I swallow the cum I’ve left lingering between my lips and gums, my mouth feeling empty without it. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t mean to,” he scoffs. “Yes, well, I’m sure Jim Jones didn’t mean to kill all those people either, but that didn’t stop the bodies from piling up, did it?”
I blink at him. “Jim Jones definitely meant to kill them. I’ve heard the audio tapes, baby. I’m a Jonestown aficionado. I’ve researched the case for years.” I scrunch my eyebrows together in confusion. “We’ve discussed this at length. I told you bedtime stories about it as you fell asleep in my arms. You know this about me.”
“I know you’re a grade-A asshole. That’s what I know about you.” He looks down at the place where we’re connected, and glares. “You’re still touching it. Let go.”
I brush my thumb against the head before releasing the hold I’ve got on him. Does the sight of his entire body trembling at the contact get me half-hard? Yeah, but that’s nothing new. Just the sight of Ezra can send my cock swelling to life.
“I love you, Ezzy,” I whisper, and I don’t miss the way he blushes, or how his the corner of his lip curves upward.
“One, two, fuck you.”
Johnny’s voice booms across the living room, “What the fuck is going on in here?” When I look up, he’s standing under the archway, and his face is twisted up in what I can only assume is jealous heartbreak. To my surprise, as soon as Ezra spots Johnny, he takes my handand guides it back to his softening cock, stroking up and down his half-hard length—not that it’s much of a journey. I may be in love with Little Man, but I won’t lie to make him look better for the sake of a story. He’s only rocking four inches, but they’re a beautiful four inches. A life-changing four inches. Four spectacular inches I want to worship with my tongue, alongside Johnny.
“He made me come real hard, Jeremy.”
Johnny blinks at him. “You know my name’s Johnny.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Ezra shrugs, pointing at Johnny’s shaved head. “Either way, you have no hair, so I don’t care.”
“I do too have hair! Just not right now.” Johnny’s eyes narrow, and he looks over his shoulder, growling, “Clint!”
Footsteps approach from behind, and my buddy Clint enters the room, his long brown hair flowing behind him as he moves, looking like Fabio. His eyes dart back and forth between Ezra, Johnny, and myself. “The fuck is going on in here?”
Clint is the only strictly heterosexual man living in this house. He calls himself queer-adjacent because he watches femboy porn sometimes, but he’s a ladies man—not that he gets a whole lot of action these days. He tried to bring a girl home a few weeks back, but Austin was splayed out on the couch, fucking himself in the ass with a dildo, recording it all for OnlyFans. Apparently, the woman licked her lips and asked to take a ride on Aussie’s disco stick. Austin said no, but he thought she was fabulous, and now they're friends, and she's forgotten about Clint.
Johnny smirks at Ezra, aiming his words at Clint. “Are you ready for work, bro?” When Clint lifts his lunchbox and motions toward the door, I lean in and kiss his forehead.
“I won’t be gone long, baby.”
“Yeah,” Johnny says, laughing like he’s mocking Ezra. “Don’t worry, Ezra. I’ll only keep him the whole day. You can have him back when I’m done.”
Ezra’s hand grips mine with an unbearable strength, and I just kneel here in front of him, letting it happen, not pulling away. “Bubba?”
I hate this. The way they goad each other is cute sometimes, but more often than not, it ends with one of them getting their feelings hurt and sulking for the rest of the day. Now, Johnny’s holding his time at work with me over Ezra’s head like a horse with a carrot, because going to work means eight-to-ten hours away from Ezra. Eight-to-ten hours of him worrying about the time I’m spending with Johnny, and what we get up to when he isn’t around.
“I love you, Ezzy,” I whisper so only he can hear.
He swallows. “I know.” His voice is just as small as mine, but he quickly adds. “Fire him. Fucking fire him, right here, right now.” Johnny flips Ezra the bird, and I shoot him a warning glare. He jerks his hand down and mumbles an apology. Ezra rolls his eyes. “Fuck you. Both. I’m going to be bored off my ass all day, and you’re going to be living it up in Sodom and Gomorrah sweatshop.” He pokes my chest. “Don’t fuck him. You keep your penis away from his asshole. Say it.”
“Are you jealous?” I ask.
“Blow it out your ass. I’m a prisoner here.”
“You’re literally not,” Clint says.
Ezra scoffs at him. “Who even are you? You serve no purpose. Now, shut your mouth, or I’ll ask Austin to fuck it.”
I touch my forehead to Ezra’s. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate leaving you like this. What if I bring you a special treat home tonight? I’ll buy you that new bottle of cologne you want.”
“Who do I need to smell good for if you’re not here?” he snaps back at me, his eyes bulging before he quickly adds, “Not that I’m tryingto smell good for you. Ever. Because I wouldn’t. Even if I had to go three days without showering, and my underarms were smelling like toxic waste, I wouldn’t spritz a single drop of cologne for your nasal pleasure.”
I snicker as I stand and make my way across the living room. “That’s fine by me. I like your natural smell. I kind of wish you’d shower less often.”
Johnny digs his nails into my side, making me hiss.
Ezra lifts his hand long enough to flip me the bird.
