Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s when you’re riding him one night. His left hand may not have been his dominant one, but he was plenty skilled with it considering he’d gotten you off while you were spooning in bed. Which is how you ended up on top of him.

You had a hand on his chest, the other braced on the bed next to his head as you ground down on his cock. He’d been holding your thigh, but then he brought his hand up to cover the one on his chest and slide it up higher until it was right at the base of his throat.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed up at you. “Do this for me, sweet gem? Would you, please?”

When your fingers pressed into the sides of his neck, his breath hitched and his eyes slipped shut. You squeezed harder and he let out a moan that curled warm and heavy in your core.

It became a regular thing after that.

Chapter Text

“Ezra!” you shouted.

The port was crowded, his name lost to the thunderous chatty around you as you tried to elbow your way closer to him, tracking that little tuft of blond in his hair and swearing whenever it bobbed out of view.

You started using the big duffle you were carrying to nudge people out your way until you reached an area that wasn’t so densely packed.

“EZRA!”

He turns toward you, eyes scanning and chin tilted up in an effort to spot you over the sea of people.

You knew he’d found you when his eyes widened and he’d started moving directly for you, a smile lighting up his whole face.

You were both frantic, fighting to get close to one another. And once you were within arms length, you both stopped. You were grinning like a pair of fools, catching your breath, assessing each other.

“It’s been…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Years,” you agreed.

He was so much like you remembered him. Maybe a little more confident using his left arm than he’d been when you’d met him, judging by the way he’s at ease with how his own packs are situated. Maybe a touch more gray in his stubble. But still so very Ezra.

You didn’t know who moved first, just that you were suddenly holding him close and enjoying the feel of his broad hand pressed against your back as he did the same to you.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, face buried in his neck.

He gave a quiet laugh that might’ve been just a bit teary as he held you tighter. “And I you. So much.”

Chapter Text

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your boots on and lacing them up, when a warm weight appears at your back and a scruffy chin hooks over your shoulder.

“You always smell so good,” Ezra drawls, accent still thick and slow with sleep as he lazily trails his fingertips down your arm.

Cracking a smile, you sit up a bit straighter, saying, “Thank you. I try to shower as often as I can while on board.” You pat his hand and he lets out a bemused huff.

“I was referring to something more than simple soap,” he grumbles.

“Trying to flatter me back into bed, prospector?” you ask as he nuzzles against your neck.

“Are my intentions truly so transparent, condottiere?”

You twist around to look at him, squinting. “Yes. And I think that one is a little too specific.”

He cuts you a sly grin. “Would you have preferred ‘mercenary?’”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “for the sake of accuracy.” Then you scowl at him. “You’re trying to stall.”

“I only ask for another half hour of your company,” he says, offering a playful pout. “It’s too early in the morning to be parted from you yet.”

“I have responsibilities.”

“They can wait a bit longer,” he insists, tugging at your arm. “You’re the only one that holds up the routine anyway.”

He has a point. “Ten minutes.”

“Twenty,” he counters.

“Ten.”

There is a quiet moment before he relents. “Fine.”

You shove him off and back over to his side of the bed before laying down beside him. “I’m leaving my boots on.”

He scoots closer, cozying up against you. “Do whatever you like. This is technically your bed.”

“Fiend.” You roll onto your side, facing him, and slide a hand into his hair while hooking a leg over his hip. “This what you wanted?”

He makes a happy noise and sighs contentedly, wearing a smile as his eyes close. “You do smell nice,” he rumbles.

You tuck in a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you a soft grunt of indignation before the two of you settle in for your few stolen minutes of peace.

Chapter Text

His hand sneaks along your lower back as he stands next to you, peering down at the schematics you have spread across the table all while slowly hitching the back of your shirt up. “So, you’ve got this all figured out, hmm?” he drawls.

He’s been like this all day, teasing touches and a low, syrupy tone of voice.

“Ezra,” you say in warning, palms splayed flat on the tabletop as you scan the layout of the heavy machinery in the ship’s main engine level.

“Yes, sweet gem?” His fingers brush your skin, tracing lazy circles as he leans in close.

You close your eyes and try not to release an exasperated sigh. “I know what you’re doing.”

He chuckles softly, the sound buzzing through you where his chest is pressed against your arm. “Is that so? Enlighten me, please.”

You throw a scowl his way and get a sultry grin in return. “I’m trying to work.”

“That’s hardly an answer. What am I doing, gem? I’m a very curious man, after all,” he teases.

You snort. “That’s one way to put it.”

His hand skims higher and your heart does something funny. “I take that as a compliment,” he says warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly, knowing that the engine would have to wait because your resolve is crumbling at your feet. You should’ve known not to ask Ezra for help with something that isn’t urgent.

You groan in frustration, turning toward him with a halfhearted glare. “You are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met,” you growl as you pin him against the table and tangle a hand in his hair, much to his delight.

He wraps his arm around you as he laughs. “We both know that’s a lie. But I’ll gladly accept second place, if you’re so inclined.”

You press close and huff “brat” against his mouth, kissing him hard enough that he nearly tips back flat onto the table.

Chapter Text

There’s no need for suits on the planet your team is currently stationed on. The air is plenty breathable and the only real difference between this planet and the ship is the gravity. It’s just a bit weaker planetside, which takes some getting used to as the three of you walk to the dig site.

Cee had stayed aboard, something that Ezra had only agreed to because Yuri was staying behind as well. You don’t blame him for being so cautious around the majority of your team. The guy leading you all tended to have that effect on people.

Upon reaching the dig site, and despite still clearly adjusting to the odd and faintly floaty feeling of the atmosphere, Ezra quickly gets to work while you and Spencer stand guard, rifles at the ready. The forests around the site aren’t densely populated, but the odd predator has been known to wander close enough to cause some concern.

Prospecting here isn’t as labor intensive as some other planets, and the lower gravity means that the soil is loosely packed, only requiring a trowel and some persistence.

It’s a relatively easy job, all things said.

Until a thrower charge slams into Spencer’s vest, knocking him to the ground.

You’re on the move immediately, sprinting toward where Ezra is still crouched, his hand abandoning the trowel and reaching for the thrower at his hip. He doesn’t get the chance to draw it as you haul him up and drag him behind a thick-trunked tree with you.

“Damn marauders,” he grits out, “isn’t like the terrain’s too difficult to dig for themselves.”

“Yeah.” You lean around the tree to send a few shots of return fire. “But this is more exciting for them.”

Spencer rolls onto his stomach with a groan, probably bruised through his vest, and crawls over to a tree a few feet ahead.

The bark of your tree splinters as it’s hit, brittle wood chips raining down on the two of you. You glance over at Ezra, knowing you should go take down the people firing at you but reluctant to leave him on his own.

One of the marauders sprints out from the tree line toward the bag Ezra had been using to gather the haul, firing wildly.

Both you and Spencer fire, taking them down before they can even get close.

You grind your teeth as you set your sights on the spot where they came from. “Stay low,” you tell Ezra, “and make sure your thrower is charged. I’ll grab Spencer and see about getting these assholes to back off.”

Ezra nods, drawing his pistol. “Good luck.”

Quickly, you move around the tree, keeping a steady aim on the tree line, and duck down next to Spencer.

“I’ll go forward and take out anyone with a rifle, you stay a step behind and give me some cover,” you say, wincing when a shot lands right above your head, pelting splinters down across your shoulders.

Spencer agrees, adjusting his grip on the rifle and the two of you set off.

You don’t get very far before the shots from the tree line cease completely, panicked yelling taking their place.

You and Spencer share an uncertain look.

A sensation begins to rise up, an unease. Like a deep rumbling that you can’t hear but can still feel deep down.

Ezra shouts, still behind the tree where you left him as he opens fire on something.

You twist around, chest tightening as a small pack of vicious looking creatures appears from the forest from the opposite side of the site, many of them quickly approaching where Ezra is now standing as he shots. There are too many of them, moving too quickly.

You raise your rifle and begin firing, mind blank save for panic and concern, and even that smoothes out into cool nothingness.

It’s a familiar and unwelcome feeling but you don’t have time to worry about it when Ezra is still in danger.

“Bag,” you shout at Spencer. The creatures are beginning to hesitate or start running at you instead of Ezra.

Spencer grabs up the haul bag and Ezra’s tools, securing everything and slinging it over his shoulder while you finish picking off the bolder predators and send the rest running.

Ezra slumps back against the tree and lets out a uneasy laugh. “I think I need more practice. Still not up to snuff with my recently dominant hand.”

“You okay?” you ask, stance rigid, only turning your attention to him when you know that Spencer is keeping watch.

“Rattled,” he says as he catches his breath, flashing a smile, “but otherwise unharmed.”

You step closer, reaching a hand to cup the back of his neck and squeeze gently, voice soft. “You’re sure?”

He nods. “I’m fine. I’ll swear it to whomever you’d prefer.”

You watch him for another moment, considering. Then you’re squeezing his nape once more and letting go, some of the tension draining out of your shoulders. “Alright. Let’s head back to the ship before anything else decides to show up.”