Basically this is a 'choose your own pairing'. I think it could be just about any of the Seven with Ezra. Took me an hour to write when I really should have been doing other things.
Thanks to Lumina and Debs for being their usual wonderful, beta-ing selves. And special thanks to Debs for letting me have some ellipses!

Midnight

Mid-July and what little air there was, was uncomfortably sticky and close. Ezra Standish gave up on sleep and flung back the sheets. There was no breeze from the open window, only the sounds of a town desperate to sleep the heat away.

He reasoned that a walk was in order. Reasoned also that in deference to the late hour, even a gentleman could forego hat, jacket and vest. Even the derringer rig remained in his room as he instead placed his holster around his hips.

Outside of the hotel there was a slight breeze. It was warm but at least it was movement and Ezra welcomed its billowing presence across his face as he might welcome a lover's caress. He snorted softly at the thought; the summer's breeze was undoubtedly the closest he'd had to a lover in a very long time. And quickly he shut out the questioning little voice that asked if it was the closest he'd have to a lover's touch ever again. It was too hot for such thoughts.

And besides, tonight's patrol duty was being undertaken by a certain somebody... a somebody whose wakefulness at this late hour served as a strange kind of company, even if their paths did not cross.

No, Ezra would revel in the knowledge that the only two people awake in Four Corners that night were himself and him and leave it at that.

Stepping down to cross the street, Ezra made his way to the livery. His footsteps echoed, crunching vaguely in the dust and he found himself slowing from his customarily brisk pace to a carefree amble. He relished in the way the warm breeze lifted the fabric of shirtsleeves normally sheltered beneath a heavy wool jacket.

So caught up was he in unfamiliar sensations that Ezra didn't hear another man behind him until it was too late. Surprisingly though, there was no blow, no click of a pistol, no sharp prod of a dagger. Just the warm and sure presence of a hand over the one Ezra had belatedly moved to his gun. Large, heavy fingers stilled Ezra's while the stranger's other hand appeared in Ezra's line of vision, closing over his eyes, blindfolding him.

'Shh... it's okay.' The voice was an intimate whisper that tickled his ear as its owner stepped closer. Ezra could feel the outline of the man behind him, felt the hard, strong chest and firm belly; he pictured strong arms and legs, hoped that the man behind him was him.

The hand over his holster arm loosened its grip to flutter careful fingers over the back of his own, outlining each finger before edging inwards to trace an ever decreasing circle in his palm. Finally the fingers moved to repeat those circular designs on the inside of his wrist, fingertips calloused by a life in the outdoors, maddening him, unbelievably arousing.

'Who?'

'Shh...' The whisper was a caress too and Ezra found himself edging closer, his eyes drifting shut behind the man's palm.

That touch, a bare whisper of one, slipped under the cuff of his shirtsleeve, unhampered by the cufflinks Ezra had left in his room. One index finger ran the length of Ezra's inner arm in a lazy line that led to the inside of his elbow before travelling back down and repeating the journey, this time outside of the sleeve and ambling further, up to the shoulder and down one side of his chest, brushing over one nipple and settling on his hip.

So far only the safe, innocent skin of his arm had been touched by the stranger and yet Ezra grew hard, light-headed enough to allow a little of his weight to settle back against the other man. His head fitted comfortably against the stranger's upper chest and dimly Ezra noted that the man was taller than he. Not an especially notable fact for the compactly built gambler, but still it was one more piece of information that might aid a calculating mind such as Ezra's to deduce who was seducing him.

However, Ezra's calculating mind was not really on the job, overruled as it was by baser instincts. Instincts that made their wishes known in the throbbing pulse that seemed to radiate upwards and outwards from his groin.

Circles again, this time the pattern was resumed on his hip, soothing and arousing at the same time. Ezra wondered at the etiquette of taking those teasing fingers, drawing them down to his need. Decided against it when the fingers in question drifted upwards to follow the line of his shirt buttons, slipping between the fourth and fifth buttons to brush over the little patch of skin beneath.

Again and again that patch of skin was stroked until it responded by pimpling to gooseflesh. Ezra heard himself moan at the loss when the fingers went on the move once more, up to map the length of his throat, this time bringing into play a warm palm as calloused as the fingers, softly holding Ezra's head back against his chest.

Lips drifted over Ezra's cheek, over the shell of his ear and down the side of his neck, the brush of stubble sending a bolt of arousal through Ezra's body.

His other hand still loosely shielding Ezra's eyes from his identity, the other man blew warm breath over the trail his kisses had traced and Ezra all but melted in his arms.

'I want to see you,' Ezra had no idea where he'd developed the ability to speak when his brain was unable to form any rational thought. 'Soon. Something first,' The voice was a sure and gentle murmur, still anonymous but becoming more and more familiar.

'What, what do you want?' Ezra probably didn't realise that he was begging now, pleading even. Didn't realise or didn't care that he would do anything to have the other man reveal himself to be...

'First,' soft against his ear the voice resumed. And relentless against the poor, defenceless skin of the centre of Ezra's chest, between buttons four and five, the fingers resumed their caress. Ezra thought he would go mad.

'Anything,' he murmured, 'Anything you want... just, please-'

'Please what?' The stranger was drawing this out, enjoying the sight and feel of a wanton Ezra Standish in his arms.

'Please just let me see you...' And be who I want you to be, he added silently.

The stranger froze- what if he'd read the gambler wrong? Admittedly that wouldn't be hard since the man was notoriously guarded. The possibility of reward, however, won-out over the risk of disappointment. After all, he'd spent how many nights dreaming of this?

With his hand still covering Ezra's eyes, the man slowly turned the smaller man to face him, had to tighten his other arm around his waist when Ezra's swooning body seemed unable to hold itself upright.

The gambler's lips were open, just enough for the tip of his tongue to venture out to wet them nervously. His back was hot, the shirt sticking to his skin where he'd leant back against his hoped to be lover. Absently the stranger plucked the sticky fabric away from Ezra's skin, received a grateful smile in return.

'First, a kiss.'

'Oh, yes...'

His palm still hiding Ezra's eyes, the taller man bent his head to brush his lips over the gamblers in the merest hint of a kiss. Ezra gasped, fought to hold onto the retreating lips, melted against them, his own falling open when the stranger brought his tongue into play.

Shyly, Ezra's hand lifted to touch the skin of the other man's face, ghosted over the stubbled jaw, still no closer to knowing that face's identity. Blind and weakened by lust, Ezra could only hope.

Finally the kiss ended, leaving both men wanting, both nervous. Ezra's hand moved to cover the one over his eyes, his fingers, damp with perspiration closed momentarily over the other man's. Taking a deep breath he guided the hand away and blinked up into the darkness, let his eyes re-accustom themselves to the black of the night. As they did, his expression fluttered from surprise to a breathless smile that was answered in kind by the other man,

'Hi.'

'Hi...'

'You okay with this, Ezra?' For once Standish decided that he could do without words, allowed instead his lips and tongue to undertake a far more useful task: that of outlining the shape of the other man's lips, a shape he'd only ever traced with hopeful eyes. This time, with his eyes wide open, for he didn't want for one moment to lose sight of this man, Ezra allowed the other man to possess his mouth, his skin. And somewhere in the fringes of his desire-addled brain Ezra thanked the heavens above that his wish had finally come true.