The little voice in the back of his mind warned him anew there was something wrong. He'd only had a couple of drinks, he shouldn't be that drunk. He felt dizzy and off-kilter, his whole body tingled sensually. He was entranced by the colors and sounds assaulting him, the sweet scent of incense was strong in the night air.

A circle of dancers was forming around him, moving with the beat, pressing against him, touching him wantonly. He wondered briefly if he shouldn't mind the proximity, the invasion of his person, but he didn't have the will to care. To hell with the world. To hell with everyone. And especially to hell with Chris Larabee and his team. Ezra Standish was breaking free from his chains.

"I hate Mardi Gras!" Chris Larabee grumbled as he plunged into the wild crowd, glaring at the drunken, gyrating throng of people surrounding them.

Vin chuckled as he followed the other man. It was his first time in New Orleans and he was loving it -- especially the sights and sounds of Mardi Gras. He would forever keep in his mind the images of dancing and singing, the colorful costumes, the beautiful people, the imaginative parades.

He frowned. If only Chris hadn't ruined everything for them... The New Orleans ATF division had asked for Ezra's help. A man he'd helped arrest was out on the streets again and putting together a gun operation. They needed 'Eric Simpson' to infiltrate the gang. Chris and Vin had tagged along as the southerner's backup.

Everything had gone fine at first. The criminal, John Falcon, had never learned about Ezra's true identity. He was delighted to see the southerner, immediately asking him to join him. Things had taken a turn for the worse that afternoon, the day of the bust. Ezra had taken a bullet meant for Chris, and even though he was wearing a vest, Larabee had read him the riot act. As usual the blond man covered his concern with anger and Ezra had been the one to pay the price.

Finally tired of hearing what a maverick, smart-ass fool he was, Ezra had punched Chris and left the New Orleans ATF building fuming. That had been over five hours earlier. They hadn't heard from him since. He wasn't at their hotel. He wasn't answering his phone. He wasn't anywhere they'd looked.

So there they were, both men trying to control their anxiety for their missing friend, trying to find him within the sea of people enjoying the Mardi Gras. It was an impossible mission. The proverbial needle in the haystack. But they weren't done yet.

The partying was beginning to wind down when they stumbled upon what seemed to be an enormous street party. There were candles lit and placed all around the street, windows and doors of the houses. Some were in paper bags, some in glass votives, others in plastic containers coming in all colors and shapes. Their light gave an unearthly glow to their surroundings.

There was food and drinks everywhere. People of all ages and races were dancing and laughing. Some danced in circles, holding hands. There was incense and hemp burning.

"Welcome," a Creole woman greeted, the Jamaican accent strong in her voice. "Have a drink, gentlemen. Tonight we're celebrating love."

The two men exchanged a look, then Chris shrugged, reaching for one of the large mugs she was holding. Vin followed his example. The beer tasted good and he suddenly realized he was incredibly thirsty. He drank most of his beer in one swallow, sighing contentedly as he felt the liquid wash over him and invade his senses. Everything seemed brighter, the music sounded louder, the scents more acute to his nose.

He accepted the second and third mugs, watching lightheadedly as Chris did the same. He didn't question how the drinks kept appearing mysteriously in front of him. All he knew was that he had to quench the unbearable thirst clawing at him.

Vin blinked as he recognized one of the people dancing. It was Ezra. And by the look of him, he'd been there for a while. His jacket was gone, his white shirt was untucked and opened almost all the way down. He was within a circle of dancers, laughing and gyrating to the pulse of the beat, totally unaware of his surroundings.

"Chris, it's Ezra."

Vin watched as the dark-clad man took one look at the obviously intoxicated agent and marched into the circle, grabbing Ezra by the arm and turning him around. "Where the hell have you been?" Chris asked angrily.

"We were worried," Vin added with a frown. He really wished he could focus, he felt like he was floating.

"Chris..." Ezra purred, his voice sweet and seductive. "Dance with me?"

Before Chris utter a word, Ezra was already sliding against him, arms surrounding his neck and pulling him closer. Vin watched bemused, as their fearless leader meekly took Ezra in his arms, their hips pressing together as they moved with the music. He held his breath as Ezra brushed his lips against Chris' softly.

"Vin, join us!" Ezra called to him.

Knowing he was probably making a mistake, but unable to stop himself, Vin moved closer, wrapping his arms around Ezra's waist from behind. The three men danced together, teasing and flirting and enticing each other. Each focused solely on the other two. They were completely unaware of the human circle forming around them, or the hands stripping off their clothing.

Chris knew they had been drugged. Some small part of his still thinking brain knew that fact as clearly as he knew his own name. There was nothing he could do about it. He was powerless to stop himself, to prevent what was happening.

He kissed Ezra passionately, ravishing the sweet mouth, as he slid his hand between the southerner's legs. He rubbed the hardened shaft, tracing his finger over its already weeping slit, enjoying the wanton way Ezra moaned into their kiss. He pulled back from the delicious lips, watching as Vin caressed Ezra's body, thumbing the hard nipples at the same time as he lapped at the smaller man's neck.

Chris growled as Ezra tipped his head back, surrendering to them. He abruptly grabbed Ezra's knees and watched him fall into Vin's arms. Together they laid him down on the ground on his back. Chris spread Ezra's legs apart while Vin straddled the southerner's head, his cock within reach of the moist mouth.

Ezra whimpered, beginning to work his tongue over Vin's shaft. Chris snatched the tube of KY handed out to him and impaled the southerner with a coated finger, stretching the tight passage for his use. He inserted another finger to his explorations, grinning as Ezra arched his back, taking Vin's cock deep within him, then pushed down onto Chris' digits, groaning around his full mouth.

Once he was certain Ezra was ready for him, Chris guided himself into Ezra, thrusting into him repeatedly, making the southerner give muffled cries at every stroke. The vibration caused Vin to throw his head back and shout in pleasure, convulsing powerfully as he came inside Ezra's mouth. Ezra bucked beneath Chris, his own orgasm triggering the other man's. Together they cried out and lost consciousness.

Ezra woke up slowly, his whole body felt sore and he had what felt like his worst hangover in years. He tried to turn over, but he was blocked by something. He opened his eyes, looking straight into Vin's smiling eyes. He sighed warily as he realized the body at his back had to be Chris'.

"Where are we?" He whispered. They were lying on the floor, in what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

"Don't know, we just woke up ourselves," Chris replied just as softly. "We're indoors, for which I'm thankful. Last thing I remember we were in the middle of the street."

"Do you know how we got here?"

"No idea," This time it was Vin who answered. "We've been trying to figure that out. What do you remember of last night, Ez?"

The Texan's careful tone made Ezra look at him suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes, trying to think back on the previous day. "I recall leaving the ATF office. A street party, then..." His eyes widened, his face flushing brightly as the memories began to flood his mind. "Oh, Lord!"

He sat up with a swift motion, but a hand on his chest -- his naked chest -- prevented him from standing. He looked into Chris' concerned eyes. "Are you okay? I... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Flushing even brighter as he realized exactly why Chris was asking that question, he nevertheless managed to grit out, "No, Mr. Larabee. You did not hurt me, I'm perfectly alright. So, who was it that saw fit to disrobe us and supply us with the uh, lube?" Ezra asked, careful not to look at the other men.

"I figured it was those people dancing in the street," Vin replied. "I just wish I knew why. They seem to have disappeared, so I guess we'll never know."

Ezra watched as Chris stood up and grabbed their clothes, which were resting in a corner. He got dressed, thankful for the warm cloth against his chilled skin.

"Now what?"

"We get out of this damn place!" Chris growled. "If someone so much as asks if I enjoyed Mardi Gras or New Orleans I'll shoot them!"

"That's not what I meant. I... I enjoyed what happened between us," Vin remarked, obviously uncomfortable with having to express his feelings. "I can't go back to the way things were before."

Chris sighed, shoulders slumping noticeably. "Yeah. I can't either." He turned shrewd eyes on Ezra. "What about you?"

Ezra swallowed as he found himself pinned by two intense stares. "I don't know. We were drugged and --"

"The feelings were there, Ez," Vin interjected. "It wasn't just the drugs. I care for you both."

"And so do I," Chris assured, moving closer to the southerner. "I'm sorry about all the things I said yesterday. I didn't mean them. It's just... When I saw you take that bullet... I can't bear the idea of losing you. I've lost enough people I cared about, I can't lose you either. And damnit, Ezra! You take such chances with your life! You're not alone anymore, you can't keep doing this. You have six people who care for you, who love you, and who would be destroyed if you died."

Ezra cleared his throat, his eyes locked on the dusty floor. "I apologize. I guess... I'm used to being on my own."

Vin wrapped his arms around him and kissed him gently while Chris' warm body hugged him from behind. "You're not on your own anymore. We're here. All six of us. Try to cut out the heroic stunts, okay?"

Ezra smiled gently up at the Texan. "Okay. And uh... I believe I would also like to see where this 'thing' might lead us."

"Good," Chris purred as he nuzzled Ezra's silken hair. "Let's go back to the hotel and see how we do without the drugs."

"So long as we make use of the bed in the room, gentlemen," Ezra drawled with a teasing smile. "I'm already sore from being on the ground for so long, the last thing I need is to suffer carpet burns. Or course... One of you can always be bottom."

And with that he winked and sauntered to the door while the others chased after him with wide grins plastered on their faces. Life would certainly never be boring with Ezra Standish around.