Part Three
Finally, Ezra had given up entirely on the idea of sleep. He had surrendered to his insomnia with abandon. A week without sleep, and he knew the signs were beginning to show. He had seen himself in the mirror tonight. Dark circles underneath his bloodshot eyes stood out in contrast to his pallid complexion. His brown hair was shaggy and unkempt. He'd forgotten to shave the last two days; the amount of stubble on his cheeks was appalling. He was disheveled and poorly groomed, abandoning all pretense that he, Ezra Standish, was a gentleman.
He gazed about the room and noted that his once tidy lodgings had fared no better. His kicked off boots lay discarded carelessly next to his bed. There was a half-eaten sandwich atop his dresser. His black string tie was wadded up in a ball and rested underneath the same dresser where he had tossed it two nights ago. His green jacket was flung haphazardly across the wooden rocking chair that sat next to the window. Surely it would be wrinkled and unpresentable by morning. Ezra shrugged as he realized that he wasn't sure where his hat had gone off to.
Standish glanced at the glass of milk, now tepid, that sat upon his bedside table. The beginnings of a water ring marred the oak surface. Ezra didn't care. He thought back to his conversation with Inez earlier that night. She had stopped him on his way up the stairs to bed.
"Señor, you do not look so good. Are you sick?"
"I am quite well; just a slight case of insomnia," Ezra had replied with a friendly grin.
Inez had frowned at him. "You can't sleep?" she had asked as she looked him up and down appraisingly. Inez had clutched his arm and gazed at him sympathetically, her soft brown eyes full of concern. "One moment, Señor Standish. I know what to do."
He had been obliged to wait as Inez made him a glass of warm milk, since that had always worked so well for her Mama and all her little brothers and sisters. Ezra had again smiled politely as he accepted the glass. "Gracias, Señorita."
He had heard Inez's soft reply of "de nada," as he escaped up the stairs.
The glass of milk still sat upon his table, not a single drop had he taken. It seemed pointless. He knew that he could drink all the warm milk he could stomach. He could count all the sheep in the world, and he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep until the morning light was slanting through the windows. And the life of a lawman in the untamed west being what it was, he knew one of his associates was likely to wake him up, for one thing or another, sometime in the morning with an admonishment following that Ezra ought not to keep such late hours because he was beginning to look like hell.
Ezra laughed to himself, mirthlessly, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his confining shirt, loosening the stranglehold at his throat. He stared down at the cards piled neatly in stacks before him on his bed. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing. He reached out for the Jack of Spades. Slowly he placed the black jack atop the queen of hearts.
Ezra's thin concentration slipped out of his grasp when he heard the tread of booted feet in the hallway. Clomp, clomp, clomp. The sound echoed hollowly. The feet stopped outside his door. Silence ensued. Ezra frowned slightly and contemplated reaching for his gun, which was holstered within easy reach, slung over the post at the foot of his bed. He looked at the door expectantly waiting for the man on the other side to make a move.
A shuffling and shifting sound followed. The man cleared his throat. Ezra recognized the throat clearer to be Buck. An unpleasant sensation of being a caged animal went through Standish. Trapped, he was trapped. He prayed Buck would change his mind and go away. Ezra had been successfully avoiding Wilmington all week. Now Buck had him cornered.
A hesitant knock fell upon Ezra's door. He briefly and madly considered not answering, pretending he wasn't in.
"I know you're in there, Ezra," Buck said through the door.
'Damn.'
"Ezra, I need to talk to you. It's important."
"It's late," Ezra replied, not caring how rude it was to be holding a conversation through a closed door. The doorknob rattled as Buck tried to gain entrance. Ezra smiled, pleased with his foresight. He had locked the door.
"C'mon, Ezra," Buck said quietly but loudly enough for Ezra to hear. It was that soft and low voice that Buck used when he was serious about something. To his dismay, Ezra found the pleasantly deep tones to be sensual, attractive, and even erotic. Paralyzed with fear, Standish remained motionless on the bed, his game of solitaire spread out before him.
"I'm not going away, so you might as well let me in," Buck said.
Ezra contemplated all of the possibilities. He knew of Buck's stubborn perseverance. And although, he himself was stubborn, Standish knew that he would eventually have to leave his room, the half-eaten sandwich and glass of tepid milk not being enough sustenance to keep him alive for longer than a few days.
Ezra forced himself up off the bed and towards the door. His hand reached out for the lock. Numbly he released the mechanism. The door burst inwards as all six feet and three inches of Buck Wilmington blasted through the door.
"Listen to me, Ezra. We gotta talk. I know you've been avoiding me all week. And Lord knows that I've been avoiding myself for even longer than that. But we can't go on like this. We have got ta talk about things."
"I believe we are conversing. It's not making a great deal of sense, but words are coming out of your mouth," Ezra said with a forced smile.
"I kissed you," Buck said abruptly.
The faux smile rapidly faded from Ezra's face. He stared dumbly at the l man standing too close to him.
"What's more, I want to kiss you again," Buck continued.
"You were inebriated, Mr. Wilmington. As was I." Ezra unconsciously stepped backwards as Buck stepped toward him. Wilmington towered over Ezra's compact frame. Standish inched away until the backs of his thighs banged up against his mattress. An irrational and contradictory feeling of panic mixed with lust beset him.
"You stubborn Southern fool. You are going to listen to me. Maybe I wouldn't have kissed you if we hadn't been drinkin'. It's true."
Ezra snorted. Casting his eyes, down he began to study the pattern of the wood grain on the floorboards. It was exactly as he had expected. Ezra felt the sting in his eyes as they filled with unshed tears.
"But only because I never would have got enough courage to do it otherwise. I let myself get afraid. I was afraid I was gonna lose your friendship, and I couldn't stand that. And you've been avoiding me ever since. I couldn't get anywheres near you. You've been as skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," Buck spoke in a rush, as if trying to get all his words out before Ezra skittered away again.
Ezra looked up cautiously into his friend's face. Buck paused for a moment as he regarded Ezra.
"I'm stone cold sober now," Buck said earnestly.
Buck leaned closer as if for a kiss. Ezra flinched. Buck slowly raised his left arm and placed his hand gingerly on Ezra's right shoulder. At the contact, once again Ezra felt the electric bolt of pleasure he had felt six nights ago in front of their campfire with a belly full of whiskey. Ezra felt a blazing warmth flare up along the nape of his neck. Goosebumps of passion erupted up and down his arms. His body felt as if it were made of fire and ice. Buck, his best friend, stood over him with a look that said 'I want to ravish you on the spot.' Ezra panicked. "Buck, I think you should leave now," Ezra said.
Ignoring him, Buck placed his right hand on Ezra's left shoulder. He now held the smaller man by both shoulders. Ezra felt uncomfortably hot under the weight and pressure of those palms that were gripping him. Ezra shut his eyes trying to block out the onslaught of emotions. He knew of Wilmington's numerous sexual adventures. The ladies' man had never tried to hide any of his escapades. In fact, quite the reverse as he frequently boasted loudly about all of his conquests. It was easy for Buck to fall into and out of any number of beds. He loved fun. He loved people. He loved life. Most of all, he loved sex. Ezra's face hardened.
Ezra wanted more than that. He wanted to at least hold onto their friendship. Ezra pressed his hands, palms outward, against Buck's chest to prevent Wilmington from coming any closer. "Please, Buck. I want you to leave."
"Wait, Ezra. I haven't told you everything I came here to tell you. I just want to say my piece, and then you can tell me to go to the devil if you like." Buck grasped tightly onto Ezra's shoulders. The fine linen cloth of Ezra's shirt crumpled in his fists as he shook Standish, pleading for him to listen.
"Why? Why should I listen to anything you have to say on this subject?"
"Because I'm crazy in love with you, you damn fool," Buck yelled, almost angrily. Ezra's shirt continued to bunch up under his grasping fists, his knuckles whitened.
"What?" Ezra's mouth gaped open. He searched Buck's face as if for some sign that his friend was lying to him. Or joking. Somehow Ezra couldn't believe his ears; there was a part of him that perhaps didn't want to. "Unhand me, sir!" Ezra exclaimed, his voice hoarse with emotion. The hands that Ezra held up against Buck's chest in mute protest tightened into fists.
Ezra pushed. Buck pulled. Ezra lost his balance first as his legs fell against the bed once more, and then his feet slipped out from under him. He fell backwards. Buck had not relinquished his grip on Ezra's shirt and lost his balance too. Ezra's bare foot kicked up and caught Buck's leg. Both men fell down across Ezra's bed with one loud thump. The bed scooted across the floor and bumped into the bedside table. Milk sloshed and spilled; the glass tumbler fell on its side. A white waterfall poured from the table and pooled underneath the bed. The solitaire game scattered everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra watched as the Ace of Spades slowly twirled and fluttered to the floor.
Buck's tall frame lay heavily across him. Ezra looked up into his friend's face. He watched as startlement changed to faint amusement and, finally, unconcealed desire in Buck's twinkling blue eyes. Ezra became uncomfortably aware of Buck's scent. He smelled of tobacco and sweat, yet faintly redolent of sweet spices, making Ezra think of warm apple pie. Ezra discovered that he liked the way Buck smelled. With Buck's full weight laying atop him, he felt his friend's burgeoning arousal pressed against him, and he felt his own body responding in kind. As his traitorous body rebelled against him, Ezra noticed Buck smiling down at him with a decidedly conceited expression.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't throw you out this very second. I've already requested your absence twice," Ezra said with wavering conviction.
"I love you," Buck spoke more softly in that deep, serious voice that sent shivers down Ezra's spine and that made the heat rise in his blood.
Ezra felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest, the sound thundering in his ears. 'He loves me,' thought Ezra dazedly. 'And I love him,' Ezra admitted to himself. Standish smiled shyly up at Buck Wilmington, who was still sensually crushed against him. His eyes drifted towards Buck's generous lips, the lips that had pressed against his own a week ago. Ezra's tongue darted out as he licked his own dry lips nervously.
Buck smiled at Ezra as he slowly lowered his head to plant a tender kiss on Ezra's mouth. Buck's hand drifted up and combed through Ezra's rumpled hair. Buck drew back and caressed Ezra's stubbled cheek. Their eyes met. "You look like hell, Ezra. When was the last time you shaved or combed your hair?"
Ezra gave a short, rueful laugh. The two men smiled at each other. "I haven't slept in a few days," Ezra confessed as he circled his arms around Wilmington, drawing him into another kiss.
"Well, I don't plan on getting much sleep tonight. How 'bout you, Ezra?" Buck smiled down at him with a rakish and loving grin which Ezra found alarmingly attractive. Buck spoilt the effect by waggling his eyebrows.
"Sleep? No, I would have to say that sleep is the very last thing on my mind." Ezra swallowed his laugh as Buck's mouth came to meet his.
"I do care for you, Buck," Ezra spoke quietly as his friend began dropping light kisses along his jaw and neck. Ezra trembled with passion.
"I know," he said rather smugly. Buck couldn't quite suppress a small chuckle.
Ezra didn't care. Eagerly, he embraced another night without sleep.
