Austin rolls his eyes. “I literally helped you get ready. I did your makeup and everything, Ezzy. I helped you dye your hair. You’re not skating by this one unscathed.”
“Don’t want to be in here,” Ezra whimpers into my neck. “Don’t want to listen to Austin’s stupid fucking voice. Hate him. Hate him until he dies.”
“Fuck you, too, prick,” Austin says, but there’s no real weight between either of their words. The Core Four are relaxed by nature. We like getting drunk and shooting the shit. We don’t really get sassy like these two, but I think I love their sassiness. It brings a new, sparkly dynamic to our lives. A sparkle I didn’t realize I’ve been missing.
A few weeks ago, Ezra got a pretty bad cold, and Bubba soothed him with warm washcloths and soup. He also kept whispering one particular endearment that always put Ezra at ease. I want to put him at ease now.
“Sweet boy,” I whisper, repeating Bubba’s magic words that always seemed to lift Ezra’s spirits. To my surprise, Ezra whimpers, and his grip around me tightens.
Dallas starts rambling some bullshit about manifesting destiny, whatever the fuck that means, and I don’t want to hear it, so I walk past them toward the staircase, ignoring him.
Upstairs, I carry Ezra to our room. Bubba is right behind us, shutting the door once he’s inside. To my disappointment, Ezra lets go of me and lowers himself down to the floor. He pushes down his shorts and underwear until he’s almost bare-ass naked. All he’s wearing is his shirt, but it doesn’t stay on very long, either. He takes it off andtosses it in the corner, taking my hand and guiding me across the room to Bubba, now resting on the bed. I have to lean forward as I walk, because my dick is hard, and it’s doing its damndest to break free from its confines.
“Boys?” Bubba’s got this indescribable expression on his face, somewhere between pride and desire. He’s got his fingers wrapped around his cloth-covered shaft, slowly stroking himself through his jeans. “I would ask if we’re still doing this, but I think that question might be redundant.” He stares down at our cocks and smirks.
“I don’t know what that word means,” I admit.
Bubba chuckles softly. “It means you don’t need to answer, because the answer is crystal fuckin’ clear.”
“Oh.” Looking down at my erection, I nod. “I know you said I don’t have to answer, but yeah. I’m still up for it.” Swallowing, I glance over at Ezra. “What about you?” It’s a dumb question, because he’s already got a fist around his dick, stroking himself as we watch. I’ve seen him masturbate a million times, but these last few instances have felt different. The very air around us is different than before, like it’s lighter and brighter than ever before.
Ezra nods. “Yeah. I want us to make Bubba feel good.” He bites his bottom lip, thrusting his hips forward, fucking his fist. He looks like he’s having a seizure, but somehow, Ezra can even make a seizure look sexy. “Y’know ... me and you.”
Christ. Him and me. Making Bubba feel good. Maybe even making Bubba come. Just the thought is enough to make my entire body shake. After a long pause spent trying to work out the logistics in my head, I finally ask, “What do we do? I ain’t never done this with a guy before.”
Ezra takes my hand. “I’ll teach you. I’ll show you everything you need to know.”
“You’d do that?”
He nibbles his bottom lip. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Bubba says, staring adoringly. “My boys are working together to please me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier sight.”
“Not your boy,” Ezra teases. “You mean nothing to me. Don’t care if you cry about it. Don’t care if you live or die.”
Bubba snorts a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” Ezra counters, but there ain’t too much weight behind the words.
“Bubba?” I ask, and he looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. “What about me? Am I your boy?” I know there must be a neediness in my voice, but neither of them shame me for it.
“Oh, Johnny Boy,” he says, his voice smooth like silk. “You always have been. From the moment I saw you staring at that DVD cover, you’ve always been mine.” He moves a little closer and scratches my bald scalp lightly. “I love you, Johnny.”
“I love you, too,” I say, because I do. I haven’t said I’m in love with him, because this is all really new to me, but I’m pretty sure I am. I hope the message is clear enough for him.
Bubba points at the floor in front of him. His eyes are on mine, and there’s a general air of dominance about him. “On your knees,” he says to us, his voice commanding, leaving no room for either of us to object. Despite his objection a few seconds ago, Ezra and I move forward, toward Bubba. I’m the first to sink to my knees, and I offer Ez a hand to help him down. He stares at it for a moment with a curious smile on his face. When our hands connect, he laces our fingers like we’re a pair of sneakers. If I lifted my knuckles a few inches, I could probably make bunny ears and everything.
The look on Ezra’s face makes it look like he’s staring straight at God or something. Ezra’s cock is already leaking like a cracking dam, and judging by the look of pleasure etched across his face, I think it would only take a few more strikes to make his dam burst. I’m leaking too, but not as much as him.
I place my hand on Ezra’s wrist, stopping him from stroking himself. “Slow down,” I instruct him, and his hand stops moving immediately. “You’re going to come too fast.”
“I’m young, Johnny,” he whines, pleading with his eyes. “I’m not a senior citizen like you. Please let me come. My refractory period is basically nonexistent.”
“What is a factory period?” I ask.
“Did you just call us senior citizens?” Bubba asks.
“Refractory.” Ezra corrects. “It means I don’t need to wait too long before I can come again.” He glances at Bubba. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
