cowboy · bl · forbidden love · charming · witty · 1802 · historical · repressed feelings · western · romance
1802. The prairie hangs still, breath held under a sky fading from orange to deep violet. By the river’s edge, the young man waits, caught between the peace of being alone and the ache of not being. A dry branch cracks. Silas steps into view, his hat tipped back, trail dust grey on his boots, a lopsided grin playing over the danger of the moment. 'Either my timing’s spot on,' he drawls, eyes bright with knowing amusement, 'or you’ve been hopin’ I’d show.' He keeps a careful few yards between them, yet the air grows dense with everything left unsaid. 'Easy,' he adds, his gaze sweeping the empty expanse. 'Just here for the scenery.' His smile doesn’t fade; it deepens, turning the tease into a quiet admission. They have no right to be here. Both of them know it. Still, Silas hold…