Chapter 6 #4
“Psychotic void, more like,” Johnny mutters, but there’s no disdain in his voice. He’s smirking. Johnny’s just fuckin’ with him, and it warms my heart to see him finally opening himself up, showing the playful side he usually reserves for our Core Four.
“I heard that,” Ezra huffs, pouting. “As I was saying, if you ever try to discredit them again, I’ll hunt you down, and skin you alive.
” Sighing, he shakes his head. “No. We will not fall into a cycle of self-sabotage.” He looks up at Johnny.
“I still don’t understand how I pulled the same cards for you as I did with Daddy McSnack, but the spirits say there’s Tom Foolery at play.
” Ezra leans back and continues staring Johnny down.
There’s something going on in that head of Ezra’s, because it looks like he’s putting together mental puzzle pieces.
“Ezzy?” I say, but he shakes his head, his eyes never leaving Johnny.
“It’s curious,” Ezra says, and Johnny’s eyes snap back over to him, wider than before.
“What?” Johnny asks, his voice shaking for some reason.
“Things.”
“What kind of things?”
Ezra shrugs. “Just things. About your reading.” He picks up his phone and stares at the screen “They were the exact same card I—” He abruptly ends his sentence, and he’s got the same shocked expression he gets every time a spirit allegedly speaks to him.
“Yes, I’m aware of that, Barbara. I’m not a complete moron. ”
“Ah, hell. Not Barbara again. Ezzy, baby, we ain’t got time for her bullshit today.”
“Shut up, Bubs. I’m handling this.” He cranes his neck and stares at the emptiness behind him.
“Now you listen to me, you celestial sadist; I don’t care what his intentions were, the fact of the matter is he—Oh, for God’s sake.
Yes. Yes, I’m well aware of your thoughts on our current situation, but I will not condone whatever the hell this is.
” Ezra pauses, listening to his spirit guide, probably.
“Right, I’ve had enough of your silly little game of matchmaker.
Off you go, Barbara. Fuck off back to the spirit world.
” He waits a moment before a smile settles on his face.
“Thank God. I was worried she’d never leave.
As I was saying, your grandmother is here, Bubs. ”
Nanna Nelda. She was a good woman. A troubled woman, but still a good one. “You would’ve loved her, Ezzy. She trained dachshunds to swim the Bering Strait.”
“I don’t like anything that has to do with being straight, no matter what load that heterosexual is bearing.”
“Not that kind of strait. It’s a lake.”
“A strait ain’t a lake, bro,” Johnny says, eyes still closed, probably picturing his meadow still. “It’s a narrow passage of water.”
“How the fuck did you know that?” Ezra asks.
“Naked & Afraid.”
“I’m neither naked nor afraid, but I am annoyed, and you’re not helping matters. Anyway, Bubs, Nanna Nelda says she left you a golden ring taped underneath your nightstand.”
I blink at him. “I got this nightstand two weeks ago at Harbor Freight. You were in the truck when I got it.”
“And somehow, be it through mysticism or thaumaturgy—”
“What the the fuck is thermaltory?” Johnny asks as a smile spreads across his face. His eyes are still closed, and he’s pointing directly ahead of himself. “Hey, it’s a bunny!”
“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?”
“Fuck the fans.”
His eyes meet mine, and a shy smile quirks on his face. “Do you like it?”
“Baby, I fucking love it.”
“What about you, Johnny?”
Johnny opens his eyes, lifting his hand away from the imaginary bunny’s head, and stares intensely at Ezra. He gives our little guy a quick nod. “You look nice, Ez.”
Ezra blushes, his smile widening. “Thank you. You look nice too. You know, minus the hideous coveralls and grease stains on your face.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ezra says, looking away, his cheeks as bright as ever. “For a douchebag, I guess.” He hooks his fingers into his jockstrap and shoves it down, revealing his little friend.
Is his cock one for the record books? No, but who cares? It’s the prettiest little cock I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen all that many. I think even if I had, he would still be tied with Johnny’s as the prettiest.
Johnny’s staring at Ezra with the same level of hunger in his eyes as me. His fingers grip me, squeezing so tightly I almost can’t stand it. He’s got our intertwined hands pressed right against his bulge, slowly rubbing up and down, grinding his cock against the back of my hand.
Johnny looks up at me with glazed eyes. “Bubba …”
I move closer and uncurl my fingers, wrapping it around Johnny’s wrist and guiding it to his cock.
He whimpers softly, sounding needier than I’ve ever heard him.
It’s got to be triple digits in this shop, but seeing Johnny lost in what I knew was inevitable—our boy—a chill runs down my spine.
Johnny rolls his hips, fucking his palm through the barrier of his coveralls, and I need him to know it’s okay.
He has to fucking know it, so I kiss his neck.
“It’s okay to enjoy it, baby,” I whisper to him. “I want you to enjoy him too. Look how pretty he is, Johnny. Look how beautiful our boy is. He’s doing this for us.”
“Am not,” Ezra whimpers as he moves his psychic desk and kicks back on the couch, lifting his legs, placing one foot on each side of the edge of the sofa and scooting down.
The action pries his cheeks apart, exposing a tight, pink hole.
Fuck. It’s the one part of our boy I haven’t yet seen, and now that I have, I can’t unsee it.
I don’t fucking want to unsee it, ever, because it’s absolutely breathtaking.
He brings a finger to his hole, slowly tracing a circle around the entrance.
“Look how pink it is, Johnny,” I breathe. “Look at our boy’s pretty little pussy.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ezra whines. God. He’s writhing around like a needy, bite-size slut. At my side, Johnny’s jaw is clenched so tight, he looks like a Bullmastiff, ready to pounce on the pretty bunny rabbit over there, wagging his tail.
“Ez?” Johnny looks up at me nervously, then back at the phone. “Bubba’s dick is hard.”
“It is?” Ezra licks his hips.
“Yeah. Um. Mine too, I guess.”
“Are you touching it?” Ezra asks. Johnny jerks his hand away, but Ezra shakes his head. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.” His eyes shift to meet mine. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” As he speaks, Ezra strokes himself faster, his breaths coming out shaken and broken.