Ezra sank back into the hot water, loosing himself in the warmth and sweet lavender aroma of the soap. He leaned his head back against the feather pillow, allowing his eye lids to flutter close.

Such a simple pleasure, yet so rarely, in this barbaric frontier, was he able to enjoy a private, luxurious bath. One of the many advantages of having a lover who owned his own ranch way outside of town. And a lover who tended to leave for long, long rides out where ever it was cowboys rode, doing whatever it was cowboys did.

Of course, knowing his cowboy as he did, Ezra was fairly certain Chris was out there somewhere causing and/or finishing some sort of trouble.

The point being it was a warm Sunday evening, thus no one expected a gambler to be playing cards; Chris Larabee wasn't expected back until the next morning, thus the house was empty; and his specially ordered, highly prized, straight from New Orleans bath amenities had arrived. What better opportunity to take a bath?

Ezra smiled to himself, wondering what big, rough and tough Mr. Larabee was going to say when he found a clawed foot, porcelain tub sitting in a newly built bath house in the back of his house? Oh, and what would he say about the candles and flower peddles and fragrant, bubbly soaps and bath oils? Not to mention the silver framed full length mirror? And the soft, cotton towels?

"Well, this is new."

Ezra sat bolt upright, the water splashing about the tub. "Chris!" he squeaked.

Chris Larabee, worn, trail dusty, and grimy, stood in the doorway between the house and the bath room. He was dressed in his usual black jeans, black shirt, black slicker, black boots with chinging spurs, and black stetson... all of which was morse dusty gray, than black. His gun belt hung in his hand as his blue eyes scanned the room.

"I leave for a few days an' I come back not recognizing' a thing." he grumbled. But then his eyes fell on that long, beautiful form half hidden under bubbles. "Well, maybe a thing or two I recognize." he breathed in a deep husky voice.

Ezra took a moment to wonder if that was anger or hunger he heard in that voice.

Their relationship was still rather new and he was still too afraid that it was all an illusion to be certain about anything. Clearing his throat, he attempted to change the subject. "Mr. Larabee, I thought you were not due until the morning."

"Due in town." Chris corrected. He hung his gun belt on a chair beside the door, then slowly walked his way around the room. Though he glanced at this and that, he seemed more interested in what was in the tub. "This ain't town." he pointed out, crouching down at the foot of the tub and splashing a couple of fingers in the water. "Did you do all this?" he wondered.

Ezra shrugged. "I thought that your domicile could use a few... modern connivances." he answered softly, watching carefully for the reaction. He knew he had taken a risk adding all this, but Chris had asked him to come out and stay with him, to make himself at home, to be comfortable. Okay, so maybe this was going too far. In a way, he was testing his limits. He couldn't help but wonder just how long before Chris came to his senses and told him to leave. If he was going to reject him, Ezra wanted it to happen now... before he got too deep. Before it hurt too much to...

Ezra frowned. "You are smiling." he noted.

"Am I?" Chris wasn't smiling. He was leering at him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a ripple through the water. "This is nice." he admitted.

Ezra straightened a little. "You like it?"

"Sure." Chris reached back and pulled the spurs from his boots, tossing them in the corner. "Anything that gets you naked in my house..."

"Mr Larabee... really!" Ezra chided him, though he, himself, was practically giddy with the idea that Chris was actually liking it... or, well, maybe liking what could happen in the room rather than the room itself... but, hey, liking was liking.

"Just what every man wants after a long, hard, dusty trail." Chris continued, rising to his feet. He shook his slicker down his arms, letting it drop to the floor.

"A hot bath with soap bubbles?" Ezra made a guess he knew was wrong... by the hungry growl his lover offered up, the very wrong guess.

"Bubbles?" Chris growled. Boots, jeans, shirt, stetson and all, he stepped in to the tub, splashing water out over the sides. "What bubbles?"

"Mr Lara..." Ezra started to protest, but ended in a squeak when a sandpappery hand dove into the water between his knees, and cupping his groin. Ezra nearly collapsed back into the water, his entire body snapping to full aleart at the touch.

Draggin his fingers up his lovers shaft, almost instantly hard, Chris continued up, over Ezra's flat stomach, smooth chest, pausing to pinch a nipple, then up to massage his fine, little adam's apple. He grinned to find Ezra's breath coming in fast gasps.

Chris' head dipped down until he was nose to nose with Ezra. His tongue flicked out, tracing those soft, sweet lips of his lover. When they parted slightly in response, Chris leaned forward, capturing Ezra's bottom lip between his own. Sucking and tugging on it gently, he couldn't help but note to flowery flavor of his gambler's new soaps. It was like fine seasoning on a juicy chunk of prime beef.

He groaned, leaning even closer so that he could delve into the hot, sweet depths of the man's mouth, seeking out more deliciouse flavors. His tongue ran along those perfect teeth and firm gums, tracing and mapping for prosperity every little crevasse, every little secret of his lover's mouth. Then, twisting his head about for better access, he turned his attention to Ezra's tongue, twisting about it, drawing it out so that he could suck him into his own mouth.

When he finally pulled away, Ezra withered and groaned in protest, his kiss battered lips puffy and pouting.

But, when Chris dipped down to continue his assult, he was stopped by his lover's hands on his shoulders.

Ezra stared up at him. Trying to remain calm, seemingly uninterested, which he was failing miserably at, he pointed out "Mr. Larabee, you are muddying my waters."

Chris frowned. "You are naked, in a tub, in my house, about to be ravaged by me... think we can get rid of MR Larabee stuff?"

Ezra smirked. "Well, now, Mr Larabee, you are still clothed."

Chris glanced down at his soaked clothing. Everywhere about him the bubbles were now brown, his trail dust floating about them in the water.

"Is that all that's botherin' you?" Chris jumped up and ripped of his shirt, sending buttons popping off in all directions. Throwing the wet garment over his shoulder, he quickly went to work on his jeans.

"Boots?" Ezra reminded him, trying very hard not to laugh at the desperate scene.

Again, Chris paused to look down at himself. As fast as he could, he lifted his foot and, while balancing on the other in the wet tub, he tried to yank the boot off.

Alarmed, Ezra sat up again. "um, this might not be a..."

Suddenly, Chris slipped. Falling, he slammed against the side of the tub with such force...

"Oh, shit..." Ezra groaned.

The tub tipped over onto its side, all its contents, including Ezra, spilling out over Chris.

Chris, looking a bit shocked, found himself on his back, Ezra laid out over top of him. Muddy water and soapy bubbles splooshed out across the plank floor all around them.

The gambler was laughing so hard, he dropped his head down on Chris' chest, holding on to him for dear life.

"Okay..." Chris breathed after Ezra had quieted enough to hear him. "There's gonna be one little change to this room."

Ezra rested his chin on Chris' chest, and looked up at him through fluttery eye lashes. "And that would be?"

"I'm bolting the feet down on that tub of yours."

Ezra couldn't help but laugh again. "Oh, Chris..." he managed, shaking his head.

Chris frowned. "What? I'm no longer dignified enough to deserve a MR. Larabee?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer, wrapping his arms around his lover, and rolling until he was on top and in control once again.

The tub remained on its side, forgotten, until late the next day.

At which time, its feet were firmly and securely bolted down.