Keeping Watch

by Laura H.

Chris stood silent and still, his back resting comfortably against one of the sturdy posts that made up the corral. His rifle rested easily in the crook of his arm, ready for a quick shot if need be. But Chris wasn’t really expecting any trouble tonight. He had a hunch about who had been watching their fire from a distance. It was the same man that had caused his body to stir with fire not long ago. The same man that had witnessed a last chance note by an old man who was giving up the life he had known. Raphael Cordova de Martinez. What surprised him, however, was the fact that he didn’t notice the man’s presence. Ezra had saw a slight movement and the glowing cheroot and had jumped on top of him, moving him from what he supposed to be harm’s way.

That in itself had been a surprise of sorts. Not the fact that Ezra would throw himself in front of the gunman to protect him, Chris knew he could trust the gambler with his life, and had several times. But rather, he hadn’t seen what had tipped Ezra off. His mind had been a million miles away at the shock of finding the note with Raphael’s signature; the gunman believed him to be in Mexico by now. To know that he had been so close to the one that had been the cause of his sweat and lust filled dreams. The gunman hadn’t ever been able to stop the dreams, not even after his trip for release to Red Fork. They were there every night. The Mexican circling him like a wolf, grinning, his voice softly speaking to the gunman before rushing in for a quick and all encompassing attack that left Chris spent, tired, and, after he awoke, more alone than ever.

However, the fact that he had been surprised to learn Raphael was still around was no cause for him not to have sensed another pair of eyes watching him. He had gotten used to Ezra’s gazes, feeling them cover him comfortably like a blanket. Even in his state of wonder and the million thoughts that had been raging in his brain earlier, he had felt Ezra’s eyes. Their touch soft and constant. Chris had fully intended to try and make the gambler aware that his gazes were appreciated, as would be a more physical appreciation. However, the sudden appearance of their mystery guest had put a stop to that. Chris had almost believed, for a moment, that the gambler had finally decided to act on the looks he’d been given.

Chris shifted against the post again, his pale green gaze constantly moving. The only reason he kept coming back to when replaying the scene in his mind was that he had known the other man was there all along. But that didn’t make any sense. Chris examined his thoughts one by one, but never found one that fit better. I was surprised he had been here not long ago. Chris knew that would never hold. Surprise had never rid him of all his instincts. Even after the disaster surrounding Sarah and Adam’s deaths he had been aware. He hadn’t cared when his instincts went off, but he had recognized them. No, his only excuse was that he had already known, somewhere deep inside, that the Mexican would not be far away.

The two horses in the corral snorted softly, the sound seeming loud amongst the normal sounds of the desert. Chris held his breath, trying to recognize anything that might have spooked the horses. Nothing came to his straining senses and he relaxed again, letting his eyes drift over to where Ezra slept by the fire. While too far away to really see him well, Chris had the added advantage that Ezra had left the fire burning, letting the flames illuminate the area. The gambler was tossing and turning, literally. Chris had long known that the other man was a restless sleeper; anyone that had been around when the gambler caught some precious sleep knew that.

Tonight, however, he seemed worse than normal. Finally, Ezra settled with his front facing the fire. Chris could see that the man’s face was flushed and, during his tossing, he’d managed to pull the crisp white shirt from his trousers and undo it half-way. The fire played lightly over the pale flesh, making shadows move there that almost looked like hands. Chris licked his lips as he focused on the erotic vision before him, the feelings of need that had been building since that afternoon rising to an even higher pitch.

Chris body stiffened as he suddenly had the feeling that he was not the only one that was watching the gambler. He heard the horses blow a soft greeting to someone behind him. Chris remained still, ready for trouble if he was wrong, but not making a move other than that of licking his lips again. His mouth was dry and Chris felt like he had been running for days. His blood was pounding in his veins, making his face flush darkly as it warmed his skin. Chris thought for a moment his clothes might burst into flame from the heat.

Now aware of the gaze, Larabee almost swore he could feel it slide over to focus on him. It was not the sensation one got from being watched by an enemy, but rather that of someone that belonged. Someone who’s gaze was welcomed openly. Chris could feel the appreciation his watcher felt as he looked at him. Breathing deeply, he caught the faint scent that was almost identical to the one he’d found with the half-smoked cigar Ezra had spotted. He savored the flavor of it as it permeated his body and soul. A low chuckle almost made him jump, but Chris remained frozen, looking ahead.

"A man who lets another get this close to him in the dark could be killed, Señor." Chris let the sound wash over him for a moment before turning slightly to gaze at the Mexican beside him. The small crescent moon didn’t put out much light, but it was enough for him to easily make out the small smile and twinkle in the other man’s eyes. The same look that Raphael had always carried in his dreams. Chris tried to keep control of his breathing. He knew he wanted the other man desperately. And, just by going on their short time together, the gunman was fairly sure that Raphael was interested in him, too. Still, it was something to take care with.

"A chance ya have to take, sometimes," Larabee finally answered, watching Raphael’s cheeks draw in slightly as he sucked the taste from the cheroot between his lips. Chris chewed his lip as the Mexican moved the small cigar from between his lips and expelled the smoke with his breath. Raphael pinched the end of the cheroot, putting it out before dropping it to the ground between them. Chris flicked another glance to the fire to be sure Standish was sleeping before looking back at the man before him, smiling slightly as he realized that Raphael had just checked the same thing.

"You like to take chances, amigo?" Chris gave his half-smile. He’d gone from ‘Señor’ to ‘amigo’ in one sentence. He swallowed hard as Raphael stepped closer to him, putting himself within arm’s reach. The gunman took a deep breath to calm himself before answering.

"If there’s something worth taking that chance for." Chris itched to touch the other man. Words were not his strong suit. He was better suited for action, and right now, action was what he wanted, needed. Raphael came closer still. Chris felt the Mexican’s chest against his arm and fought the urge to rub against the hard muscles he found there. Raphael stared hard into his eyes as if trying to make a final judgement on the man before him. His voice was thoughtful and serious when he finally spoke.

"Soy digno?" Chris tried to decipher what the other man had asked, but his limit of Spanish had already been used. He raised one eyebrow as he watched Raphael’s eyes.

"My Spanish ain’t very good..." The other man nodded, moving impossibly closer until he was all but pressing Chris into the post.

"I see you need some lessons, then. I asked if I was worth it." Chris shivered with excitement. He could feel the tight pressure of his arousal as it begged to be set free. But, more importantly, the gunman felt an answering bulge straining against the front of Raphael’s pants. Unable to look away from the gaze that held him captive, Chris nodded slowly.

"Yes." The word had barely been said when Chris felt Raphael’s hands holding his shoulders tightly. And then, he was being consumed. The flavor of the cheroot was still on Raphael’s lips as he kissed him, and Chris couldn’t resist slipping his tongue out to gather every last bit of it. The Mexican groaned and opened his mouth, his own tongue snaking out to draw the gunman’s inside. Chris swept his tongue throughout the sweet, wet cavern of Raphael’s mouth, exploring every little niche of the new territory. He felt the smooth teeth and the wet, flatness of the top of the man’s mouth.

Raphael moved his hands, down, frantically, but carefully, setting the rifle Larabee had maintained his hold of to the side. Then, he attacked the buttons that led down Chris’ chest. He was finding it hard to keep his concentration as Chris threw himself into the kiss. His body had already been like a stick of dynamite waiting to explode, but this kiss had been the match to the fuse. Raphael drew Chris’ bottom lip into his mouth as he finally got the buttons undone, his hands moving in and across the warm flesh of the other’s chest.

Chris pulled back from the drunkening kiss, breathing deeply. Raphael caught his rapidly hardening nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinched, causing the gunman to groan loudly. Raphael chuckled and leaned in to lick at Chris’ lips before moving to suckle at his collarbone. When he stood again, he could tell that the post at his back was all that was keeping the gunman from collapsing.

"Riquísimo, mi amante." Chris looked at him dazedly, waiting for an explanation of his whisper. Raphael smiled. After all, he had said the gunman needed lessons. "Delicious, my lover," he supplied, seeing Chris’ chest rise a bit faster with his breathing. The gunman reached up a hand and pushed the Mexican’s hat off so that it hung by the thread around his neck. Larabee’s fingers brushed softly through the thick black hair before pulling the other man in for another soul-searing kiss.

Chris couldn’t force himself to let go. This was better than any dream could ever have been. And he knew he wouldn’t be waking up alone from this. Raphael grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled it out of his tight jeans, making it easier for him to encircle his waist with his arms. Chris felt the warm touch move across his back and up to his shoulders before settling back down across his hips. The fingers flexed and squeezed, tighting his body even further. Chris again moved away from the kiss to let out a moan of pleasure. Raphael took the opportunity and bent down.

Chris leaned back against the post of the old corral, trying not to scream as Raphael's lips made a ghostly trail of pleasure across his exposed chest. His hands, longing for something to do, settled back into Raphael’s hair, clenching the soft curls as bolts of pleasure swept through his body. Raphael latched onto one hardened nub and began to torture it with both tongue and teeth. Chris ached to reciprocate, but his lover would have nothing of it. The warm touch Chris had felt at his sides moved slowly, one hand going around to rub soothing circles on his back while the other moved up. The Mexican's fingernails grated down across the side of his chest his mouth was not occupied with, catching the pebbled button of flesh there. The gunman couldn't stop the small cry of pleasured pain that the action produced.

Raphael rose up to silence him with a breath-stealing kiss, his tongue like lighting, hot and fast, in his mouth. Now, it was Raphael’s turn to explore. And explore he did, his hands a constant presence on Chris’ exposed torso as he moved his tongue throughout Larabee’s mouth. The Mexican pulled away and grinned at the American as he licked his lips. Moving back in, he attacked Chris' neck, working his way up to his ear. His tongue laved the shell, sliding inside and all around in such a fashion that Chris thought he would go mad. Raphael laughed quietly as he felt the other man tremble slightly.

"Quiero probarte," Raphael whispered into his lover's ear. Chris shuddered. His Spanish wasn't very good, but he knew what one of those words meant... 'I want..."

"What's that mean?" he gasped as Raphael’s hands returned to tweak his hardened nipples.

"I want to taste you," the Mexican replied before quickly sliding down to his knees. Chris groaned loudly, unable to keep it inside as he felt those fast hands on his pants. His lust-glazed eyes closed as he felt the warmth of flesh on flesh as Raphael reached in to take hold of him. The tight fabric of his pants was quickly moved down around his knees. He forced himself to open his eyes and look down, locking gazes with the man before him. Raphael smiled slightly, the moon making the smirk almost evil in its light. Then, the Mexican dipped his head forward and lashed his tongue out to catch the tiny luminescent drop that rested on Chris’ member.

Larabee bucked forward, one hand moving to wrap around one of the corral slats while the other reached out to stroke Raphael’s cheek. The Mexican nodded slightly under his touch before turning his attention completely to the task at hand. He wrapped his hand completely around the turgid shaft and slipped his lips around the bulbous head. Feeling the shudder that wracked his lover, Raphael began a slow sucking on the organ in his mouth, his tongue moving in long, curling licks as he felt Chris’ hand in his hair.

Chris leaned his head back, fighting off the explosion of pleasure that was building inside him. Once again, his pale green eyes slid closed and he was lost in the sensation of Raphael’s mouth moving over him. And then, a southern voice, dripping honey, knocked his eyes open again.

"And I was under the impression that the task of keeping watch usually required one to keep one's eyes open."

FOUR

Ezra had never had to fight so hard to keep his emotions in check. His face betrayed nothing, one eyebrow raised in question to the scene before him, but nothing else. Underneath, however, was a different story. It was bad enough that he himself had been dreaming of taking the gunman under the quiet desert moon, but to find this... The gambler was still trembling a bit at his own dreams. Ezra had never thought hearing the gunman moan like that would be so arousing, especially when it was merely a dream. But, when he reluctantly came out from his pleasurable blanket of sleep, the moans had continued, punctuated by a hoarse cry. The gambler slowly remembered the shadow of a presence outside their fire earlier that night and had immediately drawn his gun before moving closer to the corral.

There had been no mistaking the low moans. But, they didn’t exactly sound like those caused by pain. Ezra had more than his share of experience in knowing what such moans sounded like. These sounded more like the ones from his dream. The gambler had crept closer slowly, trying to discern what he was seeing. When he finally had, it had hit him harder than any bullet. The moon had made Chris’ exposed chest glow with a pale light against his dark shirt. Every now and then, when the gunman had thrown his head back, there had been a flash of his elegant neck, gleaming, almost begging to be licked.

The man on his knees before his obsession remained a stranger to him until Chris reached out to stroke his cheek. The mystery guest had turned his head ever so slightly to lean into that caress, nodding before resuming his pleasuring. The look was brief, but Ezra had easily recognized the Mexican that had been in town with Don Paolo. While he had only known the man from the short period before, during, and just after Buck’s duel with the unfortunate Don, Ezra had no trouble remembering him. Raphael Cordova de Martinez.

Suddenly, Ezra knew why Chris had been so preoccupied earlier. The name of the man who, only moments ago, had been wrapped around the gunman like his own skin fit his bones, was the same as that name scrawled on the note. Remembering how Chris had stared at the note and now seeing this display left Ezra with no doubts as to just what type of a relationship the two men shared.

Well, Ezra, now you know how Mr. Larabee feels about relationships on this side of the fence... The gambler let nothing show on his face, not because he was practiced at hiding his emotions, but rather because he was unsure which emotion out of the hundreds that raced through him deserved placement for all the world to see. Arousal, anger, betrayal, hurt, hunger... Carefully, he sorted through them, one by one. Betrayal was quickly thrown out. After all, Ezra, you never made him aware of your interests.... Hurt was the next to be tossed out. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel a dull pain in his heart at seeing the object of his dreams in such a position, but Ezra couldn’t hold onto that hurt when he remembered the immense joy he’d seen on Larabee’s face when he’d first approached the duo. That left anger, arousal, and hunger the main three.

For their part, Raphael and Chris had not moved. The gunman still stood leaned would be more appropriate, Ezra mused, at the corral post, and Raphael still kneeled in front of him. The excitement Raphael had caused the blonde was evident as, despite Ezra’s sudden appearance, he was still hard and pulsing in the Mexican’s hands. The gambler forced his gaze to move up past Larabee’s pale chest to the other man’s face. It was flushed and the gunman’s upper lip was covered with a light sheen of sweat. Ezra met his eyes, raising one eyebrow of his still blank face. He couldn’t help but watch the slide of Chris’ Adam’s Apple as the other man swallowed heavily while trying to speak.

Larabee swore silently. Once again, he was being put on the spot to use words instead of actions. Of course, in his current position, he wasn’t exactly sure what actions this situation would require. He chanced a glance down at Raphael, but found that was no help at all. The Mexican was entranced by Ezra’s sudden appearance, and while there wasn’t much expression on his recent lover’s face, Chris could see the appreciation glowing in the moonlight that reflected from those expressive brown eyes. Larabee brought his eyes back to Ezra’s waiting gaze, trying desperately to see past the gambler’s ‘poker face’ and into the mind of the other man. If he’d been reading Ezra right, earlier, then there was any number of things the southerner could be experiencing... Anger, hurt, betrayal... Arousal... Chris’s pale green eyes immediately dropped to focus on the swollen bulge in the gambler’s trousers that belied Ezra’s calm exterior.

"Mr. Larabee?" Chris snapped his eyes back to Ezra’s face. "As I was saying, I believe you are to keep your eyes open to make the purpose of keeping watch a valid one. Why, any number of things could have occurred while you were occupied. The least you could’ve done was brought me out of my sleep and asked me to watch." Chris shuddered at the gambler’s last statement. He felt an even stronger shudder travel from the so-far silent man at his feet, the warm hand that encircled his still stiff flesh squeezing ever so slightly. The gunman bit his lip until he tasted the bitter saltiness of blood as he fought to hold back a low moan.

The actions were not missed by the gambler who continued to stand as much at ease as was possible. He crossed his arms over his partially bare chest and leaned in between the two saddles that adorned the top railing of the corral. Ezra kept his body relaxed. He was back on familiar ground... well, as much as could be familiar, at any rate. Ezra didn’t exactly have past experience of seducing his friend, but his mind was quickly beginning to come up with several strategies. His most favored choice was to keep the gunman as confused as possible until he didn’t have any other choice but to accept the fact that he wanted the southerner’s touch as much as he did the man that knelt before him.

Thinking of the Mexican, Ezra let his emerald gaze move down to meet the knowing brown eyes. Martinez hadn’t moved, save for a few small strokes needed to keep Chris on the edge. Standish stared hard at this man he knew so little about. From what he’d known of him before he’d been forced to flee Four Corners, Ezra had realized that the Mexican was a man that he could easily have liked. His attitude was one of a man that had faced Death on several occasions, and yet, went back time and again to see what the Fates had decided for him. He was obviously educated and had a manner about him of relaxed grace.

Raphael stared back at him with an equally measuring glance. There was a slight twinkle in the gambler’s eyes that Martinez had to look twice to catch. His appreciation of the other man went up a notch. He’d only known Standish in passing, but that passing had been one he remembered. The southerner had a presence about him that caused rooms to lighten, be it because of his sparkling smile of white and gold, or his fancy clothes and fine manners that reminded the Mexican so much of the courtly dinners held whenever visitors from Spain had come to the hacienda. And one would’ve had to been deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice the gambler’s quick wit and even quicker mind. It made a very appealing package, and Raphael found himself even more excited at the prospect of having the gambler join in this night’s activities. And from the way Chris was trembling, he figured the gunman had no objections, either.

Ezra saw that Raphael had looked inside him and understood the gist of his plan. The gambler did not acknowledge his new-found partner, however. To do so would be to put Chris at ease, and Ezra did not want that, in any degree. Instead, he put his eyes back to the gunman in question, knowing that Raphael would back him up on whatever form his plan took. It was then that he noticed the ropes hanging from the saddle in front of him. Ezra reached up and took one down, fingering the rough material.

"Ezra..." Chris’ voice was low and rough, reminding Ezra of the quality of the rope in his hands. He stood and began walking over towards where Chris was beginning to tense even further, unsure of just what was really going through the gambler’s mind. Raphael didn’t move, making it even harder for Chris to run, if he so chose. The gambler stopped merely inches away from the gunman and stared at him. Taking one of Chris’ hands, Ezra pulled him away from the post, gently yet firmly. Raphael stood and took the gunman’s other wrist, making the blonde more confused than ever. Larabee gathered his muscles and began to struggle until he was pushed roughly against the corral, both men holding his arms out spread-eagle against the bars.

"Dammit all, Ezra...." Chris suddenly stopped struggling as he was silenced by a pair of warm, sweet lips on his own. He tasted the tang of Raphael’s mouth and found himself powerless to stop his response as he wrapped his free hand around and in Raphael’s hair, drawing his mouth closer. He didn’t even notice as the arm that was held out by Ezra was securely fastened to the corral bar with the rope the gambler had picked up. When Raphael finally pulled away, nipping at his bottom lip, Chris concentrated on drawing much needed oxygen into his lungs. The gunman felt his other arm being drawn back out along the corral railing, but the warmth of Raphael’s fingers on his palm kept him from realizatio__until he felt the first touch of the rope.

Chris jerked hard, but the rope was already in place enough to keep his arm in place. The gunman growled and tried to bring his other hand into play, pulling at it once before swinging shocked eyes around to eye the tied limb. His eyes were smoldering with a combination of arousal and wariness, making him appear to be some savage beast. His shirt flapped loosely around his lean middle, and his trousers threatened to fall lower down his hips, allowing the two men that stood before him a view of his solid, if somewhat diminished, flesh.

"Untie me right now, Standish." The gambler shook his head, clucking softly. He reached into his trouser pocket and brought out a white handkerchief. He approached slowly, his eyes never leaving those of his trapped prey. Chris’ chest was heaving as his breaths came and left his body. Ezra reached out one hand and flicked a finger across a dark nub on that pale chest. Chris groaned softly, the feeling echoing throughout his body with even greater force as he realized that he was at the mercy of whatever this man decided to do to him.

"On the contrary, Mr. Larabee... I am trying to help you." With that, Ezra stepped up so that his body was flush against the gunman’s. Chris groaned as the gambler leaned his head in and took his mouth, lips soft as silk and sweet as honey. Ezra kissed him firmly and thoroughly, making Chris suddenly grateful for the ropes that held him up as every last ounce of strength was taken from his body. Ezra’s tongue was warm and heavy in his mouth as the gambler explored him, hands echoing movements on his chest. Chris groaned with appreciation and frustration as he tried to reciprocate those touches, only to have his hands held captive by the same ropes he’d been thankful for only moments before.

Ezra forced himself to step back, licking his lips. Chris’ eyes were still closed and the southerner took advantage of the opportunity. Bringing his hands up, the gambler made short work of tying the handkerchief around the gunman’s mouth, gagging him enough to keep him quiet while still allowing him to breath. As expected, Chris began to struggle until he felt his face caught in Ezra’s smooth hands. The gambler forced him to look him in the eye, finally allowing his excited emotions to be openly displayed there. He saw the dawning realization, clouded with confusion, in the answering green eyes.

"Now, Mr. Larabee. You are going to do exactly what you said you were going to do. Watch."

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