Covenant Ficlets: The Swimming Hole

Finished this one! More of Bart and Ezra, having sexy times in the heat of the summer.

Tags & warnings: Gender dysphoria and the bullshit of being trans, nsfw for nakedness and explicit sex, my tenses keep shifting between ficlets

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The swimming hole is the best in the area, as far as Ezra’s concerned, but it’s a hike—a couple miles through the woods, which is enough work, especially on a hot day, that most of the folks in town prefer the closer, easier ones unless they get too crowded to bear.

It’s going to be one of those blistering hot days. But it’s Sunday morning, and almost everybody in town is in church. Where Ezra isn’t welcome. So he’s pleased but not too surprised when he and Bart get there and find they’ve got the place to themselves. 

They reach the edge, strewn with river rocks worn smooth from the ages of coursing water and wet silt that’s silky and cool underfoot. Ezra sits down on a shady log at the edge of the trees to catch his breath. He’s soaked with sweat. His hair’s curled up in corkscrews and when he runs a hand over his brow it comes away actually dripping. He opened his collar and rolled up his sleeves an age ago, early on the walk, but his shirt is soaked and sticking to him. He strips off his shoes and rolls up his pant legs, and watches Bart shuck out of his clothes with an envy as baking hot as the sun.

Although that’s not only envy. The view of Bart naked has a lot to recommend it. This far into the summer, his skin’s a tawny brown and the glaze of sweat all over him makes him gleam like a bronze statue. He’s a big, slabby man with a body shaped by heavy labor, and good god but Ezra loves the dense, grabbable feeling of him under his hands.

Stripped to the skin and utterly, painfully unself-conscious, Bart wades into the water. Ezra watches the slabs of his back muscles move under his skin, and the thick curves of his ass work to keep his balance as he moves over the uneven rock and shifting sand floor. He ducks under, and comes up dripping, sun-bleached hair gone dark and slicked back from his face.

He blinks water from his eyes and looks at Ezra. “Ain’t you coming in?”

“Just catching my breath.” He rolls  up his pant legs a bit more, high as they can go, so he can wade in. He’ll get his pants wet, he decides. He doesn’t care.

Bart comes out to meet him. His wet hands finish the job of turning Ezra’s shirt translucent where they catch his shoulders, and then tug at his collar. “Come on. Lose this.”

“Bart…” 

“Shy?” His sideways smile glints at Ezra. “Who’s gonna see here?”

“It ain’t that, Bart.” Ezra manages not to snap, but the words come out with force enough to take the smile off Bart’s face. “You remember I got tits under here, right?”

“Yeah. And they’re fantastic.” Bart tries on an experimental leer. 

It’s meant to make Ezra laugh but he can’t quite find it in him. “I can’t exactly go flashing those around the way you do.”

Bart blinks again. God love him, he genuinely looks surprised, like it’s something that hadn’t even occurred to him. Ezra realizes he’s angry when he feels it soften a little. He fucking loves this man.

It isn’t fair. Ezra’s rather fucking fond of his body in general, but there are days he wishes he could cut his tits off just so people would stop looking at him like they mean something. He’d give almost anything for the kind of freedom to just be that Bart’s got, for nothing except that he was born with a flat chest and a cock.

He still thinks about whether he should go to Covenant, sometimes. At least he’s got a better idea of what he’d be asking for these days.

Bart, though, has an easier solution. “Fuck ‘em,” he declares.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Fuck ‘em!” Water goes in all directions as he throws his arms wide. “There ain’t nobody here, Ezra. But if there were then they can just cope with themselves. You break your back over them as it is. You don’t owe them any more than you give already. You sure as hell don’t owe ‘em clinging to their tight-assed notions of decorum when anybody who turns up here is gonna be the ones being peeping toms.”

Ezra stares at him. Oh, he wants. Convince him just a little more, Bart.

Bart’s smile comes back, and this time it’s wicked. He reaches for the buttons of Ezra’s shirt, not presumptuous but slow and careful, ready to stop if Ezra bats him away. But if Ezra can’t quite bring himself to agree, he sure as hell isn’t inclined to argue. He just stands there stock still and lets Bart undo a button. And then another.

“Let’s give ‘em something to peep, Ezra,” he purrs, and slides the shirt back over Ezra’s shoulders and tosses it to land on the pile of Bart’s clothes. His pants follow promptly after.

Bart pulls Ezra forward into the water, tugging him against him, and then when they’re deep enough to have clearance for floating he hoists Ezra up into his arms to start kissing and licking between his breasts.

Bart is purposely sloppy, obscene, flattening his tongue against Ezra’s breastbone and sucking on the sensitive skin between his tits right out here where there’s nothing to hide behind.

Ezra’s never been so intensely aware of his body. Every inch of his skin, on display. He can’t help but imagine hidden eyes, taking in his breasts and hips, the long arch of his throat as he tips his head back encouragingly.

He feels…he feels obscene as Bart stands them up out of the water so it goes cascading down them and Ezra’s thighs are lifted clear of the surface. Bart lowers him down onto his cock, and Ezra glances to the side, where he can see their tossing, broken reflection and just how visible it is that Bart is sinking inside him.

He feels obscene, and more naked than he’s ever been in his life, and so fucking desirable that he moans loud enough for it to echo off the surrounding rocks.

Bart laughs approvingly. “Yeah. Yeah! Shit Ezra, you sound amazing.” 

He shoves his hips forward and pulls Ezra down onto him at the same time. Ezra cries out at being filled in a single thrust, and then starts laughing.

Bart laughs again, giddy with Ezra’s glee. “You’re so fucking beautiful, babe. If you could only see yourself.” Another thrust, slow and firm this time, draws a long moan from Ezra. He draws it out, deliberately shameless. “Anybody who gets an eyeful of you like this isn’t gonna feel anything but jealous and horny.”

The embarrassment of that idea tangles together with the pleasure in a way that makes Ezra’s head swim. He wraps his legs tight around Bart’s waist and his arms around his gleaming wet shoulders and rocks his own hips, starting to ride him. “Oh fuck,” he says breathlessly. “What if someone did see us?”

This time it’s not worry driving the question.

Bart’s groan is so deep it vibrates right up through Ezra’s body. “Some creep, hiding in the bushes, watching us? Seeing you wrapped around me, held up on my cock? Scandalized and angry, but so turned on by the way you look on me that they can’t pull themselves away.”

“Oh shit,” Ezra whispers. He pulls himself hard down onto Bart’s cock again, till the bulb of its tip jams up into the sweet spot inside him and makes him keen. “Keep going.”

It feels powerful.

Bart’s hands clamp down hard on his hips, holding him there while he rocks shallowly into him, chasing Ezra’s sounds and driving them higher and higher in pitch. “He’s watching,” he growls, “while I fuck you right through these noises you’re making. Drinking in the hungry way your back arches and that dazed look on your face. The way your mouth gasps open when I get you just right—fuck, you’re beautiful. He, he’s never seen a man as gorgeous as you. And he can’t take it anymore, babe. He reaches down to open up his pants and take himself in hand…oh, yeah, oh fuck, you…” 

He loses it for a moment, breath and rhythm both, taken apart by the way Ezra’s started rolling his hips in a circle on him, so horny he can barely stand it. He wants more, deeper, but Bart’s already deep as he can get.

“Keep going,” he demands, and means the fucking and the story both.

Bart gasps and pulls Ezra off him.

Ezra makes a noise of complaint as he’s turned around and pushed down over a rounded boulder that protrudes above the water. Their motions slosh water up over the top of it so it’s smooth and slick and cool against his belly. He lets himself be draped over it, his breasts pillowing out where he’s pressed down against the surface.

He whines, eager, when he feels Bart lean in over his back, take a firm hold of his hips, and enter him again from behind. “Keep goin’,” he pleads, scrabbling at the damnably slippery rock for the leverage to push back against him. 

Oh, hell, and Bart goes. He pounds down into Ezra from behind, yanking Ezra’s body back onto him with each thrust. Ezra slips easily back and forth on the fucking boulder, breasts bouncing, Bart’s grip the only thing keeping him in place. His fingers and toes slide through the slick silt and rocks of the creek bed, unable to find purchase to brace himself. “Bart!” he yelps. It’s not meant as discouragement.

Bart is heavy and warm and powerful blanketing his back. The animal force he’s mounting him with is exciting as hell. Water sloshes and splashes over their backs with every movement. It feels incredible, washing the sweat off and cooling his overheated body.

He wraps an arm around Ezra to grab one of his tits in a broad hand, anchoring him better in place, and presses his face against the side of his neck. “He jerks himself off,” he grunts, “in time with me fucking you. Can only imagine his hand is you, so hot…oh, fucking, so hot and tight around him.”

Ezra’s so close. He writhes, fighting to get more of Bart’s cock in him, whimpering and keening with every stroke. He reaches back and snags Bart’s hair with a hard yank.

“He wishes he was good enough for you,” Bart manages, voice wildly unsteady with fighting off his own orgasm till he can make Ezra come. “He’ll never rate a man good as you. Never get to feel how good you feel—oh, god—coming undone beneath me, the way you sound, fuck Ezra you’re so needy for me, the things you do to a man’s ego, sounding like that—”

The squeeze and pull of Bart’s grip on his breast as his thrusts rock him in his arms hurts, in a fantastic way that combines with the hungry pleasure to drive Ezra over the edge. He’s got nothing to push his face down into and muffle his cry when his climax hits. It echoes through the little valley, sharp and high and exposingly ecstatic.

Bart puts his head down, smushing his face between Ezra’s shoulder blades, and doubles down on him, chasing his own orgasm. God, he fucking loves it when Bart keeps going. The strength of him, milking every possible aftershock from Ezra’s body till, with a guttural yell that follows Ezra’s through the valley, he comes too.

Pinned under Bart, he feels the man panting like a fucking bellows on top of him. After a moment of catching his breath, he starts laughing again.

Ezra snorts at him. Hell, he loves this man. 

His cooch gives a final twitch of pleasure when Bart pushes upright and pulls his softening cock out. Ezra pushes his dripping corkscrew-curled hair out of his face and rolls over beneath him to look up at that glowing, ruddy face and lopsided smile. 

“Well?” Bart’s still a little winded. His hairy chest heaves, glistening in the sunlight, while Ezra enjoys the view. “What do you think of naked swimming?”

Ezra looks up at him through his lashes. “Dunno. I think I might need a bit more persuading.”