good leader, known to treat his men fair, by the book. But he didn't file a report, and that was what made me wonder. Just wasn't him, so I figured whatever it was that caused Ezra to do it, there'd be more in it than just an agent snapping under stress.

"As for his file... his assessments were excellent until about a year before that incident. The fact that neither he nor Ingram reported it in the file told me that there was something really ugly going on."

"Did you say ONE year?!"

The shocked look startles me. Obviously Buck knows something I didn't.

"Yes? Why?"

"That means he kept on working under those -- conditions for one goddamn year!"

"What conditions, Buck?"

"He was mobbed, Chris. Don't know how bad exactly, but to last for one fucking year it must have been... ugly. And, yeah, you're right, that Ingram guy deserved it. More'n that."

"What do you know I don't?"

When he looks at me I could only swallow hard because of the pained expression he wears. He looks away immediately, but my suspicion is aroused.

"Can't tell you, Chris. It's kinda personal."

"Hm."

"Chris, if you knew all that, then why? I mean if his assessments were that bad, it could have been the man lost it or something?"

I sigh. Jeezus, if my friend is after something he's worse than the proverbial dog with a bone.

"Yeah, could have been. Wasn't. Figured whatever was behind that nasty stuff going on there he deserved a second chance. If I'd misjudged him then I could have fired him as well."

"You hired a man that was known as corrupt, violent and volatile to give him a second chance?"

"Ezra? Volatile? Buck, please... but yes, I did. Hired you, too, right?"

He sighs.

"And Vin and JD. Got it."

"Good."

I grab my pen and return my attention to the files at hand. I don't look up when I hear him open the door.

"Buck?"

"Yes?"

"You're gonna tell me what this is about one day?"

"One day, maybe."

"Buck?"

"Hm?"

"Be careful."

He hesitates a second before he nods at me and leaves. When he softly closes the door behind him I let the pen slowly drop from my hand, contemplating his words. I'm not so sure what they meant, not so sure I want to know either.

Sometimes being a team leader isn't such a good thing. This team of mine is special enough as it is, and to get it that way I had to pull many strings. I remember only too well when I was offered this position, was offered the chance to build my own team, and I wouldn't have done it without Buck by my side. Buck's been by my side always, since college, where he once, uh, told me he was into men, too. Not only men, but me. I know my reaction was rather harsh then, but good Lord, that was pure and simple shock. He never tried anything, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't today. But it seemed to have deepened our friendship somehow. I mean, I want people to take me as I am -- who am I do deny other people that? Especially when I call them friends? Or JD. I can't help smiling when I think of JD making his first appearance in my office. Young and nave, too young, I thought at first. But he managed pretty soon to convince me to at least give him a chance.

Or Vin. Hell, I had to call in quite a few favors to get Vin. Saw his shooting skills in his performance as US Marshall and knew I wanted him. Had no problem convincing HIM, but my boss... well, that's another story.

And then -- there's Ezra. Yes, Ezra. I knew about the rumors, I saw his file, and I read it.

FBI was a little too keen to get rid of him for my liking, but hell, if you get what you want you don't ask twice. And somehow, call it a hunch or something, I just KNEW he would fit in.

I knew it was just a matter of time before someone came asking about him being on my team.

Didn't think it'll be you though.

So, whatever you have in mind, Buck my friend, be careful not to step on anybody's toes. People can get VERY pissed at that.

And what IS it with you and Ezra all of a sudden?

*

I sit in front of my computer and stare at the screen. I'm denied access again, goddamnit. All I want to find out who were on your team, three years ago. Chris already told me the name of your leader, Connor Ingram, so it shouldn't be too difficult, should it? Hell, now I know why stuff like this is more JD's department. Have an all new respect for the kid, too.

It was an awkward day today. Monday morning, I strolled into the bullpen and I caught myself looking out for you. You lifted your head from your work and then our eyes met and I could have sworn I felt my lips tingle with the remembrance of your kiss. God, I miss you, Ezra.

Unbelievable that it had been Friday night I had been sitting in my usual place, trying to drown some dark thoughts. Three days, and my entire world had shifted -- again, thanks to you -- again. You had given me a short nod and gone back to concentrating on whatever you were working on. This close to Christmas -- ohmygod, the Christmas party at Chris's ranch again!

I swallow with a sudden thought; how am I supposed to survive that?

This time of year is mushy and sappy enough, I don't need to be in love -- madly, utterly, helplessly -- and have to spend two whole days with the object of my desire right in front of my eyes.

Two whole days, in a room that smells so much like you, with candles all over the place, open fireplace -- yep, that crush of mine again -- not to mention the huge Christmas tree and presents and dinner and "It's a wonderful life".

Shoot.

I used to love Christmas, but since I've known you, it has an entirely different meaning for me. Haven't dated any lady ever since, well, not seriously. Went out once in a while, diversion and all, but nothing ever happened despite a little good-night-kiss. Christmas now means the time that has changed my life. It was this time of year I saw you for the first time.

Sheesh, and I may have ruined it.

I groan with the thought.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly, but you didn't exactly talk to me, had your Mr. Wilmington routine on again. Think nobody noticed, 'cause you're good, but, hell, it shoved the dagger deeper into my heart.

Maybe I'll make another visit to my good old friend Greg?

Naw, want to give this another try...

"Buck?"

I flinch, almost spilled my cold coffee over the keyboard. Hell, don't know how the kid manages to sneak up on me like he does.

"JD Dunne! How about announcing yourself!" I swear and wipe the coffee from the desk.

"Whatcha still doing here?"

"Research."

"You??"

"Yeah, me. I DO know how to use a computer, you know."

"Uh-huh."

I throw the sodden hanky in the trashcan, and start again when I find HIM looking intensively at the screen.

"JD, I don't think you..."

"Right. You don't. You trying to gain access to the FBI database?"

"Yeah..." No use in denying anyway.

"Hmm...." The kids grabs himself a chair and hits some keys.

Ooops?

"You're looking for Connor Ingram's team." he announces calmly. O-kay?? How does he know?

"How do you know?"

He just gazes at me, give me that who-do-you-think-you're-talking-to-look.

"Which man?"

"There was one team member who left the team for another job, about two years ago, I'd say. "

"That would be him."

A photo appears on the screen. I have NO idea how the kid has done that, I swear.

"Can you... uhm..."

"Personnel file is here. And here. Don't take too long, I broke into it."

"Thanks, kid."

"No biggie. You're gonna be home for dinner?"

"Naw, don't think so. You go on, take something."

"Right. See ya later."

He smirks at me and leaves. Can't remember JD ever smirking at me... oh well.

When I look at the screen and switch files, I would've spilled my coffee again in utter surprise, if there would have been something left. JD has picked out three files, Connor Ingram, team leader, a guy named Garrett Mason, undercover agent -- and Ezra.

Now what the... ?

When I flip through the files I pale. And swallow. And swear.

One year. One goddamn fucking year. And in the end they had almost killed you.

I clench my jaw when I think about that. Why the hell did you stay there in the first place? Why not lodge an official complaint? That seems to be the biggest question these days with you, Ez. Why?

You wouldn't tell me. So there's only one way to find out.

*

"Buck? Whatcha doin' in the middle of the night?"

"Packing?"

"Packing. What for?"

"Takin' a small trip. Don't worry none, I informed Chris."

"Uh-huh. Informed, huh? You mean you told his answering machine."

"Nope, JD. Believe it or not, I told him in person. He's okay with that. 'Sides, I have lotsa overtime, nothing has come up so far, and I'll be back on Friday."

"Was Chris sober when he agreed to that?"

"JD!"

"Hey, just askin'. Where you're goin'?"

"Atlanta."

*

Buck knocked on the open door of the office the nice secretary had shown him to.

"Agent Mason? Garret Mason?"

The dark haired man sitting behind the desk looked up.

"Yes?"

"I'm agent Buck Wilmington with the ATF, Denver. Do you have a minute? I'd like to discuss a certain topic with you."

Mason pointed toward a chair after they had shaken hands.

"ATF, huh? Regarding?"

"Your former team with the FBI."

Buck thought he could almost see the suspicion creep into the features of the man in front of him. Almost. Mason was good, collected and calm, a pro.

"What do you want to know, agent Wilmington?"

"Ezra Standish."

Mason didn't so much as blink.

"Ah, I remember Ezra. Good man, excellent agent. We were colleagues back then, I learned a lot from the man. He's with the ATF now, isn't he?"

"Yes. You were friends, right?"

"As I said, he taught me a lot. Yes, I think you could say we were friends."

"Good friends?"

"Even that, yes. May I know why you're asking about Ezra Standish?"

"What about his interest for you?"

This time Buck did see a reaction, as faint as it was, though. Yep, shutters just went down.

"Interest, Agent Wilmington?"

"I heard he displayed a certain -- interest in you?"

"Look, Mr. Wilmington, I don't know what you're talking about. If you want to know anything about Ezra Standish, I highly recommend you ask Ezra Standish. As for me, this conversation is over. Good day."

Buck watched the man return to his paperwork, then rose with a small sigh.

He knew when he was dismissed.

Buck hit the tile wall of the restroom with his fist -- though not serious enough to cause any damage, to the tiles OR his fist. He was frustrated.

Mason hadn't told him anything -- yet. Buck was sure there was more behind this, much more, or Mason wouldn't have shut down as he had. Was the man another dead end? Not yet, Buck decided. He had another two days to find out about Ezra, Mason, Ingram, the whole affair. He would get answers.

"Agent Wilmington?" the receptionist called for him as he was about to leave the building.

"Yes?"

"Agent Mason's secretary asked me to hand you this. Seems you forgot your wallet in his office."

Buck looked down on the wallet, then took it with a smile and a 'thank-you', stuffing it in his pocket before leaving. Back in his car he fished for it.

It was empty, despite a small typed note.

"7.30, 'Tara'"

Buck grinned.

*

Buck arrived five minutes early at the 'Tara' and eyed the tablissement, as Ezra would have put it. From the outside, it looked perfectly ordinary, nothing at all suspicious.

But that changed profoundly on the inside. It was a mixture between bar and diner, but with secluded booths for more intimate conversation, be it between lovers or business partners. And it was much larger than it looked from the outside.

"Buck?" a man stepped at his side, looking at him questioningly.

"Yes?"

"You're expected. Please follow me, sir."

The waiter guided him through the bar to a booth at the far end. Buck had to grin inwardly when he looked around, noticing the way one could overlook the bar through mirrors without being seen, or how one could make an easy retreat through the back door. Just like something Ezra would've chosen. He thanked the waiter with a short nod and slipped into the booth, facing Mason.

"Interesting choice of place."

"Yeah."

"So, I'm here. Here's you're wallet, by the way."

Mason smiled faintly and took the tossed item, pushing it into his pocket.

"Thanks. Already missed it."

Before Buck could ask another question the waiter appeared and placed a large glass in front of him.

"Ice tea?"

"Just try it, it's good. Like my mother used to make it. Now," Mason produced a manila folder, and Buck raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Been doing some research on your own?"

"Of course. One has to know whom one's dealing with. You should know that."

"That's my file?"

"Yes. You're with the ATF, Team Seven, called the magnificent seven. Highest case solving rate, known for rather unorthodox methods. The team was handpicked by Chris Larabee, you were the first. You have known the man for several years then. He procured Nathan Jackson, forensics and bomb expert, and Josiah Sanchez, profiler. Young John Dunne introduced himself shortly after, surveillance. Ezra was hired about a year ago, four weeks later came sniper Vin Tanner. Yeah, this is some literature."

"You're thorough."

"You'd be, too."

"Right. Better safe than sorry. Did I pass?"

"We'll see. Now, what do you want to know?"

"I want to investigate the chain of event starting with you leaving the FBI and ending with Ezra beating up his superior."

"Why?"

"Because it's important -- to me. You were not there then, but surely you heard about the rumors. If Ezra was your friend, why didn't you do something? Especially since the rumors seemed to be -- related to you one way or another."

Buck watched the man at the other side of the table. Mason looked at him intently before he let his breath explode in a sigh.

"Yeah, in a way they were. You asked about Ezra's interest in me -- he didn't do anything. But I saw the signs. No, I'm not into men, but I know what to look for. He was careful but I noticed, so I decided to confront him, ask him if he were interested in me as more than a friend. I wasn't shocked when he confirmed, and I told him I couldn't reciprocate in that way. Besides I was about to change letters, had the job offer from the DEA, actually I had just taken it. I was about to leave the team in two weeks anyway."

"Didn't your boss know?"

"Ingram? Of course he knew. I had informed him as soon as I got the offer, had even told him I wanted to take it. He seemed to be cool with it then."

"Did you and Ezra stay in touch?"

Mason nodded, but there was a sad undertone in his voice.

"Yes. We still were friends then."

"Then you must have noticed something?"

"I did. I remember him getting silent, withdrawn. Sported some bruises, or told me about his car being in the garage, again. I remember one day he had a dislocated shoulder, the left one."

Buck nodded. That was the one Ezra still had some problems with once in a while.

"I wasn't too suspicious then, he told me he tripped and fell down the stairs. The classical, huh? And then he landed in hospital."

"That was when he was beaten." Buck noticed how clipped his own voice sounded. Damn those bastards... Mason nodded.

"Even visited him in hospital. Damn, if I just had said something back then."

"Knowing Ezra he would have stated that he was fine, thank you, and to turn your attention to your personal matters."

Mason grinned.

"That's Ezra all right. The man could piss off a Tibetan monk, when he had half the mind to."

"Still can."

"Figured. Well, I didn't say anything. Never did. I had an assignment just a week later, and when I returned he was already gone."

"Undercover?"

"For seven months. Was hell. That's why I couldn't do anything, not even remaining in contact. But I know what happened, though."

"Tell me."

"No. First you tell me why you want to know all this."

Buck sighed. Of course, Mason was still careful.

"Mr. Wilmington, I hoped that Ezra had found his place, that he wouldn't have to face all this prejudice all over again..."

"No. It's not what you think. Ezra told me about it -- well some of it. "

"He did? Then he must trust you."

"Not enough..."

Buck missed the sharp glance that that involuntary sigh earned him.

"Well, then." Mason continued. "I'll tell you what I know. The beating was during an assignment when he was undercover. Ingram had to take him off the case. The stabbing was an entirely different affair. That was just in front of his apartment. Officially it was declared a robbery gone wrong, because Ezra defended himself. Was damn lucky he made it, though."

Buck swallowed at the pictures his mind produced out of his volition.

A dark night, Ezra whirling around startled, eyes widening in shock -- then in pain...

"He must've seen his attacker!"

Mason shrugged.

"Maybe. I don't know. That you will have to ask him."

"What about the shooting?"

"Bust. One shot in the back. Friendly fire, IA was on it then. I kept track of him as long as I could. When I heard about the -- incident with Ingram, I was shocked. Wasn't like our boss. That's how much you can be wrong about a guy. Does Ezra know you love him?"

"yes..." The moment that word had escaped his lips, Buck froze. Damn, the man was good, had taken him by surprise.

"Are you always that careless, Mr. Wilmington?" Mason enquired calmly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just confessed to a total stranger that you are gay, in love with a team colleague, who happens to be gay as well. Man, are you nuts?"

"Hell, this is the 21st century..." The other agent rolled his eyes.

"So? Does that make hate crimes less real? Does that stop prejudice? If you like your job and you're health, not to mention your life OR Ezra's, than you never ever come out. "

"That's not..."

"Fair? The hell it isn't. I know. As I said, I do know what to look for, not because of me but because of my brother. He's gay, and he owns this bar, by the way. Jeremy has had his share of homophobia himself, including from our own family. So, if you want to step into that world, be aware of what you're up against, what you're going to face. It's not nice, not nice at all. Learn from the experiences of others, Buck. Learn by Ezra's experience. And -- if you really love him -- think twice."

Mason was about to leave when something crossed Buck's mind.

"Why did you never establish contact again? You two were friends?"

The other agent nodded.

"Could have done it. But I figured he'd be better off without me."

"Why?"

Mason shrugged.

"In some weird bizarre way... I was the reason he had to go through this. Figured he might not want to be reminded. Good day, Mr. Wilmington."

Buck watched the departing figure of the former FBI agent vanish in the crowd. He emptied his ice tea and threw a bill on the table.

He had lots to think about.

The next morning Buck Wilmington had a plan.

*

Ezra looked up from his computer screen, realizing it was way past his normal office hours when he heard someone silently entering the office. He tensed, one hand slowly opening his drawer and reaching for his gun.

"Ez?"

The southerner let a breath explode he hadn't realized he was holding, tension leaving his body in a huff when he recognized the familiar voice.

"Buck! What are you doing here this late?"

"Could ask you the same now couldn't I? Honestly, I was looking for you. Vin told me I'd probably find you here. You DO realize it's Friday, right? And almost 8?"

"I..."

"Yeah, I know. Lotsa work to do, never mind. The others are waiting, you coming?"

"Coming?"

"Party at Inez'?"

"Oh."

Ezra remembered with a sudden load of guilt. Inez' birthday celebration and she had invited the members of Team Seven over, in addition to some of her other friends.

"I completely forgot."

"Aw, don't worry, she won't be angry, at least not if you're there now. She insists on her birthday peck. "

Ezra could feel the blue gaze resting on him when he shut down his computer, and a part of him shuddered inwardly, wanting nothing more than to just slip his hands around the slender waist currently hidden underneath the heavy winter coat and kiss those luscious lips he had tasted once -- and pushed away. Ezra still wondered why Buck hadn't put up more of a fight -- but the other agent hadn't. Could it be he had simply accepted his rejection?

When Ezra moved to walk past Buck he received an answer he never expected.

A hand snaked around HIS waist, pulling the surprised man close to a hard body, lips claiming his -- before Buck let go again, leaving Ezra gasping for air and stunned. Something was slipped into his coat pocket. A key.

"Later. The FC Motel, room 28. I'll be waiting."

"Buck, what...?"

"Shhh... just don't keep me waiting too long, ya hear me?"

"Buck? Wilmington?!"

But the other man had already disappeared into a waiting elevator.

Ezra watched the key he was still holding with rising discomfort, wondering what his friend was up to now. He wasn't so sure he wanted to know -- on the other hand -- oh hell.

The agent stuffed the key back into his pocket and headed toward the elevators. There was a party waiting for him.

*

Ezra slowly opened the motel door, well aware of his surroundings, and on high alert.

On one hand he knew it was Buck waiting for him on the other side of that door, but on the other, he really had no idea what else was waiting for him. His fears and memories provided plenty of possibilities, none of which left him any more relaxed.

He found the room softly illuminated by half a dozen candles, soft music was giving a nice background, low and soothing. Buck was nowhere to be seen, but the large twin size bed caught his eyes immediately. Ezra groaned inwardly -- oh please, he wouldn't...

"Ezra."

The low timbre in the other man's voice made Ezra shudder and hold his breath. Buck had stepped into the room from the bathroom where he obviously had taken a shower, dressed in boxers and a sweater... Ezra had to hold more than just his breath just thinking of it, the image of the lithe body, nude, under the spray of hot water, enjoying... he started as he realized his fantasy had been approaching him, coming far closer than he had noticed.

"Your coat?"

"Oh. Sure."

While he slipped out of the heavy coat, he noticed the faint but pleasant scent of fresh wood and cinnamon radiating from Buck. His soap maybe...

Strong fingers were kneading his shoulders, a pair of hot lips slowly wandering down his neck, a hard body pressed into him...

"Buck, what..." Ezra couldn't do much more than moan when his friend's steady fingers were working themselves under his shirt, lightly stroking his skin, while tantalizing lips were teasing his neck, every single touch leaving a trail of burning, long suppressed need behind.

"God, Buck..."

"You're cold... gotta warm you up."

Buck whirled him around, taking his indeed cold fingers into a firm grip and then slowly placing them under his sweater, making them rest on his chest. Ezra felt the other man give a shudder of his own when his cold fingers came into touch with his heated skin, and he slowly let his fingers wander, fingertips running over smooth flesh -- caressing hardening nipples. The soft sounds Buck was making, the heated look of two blue eyes, dark and hazed with passion, made Ezra gasp in surprise as he noticed the sensation of his own body reacting -- intensely. He didn't refuse when Buck pulled him close, didn't even realize the edge of the bed nudging his knees, didn't know nothing else but the man in front of him, the fire he was igniting inside of him with light caresses, long languid strokes and little nips as he sank down, blanketing the slim body with his own, hearing Buck moan and feeling him buck into his hands when he slipped it down into the... whoa!

"What the hell is this, Buck?! What are you trying to do here!" Ezra jerked up, sudden realization hitting him with a sledge hammer.

"Just what you want, Ez."

"Ex-cuse me?"

"Your own words. Fucking me through the mattress, that what you said. Figured if that's what you want, I can give it to you."

"What??"

"Ezra, I'm currently spreading my legs for you. That's what you wanted."

"Hell, Buck, you're no whore. What were you thinking?"

"Whores get paid, Ez. Don't be asking for no money. Just asking you, to shove it up my ass, as you have so rightfully put it, pleading you to just. Take. Me."

"Oh god..."

I all but jump to my feet, looking down on you. You have pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching me, your eyes reflecting the candlelight, holding as much heat as the fire. I can't believe what I've just heard, what you've just said -- what have I done? I have wanted to push you away with this careful selected words, not make you -- good god... I realize I have started pacing. I just can't stand still, even raking my hand through my hair like Chris uses to do. God, Buck, my sweet, gentle, tender, caring Buck...

"Buck , I didn't mean to..."

"Could you stop pacing for a second, please? You're making me dizzy."

Your voice is as calm and collected as it could be, not as if you've just offering yourself to me. I must have stopped pacing, though, because I feel the back of the chair pressing against my back. Seems my legs have just given way.

"Look, Buck, I just didn't mean it the way it must have sounded. I mean, I meant it, yes, but... oh hell..."

"I know."

What?!

"What? Then... why... how?"

You smile at me faintly, but I think I can make out a little relief there, too.

"If you had meant it, you wouldn't have stopped. You just would have proceeded."

"Fucked you..." I know my voice trailed off. So, this is what? A test?

"Did you just test me?" I know, I know. I'm angry. Who wouldn't be?

"Not really."

"What's that supposed to mean? What if I hadn't stopped, Buck? Did that possibility ever crossed your mind?"

"It did."

"So?"

"Would've let ya, Ez. Would've enjoyed it, too."

"Are you so cheap, Buck?" I could bite my tongue the very second this remark left my mouth and I see the flicker of hurt.

"Are you?" It stings. I deserved that.

"God Buck, I'm sorry, I just... I'm sorry."

I hear you chuckle and lift my head to gaze at you.

"Never thought I'd live to see that. Ezra Standish at a loss of words." You grin at me.

"You want to know what this is all about; Ez? It's about me loving you. It's about me wanting you. It's about me knowing that you want me, too. And it's about me deserving some answers."

Oh, so true. But I don't know if I can give them to you. You sit up, and now you're sitting there cross-legged... one hell of a position, if you ask me...

"Look, Ezra, thing is -- I know. One goddamn fucking year, and you never did anything about it? You landed in ER three times, Ezra. Three times. One time you were beaten, one time stabbed, and one time shot, for Christ's sake! I know you can be one helluva trouble magnet, but that's extreme, even for you. I talked to Mason..." my head snaps up at the mention of the name. Oh no... what else?

"Keep your shirt on, Ez. Or rather not, if you feel more comfy..." you tease. I glare at you. Had a good model with that, too. You grin. Hell, why does it only work for Chris, hm?

"I talked to Mason, Ez. He told me what he knew. All three times it were friendly fire. Add the assault from your boss... what does that make?"

"It's called gay bashing, Buck." I say softly. I can't go on like this... I just can't. "It's a jungle out there for homosexuals, and you are the prey. I don't want you to experience that, Buck, ever. Everything can happen to you, and slashed tires are the least of it, or some cracked ribs. Sometimes..." I swallow, rubbing my side absentmindedly, until I notice your eyes trail to my hands.

"Sometimes it's a knife between your ribs, or bullet in your back. Sometimes it's a knee between your thighs, or a heel in your groin. And you can consider yourself lucky if it's just words. But they can hurt the most. Do you really want to risk that, Buck? Do you want to hear Chris call you 'fagot' and turn his back on you? Or JD? I've asked you this before, I was angry then, but it's the fucking truth. What if Vin accidentally misses a shot, or you find yourself in his line of fire all of a sudden? Homophobia exists, Buck, as does hate and fear."

I can see your expression soften when you try to understand, can see that you do your best. You have seen my file, haven't you? Where else could you have the information about my hospital stays during that year from? Your eyes trail to my hands still rubbing my side where the hunting knife had been embedded. It still hurts. Scars do hurt. And my back... the bullet had just missed the left ventricle by an inch. We had a good sniper, but I had moved...

"And that's not it, Buck. There are so many things... like being accused of false crimes... 'we have to finance our lifestyle somehow, don't we', put under pressure, blackmail..." Am I sounding bitter? God, I'm so tired of this shit...

"I got the impression, Ezra." you say softly. "What makes you think I'm frightened of people's reaction? What makes you think our friends will react that way?"

"What makes you think they won't?" I'm almost yelling in despair.

God, Buck, caring, sympathetic, lovable, trusting Buck! You're as innocent as JD in this department.

"You have to have a little faith once in a while, Ezra. Have faith in me. In them. They won't let you down."

"What if they do, Buck? They'll let you down, too. I don't..."

"What, Ezra? What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to go through this, Buck," I whisper now. Where's a bar when you need one?

"I love you too much..." Did I just say that out loud?

"Oh, Ezra." Hm, obviously I did. Stupid me.

"I love you, too. You know that. I just ask for one thing: that you give it a chance. Don't make me beg..."

"That's not it..."

"Then what is it? If you love me..."

"That's exactly the reason, Buck. Can't you see? How can I put you at risk? How can I ask you to risk your friendships? Or even your life? And how can you ask something like that from me? I don't want to see you die... hit by friendly fire... I couldn't stand to see you fade away, that something that is essentially you, Buck. I..." I have to inhale deeply, as I visualize that fire dying in your eyes, that big heart of yours slowly cracking and breaking. No, never do I want to see you become harsh or bitter or tired... like me...

"You can live without me, but you can't live without them."

I glance at you, see that thoughtful look, the way you watch me... I have to get out.

"I should be going now..."

"No."

You rush at my side, barely stroking my arm, before you point outside the window.

"It's late, you're tired, it's snowing again, and it's almost an hour drive back to your place. Why don't you just stay? Room's paid anyway, and the bed's really large enough."

I look at you, smirking. You're not implying...

"You want me to sleep with you? In there?"

"I'd love to. But I mean sleep, as in rest, Ezra. Not a single touch, promised."

I watch you return to the bed and slip under the blanket, yawning.

Heck, you're one sight to behold... I feel myself stifle a yawn, too, and have to admit you're right. I am tired, it is late, and the streets are probably dangerous now with the increasing snowfall. But ... can I... do I really dare... ? You see my hesitation and you pat the place on the other side of the bed.

"For heavens sake, Mr. Wilmington..." I sigh in surrender, slipping out of my pullover and pants. I know you're watching... got to get under that blanket quick.

"Good night, Mr. Standish."

You're laughing. I know you are. It's a wonderful sound... could have that every night...

"Night, Buck." I murmur.

Then I know no more.

*

//Who had created the stereotype of the dark and stormy night? Make that a cold and foggy day. I stand here, feel the moisture crawl under my coat and shirt -- hell, under my very skin. I try my best to keep my composure, stay calm and collected on the outside, while my heart is racing. I don't dare to look up, can't look up, mustn't... I know that you are there, waiting, and that you are as anxious as I am to get this over with. One of my compatriots waves at me, indicates something... this doesn't feel right. I smile reassuringly. Try to calm him down... too late. I jump, take cover when I hear your voice call, warn them away -- why don't they ever listen? Hear the bullets fly.

Look over the crate I have been taken cover, see you standing there, bad guys defeated... you turn around... smile at me... shots ring... you look mighty surprised all of a sudden... I'm pretty sure I screamed your name when I fly to your side, catching you, letting you sink to the hard concrete floor. The pain in your clouding eyes, you squish my hand, not making any sound. Then... your hand becomes lax... I yell at you... my fingers all wet and sticky with the crimson flood running out of your body, taking your life with it...

A shadow falls on your body and when I look up I see... the gun's still smoking.

"Vin?"

He shrugs. A second shadow. Kneeling at my side, eyeing you curiously.

"Seems I just lost a man here, Ez. Too bad.."

"Chris...?" Hazel eyes regarding me, cold and calculating... a hand sneaks up my inner thigh...

"It's because of you. Maybe you could think of something to make it up to me, hm?"

"nooo." //

I wake with a start, my heart still pounding in my chest, to a dim almost grey light. I hear a sob escaping my throat at the feeling of utter loneliness and loss that the dream has left, and I curl up, wanting to burry myself beneath the warm soft blanket of forgetfulness. I close my eyes, but the images stay. I clench my fist, but the sticky feeling remains. I inhale deeply, trying to force my heart down, noticing the scent tingling at my senses. It's - When I turn around slowly I see you sleeping beside me, and I remember. You lay there on your side, warm, breathing, your face all relaxed and somewhat peaceful, and very much alive. I just can't take my eyes off you.

I want that. Every morning I have on this earth.

Huh? Where has that come from?

Then I register that you had slipped out of your shirt some the other night.

The sheets are conforming to your firm chest, and again my eyes wander, down your flat stomach, to your hips, and... before I know it, my hand is stretched out...

Have to know...

Have to feel...

Touch you...

My hand comes to lay on your chest, fingertips ghosting over your skin, slightly tickled by the short hair. You sigh and roll on your back, and I go with your movement. I don't believe I'm thinking straight right now. I don't believe I'm thinking at all. All I can do is feel. I feel your chest moving with every breath you take, feel your heart beat under the palm of my hand, and I spread the fingers, caressing the nipple... almost like I did last night. I want to... when my lips brush over yours in the slightest touch, I notice your breath has increased. You're not as asleep as you want me to believe, aren't you? Well, two can play that game... my lips wander over your neck, I suck gently on an earlobe, biting lightly on the soft skin where neck meets shoulder, all while my hand's still resting on your chest, all but still, playing very careful attention to your nipple. When my lips finally close around it, I let my tongue swirl around it, noticing it getting hard immediately. So you like that, don't you?

I hear your breath hitch. Your arm comes around me, hesitantly, almost as if you fear to startle me, and I feel your fingers stroking my back slowly. I just have to slip a leg between your thighs, and you barely suppress a moan when I find pulsating heat there.

"It's okay, Buck," I whisper. God, my voice sounds hoarse as if I hadn't used it in months. I push a little, and your hips twitch. This time your moan isn't suppressed, your arm tightens around me. I slip up your body - oh sweet friction - to look into your eyes, dark with passion and burning with need that matches my own, I'm pretty sure.

Your fingers cradle my neck and with another moan you pull me close, the kiss fierce and searing. This time my hands don't stop at the waistband.

"God... Ez..."

I slip down your body, throwing the blanket aside that dares to obstruct my view. I want to see you, all of you, taking in your lithe body as I've dreamed of so many times in the past. My fingers roaming over your legs, I hook them under your boxers. One slight lift of the hip and they're gone. You just lay there, watching me watching you, and it's a good thing you're not shy, because I surely intend on taking my time here. Only your hard breathing gives you away.

"Do it, Buck. Spread your legs for me."

And slowly you do.

"Want to see you, Ez..."

It's barely a whisper but who am I to refuse such a nice request? I slide my shirt over my head and toss it aside, my eyes locking with your hot gaze when I remove my own boxers. Your gaze roams over my body so hot I think it's almost tangible -- and it comes to rest on my side. The scar is deep and ugly, I know. Before you can react to it I kneel between your legs slowly, my fingertips brushing over your skin, making them burn. Your close your eyes for a brief second, a little tension tells me you feel it, too. I take one of your feet, slowly massaging the arch with my thumbs. I start to kiss and nibble my way up, and you stretch like a big lazy cat. Like that, eh? You're quite a sensual man, Buck Wilmington. I reach the back of your knees and feel you squirm, even purr. I lift my head to look at you, want to see you, the hunger in your eyes matching mine. I grab each knee and pull, until your hips come to lay on my spread thighs, and see you arch and moan when your groin touches mine -- I have to struggle for self-control, not to take you here and now. I lean forward, letting my hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of skin, take in every gasp, every shudder when I hit a more sensitive spot -- store away that information for further, err usage -- until I reach your chest again, you have started to writhe underneath me, moaning deep in your throat as I stretch myself out over you, skin touching skin. I reach out for your hands, put them above your head, our fingers entwine, and I bend my head to claim your lips, again and again. You move against me, producing friction, but I hold you down, and your moans sound a lot like sobbing to me. Soon, Buck, shhhh, want to take my time, want to make it good for you. You moan my name when I gently suck on your neck, bite down a little, feel you arch under me. You're close, and I haven't even touched you, not yet. Oh, but I will, don't you worry none. I work myself down your body, taking my time with your already sensitive nipples, teething them makes you squirm. I arrive down south, stroking the inner side of your thighs again, working myself slowly to your hardness, giving it a quick lick. Your hips buck, and you give a shuddering scream, but I'm not done here. There are some areas I haven't explored yet, and fully intend to. I know where to put my tongue, and yes, I'm right, that's the place. Your body stiffens, your fingers ready to rip the sheets apart you're so close... and I stop, let you catch your breath. You're shivering uncontrollably now, you're so sensitive now that every single caress produces another quiver.

"Ez... I... please..."

Your voice is hoarse with passion. My thumb glides over your tip, and you sob again. It's time. I've never mastered the art of deepthroating due to my sensitive reflexes, but that's not necessary. My index finger caressing the tight muscle between your cheeks, I bend down and take you into my mouth. I feel you buck and tremble, I hear you cry out, and yet I know I can top that. Gliding inside carefully, slowly, searching for -- ah, here we are. Applying just a little pressure, stimulating, caressing, sucking in earnest now, until I can feel every fibre in your body tense up, hear you suck in a lungful of air -- which explodes in a scream loud enough wake the dead, as you do just the same, your climax washing over you and through you like a thunderstorm, again and again.

I think you just ripped the sheets.

When I slowly slide up your body you wrap your arms around me, pulling me close into a kiss that has lost its burning hunger, but nothing of the passion still living inside you. I hiss when your thigh brushes against my groin -- the previous encounter hasn't done much to extinguish my own desire, on the contrary. Your hands slowly run down my chest, and I can't help the twitching of my hips or the moan that escapes my lips when your thumb glides over the tip, once, twice. You push your knee between my thighs, and god, yes, this time I spread them for you. I know that I have started trembling with need at that simple but effective caress. You pull back and look into my hazed eyes and stroke me again, watch as my breath hitches.

"Buck..."

"Wanna hear ya scream, Ez. Wanna hear ya beg, too..."

And you bend your head, latching onto my nipples.

I'm pretty sure I did scream then, and more later. One of those times I was held against your chest, could hear your voice whispering into my ears, felt your hands stroking me -- and your movements inside me.

Yes, I'm sure I screamed. And most certainly I begged.

*

I can't remember too many things after that, except falling asleep in your arms, out cold. And waking up, snuggled against your body, still held in your arms. It is midmorning, and the sun is shining through the blinds. I feel your arms tighten around me when you stir, and you stroke me lazily. It's such an intimate gesture -- hell, we've been thoroughly intimate already, is there anything we forgot to do that could make the pleasure more intense?"

Or is there?

I sigh, remembering your voice when you cried my name, your face when you came, and... I try to keep my breath even, but you notice nevertheless.

"Regrets?"

"no..."

"Really? There is nothing to regret, Ezra, I hope you know that. I love you, Ezra Standish. This is it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Hard to believe? I know, my reputation..."

"Fuck your reputation." I turn in your arms, look into your face. I know I can shock you when I speak like that, but hell, sometimes it's best to say what's on ones mind, plain and simple.

"I don't care about your reputation, Buck. I care about you. I'm... goddamit, I'm frightened. I didn't want..." My voice trails off.

Okay, here we are, Ezra Standish at a loss of words. And you keep looking at me, a small smile tugs at your lips.

"Question: Do you want me?"

"yes."

"Do you love me?"

"yes."

"Then what? You've slept with me, begged for me, made me scream, Ezra. No way this is just a fling. It sure as hell isn't for me."

You still don't get it, do you? I inspect your face, your eyes, watch you, wait. I just see sincerity there. I can't help it. No more.

"Where do we go from here? What are we going to do?"

You close your arms around me, claim my lips again.

"Where do we go? Wherever we want to. What are we going to do? Whatever we want. And I want to be with you. From here to eternity."

"Quoting movie titles doesn't exactly help."

You smile again. Oh, for goodness sake, Buck...

"We have tonight, who needs tomorrow?"

Something like that Ez. Let's just take every day at a time. All I ask for is: stay. Be honest. And let me love you."

"yes..."

This time I kiss you, settle in your arms and close my eyes, shutting out the rest of the world. I love you, and I know you love me.

But sometimes love just isn't enough...

Shuddup.

"Ez?"

"hm?"

"next week's Christmas."

"so?"

"Party at Chris's."

Damnation... and here I almost forgot.

We have tonight. Who needs tomorrow?

~fini, so far~