All in all, there was precious little recompense for what they put themselves through, week in and week out. A dollar a day plus board didn't make a man rich, even out here where there was precious little to spend it on, and Ezra Standish had every intention of dying a very old, very rich man at some far off point in the future. He'd tolerated enough privation in the war, sleeping on the ground more often than he cared to remember, and so it was only natural he'd complain about being sent on the longer patrols when the distance he was being asked to cover meant sleeping out was the only way to get it done. He'd complain just enough to be sure they all got the message - Ezra was there against his will, his presence the result of his allegiance to the group protecting Four Corners, nothing more. He couldn't afford for his comrades in arms to realise why he didn't argue too much against taking his part patrolling, not when there was so much at stake. It was one thing for Ezra to sneak a glance in the steamy bath-house, to indulge himself that way and use those memories for later consideration in the privacy of his own room, but it was quite another to openly stare. The risk of being caught was so much greater, the rewards obtained at much higher a price. As the weather grew warmer, however, the chances of his comrades shucking their clothes in deference to the increasing heat grew greater still. Bedroll and blanket became just bedroll, a gradual increase in the amounts of naked skin on display a tantalising source of memories he could use as inspiration for future nocturnal activities of his own. Tonight it was Josiah he was paired with, the weather hot and airless even as the sun dropped below the horizon and they set up camp. Ezra had gathered brushwood while Josiah tended to the horses, before starting a fire for cooking rather than for heat - it was certain they wouldn't go lacking in that department tonight, even if the fire was left to go out as soon as their meal was done. He'd just put water on to boil for coffee when Josiah returned from where the horses were picketed, his face flushed. "There's a creek nearby," he said, dropping the horse brush onto his saddlebag. "Fancy taking a dip, Ezra?" For the longest moment, Ezra was tempted. It was hellishly hot, after all; the thought of cool water called to him like a siren's song. Except that even if the water was icy, there was no chance of Josiah missing Ezra's interest in more than just getting cool, and that way led to trouble with a capital T. He'd seen Josiah stripped to the waist in the church, muscles flexing as he wrestled with some recalcitrant beam of wood, and that sight alone had gone straight to the source of all Ezra's problems with maintaining any semblance of a virtuous life. "Maybe later," Ezra said, keeping his eyes on the fire as if it would burn faster as the subject of his attention. "Coffee is what I need right now." It was believable enough, he hoped, and certainly Josiah didn't seem surprised at his response. "If you change your mind..." he said, "the creek's just over that way." Josiah inclined his head in the relevant direction, his pale blue eyes bright against the flush of his cheeks. Ezra didn't reply, counting to himself as he heard Josiah head off towards the creek, counting the seconds and then the minutes till it might be safe for him to follow, to take advantage of the falling dusk and whatever cover he might be able to find. If it wasn't safe, he told himself, he'd turn around and head back to the campfire, where Ezra would drink his coffee like a good boy and forget all about the idea of seeing Josiah Sanchez naked as the day he was born. ------------------- He was well into the thousands before he moved, a quick glance at the contents of the pot telling Ezra it would still be a while before it boiled - long enough for him to get a glimpse of whatever Josiah was hiding beneath those ugly pants and still get back to the campfire to make coffee. Ezra had loosened up a little himself, in deference to the weather, his once-pristine shirt hanging outside his pants but still unstirred by any breeze. No matter how hot it became, it still wasn't as bad as some summers he'd lived through growing up - there were very few things the desert had in its favour but lack of humidity was one of them. In similar temperatures back home, Ezra knew he'd have been hot on Josiah's heels to the creek and still not have felt the benefit of it the moment he left the water. Here, at least, there was a chance of actually cooling down. If he'd been brave enough to take it, risking discovery of a kind that could lead to a rope's end, an ingnominious fate Ezra Standish had no intention of sharing. The thought of seeing Josiah naked, though, that was a temptation he couldn't resist. Ezra stood, toed off his boots and pulled off his socks, dropping them carefully into the top of his discarded footwear. Bare feet were better, even if walking through the scrub ran the risk of stepping on something, the gain from increasing his ability to sneak up on Josiah unobserved was worth the chance of pain. In the end, he heard Josiah before he saw him; Ezra dropped into a crouch near the crest of the hill, crawling forward till he could see what was going on the other side of the rise, the last few notes of what he vaguely recognised as a hymn echoing through the quiet twilight. Josiah had his back to where Ezra lay, the powerful curves of his body still discernable even in the gathering gloom - below the waist was whiter skin than Ezra had expected, just as muscled as the rest of the man, testament to years of physical toil. There were scars too, one long gash that trailed down a muscular thigh, curling round from Josiah's groin to just above his knee. "Turn around," Ezra muttered to himself, sotto voce. "For the love of..." Before he could finish that thought, Josiah moved, a cupped hand full of water trickling down his back, droplets chasing one another across the skin; Ezra caught his breath, his eyes tracking the passage of the water, wishing he could follow its trail. Then Josiah turned, striding through the water towards a slab of rock where he sat, stretched out his legs, then lay back, one arm behind his head and one knee slightly raised. He couldn't see anything more, not from where he lay. The back view had been superb, had taken Ezra's breath away as he imagined his fingers following the path those droplets of water had taken, trailing lightly along Josiah's spine and down into the dark crevice at its base, but it wasn't enough. Could never be quite enough. Ezra lay still for a moment, eyes fixed on Josiah; his face was peaceful, relaxed in repose, as the evening warmth baked away the water with which he'd been washing himself. He could be quiet, get a better view of everything Josiah had, everything Ezra needed to know for future consideration, to use this memory to its best effect; if there was one thing Ezra had learned over the years, it was how to beat a hasty retreat and when, so he trusted that skill to aid him now, to take him close enough to see everything but not so close he'd be caught in the act. ------------------- Ezra began to back away slowly, his eyes still on where Josiah lay, apparently oblivious to the fact he was being observed. Josiah's eyes were closed now, his face remaining relaxed even as his free hand moved, sliding down his thigh then disappearing out of sight, its destination still apparent even though hidden. Ezra froze in place, wanting a better view of the proceedings but not wanting to miss a moment of this - how could he look away, transfixed as he was by the way Josiah's mouth opened a little as his arm moved, the small sigh that escaped as he took himself in hand. The movement of Josiah's arm was leisurely, unhurried, completely unmistakeable for what it was. Why hadn't he moved before now? From the other side, Ezra knew he would have got a much better view, seen just how Josiah's body reacted when he pleasured himself - instead he was left with half a show, much less than he really wanted but more than he could tear himself away from now. If he moved, shifted his vantage point, there was a chance it would all be over and done before he could get into place once more, missing out on even this in the hopes of gaining something more. This time the sound that came from Josiah's mouth was more of a whimper than a sigh, curtailed as he bit his lip; Ezra echoed the gesture, feeling his own arousal and pressing himself down against the earth in an effort to both relieve and contain. Josiah's arm was moving faster now, his hips echoing each movement, knee dropping just enough so Ezra could see if only he took a chance... He crept forward, heedless of the effect of the rough dirt on the fine material of his trousers, heedless too of the pulse of pleasure-pain even that small movement sent through his body as his erection pressed against the fabric. And unfortunately heedless of the loose stones on which his hand rested, the shift in weight enough to send Ezra sprawling, halfway over the edge behind which he had been hidden, all of the breath driven from his lungs as he hit the ground harder than he expected, rocks and dirt rattling their way down toward where Josiah lay. Ezra felt his face flame with heat, unable to raise his head for the longest of moments because of what he would see - there was no way Josiah could have missed that, no matter how much he had been engrossed in his own pleasure. Josiah would know for certain what Ezra was, what he wanted, nothing would remain a secret. He had to move eventually, of course. There was no way he could remain sprawled on the ground, his arousal vanished much quicker than it had arisen, not when Ezra had a hasty retreat to make and the tatters of his already-ragged reputation to save. When Ezra looked up, Josiah was standing over him. He hadn't heard the other man approach, his self-recrimination had apparently been too loud for that. "Ezra?" Ezra had dropped his eyes, but not quickly enough - he had seen more than sufficient to fuel any number of fantasies, from the lightly-haired chest, through to the source of the scar he'd seen already, and definitely including a well-proportioned cock, still half-hard and glistening with sweat now, rather than water from the creek. "Josiah." Words failed him at that point. What, after all, could he say? There was no excuse Ezra could make for playing the voyeur, for invading Josiah's privacy that way, even if he'd have felt no guilt in the event that Josiah had been ignorant of the fact. "Here." Ezra looked up at the word, looked at the hand Josiah was extending to him, the hand which only moments before had been instrumental in bringing the other man pleasure - he swallowed, uncertain of the gesture's meaning. Surely Josiah couldn't have misunderstood what had happened? "Looks like you're in need of a bath now," Josiah continued, amusement now lacing his voice. Helped to his feet by Josiah's grip, Ezra looked down at himself, the wreckage of his formerly-white shirt, his dirt-streaked trousers and dirty bare feet. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," Josiah said. He had let go, his hand now moving to rest heavily on Ezra's shoulder as if to steer him in the direction of the creek. "A man's needs are a natural thing..." Ezra took a hesitant step forward, more careful now of his footing, not least because it gave him something else to concentrate on rather than the sheer solid nakedness of Josiah Sanchez walking beside and a little behind him. "Nothing to be ashamed of," Josiah's voice continued as they headed downhill together. His hand slid down Ezra's side, fingers brushing lightly across the curve of his butt before Ezra could realise what had happened and make a protest either way. "Nothing at all."

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