This is my answer to the Title Challenge. Many thanks to Windwilok for the title. I hope you like it.

Moisture glistened on the naked ebony skin, but from the ominous tones in the sky, it was hard to say whether it was from exertion or rain. His eyes were closed, and his clean-shaven face was turned towards the sun, searching for whatever warmth it had to offer. A soft, long-sleeved flannette shirt was lying haphazardly on a barbed wire fence, and oil and grease stains marked the dirty jeans clinging loosely to his hips.

"Beautiful," Ezra murmured from his vantage point.

"Isn't it, though?" a nasal voice rudely interrupted. "I can guarantee you, Mr. Saunders, that this piece would be a marvelous investment. This particular artist's reputation is fast-growing, and once his name is more well-known, I wouldn't be surprised to see paintings of this size go for tens of thousands of dollars. You would really be picking up a bargain for yourself."

Ezra shot the sales assistant an annoyed glance, before once again putting all his attention on the oil painting. He ignored her speech about profits, preferring to enjoy the detailed brush strokes that gave the painting's setting an extra dimension. "Does this have a name?"

"Ah..." After flipping through the ring folder, the assistant gave a triumphant, "Yes. This one is entitled 'Secret Pleasures.' It's part of a series of three paintings, but I'm afraid we haven't unpacked the other two yet."

Ezra nodded, his eyes never straying, and before he could give it concrete thought, he found himself speaking again. "I'll take it. And the others in the series."

The assistant beamed, though any credit for the sale belonged to the man in the painting rather than any sales pitch. "Certainly, Mr. Saunders. And where would you like us to deliver your acquisitions?"

"I'll take this one with me now, and come by sometime next week for the others and pick them up personally."

"Very well."

While he was waiting for the transaction to be completed, Ezra looked around to make sure no one was around to listen in as he reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. "Chris, it's me. I'm afraid the meeting never took place- No, he never showed- No, I- Chris, it's not that- I'll have to wait until he contacts me again. ...And until then?" Ezra nodded, though the ATF leader couldn't see him. "Fine, if you need me, I'll be at my townhouse." He quickly disconnected the call as he saw the sales assistant walking awkwardly towards him with a slim wood box.

"Here you are, Mr. Saunders. Enjoy your investment."

Muttering under his breath as he walked out of the gallery, Ezra felt almost sorry that some people couldn't enjoy art just for its beauty, instead of profit. The hour drive back to his home in the heavy traffic took his mind away from the parcel in the back seat, and he tunelessly hummed along with the CD playing.

As he pulled the car into the drive, he released the tense breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. A part of him had worried that Chris would send someone to have a quick debriefing about the aborted meeting, but it appeared that no one was there.

Grabbing the box, he pushed the car door shut with his hip, and took the dozen or so steps to the front door. Balancing his precious cargo on a slightly bent knee, he wrestled with the door and, after a few seconds, managed to get it open. He shuffled sideways through the door and made his way cautiously through the living room, before laying the box on the floor. He quickly went to the kitchen, silently thanking Buck for insisting that every man's drawers weren't complete without one big knife, a can opener, screwdriver, and a claw hammer.

Pulling the hammer from the drawer, he turned, opened the fridge to grab a bottle of beer, and went back to open the painting. He put the cold bottle on the floor beside him, unopened, and wrestled with the hammer and box for five or so minutes before triumphantly laying the hammer down. Rising to his knees, he got a firm grip on the painting with both hands and heaved it onto the sofa. He stood up, picking up the still unopened bottle, and slowly walked backwards until his legs hit the heavy wood coffee table, and he sat down. Using the palm of his hand, he twisted the cap off his beer and took a long gulp.

Ezra had known, even when he hadn't consciously known, that buying this painting and the others that he had not even seen yet was a foolish mistake on his part. There was no place in his home that he could hang them without the other men seeing them and wondering on his reasons for buying them. He had managed to keep his soul's deep longing for men - one man in particular - a secret from his colleagues, and the painting would raise many questions he could not, would not, answer truthfully.

He turned slightly, and picking up the remote that lay next to his right thigh, he turned the CD player on to some muted blues, a lone trumpet weeping above a melody of strings. It suited his mood perfectly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and drew another mouthful of beer. The moisture on the smooth, flawless complexion once again captured his gaze. He slowly circled the mouth of the bottle with two fingers, as his eyes moved from the man in the painting to a photo that hung on the wall. It was the perfect spot for the painting, yet it was the worst place possible.

The phone brutally interrupted his thoughts. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and answered with a terse, "Yes?"

"Ezra, it's me."

Ezra's stomach went wonderfully warm and became a pit of coldness at the same time, as it always did when he unexpectedly heard Nathan's voice. He coughed, hoping it could pass as an excuse for the almost rude way he had answered the phone. "Nathan! How can I be of service?"

"Chris said the meeting was a bust."

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm waiting for a call right now to arrange another time."

"Any idea what happened?"

"Last time I was talking to Mr. DiMero he had mentioned his daughter was due to have a baby soon, so I'm assuming that's what happened. If that is the case, then I'm sure we're no worse off than we were yesterday. If that's not so, then I'll find another avenue to pursue."

"Shame about that." Nathan paused a few seconds before continuing. "Listen, I'm just calling to see if you were still up to going to Chris's tomorrow to watch the game? It's just that my car needs a tune-up, and I was hoping to get a ride with you."

The thought that Nathan had called him first to hitch a ride to Chris's ranch filled Ezra with happiness. "It would be my pleasure, Nathan. Shall I pick you up about... eleven?"

"That'd be great."

They continued talking about inconsequential things, as Ezra's view of the half-naked man and the soft tones of Nathan's voice in his ear danced lightly over his libido. Finishing his bottle, he got up to get another beer, and on his way back, he turned the brightness of the living room lights down, covering the room in shadows, the painting half hidden by the darkness. The anonymous figure in the painting still lay in the painting's sun, but with the lights lowered, it was easy to put another face and body in its place.

Ezra sat on the floor, back to the coffee table, and threw his head back. Drawing a big breath, he held it before letting it out slowly and softly but just loudly enough to catch Nathan's attention.

"Everything okay, Ez?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, everything is fine. I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

Nathan gave a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, it must have been hard today hanging around an art gallery waiting for a guy to show. And speaking of which, did you end up buying anything for that space in the living room?"

"Nathan, I was there for business. To purchase something for myself while waiting on a suspect would be frowned upon by Mr. Larabee and Co."

"I know." Nathan waited a beat. " So, did ya buy anything?"

"I refuse to answer that on the grounds of possible incrimination," he said smugly, enjoying the bark of laughter on the other end of the telephone. He took a quick glance at the clock above the television, not at all surprised to see that sitting in the half-dark of his living room, talking to the medic, had eaten up the best part of an hour. He had enjoyed every moment of it.

"Listen, Ez, I've gotta go. I promised my dad I'd call him before it got too late, and it's almost nine now. I gotta call him soon, or he'll be in bed."

"I understand perfectly. So I'll pick you up about eleven?" When Nathan agreed, they both said good night. Ezra turned his phone off, not wanting anyone to call and disturb the peacefulness he always felt after he managed to spend some time, or talk, privately with the medic.

He rose like an arthritic old man after sitting so long on the hard floor, and picked up the painting, carefully leaning it against the wall beside the television. Slipping his shoes off, he stretched out on the comfortable sofa and closed his eyes, hoping for a few minutes of rest before he started to make his evening meal. He opened them moments later, his eyes not wanting to leave the image that was blurring with Nathan's voice.

He loosened his belt, slowly pulling it out of the loops and getting a quiet thrill from the sensation of it grabbing at the material of his pants. He wondered what Nathan would think the next time he came to visit and he saw the painting in the living room. Would the man make the connection to himself? Would he believe that Ezra had bought it simply because it was wonderfully executed, or would he see beyond that to the real reason, that Ezra was sexually attracted to him. It terrified Ezra in a way he hadn't felt for some time.

Ezra knew he had no choice but to take "Secret Pleasures" back to the art gallery first thing Monday morning, before any of the men he worked with got a chance to see it and start to question what they knew about him. It was hard for Ezra not to share that part of himself with his co-workers and friends, but, in the end, he knew it was for the best. Best for them. Best for the job they did. Best for Nathan.

He snorted. Life really blew big sometimes. Then again... Ezra paused his train of thought. He hadn't seen the others in the series. Perhaps he could hang one of them in the living room, and leave this one in his room for his own visual pleasure. He nodded, deciding to take the large painting to his room for the time being at least.

After maneuvering it through the hallway, he almost dropped it on the floor, his fingers slipping slightly before jiggling a better grip. Leaving it near the door, he hurried back to the living room and hesitated next to his laptop.

Deciding to see if the artist had a web site, he turned the black machine on, and while it was warming up, he changed the CD to an acoustics live album and grabbed a fresh drink. After logging on, he quickly typed the name of the painter into a search engine, and after a few seconds, he had a list of twenty sites. Ezra spotted the name "Secret Pleasures" in one of the sites' summaries, so he clicked. Slowly the now familiar man was unveiled on the screen. Beside it, however, were the two other paintings.

Ezra couldn't breathe.

The second one had the same figure, but this time, he was standing with his back to the viewer. There was a small faded scar on his right shoulder; other than that, his skin was flawless. The pocket was half torn from his jeans, and a red bandana circled a wrist. The sky was still mottled with angry clouds, though in the far distance, a sliver of pure blue sky could be seen. Beside the man were two horses, both saddled and ground-tied. It was obvious that there should be another figure in the painting, and after a closer look, Ezra could see two legs. A person was standing in front of the man, hidden from view. Scanning the page, Ezra found the name of the piece: "Secret Passions."

For Ezra, the painting was like looking within himself. He could vividly remember riding on Chris's ranch with only Nathan for company, being privileged enough once to catch a sunset after a rainstorm. The colors of that day had stayed with him, and when he had gone undercover only a week later, the memory had helped keep him focused more than once.

Taking a quick sip of his beer, he clicked on the final picture. This one had a much more melancholy mood to it. The sky was completely black, with one furious lightning slash going from the top left corner to the center of the canvas. A shovel leaned against a tree, and a pile of dirt lay mounded to the right. There was a lopsided piece of wood on the pile, with only the word "Beloved" clearly seen. A red bandana was caught in a branch, the wind almost visible as it kept the tree slightly bent over.

Ezra leant back. Though the anger over the death was thick and heavy within the picture, Ezra felt a calm slowly fade into him. This would be what he would hang in public. He could almost hear the others ask why he would want such a depressing thing hanging on his wall but to him, it was perfect. It tied in well with the other two, and while it would remind him of Nathan, nothing in it gave away his feelings for the other man. This one could keep his secret, while still remaining true to himself.

Feeling satisfied with his decision, he turned the computer off and went to bed.

The next day he woke slowly, as he usually did when he didn't have any pressing morning meetings. Turning to look at the clock beside the bed, he once again found himself face to face with "Secret Pleasures." The man still looked content, and with the small amount of sunlight seeping past the curtains, Ezra noticed the small smattering of hair leading a merry line from the stomach to below his jeans' waist. Ezra could lie in bed forever doing nothing else but staring at the masterpiece.

Quickly taking a look at the clock, he noticed he had at least two hours before he had to pick Nathan up, and since he had spent most of yesterday working, he concluded he deserved to stay in bed a bit longer. He moved his legs slightly underneath the heavy duvet, the hairs on his legs catching each other, as the pull of his underwear dragged over his penis. He paused, hesitantly burrowing his hand into the pants to lightly hold himself.

Never taking his eyes from the man glistening in the sun, he slowly traced a circle over the head of his penis with his thumb. He sucked in a quick breath, surprised as he always was by the sensation, and pushed aside the slight guilt he felt whenever he fed his need for Nathan like this. A part of him always held itself back when he touched himself, as though he knew Nathan would be horrified at what he was doing. He reasoned with himself that this time was different; the man in the painting was the source of his pleasure.

Outside a low rumble was heard, and while he knew it was just a passing truck, he let himself believe that it was a coming storm, the same storm that was in the painting. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes.

"You hear that, Ez?"

Ezra slowly brought his head up from where it was resting on his folded arms. The sun felt like a worn cotton blanket on his back, the sweat from digging fence holes drying during his quick nap. "Mmmm?" he questioned, the quiet he had been feeling seeping into his voice as he looked at the man lying, half-dressed, next to him on the grass.

"Sounds like a storm is comin' our way. Do y'think we should move?"

Rolling onto his back, Ezra cast a critical eye on the overhead sky. "I don't mind getting wet, if you don't."

A sly chuckle pierced through his heart. "It's me ya're talkin' to. Gettin' wet with you is my idea of a good time."

Ezra joined in with a lascivious grin of his own, and shuffled closer to the man. He inhaled deeply, reveling in the mixture of soap, sweat and dirt, before running his tongue along the man's ear. The tang of salt was sharp on his tongue, and the groan that rumbled through the body beside his own sent a shiver through him that went straight to his groin. That always went straight to his groin.

"You keep talking like that, and I won't be able to control myself."

Nathan threw him a confused glance. "I didn't say anything."

"Exactly." And before Nathan could get another word out, Ezra leant over and covered his mouth with his own. They stayed like that, doing nothing else but kissing each other with slow, sloppy kisses until Ezra's neck started to cramp from the awkward angle he was sitting in. He broke away, Nathan half following him until he almost fell into Ezra's lap. At the same moment, another loud rumble from the sky broke the soft sound of their breathing, and a light rain began to fall.

"We should move."

"We should."

They scooted closer to each other, finding more comfortable positions, before they went back to kissing each other. As the rain got heavier, the kisses got more passionate, and Ezra could feel the callous-roughened fingers pulling at the fly on his work-stained jeans. A sudden clap of lightning shocked him, and as he pulled away to instinctively get away from the sudden light, Nathan used the moment to his advantage, yanking the jeans down. Ezra lurched clumsily as he was pulled off balance, but he half landed on the man in front of him, who held him securely. As always, Ezra thrilled at the play of muscles in the other man. He wriggled to help pull the wet denim from his body, and once he was free of it, he lay still. The look of lust and complete appreciation on Nathan's face always made Ezra feel loved, and this time was no different.

The heat coming off the half-naked man who moved closer to him to cover his body with his own, and the cool water falling on them both, aroused Ezra's senses, and he moaned as Nathan began to kiss his chest. He cradled Nathan's head, while Nathan almost worshipped Ezra's body, laving kiss after kiss on his dark nipples, a hand softly toying with Ezra's erect penis. Nathan lightly traced a pattern up and down, and Ezra lost all sense of time. He pulled Nathan up to meet his lips, and he returned the favor with a pattern of his own.

The rain got heavier as they lay there doing nothing but giving and receiving pleasure, until finally Ezra could stand no more. He began to move with an urgency, and Nathan gave a throaty murmur of approval before sliding down Ezra's body to capture him in his mouth. With a few twirls of his tongue, Nathan had Ezra completely at his mercy. When Ezra started to whimper wordless needs, Nathan dragged himself down further to mouth his heavy balls, while softly tugging a rhythm he knew Ezra loved.

Ezra groaned, and when he came, he dug his fingers into Nathan's shoulders. The rain suddenly turned into hail, and the sharp bites from the small stones were enough for Ezra to open his eyes. But instead of looking into Nathan's satisfied, smiling face, he was rudely surprised by a half-darkened sky and a soft flannette shirt lying haphazardly on a barbed wire fence.

Ezra sighed, and slowly got out of bed to have a shower. He now had only 45 minutes before having to pick Nathan up, and if he wasn't careful, he'd have to forgo his morning ritual of coffee if he was going to be on time.

Forty minutes after he jumped into the shower, Ezra was outside Nathan's apartment. He slowed the car down and had only been idling on the corner for a few seconds before the passenger door opened. Nathan jumped in, grinning a "Good morning," and put his seat belt on while Ezra checked the rear view mirror.

"Have a good night, Ez?"

Ezra tossed an almost wry smile. "Good enough. How about you?"

Nathan began to tell Ezra all about the conversation he had with his father, and Ezra let the words wash over him. He kept half an ear on what Nathan was saying, but another part of him kept replaying the half-dream/fantasy he had had that morning. It was so vivid to him, and it hurt that he had to keep it to himself, but he knew it was for the best. He didn't want to upset the easygoing relationship he had with the man beside him. To lose that would be to lose everything that was worthwhile.

The secret could keep. For a while longer, at least.

The End