"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."

― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

The beginning of the end - March

"Hey," Travis called, striding to Wes' side, "I figured you might still be here."

"Of course I am," Wes replied, irritated. "There's still paperwork to be done, not that you would know that. Where did you disappear to after the interrogation anyway?"

"I had an appointment I needed to keep," he countered. "What's left to do? Want to pass me one of those reports?"

"No," Wes clipped out, "I'm on the last one." He was pissed, it was just like Travis to vanish when the boring part of the job called. "And I bet you had an appointment. What's her name this time? Candi? Miranda? Bunny? Something even more ridiculous?"

"Man, I've never dated no woman named Bunny, that's just weird. And I'm serious. I had to see my doctor."

Wes looked up at him for the first time. "Doctor? Everything… okay? No rampant STD's?"

"Ha ha, very funny. But no – clean bill of health as per always." Travis brushed the fingers of one hand nonchalantly across the length of his other forearm. "Just needed my yearly physical… and get that updated p-patch. You know, just in case."

Wes' eyes were wide and staring. "Just in case, Travis? Do you make it a habit to sleep with random men these days? Often enough that there's a worry you'll get pregnant?"

Travis shrugged. "Sometimes. If there's an itch, I scratch it. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Wes admitted reluctantly, "I guess not. I just don't understand why… but, never mind."

He shoved the completed report into the proper file and glared at his partner. Some unknown emotion gnawed at his gut, aggravating and confusing him. Why should he care if Travis was sleeping with men – with anyone – really? Travis cocked his head to the side and watched his partner closely. Wes could see the wheels turning within his head but prayed he couldn't read the conflict he felt certain was written all over his face.

"Oh-kaaay. So, I take that to mean you don't have one then?"

"No, of course not. Why would I? I have no desire to have sexual relations with another man and I have little doubt that's going to change anytime soon."

Travis lifted his eyebrows in question. "There are things…"

"Yes, Travis," Wes interrupted, "I know. Things that happen. Assualts and drunken hookups and a lot more. But I carry a gun, remember, so an assault is highly unlikely to get that far."

"And the drunken hookups?" Travis was teasing him now, but Wes was oblivious in his anger.

"I'd like to believe that, at this point in our professional relationship, you would know that I do not allow myself to indulge in alcohol – or anything – so much that I get stupid enough to have a one night stand." Wes stood and began stuffing his arms into his suit jacket.

"Famous last words," Travis teased again.

"Shut up," Wes growled.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm kidding, man. Besides, you made one hell of a collar this afternoon. I want to take you out, celebrate."

"No thanks," Wes spat, unsure of why he was suddenly so angry with Travis.

"Please?" Travis batted his long, dark lashes, convincing Wes with the flash of his crystal blue eyes.

Wes sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?"

Travis shook his head, grinning broadly. "Nope, sure won't."

"Fine, what did you have in mind?"

"Pizza and a beer at my place?"

Pizza and a beer. He should have expected as much. To his surprise, however, it sounded like exactly what he needed. This case had been hell and they both needed to unwind. "Okay. I need to change. How about I meet you at yours in half an hour?"

Travis nodded. "That sounds perfect. See you in thirty. Don't be late." He waved to his partner and headed for the exit.

"Late. You mean like you always are?" Wes shook his head and grabbed his keys. "I'm going to regret this," he muttered. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day."

"It's open," Travis shouted over the R&B music blaring from his stereo.

Wes let himself in, cringing at the loudness of Travis' trailer. He turned the music down several decibels and found Travis in the tiny kitchen, maneuvering a pizza box and a bottle of a golden liquid. "Now I understand why you don't respond when I ask you a question. You're not ignoring me, you're deaf."

"Naw man," Travis grinned, "I'm ignoring you. Sit. Pizza just got here and I'm starving."

He took a plate from Travis and helped himself to some pizza, impressed that his partner had thought to order a salad in addition to the requisite garlic knots and molten-lava chicken wings. Granted, it was an antipasto salad, loaded with meat and cheese, but also loaded with veggies. Probably the healthiest thing Travis had ingested all week.

"Here," Travis held out a Dixie cup of the golden liquid he'd been holding earlier.

"What's this," Wes asked, concerned. "I thought you had beer?"

"Never thought I'd see the day when you would prefer a beer, Wes. I must've finished what I had left last night because there isn't any in the fridge. By the time I noticed, it was too late to go out. So, you get this instead."

Wes sniffed the liquid and made a face. "Again I ask: what is this?"

"Tequila." Travis held back a grin while watching Wes' face contort from mild curiosity to outright worry. "But don't fret, I brought out the good stuff – Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo. It's smooth, just like a baby's bottom. Try it."

"Travis, I don't drink tequila. I hardly drink beer."

"I know, but I don't have any Johnnie Walker lying around."

Wes wouldn't be caught dead drinking Johnnie Walker, his tastes ran to more refined scotch, but he wasn't going to split hairs with Travis. He was making an effort, trying to congratulate Wes on doing something right, instead of haranguing him for being uptight or any number of other things. He owed Travis something for this, so he took a sip.

The tequila slid down his throat, warming a path straight to his stomach. Travis had been right, it was smooth, not nearly as smooth as his usual scotch, but it didn't burn like the cheap stuff did either. Tilting the cup, he looked into it, unconsciously running his tongue along his bottom lip. "That's actually not too bad, Travis."

Travis smiled, hopeful. "See? I can make a good decision once in a while. More?" He held up the bottle in offering.

"Ah hell, why not?"

Travis poured them each another hit, toasting with his paper cup before digging into his pizza.

"One more hit," Travis slurred, holding up the nearly empty bottle. "I think there's enough for one more."

"Nooooo," Wes laughed, waving his hands vaguely in Travis' direction. "I should have stopped five cups ago."

Travis leaned in across the narrow table. "I think maybe we both should have… but, there's only a teeny bit left so…"

Wes held out his cup. "No point in putting a swallow back in the cupboard, is there?"

"Nope, none at all," Travis agreed, pouring.

Wes held up his cup preparing to toast one last time when he noticed the design on the outside. "Travis? Why are there seahorses on your cups?"

Travis laughed heartily. "I saw my favorite foster mom last week. She bought these for me as a kid and thought it'd be funny to give me a pack."

This struck Wes as much funnier than it should have been, laughter rolling out of him, unstoppable. "What would she say if she knew you were using them to share a bottle of tequila with your partner?"

He shrugged. "She'd probably say, 'that's my boy'. She was my favorite foster mom for a reason."

Wes grinned, really grinned for the first time in forever. So much so that his eyes crinkled around the corners and that elusive dimple made an appearance. "I think she might be my favorite now, too."

"I'll be sure to tell her that. Hey Wes, can I make a confession?" Travis put his empty cup onto the table, locking his gaze on his partner.

"Sure, Trav, go ahead."

"I find you incredibly sexy. Always have, even when you're being a dick."

"I never!" he protested before realizing that yeah, he did. Often. "Yeah, okay, so I can be. But really? Me? You find me attractive?" This was news that his agave-soaked brain wasn't quite able to process.

"Yeah, really," Travis confirmed. "You can be such a tight ass sometimes, but you're also damn smart and that turns me on. Your aforementioned tight ass doesn't hurt either." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, garnering a blush out of the other man.

Wes laughed. So he was a tight ass with a tight ass, who knew? Well, besides Travis. What really threw him was that his brain turned Travis on, that was a surprise considering the type of woman he normally pursued. But it would also explain that glazed look Travis often got when he went off on one of his intellectual tangents. It wasn't disinterest after all. "Did you know that your vocabulary goes up a notch when you've been drinking?"

"Did you know your gorgeous eyes glow when you've been drinking?"

"Hah!" Wes had to wonder just what cactus this tequila had been distilled from because it was obvious Travis was hallucinating. He looked up and met Travis' equally radiant blue eyes. Something welled up inside him, something that begged to be let out. "T-Bone, my friend, can I, too make a confession?"

"Yeah baby, lay it on me."

Travis had gotten incredibly close suddenly. His face was barely inches from Wes' making it harder to think. "Well, see, I – I find you incredibly sexy, too. Crazy, isn't it?"

"No, not crazy, man. Fortuitous, really." Travis leaned back in his chair, nearly falling out sideways before righting himself. "I have another confession."

"Lay it on me, baby," Wes encouraged.

Travis beamed at Wes' use of his own words. "I want to take you to bed, right now. Ride you like I ride my motorcycle – long and hard until you're nearly overheated."

It was Wes' turn to lean forward across the table, bridging the gap between the two of them. "I thought you'd never ask."

Travis hadn't ever seen Wes quite as dressed down as he was tonight. He'd ditched the expensive suit and replaced it with a tight-fitting blue cotton tee adorned with a silver skull logo. Faded and worn blue jeans covered that perfect ass of his. He really needed to wear this kind of thing more often, like every damn day.

"You need to go casual more often, baby," he whispered, pulling Wes' t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor of his bedroom.

"And you should try dressing up more," Wes countered. "You'd look damn delicious in a suit. You're built perfectly, those broad shoulders would really enhance a nice Armani jacket."

"I think you need to shut up," Travis suggested.

He pressed his mouth to Wes' startling his partner into silence and urging him into action. Wes opened his mouth, letting Travis in, moaning at the taste of tequila and hot sauce on his tongue. Travis' hands found Wes' belt buckle and made quick work of it. He pushed the perfectly tailored jeans to the floor, urging the blonde to step out of them.

"Nice boxers," Travis commented, ogling, "do they always match your tie?"

"What?" Wes looked down and laughed. They were the exact same shade as the tie he'd been wearing earlier, but how did Travis know that? "Not intentionally, no, but I'm surprised you noticed."

"I always notice, baby, it goes hand in hand with checkin' your ass out every morning."

The words sent a lightning bolt of heat and desire straight to Wes' cock, hardening it, encouraging bad behavior. How had he not realized this before now? Wait, he knew how – he tried so hard to deny his feelings that he refused to notice Travis' mutual attraction. He'd been so, so stupid.

"You need to get naked, Travis, its lonely being the only one in his all-together." He tugged at the front of Travis' Henley, releasing it from the confines of his jeans. "I love this color on you," he admitted, picking at the stonewashed reddish purple cloth. Looks good against your dark skin, makes your eyes so bright."

"Do you think it'd look better on the floor, in a pile with yours?" Wes nodded. Travis pulled it over his head and tossed it into the pile he'd started earlier. "Yeah, it looks much better over there."

Travis took his partner's face in his hands, pulling him in close for another kiss. Pale skin rubbed against darker skin, heating their blood to a level on par with napalm. Their tongues sparred and danced, lips were bitten, bodies were enflamed.

"These have got to come off, now," Wes groaned, working at the buttons on Travis' jeans.

"Let me help you," Travis offered, popping open the buttons on his fly with practiced ease.

"Oh god, perfect," Wes grunted.

He dropped to his knees, looking up at his partner before tugging the dark denim down to his feet. "Travis, I want to touch you."

Travis looked down at Wes, his eyes wide and pleading. "You weren't kidding earlier when you said you'd never been with a man, were you?"

Wes shook his head. "No, it wasn't – wasn't ever an option, not for me. Can't be respectable if I'm sharing my bed with a man, or so I was always told."

"But you want this? You sure?" Travis feathered his fingers through Wes' blonde hair, caressing his scalp, praying he still said yes.

Wes nodded, swallowing hard. "More than you know."

Travis took Wes' hand in his and brought it to his bulging cock. "Then touch me, baby. Touch me all you want."

He rubbed his palm along the trapped length of Travis' erection, savoring the newness of him. Wes could feel his own dick hardening even more, throbbing with unfulfilled need. His fingers found the waistband of Travis' Jockey shorts, the navy fabric doing nothing to conceal his excitement. With a deep breath, he pulled, exposing the one part of his partner's body he'd never seen. Long, thick and dark, Travis' cock bobbed in Wes' face, enticing him. The thatch of midnight hair tempting him.

Wes took Travis in both hands, stroking and exploring before opening his mouth and instinctively taking him in. Travis gasped, his breath catching in his throat.

"Shit Wes, no, stop." He pulled back, his wet cock cooling in the air between them.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry – I…" Panic crossed Wes' face, worry hot on its heels.

"Did you do something wrong? Fuck no. But I'm not going to last long if you do that again and I want something more satisfying for us both."

"You want sex." His voice held steady, Wes was both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of sex with Travis.

"Yeah, I do. Is that okay, what you want, too?"

Wes couldn't speak. God yes, it was what he wanted. It was what he'd been fantasizing about for years now, not ever thinking he could actually get it. Not from Travis anyway. "Yes," he breathed, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat. "Please, Travis."

"Get up," he teased, pulling Wes to his feet. "I can't have you on the floor, not yet."

Wes grinned, desire and tequila running in his veins. In a moment of boldness, he shucked his boxers, exposing what God gave him to the world. Or, at least, to Travis' scrutiny. "Where can you have me, if not on the floor?"

"In my bed, you nut, and the sooner the better." His eyes feasted on the nakedness of his partner. Long, lean muscles corded his legs and arms, strength hiding within his lanky frame. Wes' cock stood out proudly, defiantly, making Travis' mouth water with want.

Wes made his way across the small room to Travis' bed. He sat on the edge for a moment before letting the alcohol embolden his actions. Scooting into the middle of Travis' sheets, he laid back, sprawling. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, frightened. "Is this more acceptable?"

No answer came, not until he felt the bed dip under Travis' weight, felt his hot skin pressing against his own. "Much better, baby."

Travis trailed one hand up Wes' chest, from his waist to his collar bone, exploring the flat planes of his partner's well defined chest. A light sprinkling of white-blonde hair covered the pale skin, tickling his palm as it glided across. Wes' breath stuttered in his chest when Travis questing fingers reached his cock. He lightly brushed Wes' length, teasing and gauging his readiness. Travis' heart pounded knowing that neither of them were going to last long, but confident that it was going to be explosive while they did.

From the nightstand by his head, Travis retrieved his near empty tube of lube. "Are you sure you want this," he whispered against Wes' ear.

"Yes," he begged, "I've never been surer in my life."

Travis kissed him, hard, lips bruising lips. Breaking away, he opened the tube, spreading lube on his fingers, testing Wes' resistance. "Let me know if I hurt you, baby."

"Just please, do this for me," Wes pleaded. "I'm so damn horny, it's been so long…" He bit his lip to stop the flow of embarrassing words.

Travis studied Wes' face, uncertain for a moment. Wes dated on occasion, but never more than one or two dates with the same woman before moving on, never getting attached. Casual sex was not something he did. "I'll fix that problem for you, baby," he promised.

He pushed a finger into Wes', watching the blonde squirm. Blondie was so damn tight, tight enough to make a man want to cry with desperation. Wes pushed against Travis' invading finger, frantic for more, so he obliged. Working his finger inside Wes, he eased a second in with the first.

"Travis, you're making me crazy, please…"

Wes was coming undone, begging for what Travis had long wanted to give him. He removed his fingers, heart rending with Wes' despairing cry at the loss. "Easy, baby, give me one second and you'll be better, I promise."

He found the discarded tube of lube again and coated his aching cock with the slippery substance. Positioning himself against Wes' opening, he took hold of a leg, just beneath the knee, and lifted. Settling Wes' leg over his shoulder, he lifted his soon-to-be lover's hips, pushing into him, slow and steady. Travis gasped as Wes' body gripped him, hungry for what he was offering.

Wes' eyes squeezed shut, his back arching into Travis' body. Travis tried to move slowly, to go easy on Wes, knowing he'd never done this before, but his goodwill lasted all of three or four thrusts before he lost control.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I just can't…" Travis apologized.

"Don't," Wes grunted, "harder."

"Harder, I can do," Travis agreed, letting go and pounding his cock into Wes' tight ass, two, three, four times.

Wes' fingers gripped the sheets, pulling and fisting the cotton, hips lifting to meet Travis' eagerly. Travis ceased to hold back, making the bed rock in rhythm to their lovemaking. Sober, Wes would have been mortified to hear the sounds coming out of his mouth currently, but as drunk as he was, he didn't care. When he saw the effect his vocalizations were having on Travis, he gave in to the building desire to scream, coming hard. "Travis," he howled, "more!"

"Fuck yeah," Travis grunted, hips slapping against Wes' rounded backside. The first spurts of Wes' hot spunk against his chest triggered Travis' own orgasm, filling Wes with his need.

Travis collapsed against Wes' chest, breath coming rapidly. "God damn, that was good."

"The best," Wes confirmed, not willing to analyze the budding realization that it was the best ever, even better than he'd ever had with any woman before. "So damn good, Travis."

"Yeah baby, you are the best."

Travis sighed, resting his head on one muscular pectoral, before falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep, Wes following close behind.

Wes stretched muscles aching and stiff. He looked around, not understanding at first why he wasn't in his hotel room. Comprehension dawned slowly, the remnants of the night's tequila still clouding his brain. Travis' head was tucked in against his shoulder, his partner snoring softly.

Bits and pieces of the night before started flooding his brain. Pizza, tequila, two naked bodies twining together.

"Oh god no," he breathed, praying his memory was screwing with him.

And then he moved, a deeper ache than the ones in his muscles confirming what he'd feared.

He'd fucked his partner. And he'd liked it.

Panic rose in Wes' chest, threatening to overtake him. He'd tried for three years to keep his attraction to himself. Travis was too much of a player to ever settle down and Wes cared too much to have a one night stand, especially with someone like Travis, someone he was so close to. He had to get out of here before Travis woke and hopefully no one but Wes would even remember what had happened.

Slipping carefully from under Travis' restraining arm, Wes gathered his clothes from a pile on the side of the room. He dressed as quietly as he could, desperate to get out before Travis woke. He had no idea how he was even going to face his partner on Monday morning, hell, he wasn't even sure how he was going to face himself later, but he'd figure that out when the time came.

After all, he'd kept his feelings from his partner all this time, he could keep this secret as well. He had no other choice, really. Denial was his friend and it started now.

No telling Travis about last night. Certainly no telling Travis that his long simmering affection had turned to desire.

Definitely not telling Travis that he might be falling for his obnoxious ass. Absolutely no admitting that to himself.

Yeah, just call him Cleopatra – Queen of Denial.

Travis rolled over in bed, reaching for the warm body he expected to find beside him. But the bed was empty. He pushed to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain that followed.

Just a dream. His heart sank at the realization that Wes hadn't spent the night with him after all. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, guilt and want and despair colliding. But it had felt so real, he swore he could even smell Wes' cologne on his sheets.

"Wishful thinking," he chided himself, sadly. Sex with Wes was a pipe dream. He was entirely too uptight for a fling, especially a fling with another man. He'd made that abundantly clear the day before. And yet, Travis still wanted one chance to change his partner's mind. Show him that sex – and heaven help him, a real relationship – was possible with another man. With this man.

Travis lowered himself back onto his pillow, squeezing his eyes closed against the recognition that for the first time in his life, he might be falling in love, as ridiculous as it was. With his damn annoying, holier than thou partner. A relationship that wouldn't ever work, not in a lifetime of tries, not with Wes. He had no desire to be in any kind of relationship with a man that was obvious. Hell, Travis wasn't even sure Wes wanted a relationship with anything female either.

That bit of information didn't keep him from hoping, or from wanting. It sure as hell didn't keep him from hurting as he laid there in bed, alone.