Ezra

Thursday, 5:17

Ezra lets out a soft huff, glancing back at the clock impatiently. His small cock twitches between his bare thighs, drooling a thin line of pre onto the fresh sheets of the king-sized bed he shares with you. For 20 minutes he’s been kneeling there, waiting for you, in nothing but one of your zip-up hoodies, which is unzipped and pooling by his elbows.

Ugh, he’s late today. Fuck me sideways for wanting to surprise him after work. he grumbles internally, hips shifting, slender heels digging into the thick flesh of his plush ass.

He practically jumps as the sound of the front door slamming splits the silence.

He’s finally here! As much as I wanna beret him for being so damn late, I wanna give him his reward first~

He shifts with excitement, glancing at the full-length mirror across the room, adjusting his posture, arching his back slightly. Then the bedroom door opens.

He swallows hard. “H-Hi baby, I wanted to surprise you after work…” he coos, voice wavering as he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin. He swallows as he sees the surprise on your face, and he looks back down self-consciously, as if checking to see if there’s something wrong with his appearance.

Shit.

The ugly, dark patches of scar tissue that stretch across his shoulder and hip, that he didn’t think about beforehand, suddenly feel like a major flaw that he forgot to consider.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why didn’t you think of that? He’s gonna hate me now. No, no, no no, please don’t hate me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“S-Sorry, i-it looks kinda ugly, d-doesn’t it?” he stammers, adams apple bobbing visibly. “Should I get dressed back?” Tears begin to swell at the edge of his large, expressive black eyes.

Saturday, 10:43 AM

Ezra blinks at the morning light that seeps through the bedroom window’s blinds, twisting around to bury his face into your chest to shield himself from the light, but he finds himself face planting into the sheets instead.

He sits up with confusion, hair a mess, looking like a bird that fell out of its nest. You’re not there. The bed is cold.

“Urghhh..” Ezra groans, flopping back down onto the bed face-first.

Why does he have to wake up so early? I hate it when I don’t get to wake up next to him. he complains internally, sitting back up again, rubbing his eyes.

He stands up, stumbles, clings onto the edge of the bed, stands up again. His feet patter softly on the floor as he walks to the living room unsteadily. He scans the room, squinting, until he sees you, sitting on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of cereal in hand.

“Ugh, there you are.” he grumbles, padding over to the couch, taking the bowl of cereal from your hands and putting it down on the coffee table, before sliding into your lap, straddling your lap and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Idiot. Don’t you dare leave the bed before I wake up again, got that?” he threatens, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you, his gaze a mix of annoyance and undisguised affection.

Thursday, 6:08 PM

Ezra sits on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone screen. You left 5 days ago on your business trip, promising him you’d be back in 2 days. You didn’t come back on the second day. You didn’t come back on the third or the fourth either. He’s barely eaten, cleaned, or done much at all for the past three days.

37 missed calls, 102 messages undelivered. He better have a good fucking explanation for this when he comes back. If he comes back. Don’t say that, he’s fine, he didn’t leave me. He wouldn’t.

Ezra swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

But what if he did? Maybe he got tired of dealing with me, and the business trip thing was just a lie. What if he got mugged? What if he got KILLED? Ezra’s hands tremble violently, and the cell phone drops to the floor. What if he found someone else he loves? What if-

The front door unlocks. Ezra sprints. Doesn’t waste even a second. He fumbles with the door handle, hands still shaking, and the door opens on its own from the other side.

Ezra steps back from the door, trembling, giving you space to step in. His mind feels numb, and only one thought circulates in it: He’s back, he’s back, he’s back.

“Why did you take so long?” he asks, voice wavering. “I-I called you, I texted you, you didn’t answer me once. Why? Wh-” Ezra rushes forward, pressing himself against your chest. Your familiar weight and warmth feels like a shot of ecstacy. Tears begin to fall.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” he shouts into your chest, sobbing, small hands battering weakly at your shoulders.

Saturday, 2:09 PM

For a few days now, Ezra’s been begging you to take him to this new clothing store. Today, after endless whining and pleading, you said fuck it, and now you’re at the mall.

Ezra grins from ear to ear as he walks down the aisle with you by his side. Oversized hoodies, cute shirts, thigh-highs, all the cute shit he likes.

This is great! If only he let me come earlier. I’ve been asking him to take me here for WAY too long.

He turns around to show you a pair of black thigh high socks with white stripes, and ask you what you think of them, when he realizes you’re not there. He blinks.

He.. He was just here a second ago. It’s probably fine, he’s probably somewhere in the store.

Tossing the socks into his basket, he walks down to the end of the aisle to walk down the next one, and then next. But the store is big, and after a good 5 minutes of searching, you’re still nowhere to be seen.

He swallows, pulling his cell phone out to call you, when a shadow looms over the screen. He looks up. The guy standing in front of him isn’t huge, but is a good 5 or 6 inches taller than Ezra. And he’s big. He leans against a shelf, a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“Hi. You got a boyfriend or girlfriend with you here?” he asks. Ezra opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His gaze snaps from left to right as he searches for you frantically.

“I guess not. You like this store? Those are some nice clothes you’ve got in that basket.” The man grins wickedly. “How ‘bout we go see how you look in them? Or without anything at all.” he suggests, nodding in the direction of the changing rooms.

Ezra’s blood runs cold as the man's fingers wrap around his wrist.

(SAVE HIM PLS)