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It's dusk but there is still enough light to track and a full moon is on the rise. Henry already knows it will clear the treeline just as twilight slips into full night. They walk through the woods, skirting the edge of a large clearing, guns slung over their shoulders, packs on their backs, Henry tracking an elk, Walt following Henry.
Henry pauses at the woods' edge and Walt suddenly reaches for him, turns him and swings him into a swift, tight hug with a brief, hard kiss full on the mouth. Henry blinks, surprised, but his body keeps up better than his brain – it relaxes against Walt's chest as his mouth yields to the urgency of Walt's on his own, lips parting.
Walt pulls back, his eyes wide and shining in the deepening dusk.
"Let's not hunt," he murmurs slowly, the laziness of his words no disguise for the urgency in his voice. "Set up camp. Now."
Henry looks down at Walt's hands, fisted in his jacket. He pauses. He wants to set up camp, too. Not that he doesn't want to track the elk, but he has already imagined their sleeping bags zipped together, all the things they can do with each other like that.
It's too much like a dream come true and Henry knows too well how foolish it is for anyone from the Rez to dream. It feels like they hover on the edge of something dangerous, about to fall into something deep, with no bottom. Suddenly his heart pounds like a rabbit on the run.
"Just because we are doing this, Walt," Henry whispers, trying to control the tremble in his voice, "does not mean we have to do it all the time."
Walt doubles the strength of his grip on Henry's jacket and tugs, pulling Henry closer, body to body all along their stomachs and thighs. He presses their cheeks together, breathing hard. Henry feels Walt's body tremble and his own heart skips a beat.
"Don't..." Walt murmurs, hesitating and swallowing before he continues. "Don't you want to?"
The desire, the need, the hesitancy in Walt's voice makes Henry's knees weak. "Yes," he whispers harshly.
He pulls back to press his mouth full on Walt's. His lips part and Walt's part for him, tongues touching. Their hands slip down to touch each other, pulling their jackets up out of the way, suddenly feverish and unstoppable.
Henry lets his lips slide from Walt's lips to his cheek.
"Yes,” he murmurs again. “Yes, I do.”
Walt's lips press to his neck and his arms slide tight around him.