They had been in Mexico for four days. Billy was on his way back from a grocery run—groceries consisting of two parts beer and one part lime—a pale baseball cap over his hair and dark sunglasses strapped around his eyes. The free-moving cotton of his t-shirt and knee-length shorts filtered the blazingly hot air and his sandals clacked on the tile that covered eighty percent of the floors in their house.

He set the brown bag down on a counter in the kitchen and whipped off the hat and sunglasses. His slid the latter down the front of his shirt, hooking them neatly. He strolled passed the den, where every available surface was covered in paper that put together and in order—and God only knew when that would happen—would form the working script for the film he and Dom were writing.

The Mexican climate crawled in through the windows and lingered, a tang of heat, salt, and lime that made everything from breathing to sex more heated. But they were getting used to it, no matter how ineffectual the air-conditioning and fans seemed to be. There was something about spicy warmth that made him and Dom relax. Billy wasn't sure whether it was an acquired aversion the cold climate they had both been born into or just a simple preference.

The house was quiet. Too quiet for Billy's approval. Either Dom had rushed out to the beach and hadn't waited for him, or something was up. Discarding his sandals at the bottom of the steps, Billy started upward, ears perked for noise. He fully expected to be pounced at some point down the main hallway. The shower in their bedroom wasn't running, so he killed that option.

He nudged the bedroom door open and saw movement and Dom's shape immediately. A smile tugged his lips and then froze. Dom was kneeling on the bed across from a full-length mirror tilted near the window; a pair of brown leather chaps sat over his jeans and a cream-colored cowboy hat with a black braided rim hastily brought down over his mused hair.

Dom turned and grinned, jeans tightening over the curve of his backside, which brought Billy's attention with magnetic force. He hopped off the bed and struck a pose. When that didn't get a reaction from Billy he tipped the cowboy hat between two fingertips and kept on grinning.

Billy—torn between a cat call and screaming in case Dom had a similar outfit waiting for him—gave a tiny groan and about-faced, starting down the hall. There was a flurry of movement as Dom followed.

"Billy!"

"I am not going to be the pony," Billy shot back. "That 'Bill the Pony' game got boring months ago, Dominic."

Dom grinned roguishly and paused, hitching up his jeans. "That was pretty—hey! That's not what I'm talking about, you cunt." He reanimated and chased Billy down the stairs.

"What's the get-up for, then?" Billy rounded in the direction of the kitchen and snagged a Corona from the refrigerator. He wriggled a slice of lime out of a bowl that sat on the second shelf and hopped up onto the counter.

"I thought we'd go horseback riding. We haven't since Rings."

"Horses?" Billy sucked on the lime softly. "Christ, you know how much time we spent on horses? If I hafta watch another horse piss itself—"

"Oh, come on. Don't be a baby. There's this great ranch two miles north of here. Really private, really small." Dom crept up between Billy's knees, running his palms up the flats of Billy's thighs and curling them around his waist. "I already called ahead."

Billy put the bottle down and eyed his lover warily, taking in the view from the hat all the way down to the leather chaps. "That script isn't going to write itself, you know." He leaned closer to Dom's face, eyebrows lifting.

"Well, having sex on it doesn't seem to be getting much writing done—"

"I suggested we go up to the bedroom, but you wouldn't even wait until we got as far as the couch."

"Wasted perfectly good script pages. That kind of sticky just doesn't come off, you know—"

"You were too busy sucking my cock to notice, you little—"

Dom kissed Billy firmly, then drifted back an inch, voice lowered. "I sure was."

That tone went up one of Billy's sides and down the other, making his skin prickle with awareness. Well, fuck me, he thought, and felt himself caving.

"Alright." He sighed. "We'll go ride some smelly pack animals up and down a hill."

Dom grinned triumphantly.

"I am not wearing chaps. Also."

The grin crumpled.

"Nor am I wearing a...a hat like that."

Dom muttered and whirled off towards the den. "Fine, fine."

A ranch hand that spoke broken English left them at the start of a clearly marked walking trail. Billy was pretty sure their accents had made the attempt at communication worse. He was about to ask Dom why the hell they were being allowed to go off on their own when Dom launched into a speech about how glorious the flora in Mexico was.

Clutching the horn of the saddle Billy let the horse do its thing and hoped Dom knew what he was doing. It wasn't so bad, he decided after about ten minutes. They were close enough to the shore so that the ground was sandy and the hills were slight. The sun was on its way towards setting; a couple hours maybe and the light would start to fade. As long as it wasn't overhead it was bearable. Billy fixed the red-patterned bandana around his neck.

He could tell they were working a slow circle from the start of the trail through the sparse brush-covered hills and then back around towards the rear of the ranch. He busied himself with the grip of Dom's legs on the horse's sides and the way the muscles in Dom's bronzed forearms tensed as he urged the horse this way and that. And then there was the sweat at the back of Dom's neck that made the hair there just faintly spiky. Crazily, Billy wondered what it would feel like against his mouth, running it straight up the back of Dom's neck. He squinted at the sky, tracked the course of the sunset.

When the end of the trees yielded flat ground and a massive barn, Billy's eyebrows drew together. It wasn't familiar and he knew it wasn't the barn they'd come from. Dom led the horses right up to the front and hopped off his, looping the reins over a line of metal jammed between two wooden poles. Billy did the same. The stiff soreness in his thighs was annoying but not distracting enough to take his mind off the sense that Dom had planned this whole thing.

"Where are we?"

"Nowhere. C'mon." Dom motioned for Billy to follow and went right up to the barn, unhinging the bar off the front doors and dragging them open. Inside the place was massive—covered in straw with a hayloft at the opposite end and stables partitioned off. It was empty besides the huge bales of straw and the loose straw that covered the floor. Bits of riding equipment were strewn about.

Billy took a swig from his water bottle before sitting it on a bale of hay. "Ooh, a tour of a real live barn." He smirked at Dom, who was looking around as if he'd lost something. "This isn't exactly the landmark of the month, honey."

"Probably not," Dom agreed, tugging wrinkled cream from the waistband of his jeans. His eyes were hidden under the brim of the hat and didn't catch the suspicion as it crept into Billy's expression.

Billy's eyes went half-lidded. Dom's fingers crept and fondled the rawhide ties that kept the chaps on his hips. One hand tugged the knots and the other splayed just over his belly, brown against yellow. The leather crumpled and Dom sent it into the hay with a flick of his ankle. His fingers were agile along the row of buttons that kept his shirt on, and Billy followed each removal with his eyes.

The fingers on Dom's stomach slipped, curled, and cupped the front of his jeans slowly. His wrist swiveled, bringing a second rub, just as stormy eyes appeared from under the brim of the hat, pinning Billy where he stood. Billy's chest rose strangely, heart stuttered in an excited fashion, obsessing over the play of dust under the sunlight-blasted air surrounding Dom's damp body.

The button on Dom's jeans popped free and the zipper fell with a metallic zing. Billy's cock throbbed in reply to the triangle of dark brown hair that lay just in the middle of the fallen flaps of denim. He was going to say something but all he could think was something along the lines of, Bugger planned the whole fucking thing.

He was treated to the view of Dom's hand disappearing into that slant of exposed material for only a moment before Dom turned, arms coming out at his sides, shoulders shrugging off the clinging shirt. The corded mass of his shoulder blades bunched and then relaxed. Sweat-dampened denim that was already loose slid further off Dom's hips, exposing twin lower-back dimples to Billy's hungry gaze. Boots clunked against the hay. Denim was toed out of quickly enough, revealing the healthy, hard rise of Dom's backside.

The hat stayed. Dom turned; flat hips shifting in a way that made Billy's hands twitch; the half-formed swell of his erection just as erotic as the brushstroke of hair under his navel and the flawless square shape his neck and collarbone formed. Billy moved forward slowly, a grin on his lips.

"Sneaky little devil," he murmured, just as Dom walked up alongside a saddle that had been laid over a worn-down bale of hay. He straddled the dark leather, long fingers reaching to grip the horn. And Billy stopped, smirking as Dom gave him a sidelong glance. Dom pushed the hat off his forehead. The line of his back bent—and he was leaning forward, rubbing into the smooth curve of the saddle. The sensation drew Dom's eyes shut; drew Billy's body to a single-minded focus.

When he came close enough, Dom reached out for him, hands falling lightly to brush the hem of Billy's shirt. He gathered and lifted—exposed Billy's chest to the dust-filled afternoon light. The bandana resisted the removal of the shirt but clung long after the material went off to join Dom's chaps. A single hand on his back brought Billy into Dom's space, and then there was that tricky, wet mouth hidden by the brim of the cowboy hat licking and kissing the center of his belly.

"Gonna come sit with me?" Dom muttered, voice vibrate-humming against the bulge in Billy's trousers. Billy shuddered. The idea of sitting on another bloody saddle wasn't all that appealing but—. Eyes glued on the way Dom rhythmically pressed into the leather; he quickly changed his mind. He was out of his trainers, jeans, and boxers in record time, letting Dom's hands claim his hips.

"Mmm," was the next thing that came out of Dom's mouth, before he paused Billy's attempt to sit down. The quick wet lick he left there on Billy's groin turned into pursed lips which turned into a parted, voided suction that went— oh, God—down and then inward, crinkling the skin of Billy's burgeoning erection and then smoothing it with a slow tug of mouth backwards. He groaned, eyes closing, and gripped Dom's shoulder. The motion pushed the hat back further, giving Billy a full view of Dom's face when finally he looked up, right hand stroking away a casual pace while Billy's hips rolled into it.

Dom finally let go and guided Billy to sit in front of him, curling their bodies together over the smooth saddle, his right hand quickly finding Billy's cock and fisting it. Billy exhaled, getting used to the position, hotflashing into the scooped fit of Dom's front to his back. And suddenly the smell of the hay and of Dom's skin wormed a memory to the surface and he thought—

"Mmm, 's'about time you recalled," Dom commented, biting Billy's earlobe and then drawing it against the soft inside of his lips. He grinned at Billy's expression, dropped his voice, and began stroking Billy's cock again, timing the motion with a slow grind of his erection against the curve of Billy's ass. "Was one of those Sundays when Viggo 'suggested' we go for extra horseback riding practice." Dom's first three fingers closed around the very tip of Billy's cock, rubbing hard. Billy choked on a breath and whimpered, arching his hips higher.

"And we moaned and complained to each other but then just gave in 'cause, well, it was Viggo and we didn't want to be chased around our trailers by a madman wielding a prop sword." Dom's tongue licked a path that served to guide a soft bite right to the base of Billy's neck; Billy's body bucked again, raised off the leather with one hand gripping the horn as he rocked into Dom's fingers. "Ended up skiving off towards the end and messing around in the stable."

Teeth and lips, down between Billy's shoulder blades, tracing his spine, bringing up blood and shivers that tangled like fingers, intimate, warm, solid, and he was finding it very hard to concentrate.

"I was so fucking horny that day. I dunno whether it was bouncing in the bloody saddle all morning, but... And you were wearing that shirt that hung real loose, and I remember wanting to lean over and just push my face into your chest and grab your arse so badly." Dom pauses, smoothes fingers like a comfort in opposition to the hard stroke along Billy's attentive cock. "And at first you didn't wanna but I was dying and when you finally gave in—" Hand snaking between them, Dom's fingers disturbing sweat and peach-fuzz hair, parting Billy and curling a fingertip hard, pushing, bringing a moan and a shiver out of Billy.

"I pulled you into the tack room and we almost killed ourselves on all the pointy metal shit—" Dom laughed, a gasping overwhelmed sort, before burying his face into the crook of Billy's neck. "You threw me over this table full of curry combs and you—"

The fingertip found its mark, stretching, and Billy could handle a single finger dry, sure, he was a big boy, but fuck all if Dom didn't fuck him in about eight seconds there was going to be violence. "You fucked me for like a fucking half hour, it was goddamn fantastic." The hand pumping Billy's erection left, hunted a pocket for lube, and fumbled while they tried to avoid losing the rhythm.

"Dom, hurry the hell up, yeah?"

"Impatient as always when I finally get my turn," Dom mumbled, coating himself quickly and letting whatever was left stay on his fingers. Stroked up the cleft again, savoring the second when Billy went still. Wriggled the fingertip around, around, and push and forward motion by momentum alone when it got in past the band of muscle.

"Okay?"

"Mmph." Billy nodded and lifted up, then came down, rolling his hips until the twin finger points stretched and sunk, bringing a wash of that oddly full sensation and a wave of warmth that spliced him in two, mixed with the vulnerability of being that open, of being that penetrated—and it was instantly not enough. When Dom started to wriggle those fingers, Billy bit his lip and waited for it, waited for it, because that slow searching rotation meant only one thing—

He cried out and the sound met closed lips, hummed loudly in his mouth and his thighs clenched and contracted around the saddle, blood rushing up his body only to be sucked back down again. Dom grinned, gripped Billy's trembling body, added a third finger and was more careful about what spots he hit. When Billy started to whimper, he brought their pelvises together, kissing wet and messy up the curve of Billy's shoulder.

"Now," Billy breathed, and Dom's free fingers were rubbing his stomach, smoothing the halting jerky motion of each breath.

Slick lube-tainted fingers curled around Billy's hip. Not wanting to leave Billy for long Dom pressed forward, guiding himself just up and under to the right angle and then coaxing Billy's body back down onto him. It was a slow, breath-holding series of seconds filled with the strong double-thump of pulses and the yielding give of Billy's muscles. A faint writhe-circle of pelvis at the end to push it all the way and both men exhaled. Billy's hands gripped the saddle and Dom's knees dug into the hay as he pushed forward. The body around him was hot, fist-tight, and just faintly damp with its own moisture.

He breathed out against Billy's shoulder and began to move slowly. Billy winced at the faint burn but ignored it, letting it play out its tune to the edges of his muscles—and there it became something else, there it became pleasure, razor-sharp and blood-sweet. Almost threatening it was, like it could become pain any second, like if the person giving it out didn't care they could really hurt you. So there was a great deal of hesitation until the lubricant fully coated around a relaxed body.

"Ooh, fuck." Billy began to mirror Dom's motion, knees finding some balance on the edge of the saddle. The possibility of pain melted as fast as it had come and Billy was taking it as much as he could, driving the warm buzz of being full again and again until there were shapes darting under his eyelids and no ground anywhere near supporting him.

One of Dom's hands threaded around Billy's waist and gripped bare saddle for balance and the other traveled the length of Billy's chest, gently pinching nipples to awareness, tickling the tender flesh just around the navel and then finally giving relief to the pulsing blood-flushed curve of his cock.

"Uunngh... D-Dom—" Billy fell into that eternal rhythm, bouncing mentally between being pulled by the more central pleasure that Dom's hand brought and the all-over destabilizing fire that blazed from Dom's slow thrusts pushing him wider and taking him deeper. It flooded, swept, and distracted until Billy gave over control and let it wrack his body.

They were already slick and sticking lightly with each press, the blanket of heat stale and heavy and forgotten. Dom's hand rose and fell with his thrusts, stopping every time Billy started to tense. He withdrew to the tip and then brought Billy down hard into his lap again, a tiny push at the end dragging a whimper from Billy.

And then back up the scale again, racing and almost contrary, almost the very opposite of union while at the same time the closest two people could get, bodies thrown against each other in an attempt to balance needs, desires, and the demands of the—

—flesh around Dom, pulsing and giving now but still just as tight. His thighs burned with the effort to stay upright and his body rebelled against the position as much as the need to let go. It settled, swelled, more of a push than a settle, really, and he held Billy tight, the soundtrack of flesh-on-flesh beating its frantic notes to the timed rhythm.

"B-Bill." Dom pushed his nose behind Billy's ear, clinging, and tightened his fist.

"Yeah," Billy breathed in reply, restraint strangling him, wiry and fast as it jolted forward and got clamped down on by his attention.

"Oooh God..." And he knew that tone of Dom's, loved the way it went sort of crazy at the end, the way the o and the d stuttered and the way Dom never cared and it made Billy want to feel that. Billy had to feel that, needed Dom to go crazy so that he could go crazy.

Frenzied and hard all at once, Dom's hand Dom's cock Dom's hand Dom's cock so fucking good and Billy stopped breathing seconds before it crested, just stopped fucking breathing, clenched from his eyes to his toes. It crumbled—wrinkle crack slide—and then it fell and washed over itself—fuuucking shiiit—and then gathered in a broken pile and folded in on itself down, down, down out with the manner of an explosion, glaringly loud and near offensive in the way it made them moan, made them move.

The silence after, sticky and lifeless, was always something to enjoy. It was just breathing in that moment; that's all you had to do. Breathing and breathing and sitting very still so as not to set off aftershocks—because while those were a good thing sometimes, well, others, not so much.

Billy could've happily stayed there all evening with Dom inside him. Hated the feeling of sliding out, hated being empty, but knew it was coming so he pulled up and Dom's breath faltered as he fell back. Billy's eyes closed and he collapsed back into Dom's chest and there were arms around him and lips on his neck, dabbing the salt here and there.

"Mmm." Dom's body radiated a steady heat, a fire they shared, and that was really fucking nice, then, to have that all cozy-soft.

"Can'na move." Slurred because his lips weren't cooperating any more than his legs—made of jelly—or hands were.

Dom's body shifted just slightly and brought them closer. "Yeah."

Billy cracked his eyes open long enough to glance back at Dom and steal his cowboy hat. He shoved it down on his own head, grinning. Dom scratched a hand through his squished hair and chuckled. "Knew you liked the hat."

"Did'na say tha' now did I?" Billy got comfortable, let his feel fall onto the hay. "Wanker. You had this planned since we first got here."

"Mmm. Basically."

Billy was about to come up with something really witty in reply when the ground underneath them seemed to sink. He opened his eyes again, looked down, and was just about to suggest they move when the bale of hay lost its form and spilled outward, tipping over the saddle and them with it. Thrown onto his side, Billy winced.

"Ow. Ow. Hay diggin' into m—ow."

They scrambled for their pants.

"We killed it." Dom hopped around, trying to get his right foot through the leg of his pants and not fall over at the same time.

"You killed it. You were the one, eh, you know, in charge back there."

"Oh is that what we call it now?" Dom searched through the hay avalanche for his chaps. He looked at Billy, noticed something, and charged over, stealing back his hat. "Bugger the hay. I think we may've left the horses to die."

"Very nice."

Dom curled his lip, putting on a thick Southern accent. "Ah reckon we'll just hafta lasso up those beauties and herd them back to that there corral."

"You just used up your entire American cowboy vocabulary in one sentence, didn'tcha." Billy slid on his shirt.

Dom coughed, doing up the buttons on his. "Pretty much. Leaving, then?"

"If the horses are still alive, sure."

Billy grinned and smacked Dom's ass before steering them towards the barn doors. "I'm sure you'll think of something, cowboy."