“That’s Hoppy Henderson, she’s a good girl. Don’t hurt her,” Ezra warns.
“I ain’t an animal killer,” Johnny growls. “Imaginary or otherwise.”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, Nana Whatsherface left Bubba a ring, and it’s supposed to be for me, not you. Cry, cry, cry about it.”
“She didn’t leave a ring.” It’s not a lie. There’s a ring taped under the nightstand, but it ain’t a family heirloom or anything. I don’t know how Ezzy knows about the ring. I bought one for him, one for Johnny, and one for myself. They’re hidden across the home, waiting for the perfect moment to be given. They’re not engagement rings or anything, just a way of cementing our bond one day. That was my hope, anyway, but now Nanna Nelda is butting her head in where it doesn’t belong.
“Tell Nanna Nelda those rings aren’t any of her concern,” I say.
Ezra raises an eyebrow. “Rings? As in plural?”
I swallow. “I’m not talking about this. Not right now. Not yet.”
To my surprise, Ezra doesn’t fight me on it, and Johnny’s too busy reaching down and petting the bunny’s head to notice. Ezra grabs his phone and stares at the screen, sighing.
“Damn. Time’s up. This is usually the part where I, well, you know.”
“Jack off?” Johnny asks.
Ezra nods nervously. “Yeah. I always get bigger tips when I bust fat loads for my subscribers.”
“You’re stroking yourself for your subscribers?” Johnny asks, but it sounds like his surprise is a put-on.
“You’re flashing your fuck-stick for the World Wide Web?” I bark. “Ezzy, you promised you weren’t showing them your little—”
Ezra glares at me. “I swear to God, if you finish that statement.”
I look away, cheeks burning. “Are you showing them your cock?” When I finally manage to make eye contact, Ezra’s blushing just as brightly as me.
“Yeah. It’s how I make my money. Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Liar, Liar, Daddy’s on fire,” Ezra sing-songs before realizing he’s just called me Daddy. I see the moment it registers. His eyes bulge wide open, and he quickly shakes his head. “I didn’t say—”
“Daddy,” I say, feeling like a kid on Christmas.
“I didn’t—”
I shake my head. “Well, we’ll let you go, then,” I say, not wanting to hear him take it back.
Ezra just sighs. “Fine. I said it. I didn’t mean it though.” Not the result I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.
“Thank you for saying it, baby.”
He rolls his eyes. “Go to Hell.” He stares down, biting his lip, and then I see his shoulder move, like his arm is shaking. He’s stroking it behind his psychic desk. I can tell. Fuck yeah. “You don’t have to go. You can watch.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“Yeah, I don’t mind.” Biting his lip, Ezzy stands and removes his crop top, displaying a sea of creamy, milky skin, peppered with light-brown freckles. I’ve seen him before. I’ve witnessed him come on several occasions, but always as an afterthought. He never pays attention to me while he jerks off, aside from the occasional catty comment.Now it feels like he’s doing this just for us, like his subscribers no longer exist.
“Jesus, Ezra,” I say.
“Are you still mad about my OnlyFans?”
“I don’t give a fuck about it at the moment,” I answer honestly, unable to look away from his chest. “God damn, Ezzy.”
Ezra pinches his nipple. “They’re still watching,sir. My fans. I hear the bell chiming, telling me they’re commenting in the group chat in the other window. They’re paying fans, Bubs. Maybe I should focus on them instead of you?”
