Ezra scoots back until he’s pressed against my side. He looks back at me with terror in his eyes. “Protect me.”
“From what?”
“Bubba’s about to kill me dead.” He grabs one of my arms and wraps it around his chest, then guides the other around his stomach. Fuck. Why does he feel so good? “Barricade me with your body, babe.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Babe?”
Ezra digs his nails into my arm. “You can go straight to Hell. You know I didn’t say that!”
“It’s okay.” I lift my hand to where his is resting on my arm, and I give him a gentle squeeze, because it felt really fuckin’ good to hear him call me that. “I didn’t mind it.”
“Johnny,” he whispers. “As much as I think I might be feeling this little moment between us, I need you to focus. Less about my misspoken endearments, more about saving me from the backwoods bastard in front of us. He’s going to kill me.”
“Ezra,” Bubba says again, firmer this time, and I pull Ez closer to my chest. “Where did you get those boots?”
I don’t even realize I’m moving my hand until it settles over Ezra’s heart, my stomach fluttering each time it beats against my palm. I’ve got his heart in my hand, and he’s trusting me to protect him from Bubba. I mean, yeah, he probably did something awful, but I kind of like how he came to me so willingly, like it’s where he’s meant to be. I rub slow circles against his chest, whispering, “I’ve got you.” His hand squeezes mine with an unbearable grip, but I don’t pull away. I don’twantto pull away.
“Did you use my debit card to buy them?” he asks, and he sounds a little too stern for my liking. Normally I enjoy watching him get angry at Ezra, but tonight I don’t. It doesn’t sit well in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Bubs. They were just so pretty.” As if proving a point, he kicks out his leg, displaying the pink boot. It seems form-fitted to his calf, so smooth it almost looks painted on. My eyes travel up his thigh, and when I peek over his shoulder, I lick my lips at the sight of his bulge. “You can’t be mad at me, okay? I just wanted to look pretty for you. And they match my new hair, which, by the way, you haven’t mentioned once, you tacky asshole.”
Bubba blinks at him. “I did a whole poem about it when I was on stage, baby. I chronicled my love for it, and for you, in many different ways.” He pauses, and then his eyes go narrow. “You’re trying to get out of your punishment by distracting me. That won’t work with me, Ezzy.”
“Maybe I’ll just run away then. Try to punish me when I’m no longer here. See how that works.”
A growl crawls up Bubba’s throat, and he opens his mouth to scold Ezra, but—for reasons I don’t know if I’ll everunderstand—I growl back at him.
“He apologized.” I pull Ezra closer to my chest. “He’s a good fuckin’ boy. Get off his goddamn jock.”
They both stare at me.
“Are you defending my honor?” Ezra asks, looking bewildered. Bubba’s practically glowing, though, and any anger he may have had about the boots seems to vanish, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride.
“Is that what you’re doing, Johnny?” Bubba asks. “Defending your boy?”
Ezra ain’t my boy. He ain’t my anything. Hell, we’re barely even friends. We share a bed each night. Sometimes we cuddle up next to each other. It don’t make us friends, and it definitely don’t make him my boy.
It does make me wonder, though, what a life with him as my boy might look like. I’ve got mental flashes of his naked body writhing against me. The way my cock might feel as it slips inside. My heart races faster, and my dick swells to life. Not ideal, considering Ezra’s ass is pressed right against it. Sure enough, fuck my life, because his breath hitches, and his entire body goes stiff.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asks, and when I don’t respond, he reaches back and wedges his hand between us. The lower it slides, the faster my heart pounds, knowing what’s coming next. Then it happens. Connection. His pinkie brushes against the swollen head of my cock, and I let out a godawful moan I won’t be able to explain. I don’t fuckin’ care, because just a single touch makes it feel like my skin is on fire. It takes everything I have not to rock against him, because right now, it’s all I want to do. To fuck his hand the way I want to fuck my cock against his crack. I look up and lock eyes with Bubba, feeling drunk on the moment.
“Bubba,” I say, and there’s a hunger in my voice he must notice, because fire flashes in his eyes.
Bubba slides his hand into his jeans, drawing my attention. He’s just as hard as I am, adjusting his cock beneath the denim to hide it away, but there’s no hiding that cock. It’s fuckin’ massive.
“Johnny Boy, do you want to carry our boy inside?”
Ezra still has his pinkie finger on my cockhead, and when Bubba calls him our boy, he reaches lower and curls his finger around the shaft. He doesn’t stroke me or anything, just lets it rest there, occasionally tightening and easing his grip.
“Okay,” I finally say. “I mean, if that’s okay with you, Ez.” He doesn’t respond, but he does squeeze me a little harder and grunts out something that sounds like an approval.
Opening the door, I hop out of the truck, holding my arms out for Ezra. When he turns and slides toward the door, his short shorts ride up, and the tip of his little cock pokes out. It’s hard and pink and so fuckin’ pretty, I can’t look away. He glances down at it, then back at me, but he doesn’t tuck it back into his shorts, just holds out his arms and allows me to pick him up. Once he’s on my hip, he winces, then reaches down and slides a hand between us. It takes a second for me to realize he’s freeing his cock, and then it’s right against my stomach, leaking pre-cum through the fabric of my shirt. It’s warm and silky, and I want more, but I’m too afraid to ask, so I just carry him inside our compound, Ezra grinding against me at a slow pace, like he’s trying to keep his actions hidden.
Austin and Dallas are on the sofa when we enter, and they immediately notice the way Ezra is essentially fucking my stomach. Austin’s jaw hits the floor, but Dallas is smiling wide as the midnight sky. It’s a knowing grin, like he’s known this thing between us is inevitable.
“Fun night?” Dallas asks, staring down at the erection straining in my pants.
“Fuck off,” Ezra rasps, burying his face in my neck. “These bastards practically kidnapped me.”
