Sequel to Decline and Fall

Obsessive Author's Note:

Bluntly, in 1877 the town of Tombstone did not exist. The site was not officially laid out until 1879, at which time it boasted a whopping 40 cabins and a population of 100. Less than a year later, the population had expanded to over 3,000 and by the 1890s it had increased again to 15,000. For the sake of narrative simplicity (read: the author's sanity) we're just going to pretend the town was founded a few years before it actually was; otherwise, John and Ezra would be holding their tryst out under the stars and let's face it, I already did that story. ;-)

The OK Stables boasted at least a dozen stalls, most of which were already filled. Ezra insisted on seeing to Chaucer himself, much to the disgust of the livery boy, who probably figured him worth at least a ten cent tip given the lateness of the hour. It wasn't that Ezra minded others looking after his horse, or that he was too cheap to pay for it, as the boy undoubtedly thought. No, he was here because he was buying time, trying to settle his nerves before heading up the street to the Occidental Hotel.

"I've finally taken leave of my senses," he told the gelding in a quiet voice. "There is no other possible explanation for this current course of action."

Chaucer snorted his opinion of that, then arched his neck over the stall door to snuffle at the front of Ezra's waistcoat, looking for hidden treats. "Spoiled brat," Ezra said affectionately, giving the bay one last pat before shouldering his kit and walking up the aisle towards the gate that let out into Allen Street.

He was reaching for the iron latch when a heavy hand descended onto his shoulder. Startled, he dropped his gear and spun hard on his heel, automatically popping the derringer from its hidden sheath into his right hand and bringing it to bear on his would-be assailant.

"Whoa!" John said, taking a step back and holding up both hands.

"John!" Ezra's shoulder's slumped and he dropped back to lean against the gate. "Good Lord, I could have killed you."

"I noticed," John said. He sounded impressed. After a moment he added, "May I put my hands down now?"

"What?" Ezra suddenly realized he still held the derringer in a white-knuckled grip. "Oh. Yes, of course."

He turned away so that John would not see how badly he was shaking as he slid the little gun back inside his sleeve. "Lord," he said again. "Someone needs to bell you so you can't sneak up on people."

Behind him, he heard John chuckle quietly. "Didn't mean to give you a fright," he said, reaching out to stroke the tender skin just below Ezra's ear.

Ezra closed his eyes briefly; that was one of his sweet-spots, and John knew it. "I know," he said, then sighed. "You'll have to forgive me, it's been a ' trying week."

"I gathered that from your telegram." John brought his other hand up and began rubbing the back of Ezra's neck in small, soothing circles. "What can I do?"

Ezra just shook his head and leaned back into the touch.

The hands slid down to his hips, gently but inexorably turning him around until he and John stood face to face. "Ezra," John said, and the tenderness in the gunslinger's voice made him ache. "Tell me what you need."

Ezra took a deep shuddering breath. "You," he said simply.

John's smile was bright and warm as a noonday sun. Ezra found himself smiling back. He reached up and brushed the dark auburn hair out of John's eyes, deftly tucking the soft strands back behind his ears. "You've had a trim," Ezra said, then leaned forward and licked the smooth, fragile skin on the underside of John's jaw, tasting salt-sweat, soap and lavender water. "And a bath."

"Well, I knew you were coming," John said, green eyes sparkling with mingled desire and amusement.

He arched a brow. "Didn't want me to think you always looked so deliciously scruffy?"

John shrugged and looked down. "Something like that."

Ezra realized he'd inadvertently flicked the gunslinger on the raw. There was old pain here, coupled with an innate vulnerability he'd sensed from their first meeting. "You'd been caught in a storm," he reminded John gently. "One makes certain allowances for the vagaries of Mother Nature."

John shrugged again. "We should get to the hotel," he said, and his eyes dared Ezra to take exception to the abrupt change in topic. "Need any help with your gear?"

He started to decline the offer, then thought better of it. "Yes, actually, if you don't mind," he said, and yawned delicately for extra effect. "I'm afraid my hasty departure from Four Corners has left me feeling a bit worn."

John gave him a soft smile. "Of course," he said.

The headboard thumped a staccato beat against the wall as John pounded into him hard and fast. Ezra's hands scrabbled across John's sweat-slicked back, reveling in the strength of muscle and bone beneath heated skin. He needed this, needed John, had been unable to think of anything else since waking up to an empty bed and that brief, promissory note.

From famine to feast it seemed. He would have laughed from the joy of it, but John chose that moment to cover his mouth in a demanding kiss, much as he covered Ezra's body with a fervor that bordered on desperation. It appeared John needed him as well, and Ezra pulled his knees farther up, toes curling in pleasure as the shift in angle caused John's cock to strike his prostate with even greater force.

He was close. A few more sharp thrusts and he tumbled over the edge, crying John's name loud enough to be heard in Phoenix. He'd always been vocal, but John made his body sing and he didn't care who knew it. If they had to change hotels in the morning as a result, so be it.

John certainly wasn't complaining. He followed Ezra's shout with one of his own, not quite so loud but every bit as ardent, his whole body shuddering as he came. Ezra held him close while he recovered his breath, pressing soft kisses into John's sweat-tangled hair.

"When do you need to go back?" John murmured into his shoulder.

"Not for a while."

John pushed himself up on one elbow and studied Ezra's face. "Define a while."

Ezra smiled and gently stroked the sweat-dampened bangs out of John's eyes. "A few days. If," he added with sudden diffidence, "you're amenable to the company, that is."

John caught his hand and dropped a kiss into the palm. "I'm amenable. You sure you can be spared that long? I heard you were some kind of lawman."

"Peacekeeper," he corrected automatically. So, John had been asking about him. It should have been annoying. Instead, he was flattered. "It doesn't matter if they can spare me or not," he said. "I'm staying regardless. What about you?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from topics he was not ready to discuss just yet. "Are you able to entertain an itinerant gambler for a few days?"

"You won't be interrupting my work," John said, "seeing as I don't have a job yet."

"I thought Tombstone was a boomtown in its prime."

"It is. Had a couple of offers, but--" John shrugged. "Nothing that really suits."

There was more he was not saying, just as there was more Ezra was not saying. For now it was enough, but for later...

Well. They'd just have to wait and see.

FIN