Covenant Ficlets: The Swimming Hole WIP

More of Bart and Ezra. This one may be a WIP. When I started it I wanted to get in a full sex scene.

Tags & warnings: Gender dysphoria and the bullshit of being trans, nsfw for nakedness and foreplay, 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 body is wet and warm against Ezra’s front when he pulls Ezra in to kiss between his breasts. His bare breasts. It feels giddy. Free and forbidden at the same time in that way that Ezra’s experienced before, the dizzying way that makes him willing to do ridiculous, wild things. Bart undoes Ezra’s pants too, doing his best not to let his mouth lose contact with Ezra’s tits as he works those off him till Ezra’s really and truly naked, right here out in the open beneath the wide open sky.

He’s never felt this naked in his life. It’s…humiliating. It’s… He hooks a leg over Bart’s hip to keep their bodies close as possible.