This is the second version of "A Little Swash and..." which got birthed after a discussion about the title of the first version ("A Little Swash and Buckle") and MAC said "if the pairing were e/b you could call it "A little Swash and Bucklin". My curiosity was peaked as to how this would have turned out if it WAS Buck instead of Vin, and thus it came to pass...
The same story, and yet... not quite.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
He hadn't planned on spying like this. He'd just arrived a lot earlier than expected. He wasn't supposed to be here until around six, the plan to dress together for the evening's festivities. and it was only one in the afternoon. But he'd been bored at home, and restless, and decided to head over ahead of time and see if they could catch the rest of the game on TV or maybe head to the nearby park for a game of basketball. Anything but just sitting home alone waiting until it was time to go to damnable banquet they'd been instructed they WOULD be attending. No exceptions.
He'd had to park a block over - someone down the street was having a party, it seemed - and he'd cut through the backyards rather than walking all the way around the block like he should have. Okay, so it was a little childish - especially for a man his age - but it wasn't like the fence was that tall and he'd scaled taller ones in his many years. He'd easily found himself in the backyard, approaching the building's side entrance through the cluster of well-maintained bushes that rimmed the back patio.
Which was how he'd caught his first glimpse.
Through the kitchen's sliding doors he'd seen the flash of white as it tore by. Then it went past again, and he'd heard the shouting. Concerned that perhaps he was sneaking up on an attack he crept closer, pulling out his gun as he made his way to the side window. He knew he had to assess the situation carefully in case there was more than one attacker, and if necessary he would call for backup. Warily he'd peeked up over the ledge of the high window into the den area.
And stopped cold.
There was no attacker. Well, not actually live in the den anyway. On the television in the corner, there were several - he didn't recognize the movie right off, but he was pretty sure the guy running around on-screen was Errol Flynn... or maybe Douglas Fairbanks? But there were about a hundred extras in tights, and there was swordplay and shouting and...
And there was Ezra.
In a white bathrobe and black bikini briefs.
Shouting out lines, laughing and cackling like a lunatic.
Sword-fighting along with the movie.
And his weapon was a plunger.
The man was obviously having a great time. He knew all the lines by heart, said them at exactly the same moment the actor onscreen did, and his swordplay - with the plunger - was flawless (well, as flawless as it could get, considering the rubber stopper at the end made his `weapon' a tad bit off- balance). The man was leaping from chair to sofa to floor to table in his bare feet, brandishing his weapon and defending his imaginary ship (or was it a castle?), white bathrobe swirling around him as he executed his choreography with perfect technique.
At one point, he tossed away his robe when it threatened to interfere with his battle, leaving his body all but naked and open to full review... for someone hiding in the bushes outside his window.
Buck Wilmington thoroughly and appreciatively reviewed the view.
Auburn hair, apparently wet from a recent shower, shook about in spiraled curls that would fall out into soft waves once the hair dried and was brushed. Golden skin glistened everywhere over rippling muscles. Legs and arms flexed with strength and grace. The undercover agent's abdomen glistened with sweat over the perfect six-pack bared there.
Buck licked his lips in an attempt to recover himself but found his tongue as dry as the rest of his mouth.
Dear god, the man was gorgeous.
His hand had moved of its own volition to the front of his jeans, opening his zipper far too easily. He reached in to stroke himself as he watched this thing of beauty before him. He had never seen Ezra so completely free before. The man was always at least a little conservative; even when obviously relaxed and comfortable, he was restrained. During a game of basketball or racquetball he might show off his physical prowess, but this was completely different. No inhibitions. No reservations.
And he was walking on his furniture.
Buck gasped as his stroking increased slightly at the way Ezra had taken position standing tall with one foot on the back of his sofa, the other on the arm. The plunger was waving about wildly as two men onscreen fought the final, dramatic duel. Ezra's free hand gestured dramatically as he shouted his character's line and laughed loudly, and Buck's increased his speed, his breathing becoming harsher as the actions on both sides of the window pane became more climactic.
All to be spoiled by the ringing of his cell phone.
Ezra turned his head sharply toward the sound that came from just outside his window - a sound he knew should not be there. He dropped from the sofa to the floor into a crouch and darted across the floor toward the window in a single shot, snagging his SIG from the coffee table on the way. Reaching up with one hand he released the lock-catch on the window and pushed it open as he thrust his gun through the opening.
He was greeted with a loud thud, and even louder "OW!" and the sound of shrubs being squashed by a falling body.
He was then greeted with the sight of Buck Wilmington laying in his bushes, rubbing his forehead. His cell phone and gun lay on the ground next to him - the cell phone still ringing.
His jeans were noticeably... unclosed.
"What in the holy hell are you doing!" Ezra nearly shouted. "Are you trying to get yourself shot, Mr. Wilmington? Do you have some sort of death wish your bureau profile tests didn't pick up on?" He pulled back his gun and slipped on the safety before reaching to secure it in the back of his pants.
Which he then realized he didn't have on.
"Dear lord," he gasped, glancing down at himself.
Buck grinned brightly as he grabbed his phone. "Wilmington." His grin widened at the voice on the other end. "Nah, I'm at Ezra's. Got bored, thought I'd come bug him for a while." Ezra's eyes narrowed as he turned to go retrieve his bathrobe. "My stuff's in the truck, figured I could get dolled up here as easy as at home." Ezra returned to the window to stare at his Peeping Tom in time for the man to wink at him. "Dunno, just got here. Hang on." He looked up at the piercing green eyes regarding him through the open window. "Vin wants ta know if ya wanna meet him'n'Chris at Inez's before we go to the benefit tonight. Says he wants to get some real food in'em, before we have to sit through seven courses'o nothin' served on big plates."
"I suppose," Ezra said, his eyes not moving from the man on the ground. "If we met at six o'clock we would have plenty of time and still be on time for the cocktail hour."
"Ez says six," Buck said into the phone. He waited for something Vin said, then replied, "Nah, we sorta got things ta do before then. But we'll see ya at six." He and Vin exchanged the normal farewells, and then Buck was looking up at the condo owner with twinkling eyes. "So, guess that works out, doesn't it?"
"I suppose it does," Ezra nodded. "Now I don't suppose you shall reveal why you were spying on me while trampling my shrubbery?" He glanced at Buck's well-displayed endowments. "Especially why you are doing same while rather inappropriately dressed?"
"Huh?" Buck followed Ezra's gaze. "Uh... oops!" He grinned as he tucked himself in, making a much bigger to-do out of the simple movements than were necessary.
Ezra nervously licked his lips at the sight. "Perhaps you should come inside before we continue this discussion? I should hate to have the neighborhood concerned that their privacy might be invaded by a tall lurking figure among the Acer Palmatum and Spiraea Japonica."
"Aw hell," Buck chuckled as he climbed to his feet. "Can't ya just say `plants' like normal folk?"
"I prefer to be as specific as possible, as you well know."
Buck stepped closer to Ezra and leaned into the window, allowing his face to nearly touch the screen. "Got a few ideas about how specific you can be, Standish." He pulled away from the window and jogged to the patio door where he waited patiently for his lover to join him.
Ezra stared for a moment, his eyes had dilated slightly and he nibbled absently on his lower lip. It took a moment before he could - rather stiffly - turn and move to the entryway. Buck was grinning wide, passing the time by tracing unidentifiable figures on the glass with one fingernail, his other hand shoved blatantly into the front pocket of his jeans. Steeling himself, Ezra unlocked the door and allowed Buck to slip through into the kitchen.
Ezra had barely relocked the door behind them when Buck's arms wound around his waist and the man's lips latched onto the southerner's neck. Ezra melted against the larger body, all previous emotions dissolving into waves of desire.
"Is... is your way of b... being specific?"
"Mm-hm," Buck mumbled as he nibbled at his lover's earlobe. "If you can't figure out my intentions by this, you're a hopeless case and I'll have ta tell Chris you're no longer capable of bein' our top undercover agent."
Ezra moaned as Buck's tongue joined his teeth in the earlobe assault, the actions joined by a hand wandering into his robe to tickle at his nipples. He hardly even noticed Buck moving them slowly through the kitchen and into the den until he opened his lust-glazed eyes and found himself staring at his beloved Japonica.
"Blinds..." he croaked breathlessly.
"Oh. Gotcha." Buck moved Ezra to the sofa, leaving the smaller man leaning heavily against it as he headed to the now-notorious window to close it and lock it - this time pulling the blinds across with a decided air. He turned to see Ezra slumped against the sofa, fighting for control over breath and body. Green eyes roamed his body with both wariness and eagerness as the southern-born man attempted to regain his faculties.
"So then..." the younger man started, clearing his throat nervously. "Care to explain yourself, Mr. Wilmington?"
"If I gotta explain things again, I'm gonna have to question that IQ a'yers."
Ezra shivered at the lasciviousness of his lover's intentions, but valiantly tried again. "You always sneak around in back yards, peeping into windows?"
Buck chuckled evilly. "Not all yards. Gotta say, though, if I'd known the kind of show I'd get peepin' into yer windows, I'd'a been doin' it longer before now." The tall man stalked closer, making Ezra squirm slightly under the heat radiating from two glowing blue orbs.
Ezra stifled a decidedly undignified giggle as Buck closed in for the kill, big hands slowing peeling back the white robe to expose the golden-tan shoulders and chest beneath. "Lord, Buckin, you nearly took ten years off my life surprising me like that." He whimpered as lips began attacking his neck and throat. "Next time," he gasped, "perhaps you could call first?"
"Wanted to surprise ya," Buck purred, busying himself at the joint of the man's neck and shoulder.
Ezra shivered violently, clutching desperately at Buck's hips. "That you did, my love. You most certainly did." Their lips finally met and mouths were equally plundered on both sides. Ezra's hands made their way to the waist of Buck's pants and freed once again the straining flesh within. Buck, for his part, pushed his lover's underwear down enough to allow their mirrored erections to join, and then the two were pushing together, savoring the feel of their skin colliding, sliding against each other.
It was a frenzied pace and they could last only a short while before they were crying out in turn and then tumbling over the back of the sofa to collapse on the cushions, Buck having made sure he landed beneath his smaller lover. For a long moment each simply laid, breathing in the other's scent.
Finally Ezra stirred. "I don't suppose I shall be able to convince you not to reveal my private performances," he muttered, kissing Buck's chest lazily.
"Might," Buck chuckled, affectionately ruffling damp auburn curls. "Have ta be some mighty powerful convincin', though."
Ezra trailed a finger under Buck's shirt, tracing along the man's ribs. "I could threaten to reveal exactly what you were doing at the time you witnessed my exploits."
"Wouldn't work. You jumpin' around on your furniture with a plunger trumps me wackin' off in the bushes any day."
Ezra chuckled. "I'm afraid you are correct in that assumption. It certainly isn't as if anyone would be even remotely surprised at your assignations with flora."
Buck looked up at his love and cocked his head. "Damn, I think I've just been insulted."
Ezra smiled innocently. "No need to think about it, Love." He leaned up and sealed his lips over Buck's before the man had a chance to respond, making sure his kiss was intense enough that Buck would lose all interest in responding.
Sometimes playing dirty was the only way to get the last word.
"Hmm..." Buck murmured when Ezra finally broke off their very different sort of duel. "So... whatcha gonna offer me to keep quiet about the whole thing?"
Ezra's lips found their way to an earlobe and he nipped lightly. "I have a few thoughts..." he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down Buck's spine. "Shall we adjourn to the boudoir and I shall see what meets your approval?" A fast lick and Buck was on his feet and down the hall, dragging his laughing lover behind him.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
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