The Storm



Copyright October 2000

Doc Holliday stood silently in the shadows, watching, waiting.

An oppressive heat blanketed the town, a sure indication of the approaching storm. In the distance lightening fractured the blackness, the rumble of thunder echoing the sudden flash. The elements of nature screamed in anger at the injustice of Morgan Earp's death. Their protest was welcomed, embraced by the grieving man who knelt alone at his brother's grave.

The gambler remained hidden from sight, his protective gaze never wavering from the lone figure. His heart wept for his friend, his desires fighting with the need to comfort and soothe the sobbing gunman.

Doc jumped, a tortured roar catching him by surprise.


Wyatt Earp sprang to his feet, his face lifting to the stormy skies above. Lightening rent the night's veil of blackness, its glare reflecting off the tears that fell down Wyatt's cheeks. The lawman walked quickly away from the gravesite, unaware of the bloodstained cloth fluttering to the ground.

Doc followed his friend, quietly remaining a trailing shadow. His eyes lingered on Wyatt as the older man strode out of town.

Entering a grove of oak trees, the gambler abandoned his secrecy, swiftly darting forward as Wyatt stumbled and fell. He caught the gunman as his legs gave out. Both men tumbled to the ground, Doc attempting to cushion Wyatt's larger body.

Wyatt instinctively recognized the arms that wrapped around him and under the cover of darkness allowed himself the momentary comfort of seeking shelter in Doc's embrace. And yet . . . his overwhelming grief and anger refused to be assuaged by tender touches and sympathetic words.

His heart wanted love and understanding, his mind howled for revenge and justice. A war of emotions and needs overtook him, blinding him to all rational thought. Nature encouraged Wyatt's wrath, the heavens exploding with light and sound.

Doc found himself pinned to the ground, his body brutally held motionless by uncaring arms and legs. Hands grappled with his outer garments, fingers ripping fabric away to expose the pale flesh underneath.

A knee forced his legs apart, its weight grinding against his groin. Doc sucked in a tortured groan as his body responded to Wyatt's violence. His flesh betrayed him as fingers found his erection and frantically stroked it to a state of dripping hardness.

Doc desperately tried to drag his lust under control. He could hear Wyatt crying . . . the words husky denials the gambler did not understand. Doc attempted to make sense of not only the words tumbling out of Wyatt's mouth but also the emotions behind them.

"I can't . . . "

The lawman devoured his friend's mouth, his tongue plundering deep inside.

"I won't . . . "

Wyatt's hands tore open Doc's shirt and attacked the man's chest, pulling, pinching sensitized nipples. His mouth followed, sucking hard on the small dark peaks.

"No! Won't sacrifice . . . NEVER!"

Wyatt returned to Doc's lips, his thirst for the gambler's taste unquenchable. His hands journeyed downward again, continuing in their tormenting rhythm. The stroking of Doc's slick shaft turned frantic.

Doc began to buck wildly, unable to resist the passionate assault on his traitorous body. His incessant moans were swallowed up by Wyatt's mouth. Turbulent emotions exploded inside him as Wyatt pushed him closer and closer to a blazing climax.

Doc clamped down on his imminent release, his body warring with his heart. He knew Wyatt's brutal attack was not directed at him personally. The younger man realized there were underlying emotions driving his friend's actions. Despite the harsh taking of his body, Doc knew without a doubt that Wyatt sincerely cared for him, maybe even loved him.

Their mutual affection for one another was a safely kept secret. Sometimes it was hidden so deep that even Doc, on certain occasions, had to search Wyatt's deep blue eyes for the feelings that he knew resided in the gunman's heart. Theirs was not a relationship that could be freely expressed, not without someone stringing a rope up to hang them, punishing them for their immoral behavior.

Doc's thoughts scattered with the wind when he felt Wyatt's hot mouth envelop his erection. The younger man finally surrendered, conceding the battle of needs and desires to the lawman. His hands encouraged his friend to open his mouth wider, allowing him to sink his cock deeper inside the furnace of searing moisture.

Wyatt took advantage of Doc's submission to pull his trousers lower, giving him access to the furry sac that lay between the gambler's legs. His hands tormented the encased ovals, squeezing and pulling on them.

Doc grabbed Wyatt's head and forced a rhythm that would give him release. He groaned loudly, hoping his friend would somehow hear his request over the storm's furious cacophony of sound.

"More. Ohhh goddd. Now, Wyatt. NOW!"

Doc bit down hard on his bottom lip, strangling the scream that would rival the thundering peals that crashed over their heads. He jerked Wyatt away from his spasming cock and pulled the man down over him. He attacked his friend's mouth, feeding Wyatt his roar of completion.

His violent reaction matched that of the gunman's, both men spilling their seed together. The evidence of their combined climax stained clothes and flesh, the pungent odor of hot semen heavy in the night air.

Doc caught Wyatt as he collapsed in his arms. It was several moments before he could bring his riotous heartrate and respirations under control. A coughing spell hit him and he buried his face against Wyatt's shoulder trying to contain the spasm that ripped through his chest.

Exhausted, his head fell back, hitting the hard ground. His trembling hands smoothed over Wyatt's back, lending comfort. A sound snagged his attention, the storm briefly silent. Doc frowned, his ears disbelieving.

Wyatt was crying.

The lawman was pressing tear laden kisses over Doc's heart, his mouth soothing the tortured flesh of his left nipple. The gambler tangled his hands in Wyatt's long dark chestnut hair. Emotions threatened to overwhelm him as he listened to his friend's confession.

"I love you, Doc. I can't . . . can't bear to lose you too."

Wyatt rolled over pulling the younger man on top of him.

"I won't let 'em take you from me. It's . . . it's a sacrifice I'm not willin' to make."

Wyatt reached up, cupping Doc's face and kissing him gently, the violence of passion a shadowed memory.

"Don't leave me, Doc. I . . . I need you too much."

The young man deepened the kiss, taking possession of Wyatt's mouth. His hunger for air finally pulled him away from his new lover's mouth.

"Never fear, my brave warrior. I will always be by your side."

Doc draped himself more comfortably over Wyatt's larger frame. He pulled his lover's discarded duster over their rapidly cooling bodies.

"Tomorrow we ride, Wyatt. We shall seek vengeance together."

Doc captured his lover's lips for one more soul searching kiss. He then smiled down at gunman.

"Tomorrow, Wyatt Earp. Tomorrow we become immortal."

The end