Rainmakers III - Spindrift by Lar
Sequel to Rainmakers II - Southwest of Nowhere

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Always to Sam, for everything, and ethrosdemon for being herself. Special thanks to Pablo for his neverending help whenever I panic about this series, and to zahra and Vicky, who read the first few paragraphs and said to keep going. And huge thanks to Donna, who gives fabulous beta.

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Sunlight on Riley's skin gives Lindsey a whole range of sensory pleasures. Lindsey stretches out under the trees that line the side of the pond where they're alternating between swimming in the weedy water and baking in the sticky heat under a cloudless sky. Riley's skin is dark and golden brown at the neck and arms, fading in towards the newly tanned places on his chest and back. Where the water clings in droplets to him, the sun glistens. When Riley comes out of the pond again, shakes his head, slicks back wet strands of hair and lies down beside him, Lindsey has time to appreciate the cool, green smell of his skin before the heat scorches it away and leaves Riley hot to the touch, until it makes him smell gently burnt.

The weeks have slipped by, summer fading away around them now as August sears itself to the end of its cycle. The temperatures might continue to claim the season for another month, but it's not likely. Lin feels the impending change keenly; it's an ache inside of him. He's managed to get this new thing he's found with Riley all tied up with the heat and the laziness of summertime, made them part of the same stitches in the blanket of his new life. Wrong tug and everything could unravel and he'll be alone again, and cold.

Part of this stems from knowing he owes Riley the Talk. Lin doesn't think he has too many problems with telling Riley the facts of what he now considers an old persona, one he never plans to adopt again. But that angry young lawyer rears up now and again and does what he was paid to do, cast doubts on the opponent's presentation of the facts. In this case, the opponent is his own desire to make a clean slate here, to be as open as he can force himself to be, and the part of him that Wolfram and Hart got such a grip on tells him it's never going to be that easy.

So Lin lets Riley tell his own tales, and they've been dark things, no doubt. No names, Riley refuses to even say the name of whatever blonde fucked him up and fucked him over, but Lindsey is fine with that, too. These days he's none too eager to mention his own brand of that poison, and at times he shudders when he hears her voice in his head. If Lindsey lets himself see this in another frame of reference, he might be able to thank Darla for giving him that very clear picture of what it is like to dance on the blade of obsession, to make Riley's inability to walk away resonate in Lindsey's being.

Someday he might be able to do that. But not now.

"Are you planning to lay there the entire day and sleep, or are you going back in again?" Riley's voice startles Lin out of his thoughts, and he realizes he's been dozing for enough time that Riley's managed to dry off and be ready to dive into the pond again.

"You need a lifeguard?" Lin rubs a hand over his face and attempts to sit up with something resembling grace, falls short of the mark as he looks at the backs of his hands that are creased and dirty, covered with bits of grass, from lying on them while he slept. He squints out at the water, shades his eyes from the sun glare on the surface that's not even rippling in the still and heavy heat of the afternoon. He's aware of the scent of his own body then, heavy with sweat, the faint smell of crushed green things like the grass and the pond weed that have stuck to his legs.

"Yeah, if that'll get your lazy ass in the water, I'll play inexperienced swimmer out over his head." Riley's already on his feet, offering a hand that Lin grabs and uses to haul himself upright.

Lin snorts and looks up at the taller man. "The pond isn't over your head, even in the middle."

"Stop ruining a perfectly good cover story by clouding it with unnecessary facts." Riley grins easily at him. Lindsey watches him trot away, speed up on the rickety old wooden dock that hangs out over the water, and then dive in, body one long low arc that carries him towards the deepest part where the water is coolest. He waits for Riley's head to break the surface before he makes that same three-step run, his own splash on entry sending more ripples to the edges of the body of water, frightening minnows and disturbing the stalks of greenery that hid them.

=====

He doesn't really think about it. Riley just turns in the water, plants his feet in the cool mud at the bottom of the pond and catches hold of Lindsey's arm as he glides by. Pulls him up close and kisses him, tastes the pond water on Lindsey's lips before his tongue slides in between and gets that now-familiar flavor of his mouth instead. Lindsey's body is slick and warm against his, and Riley feels the slide of skin on skin at chest, belly, legs. Slow tight coil in the pit of his stomach, that early rush of need making him clench his fingers into Lindsey's biceps as he licks at those full lips, the soft ridges of his palate. Pulls back when he's breathless and wonders why he never did this before. Because Lindsey looks... not stunned but something this side of it, lips slightly parted, eyes half closed and dark. Looks fuckable // for lack of a better term// and Rileygrins to himself, kisses him again because that half-open mouth just calls for it.

Lindsey's hands come up to Riley's back and make Riley groan a little against those too-soft lips. He catches the lower one between his teeth, sucks it into his mouth until he gets that answering sound from Lin and the slow roll of his hips in the water. He pulls his head back again, breathing hard this time.

"Walk." Riley takes a half step forward, forces Lindsey to step back to compensate, and says it again. "Walk, Lin." Riley sees the connection click in Lindsey's eyes and kisses him again as they walk-slip-float towards the dock and the waterlogged ladder that hangs on the side of it. Lips slide and teeth bump as they make this awkward trip, but neither one of them attempts to break the connection of mouth or hips until Lindsey's back is pressed to the damp timbers.

Riley's hand slips over smooth, cool skin and into the waistband of denim shorts made heavy with absorbed water. He hears Lindsey gasp when his fingers brush over the head of his cock, the dark hair falling over his forehead when Lindsey's head rolls loose and easy. A thrill of adrenaline and lust shoot through Riley's nerve endings everywhere, scalp tingling and fingers throbbing at the power inherent in his own touch, at the way he makes Lindsey move, sound, feel. His free hand tugs roughly at the button-fly on the shorts Lindsey's wearing and in another second the full length of his cock lies in Riley's hand. Distinctive heat even in the cool pond water, silky and slick when he rubs his palm over the head and strokes along the shaft, other hand tugging the material down over Lindsey's thighs until the weight on the jeans just sinks them to his ankles, and he's bare. Naked and pressed against the ladder, slightly buoyant in the water that rises to his chest, that allows Riley a glimpse of hard nipples as the small waves they make together rise and recede.

Lindsey's hands are on Riley's zipper now, and in a moment he's free of the almost painful restraint. Lindsey's fingers around his cock make him rise up on his toes with a hiss of pleasure. Riley threads his fingers through dark hair, pulls Lin up hard for a kiss that earns him a groan and a hard, tugging stroke that he mimics back.

Panting, Lindsey breaks the kiss long enough to ask, "You wanna get out of the water?"

Riley's tongue snakes out, licks beads of wetness from Lindsey's cheek. "No, I'm fine right where I am." His hand tightens, strokes faster, and Lindsey's head falls back against the rungs of the ladder, his blue eyes closed against the glare of the overhead sun. Riley looks at that bare expanse of throat and neck and licks his way lower, feels the steady race of Lindsey's pulse under his tongue when he flicks over the carotid artery, and the way his body tenses when Riley's mouth strays near Lindsey's lone raised scar. It rides his neck low and away from the dangerous vulnerability of that blue arc of the carotid, not a bite meant to kill, and Lindsey twists his head when Riley touches it with his mouth.

"No," he says, and "Don't," but his hand never stops moving on Riley's body. Riley bends his head to kiss Lindsey's mouth instead, traces the shape of his lips and then the smoothness of his teeth as Lindsey tenses again. Better this time, hips thrusting forward into Riley's hand and with a shudder and a groan he comes, brief flood of heat in the otherwise cool water that laps against their bodies. Lindsey's hand squeezes around Riley's cock, and Riley bucks into the suddenly tight grip, three hard pushes that get him to the edge and over. He stands with his head resting on Lindsey's shoulder, face turned out towards the pond, waiting for his breathing to steady.

=====

They sleep for a while under the trees, bake in the heat of the afternoon until the breeze stops blowing and a sheen of sweat makes them uncomfortable enough to move. Lindsey sits up, shifts in jeans that were dry when he laid down in them. Now the seams cling to his thighs and the backs of his knees when he moves. He looks over at the truck where two pairs of shorts lay, dark and still too wet to consider putting back on. He wipes the back of his arm across his forehead and wonders if it's worth the walk around the tree to get the beer from the cooler. He rests his arm on his knee and glances down at Riley, who's just beginning to stir himself.

"What time is it?" Riley asks, rubbing his hand across his face, pushing sweaty hair back over and over until it sticks up in random patterns.

Lindsey leans up and slips his hand into his rolled up t-shirt, pulls out his watch by the leather strap, careful to avoid scorched fingers on the metal of the backing. "Not late, little after 2:30. You got a date?"

"Oh yeah. My social calendar is full." He sits up and yawns, the skin of his chest rippled and white in the one scar Lindsey can immediately identify as a non-vampire-induced marking. Over his heart and slightly to the right, it makes Lindsey think of open-heart surgery. The beginning of that "Y" shape he remembers from Grover Linaweaver, who had the operation when he was in the third grade and showed everyone his pink and angry-looking scar in the most vivid episode of show-and-tell Miss Harker's class ever had.

Lin puts a tentative hand out, three fingers covering the mark. "Tell me about this one."

Riley glances down briefly before he gives Lindsey that polite smile that means 'off limits' and turns away. "Not quite ready for that one yet."

"How about a beer then?" Not waiting for an answer, Lin shoves himself to his feet, stepping carefully over stones in the grass and then hauling the cooler back with him. Opens it and shoves his hand in the water that's full of floating ice chips, grabs one, cold can and tosses it to Riley before taking one for himself. Shuts the lid with a hard slam and pops the tab on the beer. The first sip is something like heaven, icy and perfect down his throat, and he tips his head back, lets almost half the can follow suit. When he puts the can down in the grass between his feet, he lets cold-numbed fingers rub the mark Darla left on him, the one he stopped Riley from touching.

Riley's watching him over the rim of his beer, eyes flickering to Lindsey's neck and back again. Lindsey thinks about the way Riley has pretty much spilled everything to him, and the way he's offered up nothing of his own in exchange. Not even how or why he knows about the vamps, because to him that means opening up the part of himself he's trying so damn hard to bury. He looks again at Riley's chest, the tan even except for that ridge of white marking his heart and then Lindsey looks out to the pond again. Takes a deep breath, picks up the yeasty scent of the beer and that good salty smell of Riley's sun-baked skin.

"So I used to be a lawyer," he says conversationally, looking down at the beer can and plucking at the grass next to it. He hears Riley swallow his mouthful of beer and waits for the questions.

"And you quit?" There's some level of interest in Riley's voice, genuine desire to know more about him, Lindsey can hear it. He wonders which question will change that tone from interest to disgust or anger.

He gives some thought to that before answering and says

// I've got these evil hand issues, and I'm bored with this crap//

"Yeah, I quit. It didn't agree with me."

"Public defender?" Lindsey looks to his right, sees Riley leaning against the tree, his t-shirt draped against his bare back to protect it from the roughness of the bark.

"Not exactly. It was very specialized work. Big law firm, big city. I just..." He trails off. "I couldn't live up to the full responsibility of the position." He smirks to himself at that and watches Riley put two and two together and get three.

"You got disbarred."

Lindsey chuckles, not a pleasant sound, and rubs his hand over his neck again. "No, I quit, I really did walk away." He picks up the beer and downs the rest of it in one long swallow, crushes the can in his hand and drops it. "The clients in the law firm were not your everyday bad guys. They weren't even people, most of them. They were demons, and I worked as part of a very specialized unit within the firm. I saw things, did things on a daily basis that most people hope they never see in their worst nightmares. That's why I know about your little problem," he says, lifting his chin in Riley's direction.

Riley leans forward, tilts his head and reaches out to touch Lindsey's neck. Lin holds himself very still and doesn't flinch when those fingers touch the dead white skin there. "So this was a job related injury?" Riley asks, quiet and still curious. There's nothing in his voice that indicates anything more or less than interest in the answer.

Lin nods, and Riley takes his hand away. He sips at his beer for a second and puts his hand out again, finger and thumb closing around Lindsey's wrist and the faint, thin band circling it. "And this one?"

His scar actually burns for a second when he flashes back to the scene, the sound of the blade as it rushed through the air towards him, bright hot flare of pain when skin, muscle, tendon and bone are severed, the thick smell of his own blood everywhere.

He nods, forcing that back down with the memories of the wine cellar, locking the box on those images again. "Yeah, that one too."

Riley looks at him carefully and doesn't let go. "You're lucky, this looks bad. You could have lost this hand."

"Yeah. I'm lucky." He's gritting his teeth, catches himself doing it and tries to force his jaw to loosen, to drop. Watches Riley turn his hand over, exposing Lindsey's wrist and its finely stitched bracelet, so pale that it stands out even against his thin-skinned inner arm. //Now he'll ask why, now he'll want more// he thinks, as Riley examines the marks like an expert searching for clues.

The questions don't come. He squeezes his thumb and forefinger together until they almost meet around Lin's wrist there and then lets go slowly. Lays back against the tree again and finishes his beer while Lindsey waits, quivering with the desire to just have it over with, get his damnation right up front.

Riley clears his throat. "So, you ever gonna let me meet this horse of yours, or am I just stuck out here while the two of you grow closer and you stop calling me?"

'You want to meet my horse." Lin looks at Riley, hard, the way he used to size up potential jurors. Looks for the signs of weakness - eyes shifting away, nervous tic, jaw clenched or hands that won't stay still. There's nothing there but a raised eyebrow over clear green eyes. Lindsey tries again. "That's all you wanna know, when can you meet the goddamn horse?"

"Well, I mean I saw him and all, but we've never been properly introduced." Riley finishes his beer, sets the can aside and leans forward, arms locked easily around his knees. His posture, his tone, even the way he looks over at Lindsey all telegraph nothing but calm and relaxation, body language open and easy to read. Lin's not sure what to call this outcome, unable to put a name to what's being offered here simply because he can't find a reference point anywhere in his life to draw that line, to define this as acceptance.

-----

Riley gauges the struggle for comprehension in the way Lindsey's eyes shift focus from external to internal observations. The gaze goes soft even as Riley watches, and he waits it out. He could have asked some questions; he has them there in his head, but he's keeping them quiet for now. Taking the first piece of a past Lindsey is obviously not eager to share and dissecting it down to the molecular level might get him a few questions answered honestly, a lot deflected, a few lies added in here and there. It does guarantee him that Lindsey won't give up anything else anytime soon, possibly never. Riley can be patient. He's a little stunned to hear how Lindsey spent his time before all this, but considers himself in no position to judge now. Not with a five minute conversation that yielded just enough to make things clear in some areas and throw a shadow over the rest. Riley can recall plenty of nights spent in Sunnydale wondering how the hell he let himself make those choices that put him where he was, torn between sides that both looked right and wrong at the same time. He doesn't see himself as that far removed from the mindset he held then, except that now he can at least look back and see where he took the wrong steps.

Maybe Lindsey sees his missteps, and maybe he doesn't. The last thing Riley wants to do is push the man who has barely nudged him along in his own dragged-out confessional. He wants Lin to see that talking about it doesn't change anything that Lindsey doesn't want to change, that Riley is as willing to roll with the oddness as Lindsey has been since that first night. The one thing that holds them together at the core is the ease of the friendship and how is just seemed to be there without them forcing it to work. It's a raft for Riley to cling to in the wreckage of his life and he's not one to start poking holes in it.

"Yeah, alright, you wanna meet Beau, you come on out and meet him."

Riley notes the softness of the syllables in that speech, can tell that Lindsey's finally made his way through to some kind of peace with himself. The more relaxed he is, the lower the guard, the more Oklahoma shows in his speech. The smile's back, too, and with it those wrinkles in the corners of eyes blue as cornflowers. Riley finds himself grinning back.

They load the cooler in the truck and pull on wrinkled shirts over sweaty skin, socks and boots over dirty feet, and head back to the Lordi ranch.

-----

The heat from the day never really lifts. Late that night in Riley's bed, Lindsey lies awake. He's pressed to Riley's back at thigh, hip and arm, skin slick with sweat that won't dry as long as there's contact. His body stays still even if his mind is running at full speed, and his breathing is regular. He replays that confession over and over in his head, wonders for the hundredth time what he would have said if he'd been listening to it. Riley had asked some basic questions, just enough to make Lindsey well aware of the things he wasn't asking at all. That look, that very careful look at his wrist; Riley is deeper than the ripples on the surface, Lin's more aware of that now than he ever really was before.

Riley's been sleeping easier these days, as if the more he talks about his past the less he has to worry about. Lindsey envies him that luxury. He's well aware that there's something more -- that scar Riley won't talk about yet, his job in the military -- and considering the things he's already disclosed, Lindsey's not entirely sure he wants to know the rest. If you confess an addiction to vampire bites, what the hell do you consider worth hiding? He's thought about getting Riley drunk, really stone drunk and prying it out of him just to satisfy his curiosity. He's damn sure of his ability to get what he wants to know, one of his many well-exploited talents from LA. But then he considers the cost of the knowledge, the loss of this comfort. The way it would gut the friendship.

Not worth it at that price. He'd rather go to his grave wondering than start pulling at those threads himself.

Riley stirs a little beside him, makes an indistinct sound before he settles down again, and Lindsey keeps himself still. His cock twitches at the contact, pressure of thigh muscle to groin all it really takes to remind him of what else he's not willing to lose. He draws in a slow, heavy breath and lets his palm skate over the curve of Riley's ass, into the small of his back and then up to his shoulder, closes his fingers there in a loose grip. Waits, waits to see if there's a response and swallows down a small moan when Riley's thigh presses back against him again, deliberate and slow.

"Wake you up?" Lin asks in a whisper, raising himself on his arm, letting his tongue taste salty hot flesh on Riley's back as they shift positions.

"No, I've been awake."

Riley's shoulders rise as Lindsey slips easily between spread thighs, lowers himself, fits his chest to that broad back. Lin's cock nestles in the crease of Riley's ass, presses in a little as Lindsey's hips move forward and hardness slips over slick skin. Both men catch their breath a little when Lindsey pulls back and presses forward again, when he bends his head and the tip of his tongue finds unscarred skin on Riley's neck and licks there, tastes him. Riley's head rolls to the side, easy gesture that bares the line of his throat as Lindsey presses lips and then teeth to it, nibbles lightly as his hips roll, bodies slick with sweat that's dripping from Lindsey's forehead, chest, thighs, onto Riley. Lindsey braces his hands on the bed and pushes in a little further, not stopping when Riley tenses and groans, moving in and in until his hips are pressed tight to Riley's ass and then stopping. Lying still, weight on knees and hands until Riley begins to move beneath him.

Awkward at first until they catch the rhythm, and then it's slow and easy, moving together in the darkness, through the humid air that's heavy as a caress on both bodies. Lindsey listens to the sound of Riley's breathing, holding on for that bitten back moan he always tries to keep in his throat when he's ready to come. Licks at the lobe of Riley's ear and then bites down on it, gentle at first and when they earns him a shudder, harder. And there's that sign of pleasure, that hitched-breath moan Lindsey's been waiting on, and he lets himself thrust in a little deeper, presses Riley into the mattress, the sheets, rough cotton giving him the friction Riley needs now. Lindsey feels himself closing in on the wall, vision beginning to gray at the edges as it rushes towards him and he breathes out into Riley's ear, tell him to come, bucks inside a little wildly, gives Riley that pressure he needs to get him there, too. When Riley's back arches, Lindsey allows himself to sink in all the way, let go of his hold on himself and let the pleasure roll over him in waves, rests his face against the wet skin of Riley's shoulder and shudders with his climax, hips still moving as he rides it out.

Not sure how long they lay there, Lindsey finally slipping out, resting his full weight on Riley for a few minutes, neither one minding the heat, the stickiness. When he gets to his knees to move, Riley rolls to his feet and pulls the sheet from the bed, tosses it to the floor before dropping back onto the bare mattress on his back. Lindsey watches him for a moment before lying down beside him, still touching at hip, arm and shoulder as they lie there. He wants to say something, feels like he should, but he's not able to pull up a single thought he can voice. While he's trying to sort out everything in his head, Riley turns and kisses him.

Slow kiss, warm lips, and his low voice murmurs a very slurred and sleepy "'night, Lin" and without another sound he drops off to sleep, body loose and relaxed against Lindsey's, one hand resting lightly on Lin's hip. Lindsey lays on the bare mattress under the heat of the air and the warmth of Riley's hand. Sunrise is a few hours off, and he'll have to leave, go back to the ranch. The rest of the week his nights will pass in an empty bed, on clean white sheets. His days will pass in a haze of horse sweat and hard work. He knows that his mind's going to be back here in this room, and back at the pond, thinking about unasked questions. He can see very clearly the way this might go; that if he tells too much, or too little, he's going to lose what he's come to regard as his base. Friendship with Riley, in all its aspects, has become more than filler, and maybe it always has been. He hasn't had this, any of this, in so long and now that he does have it, Lindsey's realizing he's not willing to lose it.

He shuts his eyes and tries not to think at all.

.End