"Saber didn't do too bad, did he?" Harry inquired of Louis, proud that his young horse had handled wrangling the mustangs right along with the other two horses.

"Yeah, he looked to do a decent job. You do need to work on your halts though," Louis chuckled. "He's got more go than whoa."

"Yeah. I don't work on the halts at speed very much. And he got out of control at the end there, but he didn't trip!"

"True, that. He's young. He's got lotsa years to learn it all. But a good "whoa" is damn important. In any case, you still slayed it." This was sincere praise from Louis, and Harry knew it. He'd worked with Louis long enough to know the man didn't hand out compliments with any regularity. So he savored it, took the felicity from it and tasted the sweetness, allowed himself to soak in just what it was. Victory.

"We need to celebrate the capture of your horse tonight," All of a sudden Louis couldn't seem to get close enough to Harry. The excitement of the chase and capture had turned to sexual heat. He nuzzled Harry's neck, still riding on the high of catching the mustangs. The smell of their sweat mingled, causing that familiar fluttering in his middle.

"When Niall leaves, we can break out the Chardonnay if you want."

"I want," said Harry, his cheeks blossoming into a rosy hue.

Harry and Louis decided to join Niall in the creek. Washing all the dust off felt heavenly. They knew they wouldn't want to make the trip back here again later, so they stripped off their clothes and washed, having left the body wash and shampoo on the big rock where they always set their clothes. They were naked so much of the time here in the mountains, in and around the cabin, that it was utterly ordinary to them now. Niall was taken aback, and really rather astounded, but their casual attitude helped as he battled his consternation. He shook his head to clear it, really hoping it didn't slip their minds that he was present, and cause them to do something he wouldn't be able to unsee.

Upon returning, they all began to feel the fatigue of the sharp expectation and enormous effort of the capture. They were used to riding fast—it had been the mental exertion that had drained their energy. After a bite to eat, Niall figured he'd better make himself scarce, or risk witnessing something that might really fluster him, so he rode his horse back to the trailer, Harry and Louis riding along with him on their own horses.

"Oh, and Niall," Louis said after Niall had loaded the horse he'd brought and prepared to drive away. "Can you not mention the horse that's gonna be Harry's to the others? I think he wants to surprise 'em when we bring him back to the ranch."

"Sure thing," said Niall, understanding shining in his eyes. "It'll blow 'em away!"

Harry stood by, gratefulness for Louis filling his heart. Louis always seemed to sense just what he was thinking, without him having to utter a word, except for the rare times they had a misunderstanding.

After thanking Niall profusely for the help, Harry and Louis rode back down to the valley and filled an empty old claw foot wash tub that had been behind the cabin with water from the creek, and dragged it to the mustangs behind their horses, spilling some along the way, and also threw a bale of hay to them as well. They couldn't put the tub inside the corral with the horses for fear of the pinto escaping, so they put it on the outside, butted up against the fence so the horses could slide their necks through to drink.

"Sure glad we remembered to do this," Louis said. "I didn't want to come back down here again today. But now they're fed and watered. I would've kicked me own arse tomorrow mornin' when I realized that we'd left 'em hungry and thirsty all night."

Harry nodded, also embarrassed about forgetting to tend to their little herd. "I did tell Niall to bring extra hay next time he comes," he said. "For the wild ones, of course."

"Sure glad you thought of that. Completely slipped me mind. I guess I really had me head up me arse. We would've been collectin' a lot of grass every day. Enough to break our backs. Thanks, Haz."

"Sure, Boo Bear." Harry hugged Louis tightly, and once again, Louis didn't feel like protesting the nickname. In fact, if he were completely honest, he kind of liked the sound of it on Harry's lips.

When they were done with the mustangs, they stood and watched the pinto for a while, Louis knowing that Harry would have a hard time leaving him.

"Let's go home," he said at last. That sounded good. Home. The cabin was home-at least for now.

Back on the mountaintop, the afternoon sun wasn't quite as warm as it had been, and Louis called Harry's attention to some clouds on the horizon. "Might rain tonight," he said. "We'll be warm and snuggled in bed together."

The blood pounded in Harry's veins at the thought. Suddenly, he wasn't quite as tired.

"Will the mustangs be alright?" Harry's forehead creased with concern.

"Yeah, that big ole' tree will give 'em enough shelter." Harry had forgotten about the huge live oak tree that was at the far end of the pen. It would do a nice job of protecting the horses from heavy rain.

"Why do you think I chose that particular spot to build the pen? I wanted to be sure they'd have shelter if they needed it."

Yep, Louis thought of everything.

Louis took advantage when Harry was watching the clouds to study his lover. God, he was beautiful. He never got tired of gazing at him. Harry had one of those faces that was put together flawlessly, and he was a different kind of gorgeous from every angle. His green eyes were striking, like frost over the ocean, and their intensity could pierce directly into you. Those eyes against his dark brown, almost black, fall of hair, well, he looked like he wasn't made for this stinking world. He was just too beautiful. Louis just sat there and admired him openly.

Harry turned, and caught him staring. "What?" he asked, clueless to Louis' state of mind.

"Nothin.' Just enjoyin' the view."

Harry realized that Louis hadn't been looking at the sky, but at him. So he blushed again, helpless to control it. This turned Louis on even more. His heart and his cock swelled at the same time. This was the best of the best. To be so very fond of someone, and to also desire them, want them. If this was what love was all about, Louis could appreciate its appeal.

Sitting on their blanket, Harry cuddled up to him. Louis had never been a cuddler, but he, strangely, didn't mind Harry all over him. He'd never been much of a kisser either, but he loved kissing Harry—wanted to do it all of the time. The sensuality of it was like a drug.

Harry had that wide open look. He was sinuous and awkward by turns, mused Louis. His raw vulnerability had Louis' motor revved. Harry both grounded him, and made him feel feral.

They kissed, and Harry's curious combination of sexy and sweet made Louis shiver. He moved to sit behind Harry, brushing the hair off the back of the younger man's neck to kiss it and whispered, "I want you," in the most lethal, wicked way. To Harry's ears, it was music. And he really could, at times, actually hear music, because he loved music, and he loved how Louis seduced him. It was like a soft, yet unrefined kind of dance they were doing. Spontaneous. Louis wasn't very versed in seduction, but that didn't stop him. Harry was his inspiration.

Harry turned around so he was facing Louis, sitting on the blanket, and they went into their now familiar trance, slightly disoriented in each other's eyes. Blue warred with green. Louis leaned forward inch by inch until Harry was grabbing at his shirt impatiently, pulling him in even closer. Louis chuckled. He kissed Harry again, coming on strong, then easing off. Playing the enchanting game that he was so good at. He had Harry nearly whimpering in no time.

Then Louis drew back slightly and directed a discussion about Harry's horse, and their plans for it. They kissed. Then they discussed breaking the horse, followed by more kissing. Both were squirming, coming unhinged from the suppressed lust that hung all around them, heavy and excessive. Louis was drawing it out, and Harry was eating up the suspense.

Louis stopped now and then to consume Harry with his eyes. Run his hands through that curly hair. The warmth of their skin through their clothing was a small thing, but it inundated them with yearning for more. Just the brush of a thigh, hip or arm was more than enough to stoke a white hot flame. Harry peered at Louis and knew he felt the same, because Louis' neck convulsed as he swallowed hard, and awkwardly adjusted himself in his pants, throwing a sheepish grin Harry's way.

They began to hear thunder, and Louis couldn't help but think about how Harry would soon want to disappear under the covers in bed, even though it was still a little light outside. Getting him into bed would be quite the treat. But not before they got some Chardonnay into them.

The thunder pounded, then rumbled, much closer this time, and Harry got up, stumbling like a colt. It was a trip to watch him. Louis took a certain satisfaction in it. Jagged streaks of lightning appeared, and Louis found Harry perched on the side of the bed, Louis sat down beside him, and Harry burrowed his face into his neck, lighting Louis' blood on fire. He wrapped Louis up like a burrito with a blanket from the bed and his arms.

Harry's hand was under the blanket, caressing Louis' tummy through his shirt, making him tingle. Louis thought Harry was seeking safety from the storm, but then he saw Harry looking up at him through his long, dark lashes.

"Fuckin' flirt," growled Louis. He strongly suspected Harry wasn't any more afraid of the lightning and thunder than he was of the dust storms. Looked like just maybe Harry was using his fear as an excuse to come on to him. He was learning just how to push Louis' buttons, titillate him.

"Let me see if I can locate those mustangs," said Louis a moment later, holding the binoculars up to his eyes as he peered out of the window above the bed. Might as well get it over—then he could concentrate on Harry. It took a couple of minutes, but Louis got the horses into focus.

"Harry, look! There's your horse!" He was thrilled that they could see the mustangs from the cabin window, knowing this would certainly ease Harry's mind about their welfare. He quickly handed the binoculars off to Harry, who gasped and smiled. The mustangs were bunched under the protection of the oak tree, and there was the pinto, pawing at the ground and snorting, sensing the violence of the coming storm. Thunder crashed again after another bolt of lightning, but the horse threw his head defiantly and held his ground. He was a brave one.

Harry took a deep breath, and held it a second as the lightning lit the horse's form, framing it against the gathering darkness. "Look at his heavy bone! He'll stay sound a long time, won't he?" asked Harry, excitement causing him to vibrate with barely subdued energy.

"Oh yeah. You can count on that lad to carry you into his late twenties."

The young stallion had a regal bearing as he sniffed the air, tail set high in anticipation of the storm, and ready to face it head-on. Harry's eyes stayed glued to him for a few minutes before he was able to bring himself back to the moment, and back into Louis' arms.

"What'll you name him?" asked Louis, caressing the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry looked lost in thought. "Just now I thought about how mystic he looked, with those storm clouds overhead, and thunder rollin' in. Almost looked like a phantom horse to me. Mystic Thunder sounds kinda corny, but I'd call him either one or the other—'Mystic' or 'Thunder.'"

"Brilliant names, those. Both of 'em. You'll sort it out." Louis' eyes were looking heavy as he listened to Harry, and Harry saw it. It wasn't a sleepy heavy, but an ardent, lusty heavy. How sexy could a man be, anyway? And Louis was his. At least he hoped he was.

At the same time, Louis was thinking about how open minded Harry was, yet how vulnerable. Harry could get hurt so easily. Open minded and vulnerable weren't a good combination. He thought of all the unsavory characters Harry could have gotten entangled with, and, much as Louis hated to think about it, Harry was also gullible to a point. He wasn't stupid, but he tended to offer too much trust, too early. Louis was relieved they were together. Harry would have everyone on the Rocking Horse Ranch behind him, should he ever be in danger, and most especially, himself. Louis would take a bullet for him in a second.

Harry was Louis' fantasy come to life. He was an erotic buffet that Louis had the privilege of enjoying. And he wanted to, now, but first, he needed to follow up on their plans. He got up and located a fresh bottle of Chardonnay by the light of the lantern. Harry watched Louis stroll over to the cupboard, delighting in his bouncing, bad ass step—arousing and amusing Harry as one. Louis also lit a fire and babied it, feeding it extra wood so it would burn for a while before needing to be tended. He was glad he'd had a pile of wood in the cabin in case of rain. He didn't know Harry was admiring and appreciating him as he performed these tasks.

As Louis neared the bed with the bottle of Chardonnay, his eyes in the dark with only the firelight behind them looked paler in color, like the clear, crystal blue of mountain glaciers. Stunning they were, and trained right on Harry.

"Want me to seduce your flirtacious ass?" He asked in a velvet voice that smoothed the words to perfection.

Louis knew just how far he could go when speaking like this to Harry. Something salacious or raunchy might be too much . . . unless they were in the middle of lovemaking. He was going to experiment with that. But right now, something sweet with a tang seemed to have a tangible effect on Harry.

Forgetting the paper cups, Louis rose to fetch them when Harry pulled him back down. Startled, Louis threw a questioning gaze his way. Harry simply took the Chardonnay from him and drank directly from the bottle.

"Ah, a man after me own heart!" Louis laughed, accepting Harry's offering and taking a healthy swig himself. "You're becomin' bolder all the time," he said carelessly and off-handedly so Harry wouldn't feel self-conscious.

They passed the bottle back and forth, still sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed, assessing each other surreptitiously by way of sly glances and bashful smiles. Why Harry wanted to play this coy, demure game, Louis had no idea, but, somewhat disturbingly, he found he actually liked it. So he returned it in a playful volley. If Harry had been candid and straightforward about it, it would have been exciting enough, but this shy yet teasing side of him was completely engrossing.

"Do you want to talk about . . . us?" asked Harry, catching Louis with his guard fully down.

"I . . . thought we already had?"

"The talk we started about . . . feelins,'" Harry reminded him.

Oh God. The infamous talk about feelings. Louis should have known Harry would not overlook that.

"Uh, yeah. I remember that," Louis said lamely, floundering about helplessly in his mind for a way out of this subject.

"Well, have you . . . concluded . . . like, what they are? Those feelins' you get?" Harry grinned only slightly. Just slightly enough to not show his dimple, and that killed Louis. He found himself almost holding his breath, waiting for a glimpse of a dimple every time Harry smiled. How pitiful was that?

"They're uh, strong." It was all Louis could come up with in a pinch. He tried to put off the inevitable by fiddling with the bed covers; smoothing them, and then concentrating on the bottle he held. Looking at anything at all so he didn't have to face those piercing green eyes that had no trouble snagging his soul.

"Strong?" Harry left it open for Louis. He wasn't being a bit helpful. He was waiting for Louis to spit it out. And Louis wanted to spit it out. And not just to get Harry in bed, but because he meant it. But it was so early to be saying something as pivotal as that. Harry might not think him sincere. And he'd never been so sincere about anything in his life. He didn't want it brushed off, or made light of; he didn't want it not taken seriously. Because if and when he said those words, he wanted it to mean something to Harry.

"Yeah, real strong feelins.'" There was no way Harry could make him say it, he realized then. He could just keep insisting that he didn't know what those feelings meant.

"I have 'em too, and I just wanted to know if yours are the same as mine." Harry's words were grating on Louis' nerves simply because he wondered what would happen if Harry's feelings weren't the same as his. Like, if Harry up and said something like he had strong feelings of fondness, or something like that. If Louis used the word fond, it would be an evasion, and Louis didn't feel comfortable with it. It would be dodging how he really felt.

"Well, how would we go about findin' out if they're the same or not?" Harry was nothing if not persistent, and Louis grudgingly had to commend him for it. Taking another bracing slug of the wine from the bottle, Louis prayed the liquor would give him the courage he needed. He took a deep breath and launched himself into it, truly jarred at his own dauntlessness.

"I think I may . . . um, be . . . fallin,'" he abruptly chickened out right when the words were set to exit his mouth.

Harry waited. Solid and stalwart, he waited. Louis had to applaud him for his unwavering patience. Harry's face was downcast, his hair falling forward, almost hiding his face. Louis realized he was being careful not to make Louis feel confronted. That, alone, made Louis' heart ache because Harry was such a compassionate soul. And it, in turn, finally gave him enough courage.

"I think I may be fallin' in love with you." Silence pumped into the room. The rain began to fall right on cue. It was a statement from nature. The rain was evidence of the truth, somehow. That was how it felt to Louis. And apparently to Harry too, because he snuggled his face into Louis' neck.

"Lou . . . Lou, I'm fallin' in love with you too." Although they had both voiced it haltingly, it was nevertheless a real presence in the room. Tangible and soft and real. It had been said, out loud, and any further words were dispensable now.

Harry mumbled, "That wasn't as hard as I thought it might be," he half-hiccoughed and half laughed. That's what it sounded like to Louis, but when he sniffed, Louis had his suspicions that Harry might actually be crying, just a little bit.

"Not as hard as either one of us thought it would be." Louis said quietly, making his own little confession. He had a hard lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow down. He didn't know a whole lot about what they'd cast themselves into. All he knew for sure what he felt just as strongly as Harry did.