Just a little something for xangel, to take away the sting of the Leafs losing Game 7.
Thanks to Aithine for edits and helping me settle on a title.
The bit of poetry John quotes is from a Homeric hymn to the goddess Selene.

Sequel to Volute.

Moonlight filtered through the open window, washing the room with silver. It was easily enough to write by, and John tapped the end of his pen against his teeth while concentrating on the blank sheet of heavy cream paper before him. Dearest Enna, he wrote, Apologies for taking so long to respond to your last letter. I have been traveling between Texas and Arizona, and now find myself in the town of Tombstone...

He heard the rustle of sheets and glanced over at the bed to see Ezra slowly push himself into a sitting position. "What're you doin'?" Ezra asked, stifling a yawn behind one hand.

"Writing to my sister," John said.

"You have a sister?"

John smiled at the surprise in his voice. "Actually, I have three sisters."

"My word," Ezra said. "And do you always write them by moonlight?"

"Ye Muses, skilled in song, tuneful daughters of Zeus, sing of the fair-faced broad-winged Moon." He shrugged. "Seemed appropriate."

Ezra gave a soft chuckle. "You were a pagan from the cradle."

"That's what my mother says."

Ezra's smile was bright in the moonlight and quickly followed by another long yawn. John carefully set the pen aside. "You're exhausted," he said. "Go back to sleep."

Ezra was already subsiding back down into the blankets, tugging the quilt up around his ears. "It's cold," he said with the barest trace of a whine.

"I'll be along directly."

He waited until Ezra's breathing became deep and even before returning to the letter. From the west came a distant rumble of thunder, and the air was damp and heavy with the promise of rain. It was oddly soothing, and John soon found he had three full pages before the slowly building clouds hid the moon away and settled the room into darkness.

When the ink was sufficiently dry, he folded the pages and tucked them into the waiting envelop to be mailed later. Rising from the little table, John unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off before draping them neatly over the back of his chair. Naked, he took a moment to stretch then padded silently back over the bed and slid beneath the sheets, curling around Ezra's sleeping form.

"Did you finish your letter?"

John sighed. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

Ezra turned in his arms until they were face to face. "I was."

It was easy to lean forward and kiss Ezra breathless, easier still to shift him over onto his back and settle warmly between his muscular thighs. The urgency that had marked their earlier lovemaking had abated somewhat, allowing John to take his time, to kiss and touch the contours of Ezra's body and learn the full scope of his pleasure. He knew somehow that this was what Ezra needed, what had driven him cross-country in the middle of the night to show up at John's door with his clothes covered in dust and pure hell in his eyes. Like called to like he supposed, and put the thought aside to ponder later when there was not a beautiful man moving restlessly beneath his touch.

And Ezra was indeed beautiful in his pleasure, pale skin flushed and beaded with sweat, moaning and tossing his head from side to side as John slid two long fingers in and out of his body. "John," he gasped. "John, please."

He gave a little chuckle and relented, taking the head of Ezra's cock into his mouth and sucking hard. Ezra moaned louder, winding his fingers into John's hair tight enough to sting. John ignored the slight pain and kept up the persistent rhythm of fingers, mouth and tongue until the rolling motion of Ezra's hips became as unsteady as his voice and the gambler finally came with a low, wailing cry.

John continued to suckle Ezra's cock until the last shuddering pulse died away and the man's entire body was limp and boneless. Satisfied, he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, gently flexing his shoulders to get the kinks out before lying back down beside Ezra and pulling the covers over them both. Ezra made a small, querulous noise and burrowed close, tucking his head firmly beneath John's chin. "Sleep now," John murmured, pressed his cheek against the top of Ezra's head and closed his eyes.

The hotel manager showed up early the next morning, unlocking the door and throwing it wide without even a warning knock. John was awake and had his .45 cocked and ready in his hand before the man made it more than two steps into the room. "Is there a problem?" he asked politely.

The manager blinked nervously, his gaze flickering between the two men in the bed and the gun pointed directly at his chest. "W-we've had c-complaints," he stammered. "A-about the, uh, noise."

"My apologies," John said. "We'll keep it down in the future."

"F-fine," he said. "That'll be--just fine." He swallowed audibly and gave a little shake, trying to regain what was left of his composure. "Can I--can I get you g-gentlemen anything?"

"Breakfast," Ezra mumbled against John's throat. He still had not opened his eyes. "Hot chocolate. A little toast. Fresh fruit if you have any."

John bit the inside of his lip and tried not to laugh.

"Anything else?" the hotel manager asked faintly.

"No, that will suffice." Ezra gave a negligent wave with one hand. "You may go."

John waited until the door closed with a quiet click before carefully releasing the hammer and lowering the gun to his thigh, shoulders shaking with quiet mirth. Beside him, Ezra yawned and stretched like a cat. "The nerve of the man, wakin' us at this ungodly hour," he said.

"I could shoot him when he comes back," John offered, shivering as Ezra's fingertips drifted lightly across his belly

"We'd miss breakfast," Ezra said reasonably, carding through the thick, dark curls surrounding John's penis. "No, I fear our friend must live. At least until he delivers the tray."

John bit his lip again as Ezra's deft fingers slid up and down the length of his ever-hardening cock. "Ezra," he choked, "Ezra, I need to put the gun down."

"Not yet," Ezra said, and there was a wicked gleam in his pale green eyes that made John grow harder still. "I'm not done admirin' the view."

"By all means," John said weakly as Ezra's other hand began to toy with his balls. "Admire away."

He closed his eyes and let out a low moan as the fingers caressing his scrotum slipped further back between his legs to press insistently against his anus. God, he'd never imagined anything like this when he'd first approached the gambler that cold, rainy night. A warm bed and a willing body were the most he'd dared hope for; he'd long given up even the dream of anything else, and suspected Ezra was much the same. No, they'd surprised each other that night, thoroughly and, with any luck, irrevocably.

When Ezra bent to delicately lick the very tip of John's cock, John shoved the gun onto the bedside table, knocking the lamp over and sending the glass chimney spinning to the floor where it promptly shattered. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, hips bucking almost uncontrollably with the need to bury himself deep into the wet, suctioning heat of Ezra's mouth. Placing both hands on the gambler's bobbing head, he urged Ezra into a faster rhythm as his thighs trembled and shook, wavering on the edge of release for one long, breathless moment before finally tumbling over with a ragged shout.

Ezra crawled up beside him and nestled warmly into the crook of John's arm. "So much for bein' quiet," he said, sounding pleased and more than a little smug.

"Silence is overrated," John said mildly. "Think they'll actually dare to send our breakfast up?"

"They'd better," Ezra huffed. "At the prices this place charges, I demand nothing less than excellent service."

John chuckled. "You are truly a piece of work."

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Did you expect anything else?"

John gave him a soft smile. "Never."

FIN