By Kaed

Disclaimer:  Don’t own, ‘em, don’t wanna own ‘em… I don’t share real well.  Don’t profit off ‘em or mean to infringe on the rights of them who do.

Warnings:  *Contains description of rape* although it isn’t specific, it does involve one of the Seven.  Also, other M/M sexual situations of varying degrees.

Pairing:  E/B (with a bit of C/V on the side)

AU:  ATF

Notes:  Thanks much to Firefox who looked this over for me!  Any typos or faux pas are mine and mine alone.  And no, hon, I’d never *really* change his looks <wink>

Acknowledgement:  Written for one of the May birthday ladies, Judith, who asked for a story dealing with Ezra, Buck, and H/C. 

Chris Larabee couldn’t completely hide the smile as he watched the man beside him.  Buck Wilmington was fidgeting like a four-year-old on a sugar buzz.  He shifted from foot to foot, blue eyes darting from place to place as he beat a tattoo on his thighs with his hands.  Every minute or so he asked the time, even though he was wearing a watch himself.  Shaking his head and chuckling, the blond said, “I should have asked Nathan for a tranquilizer before we left.”

Frowning at his friend, the bigger man said, “why?  You feelin’ nervous or somethin’?”

Nearly choking on that comment, Larabee said, “For you, Wilmington.”

His frown deepening, the mustached agent asked, “what?  Why?”

Larabee shook his head and heaved a sigh.  “Never mind.”

“You sure he’s comin’ in on this flight?”

:”You took the information, Buck,”

“And it’s on time and everything?”

Looking pointedly at the read-out that announced flight status on the nearby monitor, the blond said, “Yes.”

Taking a deep breath, the bigger man said, “Sorry.  But, hell, pard what would you do if it was you, waitin’ for Vin?”

With a grin, Chris said, “Hopefully I’d be a little more in control.”

“C’yuh, yeah, right.  You’d have me guardin’ the nearest men’s room so you could drag him in there for a quick one, before… hey, Chris – “

“No!”  Larabee cut off the request he knew was coming.  “I am not going to stand guard at the nearest men’s room so you can have a quick one.  Now, the flight’s not due in for another fifteen minutes, so let’s go sit down.  You’re wearing me out.”

Following along behind his old friend, the big brunet said, “I just don’t see what Vin sees in you, sometimes.  You don’t have a romantic bone in your body!”

“I do too!”

“Yeah?  Well you could ‘a fooled me!”

“Buck?  Shut up.”  The blond growled as he dropped into one of the marginally comfortable chairs lined up against the nearest wall. 

Wilmington settled in on another chair, blue eyes focused on the nearest monitor as he counted down the minutes until the flight arrived.

“There he is.”  Chris announced.

Buck looked from the monitor, and spotted the man they were waiting for immediately.  Even in the middle of the crowd of departing passengers he was easy to spot.  He felt his heartbeat quicken as their eyes met, the emerald green brightening at the first sign of recognition.  He watched as Ezra quickened his pace, very politely and respectfully nudging his way through the crowd.

He stood, registering that his companion was standing beside him.  He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Larabee say in an understanding tone, “Stay cool, stud.  Don’t wanna make a scene here.”

Wilmington took a deep breath, knowing that the other man was right.  He also knew that it was going to be damn near impossible.  Ezra had been gone for almost four months, on loan to the Northeastern division for a deep undercover assignment.  They hadn’t seen one another in all that time and had only spoken twice.  Once, two days after he had left and the second time only yesterday. 

None of that mattered now, though, because his lover was home.

Standish came to a stop only a couple of feet from the other men.  The sparkle in his eyes belied his rather neutral greeting of, “Gentlemen, it’s very good to see you again.”

“Good to have you home, Ezra,“ Chris said when it became clear that Buck wasn’t going to be able to form coherent speech any time soon.  “Let’s get your bags and get out of here.”

They did just that, the three men moving through the crowd loaded down with the Southerner’s luggage.  Larabee led them to his Ram, where they deposited most of the suitcases in the bed.  When Ezra started to place his garment bag in the backseat, the blond grinned wickedly as he said, “Why don’t you put it up front… give you and Buck more room back there.”

The other two men exchanged looks that spoke of humor, gratitude, and hunger.  They looked at the darkened windows of the truck’s cab and quickly scrambled to climb in the back seat.  Ezra disappeared inside first, handing over the heavy bag as he did.  Quick on his heels, Buck handed over the bag before disappearing inside and closing the door. 

Behind them, Chris chuckled and shook his head as he was left – literally – holding the bag.  He placed it in front on the passenger seat, then crossed the front of the truck and slid in behind the wheel.  He glanced in the rearview mirror, shaking his head once more before starting the truck.

Wilmington and Standish were locked in a passionate embrace.  The bigger man held the smaller close, the fingers of one hand carded through the wealth of auburn hair.  Their mouths were pressed hard together, lips parted as tongues danced around one another.  Ezra’s hands stroked over his partner’s broad back, slipping beneath his shirt to touch the warm flesh beneath.

Breaking off the passionate kiss, Buck leaned back, staring into the flushed face before him.  “God, I’ve missed you.  I can’t believe you’re finally home… back where you belong.”

Love glowing from his eyes, Ezra reached up and stroked the other man’s mustache with a near reverence.  In an emotion filled whisper, the undercover agent managed to whisper, “Where I belong.”

“Buck?  Buck!”

Blue eyes blinking rapidly, the daydreaming agent stared around him. He found the friend beside him regarding him with an amused expression.  “Yeah?  The plane’s here?  It’s been delayed?  God, don’t tell me it’s been delayed.”

With a grin the smaller man shook his head.  “Calm down would you?  And you might wanna get your thinking above your belt.”  He glanced meaningfully toward Wilmington’s crotch.

Buck didn’t have to look, he could feel the pressure; feel the tightness of a full cock straining against his jeans.  He shifted in his chair, took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand over his face.  In a mournful tone, he said, “Ain’t sure I can.”

“All right, do what I do,” Larabee coaxed.  “Take a deep breath… now, close your eyes… keep them closed… okay now… picture Barney... “

“Ah hell!  I don’t think I’ll ever be able t get it up again!”  Buck barely managed to keep from yelling.

Adopting a sage expression, Chris said, “see?  Works every time.  Now, keep the big purple dinosaur in mind, because here he comes.”

“Barney?”

Groaning, the blond said, “Ezra, you dope!  Now, do us all a favor and don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“Oh ye of little… faith…”  Buck’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of Ezra Standish. 

Larabee watched the object of his friend’s affections with some concern.  Standish moved along with the crowd, almost as if they were carrying him.  He was dressed in a pullover and slacks, both of them hanging off him.  It was easy to tell, even at this distance, that the man had lost a considerable amount of weight.  His shoulders were slumped, and he carried himself as if he had aged fifty years.  As the Southerner got closer, Larabee could see the dull eyes, dark rimmed and sunken.  The typically ruddy complexion was gray, his features stark and shadowed.  There were also bruises on his jaw and chin.  Chris became more worried with each second that the smaller man would simply collapse.

Buck saw none of that, though.  He only saw the man he had come to love as he had never loved anyone else.  He saw only the man he had missed for so many weeks, the man he had been longing for.  Taking a step forward, he called out, “Ezra!”

Standish stopped, methodically shifting his gaze until he caught sight of the person who had called his name.  He stared, as if needing to process who had called him, to search his memory for a name.  Finally he managed a wan smile and moved toward the men.  Coming to a stop before them, he said, “Gentlemen.”

The homecoming was far different than Wilmington had fantasized.  To say that their reunion in the airport was restrained was an understatement.  However, he marked it down to the long plane trip and accepted Standish’s handshake with a smile. 

They gathered up the Southerner’s luggage and headed toward the parking garage.  The two bigger men had to slow their steps considerably when they found Ezra lagging behind, even though they were carrying the heavier bags.  Finally reaching the black Ram, the undercover agent handed over what the overnight and garment bags, kept only his laptop, and climbed into the backseat as soon as Chris hit the remote to unlock the doors.  By the time Larabee and Wilmington had stored away the luggage, exchanging concerned looks as they did, he was stretched out on the bench seat, one arm across his eyes.  They had questioned him about his appearance, but he dismissed their concern, saying only that it had been in the line of duty.

Climbing into the front seat of the Quadcab, the other two men exchanged another concerned look.  Leaning over the seat, Buck said, “you okay, Ace?”

“Simply tired,” Standish muttered.

Taking him at his word, the two men left him alone through the twenty minutes it took them to get to the townhouse where Ezra lived.  Actually Buck lived there as well, had stayed there during the Southerner’s absence, but hadn’t officially moved in. 

Chris pulled up in front of the house, and shut off the engine.  He and the mustached agent unloaded the luggage and carried it into the house, returning to find Standish still asleep.  Wilmington opened the back door, tapping one outstretched leg.

Ezra gasped, startled at the gentle touch.  He reached out, searching for something even as his eyes opened.  Chest heaving he flashed an angry look at the bigger man.  “What!?”

“Take it easy, Ace, we’re home.”  Buck said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

Easing up off the seat, Ezra slid out of the truck, grabbing up his laptop as he did.  With a faint grunt as he landed on the ground, he said, “my… apologies. I must admit that I’m not quite myself today.”

As the smaller man moved past them without further comment, Wilmington started to follow behind.  As Ezra reached the stoop in front of his house, he turned, nearly running into Buck.  Looking up at the other man, he said, “I wonder if you’d mind… I’d…I’d really like some time to myself.”

“Oh… uh, sure, Ace.  Um, look, there’s, well I had dinner ready.  It’s in the fridge, just needs warmed up.”

With a vague nod, Standish said, “quite all right.  I’m not hungry right now anyway.”  Then, turning to the senior agent who stood waiting by the truck, he said, “Chris, I’m not certain I’m going to be up to coming into work for a few days.”

A frown of concern on his handsome face, Larabee replied, “Take the time you need, Ezra.  If you need to anything, let us know.”

“Thank you,” He said noncommittally.  Then turning back to Wilmington, he said, “I’ll call you… all right?”

Managing to paste a smile on his face, Buck said, “sure… sure.  I’ll be at JD’s… I mean our place.  Oh, can I get… I’ve got some stuff inside…”

Nodding shortly, Ezra turned and led the way inside.  Behind him, Wilmington turned to meet Larabee’s eyes. The blond nodded, letting him know that he’d wait.

A few minutes later, Buck was coming back out the door; a hastily packed duffle bag slung over one shoulder.  He didn’t look back, not acknowledging the door that closed behind him.  Silently he tossed the bag in the backseat and climbed into the truck.  With Chris behind the wheel, the two men drove away.

Ezra closed the door behind the departing brunet.  As he slipped the locks into place, he leaned heavily against the polished wood and let out a single, gut-wrenching sob.

The Southerner pushed himself upright and stumbled through his home.  He fought down the feeling of being somewhere strange, trying to force feelings of returning home.  They didn’t come, just as he knew they wouldn’t.  How could he feel at home?  He wasn’t the same man who had walked out of this house four months ago; he couldn’t expect anything else to feel the same.

Managing to get to his bedroom without collapsing, he dropped stiffly to the bed.  With awkward movements he pulled his shirt off with a painful grunt.  As he tossed the pullover to a nearby chair, his hand went to his side.  Looking down, he checked the large gauze pad taped just below his ribs.  Pressing gingerly around the edges to make certain it was going to stay in place; he toed off his shoes and removed his slacks. 

Bending awkwardly, Standish pulled back the comforter and eased himself back onto the mattress.  Turning to his uninjured side, he pulled the coverings up to his chin and closed his eyes.  He was no closer to falling asleep now than he had been in the truck.  Instead, he gave vent to his emotions, sobbing into his pillow.

“You okay?”

With a shrug, Buck looked across the table at his old friend.  “I’m not sure… not sure how I’m feeling, not sure what happened…” he shook his head, “I’m not sure of a Goddamn thing.”

 “You know how stressful deep cover can be, and you know how he is when he takes on one of these assignments.  He puts himself in high risk situations and to do that he has to submerge himself in the role – “

“I know that, Chris.  Damn it, if anyone knows it, I do.  But every time he’s come out of one of these assignments before, he’s… he’s turned to me.  He’s relied on me to help him get his life back together.  I just can’t figure out what’s different this time.”

“What’s different is that he finished the assignment four days ago and he’s been in debriefs and meetings ever since.  On the other side of the country.  By himself.  He probably just needs time to get used to being back home.”

“Or maybe… “ Wilmington let the comment trail off.

Knowing only too well what the other man was thinking, Chris said, “No, he did not find someone else while he was gone.”

“Wish I could be sure.”

Reaching out and tapping the mouth of his beer bottle against the neck of the one sitting in front of the brunet, Larabee said, “give it time, stud.  Give him time.”

Standish had arrived back in Denver on Tuesday afternoon.  For four of the other six members of ATF Team Seven it didn’t seem that much had changed.  They had gotten used to the Southerner’s absence over the past months.  It wasn’t to say that they hadn’t missed the man, they had.  They had simply grown used to not having him around.  The fact that he was still missing from their ranks changed little.

For JD Dunne the most obvious change was that Buck had moved back into the place they had shared for nearly three years.  While most of Wilmington’s things were still there, the big man had spent most of the last year at Ezra’s. 

While having the big man back meant that he and Casey had to be a little more discreet about what they did, he saw very little of his friend.  Buck spent most of his time at home holed up in his bedroom, the sounds of his Elvis Presley CDs drifting out into the common room from behind a closed door.

For Vin, it meant that Chris spent a lot more time with his old friend than he did with him.  Larabee was worried about Buck, and either stayed late in town talking to the man, or brought him out to the ranch for the evening.

As for Buck Wilmington, he was like a ghost in their midst.  He spoke little and laughed even less.  He put in his time at work with an automaton-like efficiency that his friend and supervisor would normally rejoice to see.  However, Chris knew that Buck’s efficiency was only a way of his keeping his mind off his broken heart. 

And there was no doubt about it.  Buck Wilmington’s very large heart was broken.

“Well boys, it is Friday afternoon… quittin’ time… and payday.  What’re we gonna do ‘bout that?”  Vin called out across the bullpen in a jovial tone.

“I say we go celebrate the end of another long week,” JD responded with a smile. 

“You sure Casey’s gonna let y’, Kid?”  Tanner teased.

Shooting a rubber band across the room, Dunne stuck out his tongue as he said, “Chris gonna let you?”

Flipping the band back, the Texan turned toward the other men in the room.  “What about y’all?”

“I’ve got to go home,” Nathan said with a sigh.  “Raine’s working tonight, and Nathaniel’s teething.  I need to rescue the sitter.”

“Well I’m working at he mission tonight, but I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to report, “Josiah supplied, “so I can join you boys for a while.”

Just then the SAC’s private office door opened and the blond came out to lean against the wall.  “You boys calling it an early day?”

“Early?!  Hell, Lar’bee, check yer watch!”  Tanner drawled.  “’S two minutes ‘til five!”

“Better known as two minutes before quitting time,” Larabee huffed, only partially hiding the twinkle in his eye. 

“Well, hell, Ebenezer Larabee, reckon I’d better turn over m’ paycheck.  Wouldn’t wan’cha t’ feel shortchanged.”

“Yeah, well there are a lot of areas in my life where I’ve been getting shortchanged,” the blond cracked, eliciting a variety of groans from the other men.

“Yeah?  Well reckon y’ might wanna git used t’ not gittin’ anything in certain parts ‘a yer life… ol’ man.”  Vin leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.  Fiery humor sparked in his blue eyes.

“Ahem,” Josiah interrupted the banter between the two partners, “you two might want to stop now before you embarrass yourselves.”

“Too late,” Jackson inserted with a chuckle.

Shaking his head, Dunne said only, “How about you, Chris?  Wanna go with us?”

Looking over at the only quiet man in the room, Larabee said, “Buck?”

Managing a faint smile, the big brunet said, “You go on ahead.  I’m just gonna grab some take out and head home.”

“Sure?”

Nodding, Wilmington said, “go on, have fun.  Just don’t call me for bail.”

Grinning, Chris responded, “all right. Call if you want to go do something tomorrow.”

“Yep,” Buck said without making a commitment.  He had only one thing in mind for the weekend, and it had nothing to do with his oldest friend.

Buck drove along the familiar route from work to Ezra’s townhouse.  He had found himself going that direction out of habit before, during the last few days, but had talked himself out of completing the trip each time.  Until now.  He had given the Southerner more than three days to deal with his return home.  That was enough.  Now he was going to find out just what was going on. 

He hadn’t lied to Chris, though.  Two bags of carry-out from their favorite Chinese restaurant and a bottle of wine sat on the passenger seat.  And he felt as if he was going home for the first time since Tuesday.  Now he intended to sit the man down to dinner and a few drinks, and then they’d talk. 

Pulling up in front of the townhouse, Buck cut the engine and sat staring at the front door.  He had considered everything but the first step.  Did he just barge in, announcing himself as he let himself in with his own key?  Did he knock and hope Standish answered the door?  Maybe he should announce himself by calling from his cell?

In the end he marched determinedly to the door, the sacks and bottle in hand.  Knocking on the door twice, he waited for a response.  When none was forthcoming, he used his key and entered the house.  Closing the door, he frowned as he realized that all but one of Standish’s bags still sat just inside the entryway. 

Moving farther into the house, he began to wonder if perhaps Ezra had gone away once again.  Everything was just as he had left it Tuesday morning, including the candles he’d placed on the table in preparation for their dinner and the coffee mug he’d left drying on the sideboard.

Depositing his parcels on the counter, Buck called out, “Ezra?  Ace, you home?”

With silence his only answer, the big man moved through the house.  “Ezra?  It’s Buck.  C’mon Ace, are you here?”

Entering the bedroom he had so often shared with the other man, Wilmington found it completely dark; the heavy draperies Standish typically kept drawn back pulled tight across the windows.  The room also carried the stench of body odor and sickness.  Flipping on the overhead light, he cursed at what he found. 

Ezra lay huddled on the bed, the comforter wrapped close around him.  A wastebasket sat beside the bed, which the brunet surmised was probably the source of a great deal of the smell.  On the bedside table sat a glass, a bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of peroxide, and a large box of sterile bandages.  Cursing, Buck hurried over to the bed.  Setting the wastebasket aside, he perched on the side of the bed.  Pulling back the comforter, he cursed again.  Standish’s face was devoid of color, covered with a sheen of perspiration.  Reaching out, he tenderly touched the man’s face, feeling the heat of fever scorch his fingertips.

“Damn it, Ezra, why didn’t you call me?”

Eyes darted beneath lids that slanted open with a great deal of effort.  The tip of his tongue appeared, running across dry lips.  In a hoarse whisper, the ill man said, “Buck?”

Gently running his fingers through the disheveled hair, Wilmington said, “Right here, Ace.”

“I… I don’t feel… well.”

“Don’t imagine you do, Ace.  Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

A frown furrowed the pale features.  “I’m… I can’t.  I couldn’t keep it… clean… I think.  I don’t remember.  I was so… I was so tired.  I’m… sorry.  Buck, I’m glad… glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Wilmington said, forcing the guilt aside.  He should have been here three days ago.  “Are you hurtin’ someplace?”

Nodding slightly, the smaller man murmured, “my… side.  It’s… I’m sorry, I’m so… tired.”

Leaning down, Buck gently kissed the prone man on the temple.  Whispering, he said, “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.”

A trembling smile lit the Southerner’s face.  “You are?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Friday night in the emergency room.  Injured drunks.  Overdosed teenagers.  Birth and death.  Pain.  Anger.  Fear.  Joy.  And in the midst of this human drama sat a very still, very quiet man. 

Buck could have very easily been mistaken for a statue.  He sat in the corner of the waiting room, hands clenched in his lap and eyes staring straight ahead.  He scarcely registered the other people in the room, his mind focused beyond the doors that led to the ER suite.  Focused on the gurney where Ezra Standish lay. 

It hadn’t taken him long to find the ugly looking wound in the ill man’s side.  It was easy to see that infection had developed; the flesh red, swollen and oozing pus.  As carefully as possible, he had gotten Standish dressed and lifted the smaller man into his arms.  Carrying him to his vehicle, he had settled the Southerner in the passenger seat. 

Arriving at the hospital, he had reluctantly turned his lover over to the medical personnel, moving into the waiting room with an even greater reluctance.  Once there he had dropped onto a chair. 

He was still there; had scarcely moved. 

“Mr. Wilmington?”

Looking up with a start, the brunet said, “Yes?”

“Could you come with me, please?”

Ezra moaned softly as he felt his body being moved, his muddled mind wondering just who it was that was moving him.  Feeling himself settled on a firm but soft surface, he relaxed, drifting back toward the dark oblivion he had been pulled from.  Then he frowned as the hands returned, poking and prodding at him.  He tried to make his voice work, to tell them to cease and desist, but could only manage another moan. 

Buck watched from the far corner of the room as the medical personnel settled the smaller man into the hospital bed.  The doctor had informed him that the Southerner’s problem stemmed from an untreated wound; evidently made by a knife less than a week ago.  So the big man was left to wonder how Standish had gotten such a wound, and why he had kept it quiet. 

They were going to keep him at least overnight, to see how he responded to the antibiotics that were being delivered through his IV.  If he responded well, they would send him home tomorrow as long as he had someone to stay with him. 

As soon as the medical staff left the room, Wilmington pulled a chair up next to the bed, and began holding vigil over the injured man.  He studied the gray-cast features, noting the dark circles that smudged the flesh around the closed eyes.  The uncustomary and fledgling beard and mustache brought a smile to his face.  He knew Standish well enough to know that, as soon as he came to his senses he would insist on being able to shave.

He would also insist on a shower; it was obvious that he hadn’t seen to any of his needs.   He had even been wearing the same slacks he had been wearing when they picked him up on Tuesday.  None of this was even remotely normal for the fastidious undercover agent,

The big brunet had too many questions, and none of them would be answered until the injured man came to his senses.

Ezra managed to pry heavy eyelids open, blinking owlishly into the muted light as he tried to focus.  The first object he managed to identify was the long, lean body that was sprawled in a chair beside his bed.  He frowned, trying to decide why his friend and, more and more frequently, lover, was sitting beside his bed.  Next came the realization that he was not, in fact, in his own bed.  The Southerner emitted a frustrated groan as the realization that he was in a hospital bed came to him. 

Wilmington was immediately alert, leaning up and regarding the smaller man with a grin.  “Hey, Ace, ‘bout time you woke up!”

Running the edge of his very dry tongue over the sandpaper that had replaced his lips, Standish managed to focus his mind and find his voice.  In a pitiful croak, he rasped, “drink?”

“I think we can manage that,” Buck pulled himself to his feet and came to stand beside the head of the bed.  Hitting the bedside control, he raised the head of the bed enough that Ezra could drink without drenching himself.  Seeing the look that crossed the smaller man’s face, he said gently, “just take a deep breath, it’ll pass in a minute.”

“I-I…I’m fine,” the smaller man rasped out unconvincingly. 

“Yeah, sure you are,” Wilmington said, shaking his head.  Retrieving the glass from the bedside table, he helped the other man take a drink.  When Standish pulled back, he sat the glass aside.  “Better?”

“Much,” Ezra managed a weak smile.  “Thank you.”

Nodding, the bigger man’s expression sobered.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  Why didn’t you get medical attention?  Do you realize how close you came to dyin’?”

Wincing at the growing pain that was clear in the man’s voice, he said only, “I’m sorry.”

Huffing with frustration, Wilmington said, “save that for later.  I need to know what happened.  Why didn’t you let me know?”  His voice softened as he continued, “Why didn’t you trust me?”

Shaking his head, the undercover agent said, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Buck, I swear.  It’s just… it’s just who I am.”

Part Two

Ezra was deemed recovered enough to be discharged the following afternoon, with the understanding that he wouldn’t be alone for the next few days.  Wilmington quickly agreed to look after him, listening intently as the physician went over the care the injured agent would need.

Standish had explained his injury to the doctor; indicating that it had been incurred during the course of a covert assignment.  The medical staff of Denver General was well acquainted with ATF Team Seven, and only questioned the fact that he hadn’t sought medical attention.  Ezra had insisted that he had been anxious to return home, and hadn’t considered the deep gash as important as catching his plane.  The wound had worsened quickly, and he had been too ill to call for help.  The doctor hadn’t seemed completely convinced, but didn’t question it farther.

Buck didn’t believe a word of it.

The trip home was quiet, Ezra stretched out in the passenger seat of his Jaguar with his eyes closed.  Wilmington could tell he wasn’t asleep, only pretending to be, to put off answering questions. 

As they pulled into Standish’s garage, the Southerner opened his eyes but continued to avoid any but the most superficial of exchanges with the other man.  As Buck turned off the car, he unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled himself from the car as quickly as he could manage. 

Wilmington was quicker though, and unimpeded by an injury.  He was right behind the smaller man by the time Standish reached the garage door.  Despite the looks he received from the Southerner, he followed right behind as they approached the front door of the house.

“You don’t have to stay, I’m fine,” Ezra said tightly as he unlocked the door.

“Yeah, I do and yeah, I am because no, you’re not,” Buck replied.  “You heard the doc, same as I did.  I’m stayin’ until I’m sure you’re okay.  Now, you can piss and moan all you want, but I’m not changin’ my mind.”

“I could call the police and have you removed.”

With a snort, the big man said, “Yeah, I reckon you could… but you won’t.”

“You seem pretty certain of that.”  By this time they were in the house, moving slowly toward the bedroom.

“Might not know everything, Ezra,” Buck said gently, “But I know you.  You know as well as I do that you need someone around for a couple of days to make sure you don’t have a relapse.”

“I assure you, I’m fine.”  Standish’s body chose that time to disprove his statement, however.  He stumbled, nearly losing his balance as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. 

Slipping an arm around the stubborn Southerner, the mustached man steadied him as he said, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Surrendering to the inevitable, Ezra allowed himself to be led through the house and into his bedroom.  By the time they approached the bed, he was secretly grateful that Wilmington was at his side.  He allowed himself to be undressed and helped beneath the covers.  With a sigh, he settled in, drifting quickly off to sleep.

Buck watched for a few minutes until he was certain that the other man was, indeed, asleep.  As quietly as possible he padded from the bedroom and into the living room.  Dropping to the couch, he grabbed up Standish’s phone and called their friend and boss.

“Larabee’s.”

Smiling at the sleepy quality of the gravely drawl, Wilmington said, “wake y’ up, Junior?”

With a soft chuckle, Vin replied, “none ‘a yer damn business.”

Snorting, the big man said, “in other words, you’re both restin’ up from this mornin’, huh?”

“Y’ got a reason fer callin’, ‘r y’ jist curious ‘bout our love life?”  Tanner quipped.  Then, in response to a faint voice in the background, he said, “S’jist Bucklin.”

Still smiling, the brunet said, “Put Mr. Cheerful on the line would y’ Junior?”

After a brief pause, during which he could here a few muttered oaths, Wilmington was greeted by, “What?”

“Well good afternoon to you, too, stud.”

There was the click of a lighter and he knew Chris had fired up one of his little cigars.  The feigned animosity was gone as the blond said, “You okay?”

“Tired but, yeah.  Ezra’s not though.”   He told his old friend only that he had found the other man ill; rationalizing that it was no more a lie than the tale he had told earlier.  He needed to get the whole story before he brought the others in on things.  If he did then.  “I’m gonna stay here, at least ‘til he’s well enough to be on his own.”

“Just let me know if you think you’ll need to stay with him Monday, all right?”

“Will do.”

“You need anything?”

How did he answer that?  He needed to know what was going on with the smaller man.  He needed to know why Ezra had turned away from him at the very time he should have been asking for help.  He needed someone to talk to, to keep him from going crazy.  He needed to understand.

“Buck?”

“Nah, we’re good.”

“Just call, okay?  We’re not going anywhere this weekend.” 

That brought a smile back to the handsome face.  That his friends had a healthy and active sex life was an understatement.  “Yeah?  Well make sure and take your Viagra… old man.”

“Fuck you, too,” Larabee growled as he disconnected the phone.

Buck heaved a sigh as the smile drained from his face.  He suddenly felt very, very alone.

Ezra slept away the rest of Saturday, waking only to take his medicine or handle calls of nature.  Buck managed to coax him into drinking some soup, but he refused to entertain eating anything more.  He spent the hours burrowed beneath his comforter, muttering when the bigger man pulled the heavy covering away in order to check his side. 

Buck climbed into bed in the guest room before the sun had fully set, physically and mentally exhausted by the past week’s events.  But, even exhausted, his mind was tuned in to any sounds coming from the master bedroom.  He found himself checking on the man twice through the course of the night. 

“Rise and shine, Ace!”

Ezra managed to blink leaden lids open half mast at the too cheerful greeting.  “Go away.”

“Nope.”  Wilmington replied, keeping the light tone in his voice.  He had been patient long enough.  The Southerner was going to come out of his self-imposed seclusion or he was going to drag the man out.  At this point it made very little difference to the tall agent.  “Come on now, you need to get up and greet the day.  Let’s get you into the shower, scrubbed and shaved.”

“Your cheerfulness is neither appreciated nor necessary.”  Standish groused as he attempted to pull the comforter back over his head.

Tugging the covering out of the smaller man’s hands, Buck tossed them toward the end of the bed.  In a more serious tone, he said, “Ezra, you need to get up and movin’ around.  I know you’re not feelin’ good, but layin’ here bein’ miserable isn’t helping anything.  Now, come on and let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Leave… me… alone!” The words were delivered through gritted teeth.  “I will get up when I’m damned good and ready!”

“Fine!”  Buck’s patience was at an end.  “Just lay here and rot then!” 

As soon as the door slammed shut, the green eyed man felt guilt wash over him.  He knew that the other man wanted nothing more than to help him, and he deserved to know the truth.  If only he could rid himself of the feelings that prevented him from explaining what was going on.

Well, at least he could apologize for his current behavior.  Gingerly Standish pushed back the comforter, and eased himself off the bed.  With short, uneven steps he moved across the room.  By the time he reached the hallway, he felt a little steadier on his feet. 

Wilmington had retreated to the kitchen, busying himself with preparing breakfast.  He heard the other man enter the room, but didn’t turn from the stove.  He had banked on the man feeling guilty about his response, and would feel it necessary to make amends.

Ezra shuffled across to where the bigger man stood.  Stopping just a foot from the broad back, he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Slowly laying aside the spatula he had been using, with slow, measured movements, he turned to meet the troubled eyes.  Folding his arms across his broad chest, he said, “Yeah, you are that.”

Eyes dropping to study the pattern on the floor beneath his feet, “I… I haven’t been very fair to you.”

“No, you haven’t.”  The words were delivered without heat, the tall man’s tone soft and gentle. 

With an ironic grin, the Southerner said, “I suppose I deserve that.”

Reaching out one hand, Buck stroked the tips of his fingers along the pale face.  His concern more evident now, he said, “What you deserve is to be taken care of so you can get well. “

Wrapping his fingers around the warm hand that stroked along his stubbled cheek, Standish managed in a hoarse, emotion-filled whisper, “It isn’t that I don’t… don’t’ appreciate it, Buck.  Believe me, I do.  It’s just that… it’s who I am.”

Pulling the other man closer, Wilmington wrapped his arms around him.  Stroking a hand gently over Standish’s back, he said softly, “well, this is who I am, and that mean’s you’re gonna have to suffer through me takin’ care of you ‘til you’re well enough to do ‘t yourself.”

Those soft words, spoken with such love and conviction, proved to be the Southerner’s undoing.  A single, gut-wrenching sob escaped him.  It was followed by another.  As the wall he had so carefully erected, crumbled, the injured man sank deeper into that embrace.  He clung to the bigger man, soaking Wilmington’s shirt with salty tears. 

After several minutes, the sobs quieted and Ezra slowly straightened.  Buck kept hold of him, and gently led him to the nearest chair.  Leaving the typically self-contained man alone long enough to pull himself together, he rescued their breakfast before it burned.  Filling two plates with scrambled eggs, thick slices of bacon, and fresh strawberries, he sat one in front of the undercover agent.  Sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, Wilmington sat the other plate in front of himself.

They ate in near silence, only the occasional, superficial comment passing between them.  Buck cleared the table, poured them both cups of coffee, and coaxed Ezra into the living room.  They settled on the couch, close but not touching.  The bigger man sat quietly, waiting.  He knew that his lover was on the verge of revealing what it was that had caused his erratic behavior, and he was willing to wait him out.

Ezra sat staring out the French doors onto the patio, watching the morning sun play hide and seek behind the thick, white clouds.  He knew only too well that the other man was watching him, and knew that he was being waited out.  He also knew that Buck would give him his time. 

“I am sorry for what I’ve put you through this week,” Standish said softly.  “You don’t deserve to be treated so shabbily.”

“It’s just the way you are, right?”  Buck quipped.  There was a hint of pain in his voice, though.

Ducking his head, the smaller man said, “I’m sure that sounds very trite… very lame as JD would say.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m happy about it, and I sure as hell don’t understand any of it.”

Heaving a sigh, the Southerner said, “I owe you more than an apology.  I owe you an explanation.”

“Yeah… you do.”  The big man responded, his blue eyes darkening to reflect his somber mood.

Heaving a sigh, Ezra nodded.  The other man wasn’t doing anything to make any of this easy.  Not that he deserved it or expected him to.  “I… I wasn’t injured on the assignment.”

“Figured that out already,” Buck replied.

With an embarrassed expression, the smaller man simply nodded.  “I surmised as much.  At least the physician bought it.”

Chuckling, Wilmington said, “Doubt it.”

Responding to the man’s laughter, Standish smiled.  “It was somewhat ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, Buck affected a southern drawl as he replied, “Somewhat.”

Leaning back against the cushions with a weary sigh, Ezra said, “I allowed my baser nature to overtake my good judgment after the case was concluded.”

“You found a game?”  The bigger man guessed.

Running a hand over his face, Standish said, “That’s part of it.”

“The part that took a chunk of your side?”

Shaking his head without raising it or opening his eyes, Ezra said, “No, not really, although it did play a small role.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Buck said, “So do I keep playing twenty questions, or you wanna just tell me about it?”

Raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, the weary man said, “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“The beginning usually works best.”

Flashing a weak imitation of a glare in the other man’s direction, Ezra responded, “very funny.”

“Not trying to be.  Look, what I want to know more than anything is why you didn’t let me know you were hurt.”

“Would you be satisfied if I simply said I was ashamed?”

Considering the question for a minute, Wilmington said, “No, can’t say that would do it.”

“I expected as much.  Well, then, I suppose I shall start at the beginning, then.”  He paused, willing himself to remain calm even as he gathered the courage to begin his tale.  Beside him, Buck waited with uncharacteristic patience for him to offer his explanation.

“The assignment was over, and I had suffered through all the attendant meetings and debriefings.  As soon as it was all over and I could sever relations with the Eastern division I decided that, as much as I wanted to be home… and with you… I really needed a day or two to unwind.  I moved from the drab little studio apartment they had stuffed me into, into one of the more elegant hotels nearby.  

“Sitting in the hotel dining room that evening, I caught wind of a high stakes game that was being held in one of the suites there.  Of course I found myself intrigued, and set about gaining entrance to the game.  I won’t bore you with the details; suffice it to say I was successful.”

“Never doubted it for a minute,” The big brunet said with a smile.

Returning the smile briefly, Standish continued.  “Whilst there, I found myself coming under the scrutiny of one of the other players.  A rather large, muscular fellow.  It didn’t take long for me to surmise that he wasn’t simply sizing up the competition.”

“Scopin’ you out, huh?”  Although his tone was teasing, there was pain in the big man’s eyes.  While he had been ready for a more permanent arrangement with the other man for some time, Ezra made it clear that he wasn’t ready to take that step.  He didn’t have any claim on the other man, but he felt a stab of jealousy and wasn’t certain he wanted to know how the Southerner had responded.  It was too late to worry about that now, though.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that.  It progressed throughout the evening to the point that I… God help me, I found myself returning the looks he sent my way. “

With a sinking feeling, Wilmington forced himself to take a deep breath.  Perhaps he had been right; Ezra had found someone else.  But that certainly didn’t explain the injury.  The big man pulled himself from his thoughts when he realized that the story continued to unfold.

“Sometime in the early morning hours, the game began to break up.  I was surprised, but I can’t say that I was sorry to see it come to an end.  I left the table with a rather comfortable increase in funds.”  He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath before he continued.  “I didn’t leave alone.”

“So… so, you hooked up with this fella?”  The words barely forced themselves through the lump in his throat.

Nodding, the Southerner said, “Yes… much to my regret now.”  If he noticed the light that brightened in the blue eyes that stared at him, he didn’t react.  So absorbed in his tale, he simply continued. 

“He insisted upon going to my room, telling me that he lived locally and… well, his wife wouldn’t appreciate his coming home with ‘company’.  I didn’t really care.  I found myself craving what I hadn’t known for some time… simple, physical gratification.”

Despite the tightness in his chest, Buck had to smile.  Only Ezra Standish would refer to a quick fuck as ‘simple, physical gratification’.

“Things… well, things went well for some time.  We managed to… as they say… scratch one another’s itch… fairly well.  It wasn’t exactly an exciting time, but adequate – “

Holding out a hand to stop the other man, Wilmington said, “Could we maybe pass on the detail here?”

Finally realizing what sort of effect he was having on the other man, Ezra said, “my apologies.”  Taking another deep breath, he continued.

“He dressed, saying that he needed to go home.  I was frankly ready for our assignation to be concluded, so I pulled on my robe and escorted him to the door.  It was then that it… well, it all went to hell.”  He felt a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it with his own.  Turning tear-filled emerald eyes toward the other man, he whispered hoarsely, “I really need to get through this…”

With an understanding smile, the big brunet moved his hand.  He stayed close however.

Heaving a heavy, shuddering sigh, the trembling man continued his narrative.  “I reached for the door, preparing to say good night.  He held it closed, turning to regard me with a very cold expression.  It was then that he informed me that he had no intention of leaving without the winnings I had procured.  When I protested, we began to struggle.”

“That’s where the knife wound came from?”

“Yes.  It seemed that he had a switchblade hidden in his boot.”

“Jesus,” the bigger man hissed, “he could have killed you… almost did.  Ah… Jesus… Damn it!”

Closing his eyes against the pain he heard in that soft voice, Ezra forced himself to continue.  “I’ve always fancied myself to be in good shape but, between the injury and his superior size, he was able to overwhelm me.  He found my winnings quickly enough and I expected him to leave.”

Something in the soft, southern tones caused Wilmington’s heart to skip a beat.  He knew for certain that he wasn’t going to want to hear anymore, but also knew that he had to.

“I had managed to pull myself up and was trying to get to my feet when he once more lunged at me.  I had no chance at all of besting him this time, but I did try.  I hope you believe me, Buck, I did try.”

“’Course I do, Ace.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face to wipe away the tears, he resumed his story.  “He overwhelmed me quickly… and then… then he… he threw me face d-down on… on the… the bed.”

“Oh, God!”  The rough whisper escaped Wilmington’s lips before he could stop it.  What little color the smaller man had gained drained from his face.  All he could think to say was, “I’m sorry.”

With another, trembling breath, Ezra said, “Believe me… so am I.”

It was several minutes before the heart-wrenching tale continued.  During that time the only sound in the house was soft, painful sobbing.  Finally the Southerner began again.

“I… I was stunned, in shock… I don’t know.  I think I hit my head at some point… it’s… it’s all a blur.  I vaguely recall hearing him say ‘it was good the f-first time… let’s make this… this one a little rougher.”

This time, when the hand reached for him, he welcomed it.  Leaning into the large palm that cupped his face, he said, “I am so sorry, Buck.  I never, ever wanted to cause you hurt.  I care far too much for you to have forced this upon you intentionally.”

Wilmington smiled through the tears that ran down his face.  In an emotion filled voice, he said, “I know… I know that.  God, baby, I don’t give a damn about that.  I’m just glad that… that you’re gonna be okay.  You are gonna be okay, I’m gonna make sure of that.”

Suddenly there was only one place in the entire universe he wanted to be.  Reaching out, he felt himself gently drawn into the big man’s arms.  With a heart-broken cry, he clung to Buck, knotting his hands into the man’s soft tee-shirt.  He felt himself gathered up and held close with infinite tenderness. 

Buck held the smaller man as tightly as he dared, cradling him in his lap.  He stroked a hand through the disheveled hair, down the stubbled jaw and across the broad shoulders.  He rocked slightly, murmuring words of reassurance as he kissed the pale forehead.  Slowly the body in his arms relaxed as exhaustion once more made its claim.  He continued to rock, caressing the trembling man until even that movement stilled.

They sat like that for almost four hours before emerald eyes blinked open slowly, owlishly peering up into the midnight blue pair that gazed down at him.  With a relaxed smile, he snuggled into that embrace with a contented sigh.  Then he snuffed and said, “Good Lord, is that me?”

Chuckling, Buck said, “’fraid so.  Other than that sponge bath in the hospital I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve gotten cleaned up.”

“How can you even stand being in the same room with me?”

“I’m holdin’ my breath,” the deep voice was teasing, the blue eyes twinkled.

“I really should do something about this.”

“Might make you feel a little better.”

Buck was leaning against the vanity when Ezra emerged from the shower.  He handed the smaller man a towel, watching as he wound it around his trim waist.  Opening another towel, he gently began drying the water droplets that clung to the pale flesh.  Working carefully around the unhealed wound, he dried the area completely and replaced the bandage over it.  Coaxing Ezra to turn, he rubbed the towel over his back. 

Standish sighed, leaning into the bigger man’s touch.  The days of stress and illness, combined with the need to be comforted and the emotional release he’d found in confiding in the other man, to drain his energy.  The strong but gentle massage brought with it a deepening relaxation.  Without realizing it, the Southerner drifted toward sleep.

“Whoa, there, Ace,” Buck said softly as the other man started to topple over.  Jerking, the injured man groaned as the movement jostled his injured side.  Wilmington wrapped his arms around the weary man.  “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”

Still worn out, Standish allowed himself to be guided toward the bedroom and settled on the foot of the bed.  He was barely aware of Buck toweling off his lower body and helping him into a pair of pajamas.  Then strong arms coaxed him back on the bed and he felt the comforting weight of a comforter draped over his body.  The edge of the mattress sank as Wilmington settled on it.  Drifting quickly toward sleep, he felt long, tapered fingers stroking through his hair.  He managed a smile, sighing contentedly once more.

Buck called Chris later, telling him only that he was going to need Monday off to care for their friend.  He continued to claim that Ezra was ill, the half-truth sufficient for Larabee to agree to the time off. 

The subject of his concern shuffled into the living room just after sunset.  With only a little coaxing he managed to get Standish to eat a dinner of grilled chicken, salad and rolls. 

Afterwards they settled on the couch once more.  Although he still had questions about the attack, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.  In the end he didn’t need to.  The other man reached for his hand, speaking softly.  “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to hear anymore, but… there is more.”

Squeezing the well-manicured hand, he said, “Tell me.”

Drawing a deep breath, Ezra took up the narrative.  “After… after he left, I lay there for some time.  I’m frankly not very clear on some of it.  I believe I got to the bathroom and got a hand towel to use in staunching the blood.  I wanted very badly to shower, to… to wash off the… the smell of…”

“It’s okay; I understand what you’re saying.”

Nodding his thanks, the smaller man said.  “I remember getting back in bed… holding the towel against my s-side until it stopped bleeding.

“I remember calling for a bellboy… asking for someone who could be discreet.  I reasoned that if the hotel willingly hosted illegal games of chance, their staff had more than likely had stranger requests.

“I was able to buy not only silence, but the medical supplies I thought would be sufficient in treating the wound.  And, thanks to a large bottle of whiskey I was able to mask the pain for the time being.”

Looking back, Buck realized that Standish had sounded odd when he’d called with the flight information.  He had quickly accepted the explanation of exhaustion.  He had missed so many signals, too focused on their reunion. 

“At least it was all enough to see me through until I could get on the plane and come home.”

“You didn’t make a police report.”  It was a statement, not a question.  Holding up his hand at the look of protest, he said softly, “I know… I know.  Government agent, illegal gambling, homosexual activity… no exactly the things that get reported.”

“Exactly.”

“That man… the bastard… the one who did… all this.  I want to know who he is… where he is.”

“No!”  The answer was strong, the tone adamant. 

“Look, I’m not gonna stand by and let that son of a bitch get by with this!”

Pressing his hand against the other man’s lips, Standish said, “trust me in this, Buck… he won’t.”

They all knew that Ezra had ties that were best left unknown.  Some had come about during his stints undercover; others were the result of Maude Standish’s relationships over the years.  Studying his lover’s face for several minutes, Wilmington finally made a decision.  With a grim smile, he nodded.  “All right… I trust you.”

Despite the long hours sleeping since returning from the hospital, the injured man retired early and, other than rousing enough to take the medication his friend and lover brought him, he slept through the night.  The late morning sun was gilding his closed draperies when he finally came fully awake once more.  

Gingerly pulling himself out of bed he stumbled to the bathroom before padding into the corridor and through the still house.  Reaching the living room, he heard the soft murmur of the television. As he entered, he found Buck sprawled out on the couch, a cup of coffee in one hand, watching the sports channel.  The bigger man looked up, his blue eyes brightening as their gazes locked.

“Thought maybe you were just gonna sleep ‘til Christmas,” he teased.

Smiling, Standish said, “I had considered it.  However, I found myself becoming rather… lonely.”  He found himself blushing at the admission.

Reaching out a hand, Wilmington said, “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

Relief washed over the Southerner as he joined his lover on the couch.  Buck coaxed him to stretch out, to lie back against him.  They lay there quietly for some time, the big brunet holding him tenderly while he nestled his head against a broad shoulder.

Pressing a kiss against the rumpled hair, Wilmington said, “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better than I’ve felt for a very… very… very long time,” Standish admitted.  “Better than I… deserve.”

Running a thumb over the full lips, Buck quieted him.  “None ‘a that, now.  You deserve all the happiness and love there is… you sure as hell deserve everything I can give you.  So you stop thinkin’ like that.”

“Yes… sir,” he teased.

“Sir… I like the sound of that – “

“Forget it,” Ezra growled good-naturedly. 

With a chuckle, the bigger man said, “That’s okay.  I’m not sure I could get into all that master/servant stuff, anyway.”

“Well, there are times when that… well, it’s rather… stimulating.”

“Ooo,” Wilmington crooned.  “Don’t tell me you get into role playin’.  ‘Cause if you do…”

Slapping at the hand that had slipped beneath his pajama shirt, Standish said, “Forget it.  I have no desire to recreate certain scenes from Spartacus.”

“Oh hell, Ezra, get with the times.  I was thinkin’ more along the lines of Gladiator or Troy.”

“Forget it.”

“What about Pirates of the Caribbean?  Or Lord of the Rings?”

“No.”

“Well hell, I’ll let’cha be the Elf if you want.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Damn, I just realized… Orlando Bloom’s in three of those movies.”

“And that means exactly what?”

“Did you ever think about brown contact lenses… maybe darken your hair a little and curl it…”

“Oh Lord, help me.”

Epilog

“Well boys, it’s finally Friday evening,” Vin called across the office suite, “time t’ start th’ weekend!”

“Has anyone pointed out to you lately, that you have a penchant for stating the obvious?”  Ezra asked with feigned annoyance.

Chris Larabee stood just inside his office, watching the others through the open door.  “Better say that again in smaller words, he’ll get a migraine trying to figure out how to answer you.”  The bullpen erupted in good-humored laughter and Tanner offered the smiling blond a one fingered salute along with a cocky grin.

Buck simply sat watching the by-play, enjoying the smile that lit his lover’s face.  “Well I, for one, cannot wait to get out of here and start this weekend off.”

Waiting for the chorus of agreement to die down, the SAC said, “Well then, boys, what say we get the hell out of here?  I’ll even buy the first round.”

“Hell, figures you’d crack open your wallet tonight,” the mustached agent protested. 

Coming to lean against his old friend’s desk, Larabee gave him a leer as he said, “I take it you’ve got plans?”

Glancing across the room and catching Ezra’s eye, Buck said softly, “oh yeah, I’ve got plans.”

It had been over a month since Standish’s return to Denver.  It had taken him over a week to recover enough, physically, to return to work.  His emotional state had continued to cause him problems, however.  Finally he had agreed to seek counseling; going privately to a therapist outside the department.  He found someone who specialized in dealing with the problems encountered by those living ‘alternate lifestyles’.  He wasn’t certain if labeling it that, rather than ‘gay’ or ‘homosexual’ was meant to make it less distressing or not.  It didn’t seem to make a difference to him.

Happily the therapist did make a difference.  Going twice a week to talk about the events that had lead to his being wounded, he found himself better able to cope with it all.  He had not, however, been able to bring himself to be intimate with Buck.  As frustrating as he was certain it was for the bigger man, he had been nothing but patient and attentive.  However, the look of both hunger and excitement that lit up those beautiful blue eyes when he had announced that he felt ready to resume that part of their relationship, spoke volumes.

They had managed to get inside the door before starting to undress one another.  Clothes were scattered between the entryway and the bedroom, where the two lovers had been busily getting to know one another once again.  Buck’s hands had traced every inch of satiny flesh with an all consuming hunger.  Ezra had been busy as well, kissing and caressing the long, lean frame. 

The world shrank until it contained nothing beyond the big bed; populated by only the two bodies that writhed in ecstasy on its surface.  The air filled with the sounds of joyous love-making and the musky scent of men. 

Panting with excitement, Wilmington startled as his fingers ran along the pink ridge of freshly healed flesh.  Gazing into the passion dark eyes of the man beneath him, he rasped, “Are you… are you sure?  I don’t want…”

Leaning up, the Southerner pressed his mouth against the other man’s lips.  When the kiss ended, he whispered, “I am very… very sure, Buck.  I want this, more than I can tell you.  I need it.  I need to feel your arms around me and your hands on me.  I need… to feel you inside me.  I want to feel good again… I want to feel whole.”  Stroking his fingers through the thick, black hair, he growled, “I want you.”

With a wicked grin, Wilmington did what he could to fulfill the other man’s needs.  He kissed his way down the creamy flesh, sliding steadily toward the rigid shaft that arched up from the nest of dark curls.  Reaching that destination, he planted gentle kisses all along the hardened length.  He listened to the sounds of pleasure coming from the other man growing more and more insistent. 

Lying on his back, head buried in a thick pillow, Ezra whimpered impatiently.  He clawed at the sheets, bunching them in his fists.  Arching, he thrust his hips upward, begging the other man to grant him some relief.  “Oh… Lord… Buck, please!  Oh… PLEASE!!!”

“Shhhh, calm down now… I’m gonna take real good care of y’.”  Kissing the tip of the engorged organ, he began licking and sucking at the flesh.  Sliding downward, he found the heavy balls, taking first one and then the other into his mouth.  He felt the body beneath him jerk and tremble, the panting breaths telling him that Ezra wasn’t far from orgasm.

Leaning upward, he caught the glazed eyes.  When he saw nothing but trust and desire, he smiled.  Reaching toward the bedside table, he retrieved a bottle of lube and a condom.  Sheathing his own swollen cock, he had to steady himself before he came at his own touch.  Licking suddenly dry lips, he managed to open the bottle with quivering hands, and poured out a little of the thick liquid.  Once more gauging the other man’s reaction, he pressed a middle finger into the tight pucker of his ass. 

“Oh… yes!  Please!” 

Taking the time to stretch and relax the taut muscles, he smiled when he was able to push three fingers inside.  Lifting the well-muscled legs, he pulled them over his shoulders, the muscular calves pressing hard against him as his lover begged wordlessly for satisfaction.

Satisfaction he was only too happy to give.  Running his oil coated palm over his cock, he positioned the head at the stretched opening.  As he pushed inside the trembling body, the air came alive with twin cries of bliss.

It took only a few strokes to bring them to the edge.  Buck wrapped his hand around Ezra’s cock, pumping it in time with his own thrusts.  With a few more strokes, the Southerner cried out, thick ropes of come spraying them both.  The sight, sound, and smell of his lover’s orgasm was enough to send him over the edge, and his own seed poured out into the condom’s reservoir. 

A few minutes later, Wilmington was returning from the bathroom, a damp wash cloth in hand.  Dropping to the bed, he smiled when the other man opened heavy-lidded eyes.  Gently bathing the sticky residue from his lover’s body, he leaned down and kissed the slightly parted lips.  “How’re you feelin’?”

Smiling lazily, Ezra said, “I feel… wonderful… amazing… wonderfully amazing.”

Almost choking at the normally erudite man’s loss for words, he said, “You sound awfully sure of that.”

Grinning now, Ezra Standish looked into the handsome face above him.  “Of course… it’s who I am.”

The End