“Then I met you.”
“Do you regret it?”
He shakes his head, but he still looks torn. “I could never regret you, but I hate that I’m putting him through this. He didn’t ask for any of this. This is killing him, Ezra. I need you to go easy on him, baby.”
“Okay. I promise. Unless he does something to really piss me off, I’ll try my hardest not to be the world’s biggest prick. I’m still going to hit him with my balloons though.”
Bubba shrugs. “You can’t win them all.”
Johnny’s footsteps thud against the small set of steps leading down the hill. “I’ve been waiting ten fuckin’ minutes for you to get your asses down there. If I knew you were going to spend all morning making out with each other, I would’ve taken the boat out myself.”
“You still can,” I snap at him, but then I remember my promise to Bubba. I said I would try to be nice, and the first words I said to him were filled with snark. I pry myself from Bubba’s grip and give Johnny an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily cruel, and you didn’t deserve it.”
“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me today.” Johnny arches an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t like it.” He flicks a thumb over his shoulder, motioning toward the lake. “Are y’all fuckers ready or not?”
I lift my tanktop over my head, because if I’m going to be stuck outside all morning with nothing to do, I can at least work on my tan. Next go the shorts, and as I unzip them, I notice Johnny staring right at my crotch, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted. The sun sparkles against his bald head, and I’m pretty sure if we were in an enclosed space with direct sunlight access from above, he’d be casting fractals off his shining scalp, reflecting against the walls like diamonds.
“What is that?” Johnny breathes, his eyes dipping down my chest, focusing on my speedo. It’s new, and neither of them have seen it yet. I bought the revealing little number for our Fourth of July party in a few weeks, but democracy is under attack, so I’m not feeling too patriotic these days.
“I think they call it a banana hammock,” Bubba says, a little too breathlessly, if you ask me.
“No, I know what a speedo is. I was askin’ about the pattern.” He leans half an inch closer like it’ll make the image crisper for him, but. His tongue drags slowly across his lips. “Is that a bootleg American flag?”
I shake my head. “It’s a Union Jack.”
“The fuck is a Union Jack?” Bubba asks, placing his hand on my hip. He slides it behind, cupping my ass. Normally, I’d push him away, but Johnny’s watching, so, I’m kind of living for it.
“A British flag,” I answer, arching into his touch.
“Fuck,” Bubba whispers, squeezing my cheek. “Bro, you’ve got to feel this.”
Johnny’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, the fuck I don’t.”
“Can he?” Bubba asks me. “Can Johnny feel how perfect you are, baby?” When his finger wedges between my cheeks, gently connecting with my hole through the fabric of my speedo, I whimper. My cock stiffens, and I don’t give a fuck about covering it up. They’ve both seen me come, they can cope with an erection.
Johnny’s eyes meet mine, and he seems just as shell shocked as me. Bubba wants us to touch. He wants his boys to scope out the lay of each other’s land.
“Yeah. Okay,” I finally say, twisting my hip, offering my ass for Johnny to grope. Maybe if he feels how soft it is, he’ll finally fuck off, knowing there’s no need for this battle, because it’s already been won. But then our eyes meet, my breath unexpectedly catches in my chest, and I’m not so sure I want him to leave just yet. There’s this strange, new look in his eyes, and it’s absolutely fascinating, demanding to be explored and uncovered. What the fuck does that look mean?
His hand creeps forward at a snail’s pace, and when we finally connect, it’s like hundreds of static electricity pops, back to back. Bubba’s still got his hand on me. His grip is a lot tighter than Johnny’s, like it knows who this ass fucking belongs to. Not that it belongs to him. His finger presses deeply into the fabric, inching between my cheeks.
“Bubba?” I whimper, leaning into the touch.
“Oh my fucking God,” Bubba says as soon as he comes in contact with my entrance. His finger drags against my hole, repeatedly grinding against me, making me whine like an absolute slut for him. “Jesus, Ezzy. You’re so tight.”
“Bubs,” I whimper.
“Johnny,” Bubba says. “You gotta feel this.”
It’s like the world around us stops, my heart included, and my eyes meet with Johnny’s. Bubba wants him to touch my hole, albeit covered by a thin strip of fabric.
Johnny stares down at his hand like it’s an impossible sight, and then his grip eases, and his fingers dip lower. Bubba slides his hand down until he’s holding my entire bulge in his hand, cock and balls nestled snugly. As I arch into Bubba’s touch, Johnny’s fingers dive deeper still, touching my hole.
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny says, looking goddamn dazed, and this low, throaty growl rattles in his throat. His eyes lock with mine, and he squeezes again before slowly pulling away. Without a word, he turns and walks down the hill, toward the boat dock.
Holy fucking shit. What the fuck was that?
Bubba squeezes my package gently before letting go. “Thank you.”
