HALLOWEEN ⁞ Ezra Rochefort

Ezra sat hunched on the edge of his messy twin bed, fingers jabbing impatiently at the buttons of his old Nintendo DS. The plastic casing was scratched and worn, the screen flickering faintly as he navigated through the menus. Behind him, posters of superheroes loomed large, comic books and graphic novels littered the floor, a chaotic sea of color and bold print. His grandmother had always chided him for the mess before he remembered to clean, but Ezra was too absorbed in his own world to notice most days.

The green screen glowed dimly in the fading evening light, casting a sickly hue across his frown. Ezra’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall: 7:28 PM. They were running late, of course. Typical.

He wore his Hawkeye costume for the Halloween party he'd been hearing about nonstop on campus. Ezra usually dreaded social events, especially ones that required mingling, but they seemed really excited about it. So he could spare ten minutes standing in a parking lot like a dumbass in his getup just to try to accommodate them for the night.

“God knows they’ve done the same for me,” Ezra muttered under his breath. “But we’ll never get there if they don’t come out on time.”

He looked up when the bedroom door creaked open slowly. Expecting to see them saunter in with that playful, perfect grin that burned him every time he remembered they were his now, Ezra froze instead. Standing there was a pair of long legs clad in black latex. His gaze traveled upward, tracing the curve of their chest encased in a skintight top, the glossy black of their lips catching the light. He traced the one hand on their hip, the other holding a mask just above their face. Ezra’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe.

The surprise costume they’d bought was a Catwoman cosplay? Shit. They knew exactly how much he loved her. “Uh...”

Ezra couldn’t form words. His brain short-circuited as he stared at the sight before him. The latex clung to every curve and contour of their body, the black material gleaming softly under the dim lamplight. He could see the slope of their chest, the dip of their waist, the flare of their hips. The costume left little to the imagination, and Ezra felt a stirring in his groin against his own suit as he drank in the image before him.

Snap out of it, Ezra, he scolded himself. Say something before you make an ass of yourself.

Ezra stammered, standing abruptly. His Hawkeye mask dangled forgotten in his hand as he circled around them, his gaze roving hungrily over their figure. “You look... you’re...” He trailed off, utterly lost for words. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering inches from the smooth expanse of their latex-clad back. He wanted to touch, to feel the heat of their skin beneath the cool material, but he hesitated. They were supposed to be leaving for the party, not getting sidetracked by this.

His eyes flicked up to meet theirs and the playful smirk tugging at their lips made his stomach twist. Ezra felt a rush of irritation and desire within him. They’re totally teasing me on purpose.

The realization only made him want them more, his body responding eagerly to their deliberate provocation.

“I think it’s fucking hot,” Ezra said gruffly, his voice rough with emotions he was still getting used to. “I mean, seriously. Shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair, glancing away before locking eyes with them again. “You expect me to keep my hands off you or something?”

He wasn’t being rhetorical either. He truly wondered if his partner thought he’d be able to see them like that and just go about his merry way. Ezra stepped closer until only inches separated them. He could feel the heat radiating from their body, could see the rise and fall of their chest. His heart pounded against his ribs as he fought the urge to grab them and explore every inch of those tempting lines.

Fuck. We’re going to be late, Ezra thought wildly. Who gives a damn about that stupid party anyway?

“If you keep looking like that, we’ll never make it to the party,” Ezra warned, his voice strained. “So, you want to do this or not? Because I really want to fuck you in that thing.” He didn’t care if he was being painfully blunt—it was the truth.

Ezra sat hunched on the edge of his messy twin bed, fingers jabbing impatiently at the buttons of his old Nintendo DS. The plastic casing was scratched and worn, the screen flickering faintly as he navigated through the menus. Behind him, posters of superheroes loomed large, comic books and graphic novels littered the floor, a chaotic sea of color and bold print. His grandmother had always chided him for the mess before he remembered to clean, but Ezra was too absorbed in his own world to notice most days.

The green screen glowed dimly in the fading evening light, casting a sickly hue across his frown. Ezra’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall: 7:28 PM. They were running late, of course. Typical.

He wore his Hawkeye costume for the Halloween party he'd been hearing about nonstop on campus. Ezra usually dreaded social events, especially ones that required mingling, but they seemed really excited about it. So he could spare ten minutes standing in a parking lot like a dumbass in his getup just to try to accommodate them for the night.

“God knows they've done the same for me,” Ezra muttered under his breath. “But we’ll never get there if they doesn’t come out on time.”

He looked up when the bedroom door creaked open slowly. Expecting to see them saunter in with that playful, perfect grin that burned him every time he remembered they were his now, Ezra froze instead. Standing there was a pair of toned legs clad in red spandex. His gaze traveled upward, tracing the lines of their chest beneath the tight suit, the golden lightning bolt symbol gleaming faintly in the lamplight, that had to be glow in the dark. One gloved hand rested on their hip, the other holding a crimson mask just above their face. Ezra’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe.

The surprise costume they'd bought was The Flash? Shit. They knew exactly how much Ezra loved him. “Uh...”

Ezra couldn’t form words. His brain short-circuited as he stared at the sight before him. The red suit hugged every muscle and contour of their body, the smooth fabric stretching over their chest and shoulders. He could see the faint definition of their torso, the slope of their waist, the muscles in their thighs. The costume left little to the imagination, and Ezra felt a stirring in his groin against his own suit as he drank in the image before him.

Snap out of it, Ezra, he scolded himself. Say something before you make an ass of yourself.

Ezra stammered, standing abruptly. His Hawkeye mask dangled forgotten in his hand as he circled around they, his gaze roving hungrily over their figure. “You look... you’re...” He trailed off, utterly lost for words. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering inches from the firm stretch of their back beneath the slick red material. He wanted to touch, to feel the heat of their skin beneath the fabric, but he hesitated. They were supposed to be leaving for the party, not getting sidetracked by this.

His eyes flicked up to meet theirs, and the playful smirk tugging at their lips made Ezra’s stomach twist. Ezra felt a rush of irritation and desire within him. They're totally teasing me on purpose.

The realization only made him want them more, his body responding eagerly to the deliberate provocation.

“I think it’s fucking hot,” Ezra said gruffly, his voice rough with emotions he was still getting used to. “I mean, seriously. Shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair, glancing away before locking eyes with them again. “You expect me to keep my hands off you or something?”

He wasn’t being rhetorical either. He truly wondered if his partner thought he’d be able to see them like that and just go about his merry way. Ezra stepped closer until only inches separated them. He could feel the heat radiating from their body, could see the rise and fall of their chest. His heart pounded against his ribs as he fought the urge to grab them and explore every inch of those tempting lines.

Fuck. We’re going to be late, Ezra thought wildly. Who gives a damn about that stupid party anyway?

“If you keep looking like that, we’ll never make it to the party,” Ezra warned, his voice strained. “So, you want to do this or not? Because I really want to fuck you in that thing.” He didn’t care if he was being painfully blunt—it was the truth.

Ezra sat hunched on the edge of his messy twin bed, fingers jabbing impatiently at the buttons of his old Nintendo DS. The plastic casing was scratched and worn, the screen flickering faintly as he navigated through the menus. Behind him, posters of superheroes loomed large, comic books and graphic novels littered the floor, a chaotic sea of color and bold print. His grandmother had always chided him for the mess before he remembered to clean, but Ezra was too absorbed in his own world to notice most days.

The green screen glowed dimly in the fading evening light, casting a sickly hue across his frown. His grandmother’s old bedroom was shrouded in cozy warmth, the antique furniture polished to a soft sheen, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and dust. Ezra’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall: 7:28 PM. He was running late, of course. Typical.

He wore his Hawkeye costume for the Halloween party he'd been hearing about nonstop on campus. Ezra usually dreaded social events, especially ones that required mingling, but he seemed really excited about it. So he could spare ten minutes standing in a parking lot like a dumbass in his getup just to try to accommodate him for the night.

“God knows he’s done the same for me,” Ezra muttered under his breath. “But we’ll never get there if he doesn’t come out on time.”

He looked up when the bedroom door creaked open slowly. Expecting to see him saunter in with that playful, perfect grin that burned him every time he remembered he was his now, Ezra froze instead. Standing there was a pair of toned legs clad in red spandex. His gaze traveled upward, tracing the lines of his chest beneath the tight suit, the golden lightning bolt symbol gleaming faintly in the lamplight, that had to be glow in the dark. One gloved hand rested on his hip, the other holding a crimson mask just above his face. Ezra’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe.

The surprise costume he’d bought was The Flash? Shit. He knew exactly how much Ezra loved him. “Uh...”

Ezra couldn’t form words. His brain short-circuited as he stared at the sight before him. The red suit hugged every muscle and contour of his body, the smooth fabric stretching over his chest and shoulders. He could see the faint definition of his torso, the slope of his waist, the muscles in his thighs. The costume left little to the imagination, and Ezra felt a stirring in his groin against his own suit as he drank in the image before him.

Snap out of it, Ezra, he scolded himself. Say something before you make an ass of yourself.

Ezra stammered, standing abruptly. His Hawkeye mask dangled forgotten in his hand as he circled around him, his gaze roving hungrily over his figure. “You look... you’re...” He trailed off, utterly lost for words. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering inches from the firm stretch of his back beneath the slick red material. He wanted to touch, to feel the heat of his skin beneath the fabric, but he hesitated. They were supposed to be leaving for the party, not getting sidetracked by this.

His eyes flicked up to meet his, and the playful smirk tugging at his lips made Ezra’s stomach twist. Ezra felt a rush of irritation and desire within him. He’s totally teasing me on purpose.

The realization only made him want him more, his body responding eagerly to the deliberate provocation.

“I think it’s fucking hot,” Ezra said gruffly, his voice rough with emotions he was still getting used to. “I mean, seriously. Shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair, glancing away before locking eyes with him again. “You expect me to keep my hands off you or something?”

He wasn’t being rhetorical either. He truly wondered if his boyfriend thought he’d be able to see him like that and just go about his merry way. Ezra stepped closer until only inches separated them. He could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rise and fall of his chest. His heart pounded against his ribs as he fought the urge to grab him and explore every inch of those tempting lines.

Fuck. We’re going to be late, Ezra thought wildly. Who gives a damn about that stupid party anyway?

“If you keep looking like that, we’ll never make it to the party,” Ezra warned, his voice strained. “So, you want to do this or not? Because I really want to fuck you in that thing.” He didn’t care if he was being painfully blunt—it was the truth.

Ezra sat hunched on the edge of his messy twin bed, fingers jabbing impatiently at the buttons of his old Nintendo DS. The plastic casing was scratched and worn, the screen flickering faintly as he navigated through the menus. Behind him, posters of superheroes loomed large, comic books and graphic novels littered the floor, a chaotic sea of color and bold print. His grandmother had always chided him for the mess before he remembered to clean, but Ezra was too absorbed in his own world to notice most days.

The green screen glowed dimly in the fading evening light, casting a sickly hue across his frown. His grandmother’s old bedroom was shrouded in cozy warmth, the antique furniture polished to a soft sheen, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and dust. Ezra’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall: 7:28 PM. She was running late, of course. Typical.

He wore his Hawkeye costume for the Halloween party he'd been hearing about nonstop on campus. Ezra usually dreaded social events, especially ones that required mingling, but she seemed really excited about it. So he could spare ten minutes standing in a parking lot like a dumbass in his getup just to try to accommodate her for the night.

“God knows she’s done the same for me,” Ezra muttered under his breath. “But we’ll never get there if she doesn’t come out on time.”

He looked up when the bedroom door creaked open slowly. Expecting to see her saunter in with that playful, perfect grin that burned him every time he remembered she was his now, Ezra froze instead. Standing there was a pair of long legs clad in black latex. His gaze traveled upward, tracing the curve of her chest encased in a skintight top, the glossy black of her lips catching the light. He traced the one hand on her hip, the other holding a mask just above her face. Ezra’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe.

The surprise costume she’d bought was a Catwoman cosplay? Shit. She knew exactly how much he loved her. “Uh...”

Ezra couldn’t form words. His brain short-circuited as he stared at the sight before him. The latex clung to every curve and contour of her body, the black material gleaming softly under the dim lamplight. He could see the slope of her chest, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. The costume left little to the imagination, and Ezra felt a stirring in his groin against his own suit as he drank in the image before him.

Snap out of it, Ezra, he scolded himself. Say something before you make an ass of yourself.

Ezra stammered, standing abruptly. His Hawkeye mask dangled forgotten in his hand as he circled around her, his gaze roving hungrily over her figure. “You look... you’re...” He trailed off, utterly lost for words. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering inches from the smooth expanse of her latex-clad back. He wanted to touch, to feel the heat of her skin beneath the cool material, but he hesitated. They were supposed to be leaving for the party, not getting sidetracked by this.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and the playful smirk tugging at her lips made his stomach twist. Ezra felt a rush of irritation and desire within him. She’s totally teasing me on purpose.

The realization only made him want her more, his body responding eagerly to her deliberate provocation.

“I think it’s fucking hot,” Ezra said gruffly, his voice rough with emotions he was still getting used to. “I mean, seriously. Shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair, glancing away before locking eyes with her again. “You expect me to keep my hands off you or something?”

He wasn’t being rhetorical either. He truly wondered if she thought he’d be able to see her like that and just go about his merry way. Ezra stepped closer until only inches separated them. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the rise and fall of her chest. His heart pounded against his ribs as he fought the urge to grab her and explore every inch of those tempting lines.

Fuck. We’re going to be late, Ezra thought wildly. Who gives a damn about that stupid party anyway?

“If you keep looking like that, we’ll never make it to the party,” Ezra warned, his voice strained. “So, you want to do this or not? Because I really want to fuck you in that thing.” He didn’t care if he was being painfully blunt—it was the truth.