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The outlines of the livery at dusk are muted, but the sharp tang of beast and hay is in Ezra's throat. His outfit, chosen with care that morning, is dusty after spending time in the saddle. He'll remedy that before he makes his appearance in the saloon. There are cards to be played, hands to be won. Later.

Now, in the hazy light of sunset, Vin is on his knees in an alcove. On his knees, but not in supplication. Vin takes, as steadily as he'd followed a trail earlier. He frames Ezra's hips with his arms, his hands at Ezra's ass, drawing Ezra forward.

Ezra shifts his boot to gain a better stance. His pants are bagging at his knees, an unsightly mess, and if they were to be discovered it would be worse than awkward. They're lucky for this unexpected pause, and Ezra trusts Vin's keen senses to preserve them from untoward attention. Besides, they seem to have uncanny luck for wheres and whens.

Brushing back Vin's hair so he can see the puckered lips around his cock, all other concerns are lost to Ezra. The sight of Vin working him never fails to make him painfully hard. Vin laps steadily at his slit, lavishing the head of Ezra's cock with precise, careful licks and sucks. Vin always knows exactly how much Ezra can take before he breaks.

Ezra tries to breathe slowly, wants to enjoy the vision of Vin's mouth on him. It's a losing battle, though; he is rapidly bereft of any control other than keeping his pleasure voiceless. The evening hums around them, a gentle melody of horses sighing and the fading rattle of a wagon making its way down the main road.

Vin has him fixed in one spot. When Vin curls his hands, skin on fevered skin, an index finger tests the tight hole of Ezra's ass. Ezra imagines Vin penetrating him. Sees himself fucked on Vin's fingers, all friction and need and sweat in the cooling night air.

He wants that. He wants wherever Vin leads, whatever Vin suggests.

Vin skates onward, his fingers dipping lower to cradle the back of Ezra's balls. Ezra shudders, feels the beginning of his climax coming from his feet and through his legs. He tries to hitch his hips, to meet Vin's mouth where he is swallowing Ezra down, but Vin pins him with no more than the press of his thumbs.

Ezra stifles his shout with an effort.

Vin swallows, and swallows again. He nuzzles in, licking Ezra clean. Ezra trembles and does his best not to stagger. Then Vin tugs on the fabric and tucks Ezra's cock back into his pants. He presses his hands down Ezra's outfit carefully, putting Ezra back together deftly.

Rising, Vin brushes smudges of dirt and hay off his knees. He replaces his hat, checks their surroundings. There's no sign he was there, that he had Ezra laid wide open.

No sign at all, except the fierce tattoo of Ezra's heart in his chest.