Chapter 19

Nineteen

Josh

I wake up with Ezra wrapped around me like some kind of insane starfish. He’s behind me—he’s spooning me now—with one arm around my shoulders, one hand clutching the waistline of my boxer briefs, and one of his warm legs pushed between mine, like he wants to be sure we’re joined from head to toe.

I feel the morning wood stretching my boxer briefs before noticing there’s something pressed against the curve of my ass: his dick .

I’ve never felt it on me like this before. Never felt anyone pressed against me from behind. A swell of heat moves through my junk, and my dick hardens to the point of pain.

Shit.

I shut my eyes and try to breathe deep without making breathy noises. My gaze moves to the clock: 7:14 a.m.

I wonder when we switched places. This feels damn good—the having him around me .

Then I feel his arm move, and his hand comes down and covers my bulge.

“Mornin’,” he drawls. His low voice, right by my ear—It makes me shudder.

“Hard night?” He snickers, and I feel it in my balls. Then it’s his palm under my balls…lifting…rolling my sac.

“Been dreaming of this,” he rasps.

His fingers wrap around the base of my cock, pumping upward. My hips thrust, wanting his hand to move up and squeeze the tip of my cock.

I’m going to say so, but all that comes out is, “Aghh.”

I feel his soft laugh right before he bites the back of my neck. Then his hand slides up toward my cockhead, toying with the little notch on the underside of it. Then he’s rubbing his palm over my tip. His fingers reach back down to tease me, running lightly over my shaft.

“What do you want, Miller?”

My brain just sort of freezes, filled with exclamation marks as my throat tightens. He gives me two long, slow pumps, and then he nips at my neck again.

“Silence means that you want nothing. For the record.”

I roll over so we’re facing one another, both lying on our sides, my heart beating so fast I can barely breathe as I cup his pec. My fingers pinch his tiny nipple. “That feel like a ‘nothing’, dickface?”

We both grin when I call him that. Then his lips part and he’s panting, rubbing at me.

“I want to see you come.” His voice sounds weak and almost shaky, but his eyes are lust-glazed.

“You want me to do myself?”

"Hell no." He wraps his hand around the tip of my cock, stroking as he looks into my eyes. "I'm gonna make you come, Mills. Your job is to lie here and make my balls hurt."

He starts to really jerk me, and my eyes shut as I start breathing harder. Fuck, I bet nobody gives a hand job like another guy.

A little whimper sound comes from me as he works my head so good that I can feel these waves of pleasure all down through my fucking knees. My cock gets a level harder, firming up to come, and he says, “Open your eyes, Miller.”

I do, and I’m transfixed by the intense look on his face.

"You need to come?" he murmurs.

I nod, gritting my teeth as he pumps me faster.

"You gonna blow in my hand?"

"Maybe," I manage.

He kisses my cheek. "That's what I want. I wanna see you lose it."

I'm groaning as he grips me harder, pumping so fast that I know I'm gonna blow—

And then his hand around me changes…re-grips. He's holding me under my cockhead, stroking the rim of it. He shifts his hips, and I feel his dick pressed against mine.

"Ooh God."

I shift my hips to try to get us closer.

"Like that?" his voice rasps.

"Yeah," I breathe.

His hands work together, stroking both of us, pressing our thick cockheads together. "They look good." His fist squeezes me so hard it almost hurts, but then he finds this rhythm where he's pumping us at the same time. I can feel the soft skin of his shaft rub against mine. At one point, his balls slap mine, and my toes curl from how good it feels.

I realize I'm sort of hoarsely moaning. Open up my eyes and find him smirking down at me.

"Mills," he says with a soft smile. One hand comes under my balls to cup them as his other hand starts pumping me just right.I’m thrusting at him, moaning, and his hand is fucking magic —

I come so fast and hard, I lose myself for a few seconds—so I’m not aware that I’m coming all over the place. Not until I open my eyes and look down, and I find the white stuff all over both of us.

My jaw drops. "Hey wait—you came, too. But your hands were both on me ."

He lifts his brows, looking drained but smirky.

"Must have wanted this big dick." As soon as I say it, I feel my face heat up. He leans in toward me. "All damn morning."

He gives me a crooked smile. "Wanted something else, too."

"What could that be?"

He runs his fingers into my hair. "What a tease." His eyelids look heavy, and when he speaks, his voice sounds low and soft and sleepy. "I'mjust fucking with you, though. Don't want you feeling pushed or something."

"What kind of something else?" I'm grinning as I ask, because of course, I know. I turn partway around, trying to keep my lower body still so cum doesn't drip off my hip, and I pull my pillowcase off of my pillow.

I clean him up first, realizing as I do that Ezra hasn't answered. When I glance up at his face, I find he looks…nervous? Maybe more like cautious.

I thump his newly cleaned abs. "I'm just kidding, bruh. You talking about anal?" I ask it softly, my voice sounding breathless—because even though I've seen the term used on the internet, I've never said it out loud before.

The relief on his pale face is so obvious it makes my gut twist.

"Gay, remember?" I smile softly as I wipe my abs and dick with my pillowcase. "I like dicks. Figure I might like one in my ass, too."

"Don't say that, or you might get one."

I chuck the pillowcase onto the floor and stretch out on my back, reaching for him as I do. I'm pleasantly surprised when he lays his cheek against my lower abs, right there on the smooth, hard V beside the ridge of my hips.

I run a hand into his hair. "What about you, angel?" I whisper.

"What about me?"

I press my palm lightly against his forehead.

"Would I take a dick?" I feel his cheek round as he smiles—or smirks, more likely. "Guess that would depend on the dick."

"It would have to be a really nice dick." I reach down and cup mine, and he chuckles.

"Would you bottom for me?" he asks in a low voice. He wraps an arm around my right quad, nuzzling his hand behind my leg and pressing just below the curve of my ass.He lifts his head, kissing my hip. "You can say no."

"But I wouldn't," I say. I take in another deep breath. "I can't say no to you, can I?" I shut my eyes, which are suddenly feeling sore and kind of prickly.

"Yeah you can." He hugs my leg and wraps his other arm around my waist. "You can say anything." He pauses for a half a heartbeat. "I'd want anything you gave me, Miller."

I can feel him swallow right after he says it. I keep waiting for his eyes to flicker up to mine, but they don't. His shoulders tighten and he draws them in a little. He takes a deep, quick breath. "You shouldn't fuck with me, though."

"But if I do, you want it,” I say sharply. “You want me. Say it again." My throat aches and my heart races, and he looks up at me.

"I want you,” Ezra whispers. “I wanted you since—" His lips press together.

"Since when?"

"I don't want to tell you." He moves off me, sitting up, looking pale, with his jaw clenched hard and his nostrils flaring. "I was right when I said in the car…this is a fuckup. My fuckup. "

I sit up, too, and put both hands on his shoulders. "Ezra. Look at me.”

He does—and he’s all angst and misery.

“Don’t do that. Just don’t . Quit going hot and cold. It’s making me feel crazy.”

“I’m never really hot, though, am I?” His voice is bitter. “Remember how I left you at the hospital?”

“Why, though? Why did you?”

His lips press together, and he shakes his head, not looking at me.

“It’s because you’re scared of hospitals. You said so last night.” I play with his hair at the nape, thumbing it gently. “I know something happened to you,” I whisper. “And it doesn’t change a thing for me. When I think of something hurting you, I want to fucking murder whatever it is. Whatever gave you nightmares. I would rip it apart. If I could.”

He stares at something over my shoulder. “I’m not the right person for you.”

“You don’t believe me? It’s like…I say this, and I mean it so much, but it doesn’t sink into your head. I can feel it.”

His face is expressionless. Dammit. I grip his chin. “Look at me, Ez. Look at my face.” He shuts his eyes. “Tell me this much: Who fucked up before me? Who fucked around with you and made you feel like loving you was hard work?”

Now he looks at me. There’re tears in his eyes.

I lock my arms around him, squeezing, rolling onto my back, pulling him down on top of me. He’s pinned against my chest, his cheek on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I said it.” I laugh. “Fuck.” I blow a breath out. I just sort of said I love him.

I can feel him take a deep breath. Then he lifts his head, peering down at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“Who? Tell me.” I run a hand into his hair, and once again, he won’t meet my eyes .

“You wanna push me away, disengage and just end this shit every time it crosses your mind that it’s too much for me. That it’s a hardship for me—how you feel. You realize you’re the one that’s hurt, but you think it’s too much for me ? I’m not a fucking weak guy. I know I might look like I am.” I laugh.

He shakes his head, looking into my eyes again. “You look perfect, Miller.”

“ You look perfect.” I stroke my fingers over his neck, and Ez shuts his eyes.

“I fucking hate it, thinking no one made you feel the way you should feel. Dude, you’re a prince. I love where this is going between us.”

“I don’t get why, though.” He bows his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Because I’m into you. That’s why. There’s no other why. I just…want you,” I rasp. “I want you near me. I want to see you feeling good. Because I do . When I see this look in your eyes” —I stroke his eyelid softly with my fingertip— “it hurts me. Like, it actually hurts my chest.”

His eyes flit up to mine, but this time they’re flat and hard. “I know, that’s what I’m saying. Cut the cord, man.”

“I don’t want to.” I groan. “I don’t want to cut the fucking cord. I’m not scared. I’m not bothered. I promise,” I say, hating how I’m fumbling over my words. “Let me be your—I don’t know. Your bungee cord.”

He wipes his eyes, looking away again. Then he rolls away from me and hugs one of my pillows. He blows a heavy breath out, and I stretch out behind him. My lips brush his shoulder. “Listen, bruh. I’m strong enough for all your stuff.” When he doesn’t move, I add on, “If you don’t want to talk more, don’t. Just tell me if you’re okay right now. Whatever pill you took before football yesterday, that made you overheat? Is that stuff out of your system? ”

I press my cheek against his shoulder, wrap him up from behind.

“It’s okay now,” he says, quiet.

“Is it? You feel okay?” My hand sifts through his hair.

He nods.

“Do you need to take something today?” I ask him gently.

He shakes his head.

“It wasn’t chicken pox,” he whispers. He holds his hand up. It takes my brain a half second to see the scars, remember what he told me.

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

He’s so still in my arms. With my arm still wrapped around him, I feel for his hand, closing mine around it.

“I had an MRI before. And got put under a ton of times. I didn’t tell you, did I? I didn’t stay for when you woke up.” His voice goes hoarse on that. He swallows. “Find someone who does, Mills. Find somebody better .”

I can fucking tell he’s gonna bolt, so I tighten my grip on him. Then, on a whim, I crawl over his body, lying in front of him so I can see his face.

“Listen to me.” I kiss his throat—a little hard kiss that leaves a hickey.

His eyes well as I lift my head. “I’m not upset about that. Anymore,” I tack on. “It’s in the past. That’s not my concern.” And now my eyes are welling with his. I swallow hard, so my voice sounds clear.“You got put under…tons of times?” I choke out.

His eyes shut, and one tear slides down his cheek. “I’m messed up. I told you.”

“Were you alone at that place?”

His lips twist as he rubs at his eyes. “They don’t let you bring a buddy.”

He shifts onto his back, closing his eyes, putting an arm over them, and I think of him when he first got here—how thin he was. How angry. Hostile.

Why would they put him to sleep? God—what happened?

“Does Carl know about it?”

“No,” he says, moving his arm so he can look at me. “And don’t tell him. He doesn’t know, and it would kill him if he did.”

I notice that language. He doesn’t want to hurt me—he’s said so in a dozen ways—and he thinks whatever happened to him would kill his dad? Fuck! My chest aches like it’s ripping.

“How did your mom get away with that?” I rasp.

“Full custody,” he says simply. “You see? You can see why I’m not a match for someone like you?”

He holds up his left arm. “All of these are…needles,” he rasps. “Some of them, I did to myself. Just to feel it. That’s how fucked up I was. Still am.”

I can feel him watching me—try to gauge my reaction.

“It’s like,” he starts in a low rasp. He has to stop and swallow. Then he bites the inside of his cheek as he looks at the wall and whispers, “There are disabled people who cope better than me. Is that what you want?” His eyes flit to mine. “Someone with a disability? Who can’t sleep through the night? Sometimes can’t eat or…be places? Is that really what you want?”

A tear drops from his eye. He wipes it. “Couldn’t even get my dick up when I got here. Until you. I went off all that medicine because I didn’t need it. But now I can’t sleep without you.” His voice breaks on that. “Is that what you want? At college?” Tears spill down his cheeks as he presses his lips together.

“At some point, you’re gonna touch me wrong, too. And I won’t be able to—” He starts breathing harder. “I like everything we’ve done,” he whispers. “But I’m not a real person.”

He puts a palm over his dick. “Now that I got off that stuff, my dick is stuck in overdrive. I have to jerk off like five times a day. Always to you. You’re the only thing that makes me feel good. You want to be that? Alpha and omega for me? ”

His eyes burn into mine. Tears still drip down his cheeks. “You’re a normal guy. Go live it up. Go off to college, find a—”

I can’t help it. I straddle his legs, about to wrap him up in a hug before I realize what he just said about me touching him wrong and I lie on my side, pulling him on his side, too, so we’re facing one other. I wipe some tears off his cheeks.

“Let me tell you something that’ll shock you, Ezra. For one—” I laugh. “ I’m disabled. Epilepsy is a disability. Keeps people from driving. Gives people seizures. Mandatory medication. Hospital. You’re looking at someone with a disability. When I was sick, you took care of me. If you’re sick, nothing feels good; you’re in pain. And you’re saying I can make you feel better? I’d do that all damn day. All night, too. I’ll suck your dick ten times a day if you want. If I can cure depression for you with a blow job, sign me the fuck up, baby. You got nightmares but I make them better? I’ll be your drug. You think helping you feel good could ever be a burden to me?”

He shrugs. His eyes, bright from crying, hold onto mine. His voice is a whisper. “I don’t want to be.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and more tears drip down his cheeks.

“You could never be.” I kiss the tears off. I kiss his eyes. “You think knowing you’re hurt like this makes me want to do any fucking thing but try to help you feel good?”

I brush his lips with mine. His eyes open just a little, glittering with more tears. “Listen, angel. I can’t drive a car. That make you wanna ghost me, kick me to the curb? Do you want someone who can be more fun at college? Someone whose brain doesn’t sometimes just do weird shit?”

“No.” His face is grave as our gazes hold.

“Do I seem shallow to you?” I ask softly.

“No,” he whispers.

“I’m not.” I cup my hands around his face and drop my forehead to his. “You’re my guy now. I’ve got you. ”

His body feels tense, and I can’t tell if I fucked up by saying all this. Then he locks an arm behind my back and crushes me against him. He rocks so we’re a little closer, still on our sides facing one another, and his lips are kissing my cheek. “You’re my guy, too.” His arm wraps around me. “I’ll try not to fuck up again. I don’t want to make things hard for you.”

Then we’re kissing so damn hard and frantic, I can’t breathe. My head’s spinning and my body feels like it’s pulsating. My dick’s never been this hard. I’m gonna blow now just from Ezra’s hands all over me, his hot, slick mouth on my throat.

There’s a knock on my door. “Josh? You up?”

We both freeze, and my jaw drops as our eyes hold and widen.

“Yeah,” I say, hoping I sound sleepy.

“Have you seen Ezra up? I don’t want to wake him if he’s—”

“He’s up,” I say. “In the bathroom.”

“Alright. Well that’s good,” Mom says, sounding chipper. “Just making sure.”

We wait till her footfall fades before going at each other again.

“How long will it take you?” I ask, rubbing his erection.

“Not long.”

“Lie on your side,” I tell him. I’ll do the same thing, and we’ll sixty-nine it like we did that one night.”

His mouth captures my cock first, so when I gobble his tip down, he groans around my erection. He sucks me just two times before I feel it start to tingle, my eyes rolling back in my head. I go at him harder, vowing to make him come first, but when he groans, he groans around my cock, and the vibrations take me over the edge.

We come at the same time, both choking a little, struggling to swallow. Then we’re pulling off each other, laughing our damn asses off.

“Oh fuck,” I say, dizzy as I sit up. “We’re late. ”

“Let’s get in together,” he says. “I won’t wash my hair, so when your mom wonders who she heard in the shower, she’ll think it was just you in there.”

We do that, and he gives me a smile in there that makes me think that this could have a happy ending. Before parting ways in the bathroom, we kiss again—another long, deep, hot tongue kiss that gets my dick tenting my towel.

Ten minutes later, we’re in his Jeep, and he’s looking at me like no one ever has. I can’t take my eyes off him, either. He parks, and I grab his hand. I lean down so I can kiss his palm, and I smile up at him. He’s cheesin’ down at me. “Take care of yourself today,” I tell him. I squeeze his thigh, and Ezra’s eyes well up a little.

“You take care of yourself,” he says. “Let’s leave for lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

One more hand squeeze, and we’re out of the Jeep, going separate ways. I feel like my heart’s sprouted legs and walked off. It’s a weird and nervous empty sort of feeling. And I think I sort of fucking love it.