Happy New Year everyone, welcome to the 21st century! This is a virgin offering, hope you like it.

Beautiful, all of him. The thought ran through Chris' mind once more as he looked at the man at the other end of the fence rail. Wearing only work boots, gloves and an old pair of cut-offs scrounged from the bottom of the closet, his torso bare and hair gleaming in the hot September sun. The long muscles running up his back strained under the weight of the post they were replacing.

"Do you mind?"

"Oh, sorry." Chris cringed, realizing he had left the man holding the post while he was day-dreaming. Good grief, Larabee, get your head on straight.

Together the two sweating men wrestled the post into the hole. Chris watched the gloved hands as they picked up the hammer. He loved those hands, those long talented fingers.

"You going to pull that wire?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah, I'm right with you." He pulled the wire across to the post and held it steady as the nail was deftly pounded into the hard wood. It amazed him that this man was so competent with a hammer. The nail entered the wood, piercing the grain neatly and cleanly, without a crack or splinter.

"Needs another, don't you think?"

"Guess so" Chris muttered distractedly.

"Hold this, will you?"

"Um" he nodded

Suddenly, there it is. Oh mercy! Right in front of him, glowing rosy and almost translucent. Softly curving, a tiny droplet of moisture hanging on the rounded mound. Of all the things he loved about this man, this was his favorite part. He stared in abstract fascination at the tendrils of hair cupping the tender flesh. On the very ends, the little hairs were almost golden, burning like the edges of a brass fender in the firelight. Chris took a deep breath inhaling the sweet, musky scent. He smelled so good, especially here, where for some reason the aroma seemed concentrated.

He couldn't help himself. His mouth seemed to have a mind of it's own. Lips parted, he moved quickly to capture the tip with his tongue.

He neglected to account for inherent momentum of a moving body. Two heads collided and Chris sighed, a combination of frustration and irritation.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

He felt those eyes. Those compelling, never miss a trick eyes looking intently at his face. Chris Larabee was embarrassed. What must he be thinking?

After all, this was punishment. A practical joke gone a bit wrong, when the irritated mare had tossed an unfortunate Josiah Sanchez right through the fencing. The horse was a bit peeved, the rider extremely irate and the fence wasn't a fence anymore. The mare was appeased easily with some soft talking and treats, the rider, well, Chris thought he deserved it anyway. But damn, that fence had to be fixed or he'd be chasing his quarter horses all over the state. So, here they were.

He was wrong, it wasn't punishment, it was torture. From the second the man showed up, Chris knew he was in trouble. He avoided this situation like the plague from day one. They were always in the company of others. No one would ever know, especially the man in question, but now he was about to spontaneously combust with desire.

All because of the succulent tenderness of a ....

Damn you, Larabee, he cursed himself. Stop right now. This is one of your men. You will not.

Forcing the cold rush of anger to the surface, he snapped out, "If you would quit fooling around, we might get done here. Wouldn't have to be out here if it wasn't for your damned irresponsibility. I have better things to do."

Oh shit! He saw the eyes drop and that turn of the head as he retreated.

"I'm sure you do," came the soft rejoinder.

Chris watched the hammer bearing down and striking the gloved fingers dead on with a force that caused the post to vibrate against his hands.

"Sorry" came the softly whispered comment as the nail was quickly and precisely driven on the next stroke.

Chris knew that had to hurt like hell. Gloves or not, that big steel hammer was heavy. Not a word. Not even a flinch that he could see. After driving almost 50 perfect nails, how in the hell could he miss?

"Shit, that had to hurt."

"No, not really."

Chris looked for the lie, but it seemed that he was being perfectly honest.

"Take off that glove, let me see."

"Let me just get done, please."

"Let me see." It came out colder then he wanted, but his hands reached out for the offended fingers.

"I think not."

"Please."

"Excuse me?"

Chris grinned. "I said please. So let me see, I want to make sure you're not hurt."

"We could get finished more quickly, if you would..."

"Let me see." The Larabee glare was directed full force.

The glove was removed with an impatient sigh and Chris was presented with two very bruised fingertips and one torn nail.

"Damn it, man, I asked you if you were fine."

"Actually, you asked if it hurt. It didn't. It's nothing for you to concern yourself with."

Chris was furious. What the hell game was he playing? "How can you say you're not hurt?"

"Mr. Larabee," came the terse rejoinder, "I don't care for your insinuation. If you will please recall my precise words, you will realize that I did not deceive you in the least. I did not lie, sir." The green eyes flashed with indignation..

Both of them were shocked when Chris grabbed the offended digits and plunged them into his mouth.

"Mr. Larabee!"

Chris held tight and continued to lavish his attention solely on the tender fingertips. He could feel the hand trembling in his and raised his eyes slowly to the astonished face before him.

Releasing his lips for a moment, he mumbled around the soft tips, "Don't want them to swell." Then he closed his mouth again, just as the Southerner opened his.

"Sir, I...well, really, um. good Lord!" Ezra's cheeks burned and he pulled harder on his captured appendage. "Surely, I could suck on them just as well."

"I'm sure you could."

"Please."

Holding tightly to the imprisoned hand, Chris dropped the glove from his free hand and brought his fingers up to run over Ezra's slightly parted lips. Looking evenly into those awesome orbs, he continued to run his hand along the square jaw tracing it to the soft and tender flesh he coveted. Whisking his finger around the curved edge of a perfectly rounded ear, he toyed gently with the delicate lobe, twirling his electrified fingertip among the damp tendrils of curling hair.

The soft whimper slipping from the rosy lips tantalized him. Releasing the sore fingers from his mouth, he used his leverage to pull Ezra closer. Standing chest to chest, he asked, low and husky, "Perhaps this insinuation is more to your liking."

Without waiting for a reply, he bent his lips to the luscious lobe, grazing it gently with his breath. Breathing in deeply, Chris drew the morsel into his moist mouth. He could feel the rush of blood in Ezra's veins pulsating in his neck, it matched the rapid rhythm racing against the heel of his hand nested between their bare breasts.

The man's rich scent filled his head, making it spin with desire. "What," Chris whispered between kisses, "whatever makes you smell so good. I swear Ezra I want to devour you."

Wrapping his free arm around the Southerner's waist, Chris continued to ravish the man's throat with searing kisses. The sudden gasp and almost tearful plea stopped him and he drew back realizing what he had done.

"Oh, Ezra." Gently he slid he arm from around the supple back and let the tender fingers slip through his hands.

They stood motionless, just staring at each other. Fearlessly, Chris maintained eye contact. Questing green gems roved over his face, relentless in the pursuit of some elusive quarry.

"What, sir, are you attempting to suggest?"

Chris knew he was standing on the precipice. Buying some time, he asked softly, "If you wouldn't mind we could go up to the house and sit on the porch and I'll answer your question."

Ezra nodded and Chris led the way to the long, shady porch and sank down into one of the Adirondack chairs thinking frantically all the while of how to explain himself.

Hesitantly, the Southerner perched on the top step, arms enfolding grimy knees. The dappled golden light of autumn draped like lace over his face and hair.

"I'm sorry. Not for caring for you, Ezra, because I do, a lot, but for not telling you first."

"You..." Ezra looked down at his feet in confusion. "You care for me?" the incredulous question hung between them.

"I have been attracted to you since the day I saw you in that FBI conference room in Atlanta. Then, well, I never said anything because I wanted you to stay."

"I would have run."

"I know. Will you run now?" Chris was afraid, please make him stay he begged silently, even if I can't have him.

"I don't want to."

"But?"

"This is hard." Ezra whispered, "I have never lied to you and I can't...."

Chris sighed, how he yearned for this man to possess him.

"I trust you, Ez."

"Do you?"

"With all my heart."

Those green eyes that took away his breath glistened. "Hearts are fragile, I might break it."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

"But, what about Vin?"

Chris chuckled, "What about Vin?"

"You, I thought... It's Vin that you spend time with and talk to and well, he's the one you care about."

Chris listened carefully, shamed because he heard the unspoken words. "I do, I care about Vin. He's my friend. Hell, sometimes I don't know where he begins and when I leave off. I value him. Just as you do, am I right?"

Ezra nodded. "He's my friend."

"And you would never hurt him. He knows how I feel about you, Ezra. He's known all along." Chris laughed lowly, "Told me he'd hate to have to shoot me, so I better not hurt you."

"Then you and, he aren't..." Ezra sighed and looked so distressed that it was all Chris could do to keep his hands off of him.

"No, Ezra. You are the only person I've been interested in since Sarah. Vin and I are friends, just good friends."

"Mary?"

"Billy's a great kid, and I count his mother as my friend, that's all. Buck, JD, Josiah, Nathan, they're all friends Ezra. That's all." He allowed a hint of irritation to creep in. just so the man would know he was serious.

"But you and I, we aren't friends, not really."

Chris felt as though he'd been gut punched. Of all the things he was prepared to hear, this was not one of them. Nor was an uncertain and hesitant Ezra Standish at all what he expected. Where had his cocky, arrogant, suave undercover agent gone? He watched as the man turned to stare out at the grassy fields, leaning his arm on a knee, covering his mouth with his palm.

The silence stretched, but it was pensive and not entirely uncomfortable. The senior agent considered the shocking revelation that the man did not consider him to be a friend. Shit, Larabee, how could he think otherwise? You barely talk to him other than work and half of the time you're reading him the riot act. Ezra was right, this was hard. Go slow, he cautioned himself, fighting both temperament and desire.

"We could be friends, better then friends."

"What ever could be better than friends?" Ezra leaned forward slightly, lifting his chin to rest on the cupped palm.

Chris licked his lips, "Lovers."

"Oh no, Mr. Larabee. Lovers leave, lovers take your soul and all that's left is an empty place where your heart used to be. Lovers take up the hammer of love and drive nails of hurt into you. Lovers are the loneliest people in the world."

"Friends can be lovers, too."

"What do you really want?"

Chris took the redirection in stride. "I want you, Ezra. All of you. I want to be your friend and I want to be your lover. I want you to want me as badly as I want, no not want, as badly as I need you."

"And when I can't give you what you want, what will you do with me then?"

Feeling a flash of frustration, he almost lost his temper, but the naked emotion playing hide and seek on Ezra's face found it's way home.

"Do you believe in me?"

"Yes" Ezra said quietly.

"Do you want to be my friend?"

"Yes," lower still.

"Could you love me?"

The soft, sultry voice whispered. "Yes."

Chris slid over closer until they were a hair's breadth away. Leaning in, ever so careful not to touch him, he asked, "Will you let me love you?"

"I have been....wounded."

"So have I."

So clear, those lovely sea glass eyes shining with passion. With bruised fingers, Ezra traced his face, drawing the mobile mouth and brushing along the firm jaw line to sculpt the back of his neck with a warm palm. Splaying the fingers of his right hand over Chris' pulsing heart, he kissed him, eyes wide open.

Liquid fire ignited on their lips and flowed out through every inch of skin. A smoldering gaze, dazzling with desire transfixed the aquamarine eyes in a hypnotic spiral. Powerless to look away, Chris met an irresistible force of nature. The tenderness brought tears to his eyes. Never in all his born days was Chris Larabee kissed like that. Carried along as if to a wild, rushing river, his heart racing and his knees weak as he came to the edge. No turning back once his feet left the ledge. With abandon he plummeted into the awesome power and was swept away in the flood. The river's water was alive and he was caught in the flow.

The light breath breezing across Chris' sensitive lips pulled him from the depths.

"You may," the silky southern voice implored.

Inside Chris exalted, correctly reading the answer to his earlier question. Silently, he promised, I will love you like you ought to be loved, Ezra. He slipped around to sit behind the Southerner and wrapped his arms around the tender and wild enigma. "We will go slow. I'm not going anywhere. I can be patient."

Chris nuzzled the warm and inviting neck, pausing to at long last freely take the sweet nub of an earlobe into a greedy mouth. He could swear he heard Ezra purring. Just the expectation of exploring every aspect of this astounding man made his body tingle with anticipation. Right now, he was content to sit and relish the memory of that kiss.

"Like an angel's wings," he murmured inhaling the man's scent and reveling in the remembered sensation of those ardent, tender lips touching his while the feather wisp of eyelashes caressed his cheek. He could feel Ezra's smile as their cheeks brushed.

"Chris."

Just hearing his name, it's sibilance rolling over that talented tongue, and he was undone. Tilting his head to see into those gorgeous eyes, so wide and open, he waited.

"Kiss me, please."

So, he did.