Chapter 2 #3
He blinks at me before turning and heading toward the lake, calling out, “Whatever, bro. Go see if Bubba needs help,” without looking back.
Fucking rude, but okay. More time alone with Bubba means more time tainting his perception of Johnny, so I rush back up the hill, to the truck.
I make it just in time to find Bubba slinging a backpack over his shoulder, carrying a toolbox in his other hand.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask.
Bubba adjusts the backpack strap on his arm.
“A few beers. The sunblock Johnny bought when we stopped at Walmart on the way.” He bridges the distance separating us and traces the curve of my lower lip with this thumb.
“I grabbed some snacks after you decided to come.” He stares past me, probably looking at Johnny.
“Did everything go okay? He seems pissed.”
“How can you tell? He’s nowhere near us.”
“His shoulders. They’re usually slumped because of his shitty posture, but they look like squares right now.”
I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, Johnny’s shoulders are squared, and his arms jolt and jerk as he tugs the rope tethering a small boat to the dock. As he works, my eyes drift down to his ass again.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t be looking at him like this, but I can’t help it.
It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, and even with my daily casual masturbation around those I love most, it’s not enough.
I’ve never even entertained the thought of topping, but with an ass like that, it puts new, scary thoughts in my head.
Thoughts of bending over a Johnny lookalike—because this version of Johnny is the absolute worst—and dragging my tongue up his crack.
Bubba’s hand caresses my ass from behind, and God help me, I don’t push him away. Instead, I arch my back, seeking more connection.
“I know, baby,” he whispers into my ear. “He has a beautiful ass.”
Swallowing, I slowly nod, unable to lie. “I hate him.”
“I know you pretend like you do,” he says, squeezing and releasing my cheek in a calming, repetitive cycle. “But I promise, if you just give him a chance, we could be happy, Ezra. If you can’t bring yourself to love him the way I know you can, can you please, please be a little nicer to him?”
“Absolutely not.” I just stare at him, confused. “We are at war here.”
“That’s exactly what this is. A war. And you just beat a man as he lay dying.
” His hand cups my cheek, and though his touch normally makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, now I just feel cold, and maybe a little embarrassed.
“I should have said something while he was still in front of us. I should have stuck up for him. Ezra, you’re my world, but you were dead wrong just now. ”
“I …” I don’t have words. None big enough to ease his troubled heart.
I talk a lot of shit, but Bubba is a good man with a kind heart, and washboard abs with ridges so deep, you could go camping in the valleys between them.
In my heart, I know he must be right, because he’s not an unfair man.
If anything, I feel for Johnny sometimes, because I’m shiny and new, so I soak up a lot of Bubba’s attention.
I want Johnny gone, but sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes he’s not so bad. So, if Bubba’s telling me I went too far, I know I must’ve, and I know I need to make it right.
I just hope my bad behavior won’t make Bubba like me any less.
When his arms tighten around me, I know it’s the silliest thought I could ever think.
He loves me. He’s said it so many times.
Scared and sad, but still a little hopeful, I place my hand on top of his, holding him against me.
I like Bubba. More than I should, probably.
Definitely more than I let on. For everyone else, I can see love stories unfold before they’ve ever been written.
I can peek down fate’s corridor, seeing things days, weeks, and sometimes even months off.
Despite many attempts, my spirit guide, Barbara, refuses to give me any form of guidance on how to handle things with Bubba and Johnny.
I don’t get any warm, tingly feelings like I do when I’m giving a client a reading on OnlyFans.
She doesn’t tiptoe through my heart, tugging at its strings to indicate I’m making the right choice by opening up to Bubba.
I’ve repeatedly asked her why she’s been so useless when it comes to matters of my heart, but she just laughs softly like it’s the silliest question she’s ever heard.
“I don’t want him. Not like that.” Slowly, I turn, but his arms never unhook from around me. We’re chest to chest, me looking up, him looking down, our eyes locked. “But I’ll try to be nicer.” Swallowing, I look away. “For you.”
In an act that would normally send my palm connecting with his cheek, Bubba leans down and kisses my forehead. “That’s all I’m asking for.” He tickles my chin. “Would it bother you if I said I want to fuck him?”
“You do?”
He nods. “And I want to fuck you.” His nose brushes against mine, and he leaves a trail of kisses up my jaw.
“You’ll deny it until the end of time, but I know you want me to pick you.
I know you both want me to choose between you, but I don’t think I can.
” Our foreheads touch, and he closes his eyes, like looking at me too long is making him nervous.
I don’t want him to be nervous. Not about this.
“I love you, Ezra. I’m in love with you.
” My heart is thundering, but the storm clears just as quickly as it arrived when he adds, “But I’ve loved him longer.
I’ve loved him without knowing I love him for years.
He hurt me when he ran away, but I should’ve held on, because I knew he’d be back, but then … ”
“But then you met me.”
“Then I met you.”
“Do you regret it?”
He shakes his head, but he still looks torn. “I could never regret you, but I hate that I’m putting him through this. He didn’t ask for any of this. This is killing him, Ezra. I need you to go easy on him, baby.”
“Okay. I promise. Unless he does something to really piss me off, I’ll try my hardest not to be the world’s biggest prick. I’m still going to hit him with my balloons though.”
Bubba shrugs. “You can’t win them all.”
Johnny’s footsteps thud against the small set of steps leading down the hill. “I’ve been waiting ten fuckin’ minutes for you to get your asses down there. If I knew you were going to spend all morning making out with each other, I would’ve taken the boat out myself.”
“You still can,” I snap at him, but then I remember my promise to Bubba. I said I would try to be nice, and the first words I said to him were filled with snark. I pry myself from Bubba’s grip and give Johnny an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily cruel, and you didn’t deserve it.”
“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me today.” Johnny arches an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t like it.” He flicks a thumb over his shoulder, motioning toward the lake. “Are y’all fuckers ready or not?”
I lift my tanktop over my head, because if I’m going to be stuck outside all morning with nothing to do, I can at least work on my tan.
Next go the shorts, and as I unzip them, I notice Johnny staring right at my crotch, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
The sun sparkles against his bald head, and I’m pretty sure if we were in an enclosed space with direct sunlight access from above, he’d be casting fractals off his shining scalp, reflecting against the walls like diamonds.
“What is that?” Johnny breathes, his eyes dipping down my chest, focusing on my speedo. It’s new, and neither of them have seen it yet. I bought the revealing little number for our Fourth of July party in a few weeks, but democracy is under attack, so I’m not feeling too patriotic these days.
“I think they call it a banana hammock,” Bubba says, a little too breathlessly, if you ask me.
“No, I know what a speedo is. I was askin’ about the pattern.” He leans half an inch closer like it’ll make the image crisper for him, but. His tongue drags slowly across his lips. “Is that a bootleg American flag?”
I shake my head. “It’s a Union Jack.”
“The fuck is a Union Jack?” Bubba asks, placing his hand on my hip. He slides it behind, cupping my ass. Normally, I’d push him away, but Johnny’s watching, so, I’m kind of living for it.
“A British flag,” I answer, arching into his touch.
“Fuck,” Bubba whispers, squeezing my cheek. “Bro, you’ve got to feel this.”
Johnny’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, the fuck I don’t.”
“Can he?” Bubba asks me. “Can Johnny feel how perfect you are, baby?” When his finger wedges between my cheeks, gently connecting with my hole through the fabric of my speedo, I whimper.
My cock stiffens, and I don’t give a fuck about covering it up.
They’ve both seen me come, they can cope with an erection.
Johnny’s eyes meet mine, and he seems just as shell shocked as me. Bubba wants us to touch. He wants his boys to scope out the lay of each other’s land.
“Yeah. Okay,” I finally say, twisting my hip, offering my ass for Johnny to grope.
Maybe if he feels how soft it is, he’ll finally fuck off, knowing there’s no need for this battle, because it’s already been won.
But then our eyes meet, my breath unexpectedly catches in my chest, and I’m not so sure I want him to leave just yet.
There’s this strange, new look in his eyes, and it’s absolutely fascinating, demanding to be explored and uncovered. What the fuck does that look mean?
His hand creeps forward at a snail’s pace, and when we finally connect, it’s like hundreds of static electricity pops, back to back.
Bubba’s still got his hand on me. His grip is a lot tighter than Johnny’s, like it knows who this ass fucking belongs to.
Not that it belongs to him. His finger presses deeply into the fabric, inching between my cheeks.
“Bubba?” I whimper, leaning into the touch.
“Oh my fucking God,” Bubba says as soon as he comes in contact with my entrance. His finger drags against my hole, repeatedly grinding against me, making me whine like an absolute slut for him. “Jesus, Ezzy. You’re so tight.”
“Bubs,” I whimper.
“Johnny,” Bubba says. “You gotta feel this.”
It’s like the world around us stops, my heart included, and my eyes meet with Johnny’s. Bubba wants him to touch my hole, albeit covered by a thin strip of fabric.
Johnny stares down at his hand like it’s an impossible sight, and then his grip eases, and his fingers dip lower.
Bubba slides his hand down until he’s holding my entire bulge in his hand, cock and balls nestled snugly.
As I arch into Bubba’s touch, Johnny’s fingers dive deeper still, touching my hole.
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny says, looking goddamn dazed, and this low, throaty growl rattles in his throat. His eyes lock with mine, and he squeezes again before slowly pulling away. Without a word, he turns and walks down the hill, toward the boat dock.
Holy fucking shit. What the fuck was that?
Bubba squeezes my package gently before letting go. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He presses his lips against the corner of my mouth, making my entire body shudder against my will. “For being Daddy’s good boy.”
“You’re not my Daddy,” I attempt, but I don’t know how sincere the words sound. His finger strokes my hole again, and my knees go weak. “Bubba!”
“Look at you. Coming undone against my finger. I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make when you’re sinking down on my cock.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, arching against him again. “Never. Never gonna fuck you. Never taking your cock.”
“Keep telling yourself that, baby,” he says, kissing my jaw. “Now, get that sexy ass down there and into the boat. If you’re a good boy, I’ll convince Johnny to rub sunblock on you.”
I shake my head emphatically. “I don’t want that.”
His finger flicks the head of my cock through my speedo, but all I can focus on is how good his finger feels when pressed against my hole again. “I guess your little cock didn’t get the memo.”
“Not little,” I whine, rocking back and forth against him. “Perfectly average.”
“Sure,” he whispers, using the hand not playing with my hole to caress my hard length. “What is it, three inches?”
I shake my head, because that’s just fucking slander. “Five-and-a-half. I measured it last week for my OnlyFans.”
His thumb brushes against the head. “Did you scratch off the three and write a five on there instead?”
“Bubba, don’t. Please, I—”
“I know. I know how much you like it.” He’s not simply caressing my cock anymore, he’s full-on stroking it through my speedo.
“I’ve seen your search history. I know exactly what you’re into.
I didn’t know making fun of your little cock would be something I was into, because it would break my heart to hurt your feelings, but I’d do anything for you, Ezzy. ”
“That was Austin’s search history,” I argue, because it was.
He likes to be teased about his size, but I don’t.
At least, I don’t think I do. “He has a humiliation kink that quickly spun out of control. Not me.” Just as I’m about to cum, he releases my cock and steps away, leaving me breathless, gasping for air. “Bubba!”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re not into it.” He slaps my ass and points at the lake. “Johnny’s about to see how hard you are. He’s going to see that big puddle of pre-cum soaking through your trunks. Go on. Give my boy a show. He’s earned it.”
My cock twitches for reasons I don’t understand, and I hazily make my way down the hill, toward the dock. I low-key feel like I’ve been gooning for hours, like the time the creepy guy paid me to masturbate for six hours straight without coming. It was torture then, but I kind of like it now.
The boat we’re using looks like it’s supposed to seat two people.
It’s small and gray, hideous in both color and overall vibe, and it seems like it would probably sink if a twig scratched the siding.
I don’t know how the fuck wood rusts, but the wooden boat seems to be rusted through around the edges, creating jagged spikes and crags around what used to be the ledge.
The thing is a fucking deathtrap, and I’ll be lucky to live past noon. God save this queen.
There are two small benches, one at each end of the boat, so I’m not sure where the hell I’m supposed to sit, but that’s a problem for Bubba to figure out.
Johnny’s already in the boat, bent over, clearing cobwebs with a rag.
I clear my throat, and when he looks up at me—specifically, at my cock—his eyes bulge.
“Holy shit.”
I wave. “Bubba says I have to be nice to you, but I still hate you hard.”
“Bad boy, baby,” Bubba scolds as he approaches from behind “Are you boys ready?”
Johnny swallows and nods, tearing his eyes away from me. “All aboard.”