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You live your life in distances.
The distance between footsteps. The distance between moons, one job after the other. The distance between an aimed thrower and your skull.
Most importantly, professional distance.
“Who knew the crossing of our paths would be so fortuitous, little gem?”
There is no distance between you and Ezra now.
You breathe his name, somewhere between content and aching. “Please…”
He nods once, looking down at you with mock-pity. What you are begging for needs no clarification. He’ll indulge you, his expression says. Since you’re so needy. Ezra presses you into the thin bedroll, one arm lying by your head and the other resting lightly on your hip.
And, most noticeably, his cock is nestled between your spread legs.
A rather steep escalation, really. It’s laughable. Two pairs of prospectors found each other on the Green. After some tense negotiation and thinly-veiled threats, they agreed to set tents next to each other. For the purpose of mutual betterment, naturally. Mixed the partners to lower the chances of turning on each other in the middle of the night. A show of good faith, someone had said. You can’t remember who.
Hence, you ended up with Ezra. Dark eyes, quick wit, that strangely endearing blond streak. The distance across your tent, between your individual cots, quickly found itself obsolete.
“Careful, now. We wouldn’t those sweet sounds to draw undue attention from our partners next door, would we?”
His voice should be a sin, crooning and curling above you, heady like the most saccharine smoke imaginable. Ezra — this stranger you’d met barely seventeen standard hours ago — is now fucking you into your cot. Hard.
Said cot squeaks with every thrust, piercing the air and punctuating how illicit this little dalliance is.
Well, not little. Not in the slightest, given the delicious stretch of your walls around him, the fullness dissolving your thoughts into nothing but a demand for more.
You keen, eyes fluttering shut as you throw your head back onto the thin pillow. It’s all you can do to keep your lips pressed together, revelling in the waves of pleasure he’s lavishing upon your core.
It would be easier if he were quiet. But no, Ezra is clearly a vocal lover, panting and grunting and occasionally mumbling praises into your shoulder. Every shudder that wracks his body passes into yours in your closeness. As if, with your clandestine coupling, you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
You try to rock your hips into his ministrations, chasing the ecstasy you need more of. But you can’t. Ezra’s weight presses you into the flimsy bedroll with enough solidity to keep you firmly in place. He grinds his hips into yours, and a moan bubbles up from your throat. In the dim light of your tent, you catch a satisfied grin creeping across his face. His features glow softly in the lamplight, distinct and hedonistic with pleasure.
You are reminded, not for the first time, that Ezra is rather handsome.
So is it really that surprising, that his presence — heavy, surrounding, intoxicating — only gets you wetter?
Ezra clicks his tongue in reproach. Something in your core responds far too strongly for such an innocuous tick. “Your enthusiasm is flattering, gem. But there’s only so much noise you can make before we’re interrupted.”
You. As in, only you. Were it anyone else coaxing you to your next orgasm, you would’ve been irritated. But with Ezra, oh. This stranger you’ve come across in the Green has a way with words that you can excuse for now, could excuse forever, if only he gives you what he’s promised. You need it.
“Okay,” you murmur. The desperation in your voice is not lost on either of you. You just want him to fuck you harder.
“What’s that?” The corner of his mouth ticks up, and amusement drips from his voice, sticky-sweet and pooling straight into your chest. “Can you stay quiet for me?”
“Yeah, yeah I can—” His cock brushes against that one spot you adore— “Yes!” It blurts out before you can think to stop yourself. It’s much louder than you expected.
And just like that, there is a hand pressed over your mouth. Controlled, unyielding. Your eyes widen. Ezra says nothing, doesn’t even acknowledge the gesture. He just watches your face carefully, checking for any signs of discomfort. But his hips don’t so much as falter as he keeps you quiet by force, still thrusting, ever maddening.
It strikes you in that moment what you’re allowing him to do. This cheerful, cunning, dangerous man. A stranger, beyond a handful of conversations. You’re allowing him to pin you to the cot, to hold you down and fuck you, to manhandle you into keeping quiet. Into taking his cock. You don’t even know his full name.
Your gaze meets his, and you unabashedly groan into his palm.
It buzzes against his skin with its fervour. Ezra raises an eyebrow, delighted and smug and Kevva, you feel yourself clench around his cock. He glances down meaningfully.
“Well, then. It seems you’ve taken a shining to our newfound solution, gem.” His voice is hoarse, and there is a savage satisfaction in knowing that you are the one to cause that.
Then, apropos of absolutely nothing, he pulls out of you. You whimper at the loss, shaking your head immediately, rejecting the idea that this is over because you’d barely just begun. The slick sound of his cock sliding out of you heating your cheeks with a vengeance.
But it’s alright. You know it’s alright when Ezra shushes you with something akin to tenderness, something that you can’t bear to think about for too long lest the distance you’ve so carefully cultivated crumbles at your feet. With one commanding arm, he rolls you onto your stomach.
His words sound… excited. Quick to be spoken but still smooth, flowing like only Ezra’s can. “Now that the, ah, volume issue has been dealt with—” He slides in till the hilt without warning. A brief pause, before he starts a brutal pace. Oh.
Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and Ezra groans something sacrilegious.
A trembling whine barely leaves your lips before his hand is back on your mouth. Pulling you back ever so slightly, keeping your head up and focused on the tent’s sealed entrance. A reminder, that either of your partners could hear and walk in. Could catch you spreading your legs for him, just because he asked. Like a whore, you wonder faintly, and the thought is too pleasing for you to worry about anytime other than later.
You feel yourself giving into the rapture building in your core. Bouncing with every snap of his hips, you let yourself sob into his palm, stuttering something resembling his name.
“That’s it, gem,” Ezra mutters darkly behind you. He sounds wrecked. “Make your pleasure known, sing it to the stars. I will handle the rest.”
His other hand snakes round your waist to rub tight, frantic circles around your swollen clit. It’s the last straw, the final push over that perilous edge. The distinction between thoughts and words is cast aside in favour of chasing that peak, the bliss you’ve needed for so long now.
Yes, yes, yes—!
With an obscene, drawn-out moan into his hand, you come. Your ears are ringing, you can’t see anything. There is nothing but the feeling of Ezra’s hand on your mouth and your walls clenching on his cock.
You slump underneath him, trying to catch your breath. Ezra curses something unintelligible and asks hurriedly, “Where—?”
His palm shifts away from your mouth, scrambling for purchase by your head on the cot. Your post-orgasm mind isn’t so addled that you forget yourself completely. “Not inside,” you whisper sharply. You have the implant, of course. But it doesn’t hurt to be careful.
Ezra manages a few sloppy, frenzied thrusts before he pulls out harshly. You hear the tell-tale sounds of him fucking his fist before he lets out a choked grunt. Thick, warm ropes of come drape across your bare thighs and rear. The feeling is not entirely unpleasant.
You sigh, craning your head back to glance at him. Ezra’s— Well.
Ezra is blinking rapidly, shoulders heaving with every panting breath. His hair is mussed; you have to clamp down the urge to flatten the blond streak to its usual place. His gaze finds yours and you think the amazed warmth in those depths might just reflect your own. His smile certainly does.
Distance. Here in the pale lamplight, you think it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.