“It sounds like he just wanted to see you jerk off.”
He shakes his head. “Austin never watched. The whole time, he just sat there reading a book, stroking my thigh, telling me it was all going to be okay, because I had him. He said as long as I had him, nothing bad could touch me.”
My mouth hangs open when he lifts his ass off my thigh and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his speedo. “Ez? What are you doing?”
The way he described Austin watching him like it was the most normal thing in the world; that’s what this feels like. It’s taken me by surprise, but it doesn't feel off. Maybe I’ve seen him stroke himself enough times, it almost seems like second nature. I know what’s coming next, and I don’t mind it. He only does this with a select few, and having him onmylap, for once, almost feels like a privilege.
He's so fuckin’ soft.
“It was his way of proving it to me. Can I prove it to you now?”
“Ezra,” I whisper.
“Can I prove that I’m sorry?” he whispers, but even without the offer, I believe it. I believe he's sorry. I believe he wants to end all the hurt. “Please?”
“Yeah,” I quickly breathe out. “Yeah. Okay, Ez. You can. It’s okay.”
He pushes down his speedo, eyes aimed right at me, and then his cock is out, displayed proudly. I may have seen it before, but it seemsdifferent when I know he’s doing this for me, and not for Austin. Even when he does this around Bubba, they’re never alone. One of us is always around. No one else is here right now, Just me, Ezra, and his half-hard cock.
Unlike me, his dick is almost hairless, his pubes trimmed low, leaving a small dusting of dark brown fur. Ezra can claim his cock is five-and-a-half inches all he wants. My job relies on eyeball measurements, and there ain’t a chance in hell Ezra’s over four or four-point-five. He’s a little guy, but it works for him. Dangling beneath his dick are two small pink balls that look like they belong in an Easter basket. They get even smaller when he gets close, drawing up into his body like they almost don’t exist.
“I mean it, Johnny,” he says, curling his fingers around his cock. The head barely peeks over the side of his hand, so he don’t have to pump his hand too much to stimulate it. He might be small, but with the way he relaxes against my chest and fondles his pretty little cock, no shame to be found, he might as well be the giant fromJack and the Beanstalk. I could never do what he’s doing right now. I couldn’t put myself out there, opening myself up to ridicule by masturbating in the laps of friends as a bonding ritual. He’s so fuckin’ brave, and there’s the smallest twinge of pride swelling in my chest, because he’s being bravefor me.
“You’re doing great,” I whisper, unsure why my voice is cracking all over the place. He’s got his little hand on his little dick, stroking himself, using his thumb to collect a bead of pre-cum and eating it as he stares into my eyes.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know you are.” It’s the only thing I can think to say. He’s whining and whimpering as he writhes around in my lap, making all these sordid sounds, pumping himself furiously.
“I’ll never say it—oh, fuck, Johnny, I’m close—I’ll never fucking say it again. I swear. You’re not stupid. I’ll be nice. I’ll be so fucking nice, I promise. We’ll be friends.”
“Friends?” I whisper, the word sounding foreign directed at him. We ain’t friends. We were never supposed to be friends, and up until right this second, I didn’t think there was even a possibility. But God, he sounds like he means it. My hand rises slowly up his thigh.“Really?”
He nods with force, placing his hand on top of mine and squeezing. He spreads his legs a little wider, and I can see the beginning of his crack. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I bet if he spread his legs a little more, I could probably see the hole. “I promise. You don’t even know, Johnny. You don’t even—Oh, God. Oh, Fuck.” He guides my hand even higher, and then between, stopping when I’m cupping his bare cheeks through his legs.
“Oh, fuck. That’s it, Ezra,” I find myself saying, unable to look away. We’ve hated each other for so long, but now, something is shifting. I feel it, and it’s so fuckin’ beautiful, it rips the air from my chest. When he comes, there’s a chance he’ll mean what he said. There’s a chance we can be friends, and if we can become friends, maybe it won’t always hurt so much. Maybe we won’t have to hurt each other ever again. And don’t I want that? Don’t I need a new friend who loves Bubba just as much as I do, even if the kind of love we have for him isn’t the same? Ezra is gay for him. I don’t know what the fuck I am, but here, with Ezra in my arms, I don’t think it matters anymore. It’s not about labels, it’s about this big, beautiful triangle of love. When he opens his eyes and smiles at me, it almost feels like the triangle is rounding out around the edges. I tickle his ass cheek and smile downat him. “Come on, Ez. It’s okay. You can come. I’m right here with you. I’m not leavin’. Let go, bro.”
“Bro,” he moans, sounding downright obscene. “That’s so fucking hot.” I don’t know what’s hot about it, but whatever it is, it must be scorching, because the word is enough to send him spilling over, shooting jet after jet into the air, painting both our faces, leaving little space untouched.
“Holy fuck,” I say, and with my mouth hanging open, a shot of his cum flies in, landing on my tongue. I don’t even blink, just swallow it down, nodding encouragingly, because he’s still writhing around like he’s coming out of his skin. “Shit. You did so good, Little Dick. You came so hard, bro.”
He presses his face right against my chest and whines my name. “Jonathan.”
Fuck.
I tighten the grip I've got on Ezra’s hip, pulling him closer. He feels good here. He feels real good here. “Ez.”
His cheeks flush a little. “Friends?”
“Friends.”
“Johnny?”
“Yeah, bro?”
His cock twitches again, and another small bead of cum slips out of his tip. “Did you just call me Little Dick?”
