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#Ezra x f!reader
beskarandblasters · 2 months
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Voyeuristic Tendencies
Din Djarin x F!Reader x Ezra
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Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Ezra Masterlist
Author’s note: I tend not to get horny writing my own smut but there’s a part towards the end that just… did it for me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) No spoilers but I’ll reveal what it is in the end note. Thank you to @pedgito for beta reading 🤍
Summary: In an AU where the worlds of The Mandalorian and Prospect collide, you and Din are business partners and Ezra finds himself on Nevarro after escaping the Green. You both agree to let Ezra join your partnership but unbeknownst to Din, you and Ezra form a sexual relationship. What will happen once Din finds out?
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), post the events of Prospect, oral sex (M and F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, voyeurism, MFM threesome, light angst, jealousy, pet names (gem and cyar’ika), no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
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You and Din weren’t looking to add anyone to your little crew. Grogu went off to train with the Jedi and his absence strained the strictly business relationship you two had. But one day while wandering the marketplace on Nevarro, you encountered a strange man who babbled endlessly. His name was Ezra. He told you and Din that he just left a moon you’ve never heard of; the Green. He told you that he got separated from his old partner, a girl named Cee. And he told you he just recently lost his right arm. He spoke with an accent that you couldn’t quite place where it was from. But all in all, you felt bad for him. 
Din, on the other hand, didn’t want anything to do with Ezra.
“He sounds like a scammer,” Din said. 
“Aw, come on. He seems nice. And he’s in need.”
“You can’t replace Grogu with a strange one-armed man,” Din sighed. 
“Please? It would be nice to have an extra person to help out. Especially if Grogu comes back…” you said. 
Well, when you put it like that… How could Din refuse?
-
You’re walking through the marketplace, hoping to find Ezra again. He couldn’t have gotten far. From what you gathered he tends to hang out around here and somehow sweet-talk the vendors into giving him food. Maybe Din wasn’t too far off when he said Ezra was a scammer…
Whatever, you still want to help him. 
And there Ezra is, at the produce stand, holding a vegetable in his one hand while sweet-talking the vendor. You watch the exchange take place, Ezra using his big lofty words to coerce the vendor into giving him more. And it works, the vendor grabs a bag and puts a few more vegetables in it before handing it off to Ezra with a smile. Maybe it would be nice to have someone with that kind of skill on your crew. 
Ezra turns and walks away, crossing paths with you and Din. He stops and smiles when he sees you, face contorting into a lopsided grin. 
“Fancy meeting you two here,” Ezra says. The sunlight beaming down lights up the blond patch of hair on his head perfectly. 
“You’re here every day,” Din deadpans. 
“Well Mr. Tin Man, it seems I have no place else to go, nowhere to call my own.”
Mr. Tin Man. Din’s gonna hate that nickname. In fact, you can tell he does by the way his fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides. If you want Ezra to join your crew, you’re gonna have to diffuse the situation. 
“He was joking. You were joking, right Din?” you say, nudging Din with your elbow. 
“Yep.”
This is never going to work. 
“Listen, Ezra, we were wondering if… you wanted to join our crew?”
“Really?”
“Yeah but not for free. You have to put in work like we do,” Din buts in. 
“I ain’t no mooch, Mr. Tin Man or should I say Din.”
“You’d have to help if the Razor Crest needed repairs, or if we needed to gain intel for a bounty, or if we had to go shopping for supplies, or-”
“I can offer protection,” Ezra says. 
“I have that covered,” Din says matter-of-factly. 
“Are you in?” you ask. 
Without any hesitation, Ezra says, “I’ll take you up on your philanthropic offer. Thank you for your kindness.”
“Alright then. Let’s show him the Razor Crest!” you say to Din. 
Without a word, Din turns and leads you out of the marketplace to the outskirts of town where the Razor Crest is parked. 
“Here she is!” you say, gesturing to the Crest. 
“Fine looking ship you got there, Din,” Ezra says, shooting Din a smirk. But Din doesn’t acknowledge him. Ezra turns to you and says, “Don’t think I caught your name, little birdie.”
Your cheeks heat up in response to the nickname but you tell him your name. He repeats it to himself and smiles as Din lowers the ramp to the Razor Crest. You show Ezra around the Crest and it seemed so spacious up until now…
“One question for ya, Din. Where am I supposed to sleep?”
This is the third time he’s used Din’s name in the short time you’ve known each other. You should’ve never let it slip. You should’ve just referred to him as Mando in front of Ezra because you know under the helmet Din is physically recoiling every time Ezra says his name. 
“Hammocks?” you suggest, looking up at the metal ceiling. 
“That’s ridiculous,” Din says. 
“Well, what do you suggest?” you ask.
“Two people can fit in the bunk and one person can sleep in the cockpit. We can just rotate each time.”
“Aw, that’s cute, Din. You wanna cuddle up in the bunk together?” Ezra asks, putting his one arm around Din. 
You try to stifle a laugh as Din sighs and removes Ezra’s arm.
“You two can take the bunk. I’ll take the cockpit,” Din says.
“Can’t complain about that, gem,” Ezra says, shooting you a wink paired with a smirk.
“I’m going to the Guild to pick up a job. Be back later,” Din says, briskly exiting the Crest and heading off to town again.
“Is he always a real stick in the mud?” Ezra asks.
“No! No, I mean he means well. He’s just…”
“Awkward? Strict? Stiff as a board?”
“Set in his ways,” you answer.
“Think he’ll be gone a while?” Ezra asks, taking a step closer to you. 
“Probably. Karga talks a lot.”
“Better for us,” he says, slipping his arm around your waist, “I got a way to keep us busy. What do you say, gem?”
For a long time, you were attracted to Din but he never seemed to show you any signs of affection. So, you let your silly little crush die out. But here’s Ezra who has no problem showing you and telling you how much he wants you. You can’t deny that he’s attractive. His loquacious way of… never shutting up has a strange hold on you. 
“Why not?” you smirk, “Where do you want to-”
“Oh, I thought about that,” he says, pulling you to the refresher.
The door closes behind you and he says, “Bend over for me, gem.”
You do as you’re told, watching him sink to the floor in the reflection in the mirror. He pulls your pants and underwear down in one clean motion, coaxing you to spread your thighs a little. His tongue grazes your cunt, causing you to jolt a bit in shock.
“L-Like this?” you ask with a shaky breath, painfully aware of how close you are to the mirror; aware of every detail on your face as you’re being pleasured. 
“Mhm, just like that, gem. Want you to watch your pretty face as you cum,” he hums against your thigh before going back in for another lick at your cunt. 
“O-Okay,” you breathe out.
He buries his face in between your thighs, nose rubbing against your cunt. He wraps his arm around your legs, pulling you taut against his face. As he eats you out, your knees buckle underneath you. Your body shudders while pleasure builds in your core and threatens to spill over. A moan escapes your lips and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the tingling feeling about to break loose. But just when you’re about to cum, Ezra pulls his face back, planting kisses on the back of your thigh.
“Doin’ so good for me, gem. Makin’ all those pretty sounds for me. But you better be keepin’ those eyes open, got it?”
“Mhm,” you moan.
“Yes, sir,” he corrects, nipping at your thigh.
You let out a sharp gasp followed by a meek, “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” he says against your cunt, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
He returns to licking, lapping, and pleasuring your cunt. Soon enough, the small refresher is filled with your moans and squelching, wet sounds of Ezra eating you out. And this time, he lets you have it– your orgasm. Your cunt flutters around nothing, muscles contracting and releasing erratically. Your wetness soaks his face and your knees threaten to fully give out underneath you. 
Once you’re done coming, he rises from the floor, helping you stay stable on your feet before you reach down to pull up your pants. Before you can even address what just happened, you hear the sound of the Razor Crest’s exit ramp being lowered. You hastily grab a towel and hand it to Ezra to wipe his face before dashing out of the refresher. Din catches the tail end of both of you leaving, tilting his helmet to the side. 
“Oh, I was just showing him how to use the refresher,” you say quickly as Din seals the Crest.
“They don’t work like that where I’m from,” Ezra says, “And we usually just call ‘em bathrooms.”
“Bathrooms?” Din says, thinking nothing of you and Ezra being cramped into the small refresher together. 
“Bathrooms,” Ezra affirms.
“That makes no sense. You’re not taking a bath every time you go in there,” Din says, walking past Ezra towards the ladder to the cockpit.
“That’s just what we call ‘em,” Ezra shrugs.
“So, did you pick up a job?” you ask, changing the subject.
“Mhm. We’re off to Tatooine tomorrow,” he says, climbing up the ladder and getting settled in the cockpit.
“Oh, okay… Well, goodnight,” you call up to him.
“G’night, Din,” Ezra says.
Ezra shoots you a suggestive smirk as both of you head to the bunk, crawling into the cramped space. You both rest on your sides, his body pressed up against yours. You just assumed you would go to sleep now, but the bulge poking your ass says otherwise.
“What do you say we pick up where we left off?” Ezra whispers in your ear. 
“Sounds good to me” you giggle.
He shifts to the edge of the cot, resting on his knees.
“Hands and knees, gem,” he commands.
You move to rest on all fours. Ezra hastily pulls your pants and underwear down again, just low enough for him to gain access to your cunt that’s still soaked. You shudder as his hand collects some of your wetness, slathering his cock and thrusting into you. A deep moan escapes your lips, prompting Ezra to say, “Shh, gem. Can’t let the tin man hear us.”
You nod and bite your lip, doing your best to stay quiet as Ezra rails you. His cock expands your walls with each thrust, hitting the deepest, most pleasurable angles inside you. It’s been so long since you’d had sex since working with Din and your body needed this. Ezra feels your cunt clench around him, knowing you’re on the edge of release.
He leans forward, whispering in your ear, “Gonna cum for me already, gem?”
“Mhm,” you whisper, choking back a moan.
“Do it,” he softly commands, slamming his lips into you.
You cum around his cock, reveling in the feeling of being full finally. Your orgasm triggers his own, spilling his cum inside you. He does his best to bite back his sounds of pleasure as he pants your walls, thrusting into you one final time before pulling out. You collapse against the bunk, truly spent. Ezra returns to his position beside you, pulling up your pants as you nestle yourself against him.
“Get some sleep, gem. You had a big night,” Ezra whispers.
You nod and feel sleep start to settle in but before you’re out, you whisper, “Welcome to the team, Ez.”
He chuckles against you, kissing your head before the both of you fall asleep.
-
That night was the start of your sexual relationship with Ezra. You two found time to fit in sex whenever Din wasn’t around, which was hard. Especially considering the cramped nature of the Razor Crest. There were a few close calls, times where you both were convinced Din caught you. But he never said anything, continuing like normal. So, you and Ezra told yourselves you were in the clear. 
That couldn’t be farther from the truth. The reality is that Din had caught you. He just didn’t make his presence known until you were done. He would hide quietly, listening to the way you were being fucked in his bunk. It made his cock twitch in his fight suit. He would listen to your moans in the refresher, listen to the way you rode Ezra’s cock in the cockpit– he listened to it all. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled his cock out, stroking it as he eavesdropped on you and Ezra. But he could never bring himself to tell you that he caught you, wanting to keep his dirty little secret to himself. As far as he was concerned, you were getting off and so was he. Why mess up a good system; a well-oiled machine?
It’s been a few standard weeks since Ezra joined the crew. Din’s walking back from the Guild, bounty puck in hand with your next destination. He thinks about how you and Ezra are probably glued to each other right now. The thought makes his cock hard but now’s not the time. It’s time to head to Sorgan. 
He lowers the exit ramp and heads inside, just like always you and Ezra are far away from each other but sweaty and flustered as if you hastily pulled yourselves apart. 
“Get ready to take off,” Din says.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
“Sorgan,” he replies.
“Never been,” you say, climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. Ezra follows behind you, sitting in one of the passenger seats. 
“It’s a primitive place. But I have contacts there. Maybe we can all sleep in a real bed before heading back to Nevarro,” Din says. 
“You know someone there?” you ask as Din prepares the Crest for takeoff.
“Yep. The kid and I stayed with a nice widow for a few weeks,” Din says, turning to look at you.
An unreadable expression washes over your face as you think about what he just said. He doesn’t quite understand what’s so confusing about what he told you but he turns his chair back to the control panel and takes off.
The truth is… you’re seething with jealousy. What do you mean he stayed with a widow? For a few weeks, too. Your mind is already going to the worst possible conclusion– that he fucked that widow. And you couldn’t be more jealous; couldn’t be more mad at him. You’ve been practically throwing yourself at him since you started working together. When he didn’t pick up on your advances, you just assumed he wasn’t a very sexual person. But he can stay with a woman for weeks at a time?? And feel comfortable enough to reconnect with her again?? You’re pissed.
You look out the window into the abyss of space, saying nothing more for the rest of the journey. 
-
Once Din lands on Sorgan he sets off to capture the bounty, leaving you and Ezra alone in the Crest. 
“We’ll head into the village when I’m back,” Din says, turning and leaving, his cape billowing in the wind. 
You say nothing, sitting on a crate in the storage area of the Crest with your arms folded. Ezra sits beside you, hand running up your thigh.
“Wanna get busy?” he asks suggestively.
“No. Not in the mood,” you say coldly.
Ezra moves to the floor, kneeling before you and looking up at you.
“What’s wrong, gem? You’ve been so quiet ever since Din told us we were coming here.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you grumble.
“Don’t be cryptic with me, gem. I know you’re bothered by something,” he says softly.
“Fine,” you sigh, “I’m just… jealous.”
“About the widow?”
“Yeah… How’d you know?”
“Figured as much. Anyone with a set of eyes can see you have feelings for Din.”
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Now now. You don’t know that for sure. I get the sense that the tin man isn’t… in touch with his feelings.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” you chuckle.
“All I know is that I’m real fond of you, gem,” he says, interlocking his hand with yours.
“I know… I feel the same way… Which is why I should just forget about him,” you decide. You lean forward and kiss him before deciding to spend your time just leaning against each other on the crates.
Soon enough, Din returns with the bounty, a big, burly human male. He shoves the bounty into the carbonite freezer before leading the way to the village. As you walk there, Ezra says, “You know… This place isn’t too much different than the Green.”
“How so?” you ask.
“The forest,” he says.
“Is it nice? You know, to be reminded of the Green?”
“Not really. The air was toxic and I was stranded there for Kevva knows how long.”
“Kevva?” you ask.
“Kevva is like… the Maker for your folk.”
“Oh, okay,” you say, not asking any more questions. The more you learn about him and where he came from the more confused you get. 
Eventually, you reach the outskirts of the village and as soon as people notice Din, they swarm him.
“The Mandalorian is back!”
“He came back for us!”
“Does he have the baby?”
Groups of men, women, and children surround him. But one woman with long dark hair just smiles softly at him, approaching him once the commotion dies down. You assume this has to be the widow by the way she seems so enamored with him. 
“Welcome back,” she says. Once she’s noticed you and Ezra she says, “And you brought friends.”
He introduces you and Ezra to the woman and you learn her name is Omera.
“No Cara this time?” she asks.
Another woman? What the kriff??
“No Cara this time,” he affirms. 
“Well you’re still welcomed here just the same,” she says.
The sun is starting to set and the sky is turning brilliant shades of pink and purple. 
“If it’s not too much trouble, could we stay here for the night before we leave in the morning?”
“Of course,” she says, turning and leading you further into the village. Watching them interact makes your stomach swirl with jealousy but you try to remind yourself of what Ezra said earlier. But it’s not hard to react to the way she smiles at him, the way she grabs his arm, and the way he seems so comfortable with her. 
“How much space do you need? I assume you want a place for yourself so you can remove your helmet,” she says as you walk. 
“Two huts would be fine. Thank you,” Din says. She nods and leads you to the first one, giving it to you and Ezra.
“See you in the morning, tin man,” Ezra says, bidding Din goodnight. Omera chuckles at the nickname and leads Din to his hut. Your fists clench and unclench at your sides as you watch them disappear deeper into the village.
“Come on, gem,” Ezra says, grabbing your hand and bringing you into the hut. There are two cots inside you know you’ll only need one. You sit down on one of them and Ezra sits beside you. 
“Let’s get busy,” Ezra purrs in your ear.
You shiver and say, “Kriff yes,” palming the growing bulge in Ezra’s pants. You move to the floor, kneeling before him. But Ezra stands up, wanting to tower over you as you suck him off. You pull his cock out of his pants, cupping his balls and kissing his groin. He groans and throws his head back in pleasure, reaching his arm up to one of the wood beams on the ceiling. You take him in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and keeping the other hand cupping his balls. You suck your cheeks in and keep your tongue flat on the underside of his cock. The new, more intense sensation has him cursing under his breath. 
“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Just like that, gem,” he moans, smirking down at you. You hum, sending waves of pleasure down his shaft. He lets out another moan, this one deeper and louder than the last. But both of you freeze when you suddenly hear a twig snap outside.
“Who’s there?” Ezra calls out. You swear you hear a modulated sigh.
“Din?”
No reply.
“Come on, Din. I know you’re there. Just come inside,” Ezra says. Before you have time to take his cock out of your mouth and protest, Din enters the hut with a bulge in his flight suit.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Ezra laughs. You take his cock out of your mouth and keep your gaze off of Din. Ezra notices the bulge in Din’s flight suit, too, and puts two and two together.
“How long you been spyin’ on us?”
“Wait what?” you ask, looking up at Ezra and glancing over at Din. 
“What? I have not. I-” Din starts but Ezra cuts him off.
“Might as well tell the truth. Get everything out on the table,” Ezra smirks.
“For the past few weeks,” Din admits.
Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s only been a few weeks since Ezra joined your crew. Has he been listening in on you this whole time?
“Well, stop watching and join us,” Ezra says.
You look back up at Ezra, prompting him to add, “Well only if it’s okay with you, gem. Though I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this…”
“Waiting?” Din asks.
“Oh, yeah. This one’s been pining for you from the start. You’ve just been too dumb to notice. That helmet must be too thick,” Ezra chuckles.
“You have?” Din asks, his visor fixed on you.
You’re too embarrassed to answer so Ezra does for you. 
“She’s wanted you this whole time, tin man. Just fix this by joining us.”
Ezra lets go of the wooden beam above him and reaches down to grab your chin. 
“Think you took care of me long enough, gem. What do you say I eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Ezra says, swiping away the mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva dripping down your chin with his thumb. 
You nod and rise from the floor, shedding your clothes. You lie down on the cot, goosebumps prickling your skin as both men tower over you. Ezra moves to the foot of the cot and kneels, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you into his face. He moans at your taste, licking at your wet cunt while Din stands by your side, stroking his cock. You look over at it and somehow it’s everything you imagined it would be; long, thick, and uncut. Pre-cum beads at the head of Din’s cock, spreading down his shaft as he strokes himself. You pull your gaze from Din as Ezra flicks his tongue around your clit, looking up at you with a mischievous look in his eye. He pulls away for a second to kiss your thigh and tease Din because he can truly never shut up.
“Bet you wish you could have a taste, don’t you, Din?”
Din lets out a strained moan, cursing under his breath.
“Yes…” he admits.
“Let me help you out with that,” Ezra smirks.
Ezra slides two fingers into you without warning, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He curls his fingers before pulling them out, taking a large amount of your wetness with them. He stands and walks over to Din, holding his hand out.
“Try it for yourself,” Ezra says slyly, “You don’t have to take off your helmet. I know you got a creed and all.”
With a shaky hand, Din lifts his helmet, just enough to expose his mouth. You feel rude trying to sneak a glance but how can you not watch Din sucking your wetness off of Ezra’s fingers. Ezra places his fingers in Din’s mouth, watching as he tastes your slick. He pulls his fingers from Din’s mouth and Din lowers his helmet again.
“What do you think? Tastes real good, doesn’t it?” Ezra says.
“So sweet,” Din moans. 
“See, gem. Look what you do to us,” Ezra chuckles, returning to his place on the floor.
He swirls his tongue around your clit and replaces his fingers inside you. You look back over at Din whose gaze is fixed on you, hand wrapped around his cock, jerking off to the sigh of Ezra eating you out. You cum hard against Ezra’s face and hand, moaning so pretty for both of your men. Ezra moans at the feeling of his face getting soaked, letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers before pulling them out of you. He stands and looks over at Din. 
“You fuck her since I’ve been doing it this whole time already,” Ezra says. 
Din nods and takes Ezra's place at the foot of the cot. You inch up a bit so he has room to situate himself between your thighs. He thrusts into you slowly, face to face with his visor. You gasp as he expands your walls, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you. The modulated moans slipping out from under his helmet only make you more and more turned on. He slams his hips into you repeatedly, building up your pleasure higher until it feels like it’s coming to a head. Off to the side, you hear Ezra jerking off and moaning but you keep your eyes locked on Din and the way he’s fucking you relentlessly.
“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. 
“Let me feel it, cyar’ika,” he commands. 
With one final slam of his hips into you, you’re coming around his cock. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as he fucks you through your high. He cums, too, his orgasm triggered by the way you convulse around him. His thrusts become sloppier until he stops, waiting until every last drop of his cum is released inside you. He pulls out and stands up, looking down at your cunt and the mess you made. 
“That was quite a show you two put on,” Ezra says, still standing beside you and stroking his cock, “Think you can help me out here, gem?”
You nod and sit up, taking his cock in your mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to cum. He brought himself to the brink of orgasm watching Din fuck you. You swallow his release, taking on the other man’s cum. But once he’s done he pulls himself out of your mouth and smirks at the both of you.
“That was a long time coming,” he says, sitting down on the other cot.
You lie down on the cot and try to catch your breath, exhausted from the evening’s activities. 
“You need to rest, cyar’ika,” Din says, kneeling beside you.
“Stay with us,” Ezra says.
“Yeah, Din, stay with us,” you plead, making room for him on the cot.
He pauses for a moment but ultimately decides he wants to sleep with you, wanting to feel your body pressed up against his.
“Why not?” he says, scooching in beside you.
“Same time tomorrow night?” Ezra asks.
“Sounds good to me,” you say.
“Deal,” Din says.
“Goodnight, team!” Ezra chuckles. 
And with that, you all fall asleep satisfied with the night’s events and happy that the tension has finally dissipated. 
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End note: Lmao it was the part where Ezra gathers the readers wetness on his fingers and Din lifts up his helmet slightly to get a taste ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Tag list: @suzdin @survivingandenduring @hellfire-state-of-mind @max--phillips @pamasaur @apesarecuul @whxtedreams @criticalarchitecture @katw474 @corazondebeskar @clawdee @elvinaa @yorksgirl @pedrostylez @alltheotps @venturawriter @ezrasversion @wtfc-huh @hiddenbabynyc @stagerightlauren @lokislittle @raisinghellionsblog @rubyfruitjungle @pedroshotwifey @fawnosblog @bqoak @camzzn @dindjarins-big-tiddy-goth-gf @glycerinrivers @for-a-longlongtime @pedrostories
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Trigger Points
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Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)
Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end
Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.
A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.
Masterlist
You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.
This isn’t like you.
As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.
The party you hadn’t wanted to go to. 
The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.
The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.
Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.
Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free. 
“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”
“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”
Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.
“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”
“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.
“Internal massage.”
You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least. 
…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.
The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.
Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both. 
A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.
A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics. 
“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms. 
“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”
You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.
You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.
Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.
Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.
“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”
You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.
“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”
“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”
“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”
“Kay,” you squeak.
“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.
“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”
“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.
“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”
Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.
Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.
“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”
“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open. 
“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”
“I’m good.”
“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.” 
You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.
“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”
“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”
“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”
“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”
“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”
At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole. 
“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”
“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.
“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”
“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.
“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”
“Yes. Good.”
“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”
The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open. 
“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”
You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.
“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”
“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”
“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”
“Yes.”
“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”
As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.
“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”
It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such. 
Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before. 
Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side. 
“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”
“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”
“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”
The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.
“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”
You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you. 
“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”
“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor. 
At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.
You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.
You really should have known better.
“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”
“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.
Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect. 
“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”
“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.
“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”
“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.
“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.
“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”
“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.
“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”
“That’s fine,” you answer. 
“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”
“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”
“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”
You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.
“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”
“Yes,” you nod gratefully. 
“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”
You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers. 
You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.
“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”
“S’fine.”
“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”
You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.
Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.
“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”
You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor. 
“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”
Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane. 
Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area. 
And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.
“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.
“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.
“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get  to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”
“Yuh-huh,” you nod.
“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you. 
“How do you feel?”
“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.
“Mentally?” he prods.
“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.
“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”
Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”
“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”
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kedsandtubesocks · 10 days
Text
be your hallowed ground
Demon!Ezra x F!Reader
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summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes
word count: 7.9k
a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡
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The forest stretches out far, daunting.
Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.
Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.
Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.
Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.
The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.
You whip around.
No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.
The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.
Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.
“There you are, turtle dove.”
The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.
Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.
Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.
Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.
“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.
The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.
“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”
His name - Ezra.
Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.
Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.
“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.
“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.
You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.
“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”
Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.
But then the wind picks up.
From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.
“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”
He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.
After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.
With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.
The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.
“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.
Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.
The man chuckles.
“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.
You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.
Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.
However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.
Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.
“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”
“They are.” You answer stiffly.
Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.
“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”
He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.
“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”
“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”
“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.
So you reserve your words again.
“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.
“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.
As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.
“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”
“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.
“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.
“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.
The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.
You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.
Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.
“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.
“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.
Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.
“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.
“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”
He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.
So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”
“Truly?” He now squawks confused.
“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”
Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.
“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.
“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”
“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.
An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.
“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”
“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.
Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.
“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”
You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.
He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.
“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”
His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.
His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.
You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.
You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.
Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.
“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”
“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.
“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”
Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.
“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”
His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.
Now his eyes flicker to you.
“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.
But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.
Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.
You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.
Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.
Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.
A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.
“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.
He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.
But, his words confuse you.
“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.
That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.
How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.
Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.
“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”
So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.
How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.
The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.
Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.
Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.
The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.
Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.
“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.
So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.
“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.
Where could he have gone?
“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.
How did he get there without you noticing?
In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.
“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”
“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.
A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.
“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”
No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.
Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.
“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.
“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.
“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.
“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.
“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”
“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.
Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.
“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”
He noticed it too.
Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.
“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”
You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.
Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.
“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”
You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.
A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.
“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.
You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.
“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”
You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.
“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.
Ezra gasps small but surprised.
“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.
“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.
The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”
Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.
You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.
“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”
You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.
You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.
“Thank you kindly.”
Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.
However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.
You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.
“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.
The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.
Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.
The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.
However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.
It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.
But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.
Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.
Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.
Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?
You must be imagining things.
Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.
He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.
A thought flutters into your mind.
You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.
Dread fills you.
How could you think such thoughts?
“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.
“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”
The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.
In thought, you hum a small noise.
“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.
You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.
“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.
He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.
“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.
“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”
Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.
“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.
“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.
“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.
You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.
Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.
You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.
But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.
His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.
Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.
“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.
You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.
Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.
His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.
His eyes and yours find each other.
“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.
Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.
You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.
You want more, need it.
Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.
The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.
Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.
Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.
Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.
Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.
“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”
His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.
“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”
You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.
You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.
You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.
You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.
Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.
Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.
You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.
Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.
“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.
Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.
Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.
His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.
The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.
Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.
Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.
“Your wing, turtle dove.”
Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.
The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.
“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.
Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.
“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.
“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.
Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”
You nod quietly.
Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.
“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.
Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.
The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.
“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”
Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.
A tender kiss.
Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips
Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.
There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.
However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.
If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.
Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.
However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.
You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.
A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.
“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”
“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.
“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.
“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”
“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.
“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.
“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”
Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.
“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.
You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.
“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”
You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.
“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”
“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.
“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.
You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.
“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.
Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?
A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…
But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?
“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.
“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.
“Please….” You whimper out.
“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.
“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.
It unleashes a monster.
Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.
It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.
Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.
You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.
This however sets your soul on fire.
His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.
You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.
Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.
Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.
That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.
Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.
And now, the church is lit.
You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.
How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?
A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.
“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.
“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.
A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.
He hums a satisfied groan.
“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.
“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.
This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.
Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.
His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.
A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.
Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.
“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.
“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.
“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”
His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?
“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.
“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”
Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.
“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”
Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.
You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.
“No.” You breathe out.
“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”
His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.
“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.
The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.
Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.
Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.
Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -
Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.
Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.
Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.
With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.
“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.
“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.
And he does as you command.
Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.
You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.
“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”
You don’t deny him after that.
The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.
When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.
“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.
Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.
You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.
The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…
And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?
Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.
“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.
“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.
Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.
Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.
Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.
But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.
Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.
So your eyes open.
From between your legs, Ezra glances up.
His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.
Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.
A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.
Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.
Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.
You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.
“What- what are you?!” You sob.
Ezra hums and peers up at you.
“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”
A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.
Or perhaps it’s hell.
Maybe you have died.
You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.
As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.
You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.
The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.
So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.
Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.
The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.
It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.
The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…
You never once gave it to him this entire time.
He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.
When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.
You’re home.
Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?
“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.
He thankfully answers all your questions.
You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.
“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”
Now you’ve been resting ever since.
Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?
That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.
You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.
Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.
Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”
Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.
“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.
“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”
You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.
By twilight another knock at the door arrives.
“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.
Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.
“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”
The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.
When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.
Fear seizes your soul.
No. It couldn’t be.
This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.
“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.
Your heart rages rapidly and wild.
“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.
“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.
Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.
Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.
He exalts your name on an exhale.
You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.
“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.
So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.
“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.
“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”
His hand graciously cradles your cheek.
You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.
Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.
Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch
Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.
“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.
“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”
And you want him to be yours.
This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?
So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.
Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.
You too fell for the serpent.
After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.
Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.
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haylzcyon · 10 months
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We all agree that Ezra just *loves* the sound of your voice, right?
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slutty things below the cut - f!reader, accidental (and then not) voyeurism, male masturbation, idk u guys can blame @ezrasbirdie & @lowlights for this
You're hot.
It's late.
You can't remember the last time you'd been out in the Green this long.
Ezra made the executive decision to split up hours ago. Your entire morning had been aurelac-less, despite the man's confidence in the location of an abandoned dig site when you'd left camp.
It didn't take long for impatience and frustration to sink in once separated from your partner. Pacing across the same overgrown patches of forest floor, the greens and browns already obscured by listlessly floating plant matter turned to blurry mush in your sights in no time at all.
"I'm thinking it's no use, Ez," you say, plopping hard onto a fallen tree as you watch rays of light flicker in and out of the branches above you. His chuckle, both sharp and soft as it filled your helmet, cuts through your irritation momentarily.
"I don't wish to believe you'd give up so easily, nor so soon."
"I don't see it that way."
"Enlighten me, dreamer."
"Are you joking?"
Ezra chuckles again, and you let out an exaggerated sigh.
"We've been out here too long. I'm starving, the adhesive in my boot is slipping again, and my nose itches. There's nothing here. You must have misheard the coordinates while channel skipping."
The only sound in response is that of his breathing. It's quiet but raspy, like he's thirsty.
"Want me to keep going?"
"I think I take your meaning, but I'm still going to request you indulge me a bit longer, little dreamer."
You bite your lip, rolling your eyes at the way you can't quite help but pleasantly squirm when he calls you that.
Ezra had discovered, quite early into your partnership, how restless you were, even while asleep. But it wasn't until more recently that he'd admitted just how much your shifting and squeaking didn't bother him--it fervently turned him on.
The first time he'd called you the pet name, cooing it out with his teeth on your neck and three fingers inside you, you'd squeezed them so tightly he nearly choked on his own breath.
Somehow it's infuriating, the way he seems to speak directly to your cunt.
With another over-dramatic sigh, you rise and take stock of your surroundings. You don't catch sight of him from where you're at, but he can't be far.
"Fine."
"Why don't you tell me what you see right now?" he asks, and you can't help the giggle you let out at his request. His breathing is louder now, but yours picks up too as you start walking in the direction you came from.
"Let's see," you say, "There's some trees up ahead. Some trees behind me, and next to me, too. We've got some brush, some dirt. Grass. A distinct lack of anything that indicates a deposit."
He huffs short, and takes a deep breath that rattles your eardrums before speaking.
"You seem certain of our misfortune today."
"Well, you can't deny I'm better at spotting bad ideas than you are, Ezra. Remember those radiation shield parts you 'came across', parts you were sure would pull thousands?"
A grin spreads across your face when he laughs. "That was an excellent idea, only poorly executed."
You laugh again, and a stifled groan swims through the channel. The smile slips off your face and your brow furrows, but before you can ask if he's okay, a bright shine in your peripherals steals your attention. Your heartbeat reaches into your throat before you realize it's Ezra.
You almost call out for him, but something about his stature gives you pause.
Squinting, it's hard to tell what he's doing at first. When your focus adjusts and you finally see him--standing in front of a tree, shifting his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet with one hand planted on the bark above his head and sunlight wrapped around his helmet--you take two steps back and duck behind a moss-covered boulder.
Hidden, you feel the prickle of sweat as it forms quickly on your lower back. When you extend your torso, peaking around the large rock and finding him again, heat erupts from your core and travels through your veins at lightspeed.
No less than 50 meters away Ezra's legs are spread, shoulder-width apart, a gloved hand pinned between the tree and the crotch of his suit. He's almost lazily grinding against it, hips rolling slowly and dragging back and forth against the material.
Your mouth goes dry.
You cock your head.
You watch.
There are questions that surface as you take in the sight of him: What could have gotten him so worked up that he had to take care of himself out here, like this? Has he done this before? Did he want you to catch him? How does this, compared to all the places and ways he's had you, compare?
Shit, Ezra had just had you this morning. You clench at the memory, and a trickle of sweat between your breasts makes you shiver.
In your fleeting lost sense of where you are and fixed interest in his movements, you don't hold back the small gasp that slips past your lips. His hips thrust forward sharply with the sound, shoulders drawing tight towards his neck when he holds the position for an extra moment. Barely audible, he groans again.
"You alright?" he asks on the tailend of the sound, and you're shocked at the smoothness of his voice despite the increasing pressure of his hips against his hand.
"Yeah, sorry, uh, tripped on a root." Your voice is surely breathier than you intend, so you laugh to try and cover it up, "These fucking boots."
Your jaw drops when a shudder rips through his body, the rolling of hips increasing in tempo at the sound of your voice.
Fucking hell.
"Be careful now, dreamer. Surely you don't want me to have to stitch you up like I did last season."
A sharp inhale follows your giggle, and the sight of his hand starting to drift slowly up and down between the trunk and his clothed cock while he fucks against it even harder has your thighs pulling together tight in an attempt to soothe the steady pulse in your clit.
Could it really be only your voice?
Could you, berating him for making you stay out on this Kevva-forsaken moon so long and teasing him for his brazen plans, have wound Ezra up enough to resort to this?
You let the idea run wild in your mind, staying quiet and only observing while another minute passes of him desperately grinding himself against his palm and the tree.
Keeping your tone low, you finally say, "I dunno Ez, you did me up pretty good that day. I'd let you take care of me again."
And finally, finally, he lets it out.
His growl is deep and throaty and wraps itself around your abdomen, squeezing tight enough to knock the air from your lungs. Biting your lip to keep from moaning yourself, you watch as the hand above his head slips, and he braces himself steadier against the tree with his forearm instead.
"That what you want, little dreamer? Need me to take care of you? Stitch you up just so I can take you apart again, hm? Rip y- split you open?"
Ezra's composure has fled so suddenly, you wonder if he's spotted you. But your eyes haven't left him, the sharp edge of his jaw and the patchy beard that dusts the side of his face barely visible where he stands. He's almost fully turned away from where you're crouched and concealed, and hasn't turned to face your direction once.
All you can muster is a small and high-pitched "uh-huh" in response, your body reacting wildly to the change in tone and the rapid gyrating of his body against the tree. Your body is covered in sweat, screaming to stand and go to him and let him drag you back to camp and do as he offered.
But you're frozen, watching, waiting.
And it's if he's read your thoughts, staccato grunting into his headset when he says, "Gonna come find you, get you back to that tent and spread you open so wide and pretty for me, you hear me? Make a mess of that sweet pussy, like I always do."
"I hear you, Ezra," you whisper, and at that his body convulses. You hear the soft thud of his helmet against the tree bark as he presses as much of his front as possible to the trunk, breath ragged and loud in your ears as he rubs himself fervently against it.
You don't look away until he stills, pulling yourself back behind the boulder and trying to keep your deep panting to a minimum as he comes down.
A passionate irritation trickles into your chest. The realization that even his primal writhing leaves you painfully aching provokes something inside you, indistinguishable between anger and intense arousal.
As it thrums loudly between your skin and your bones, you stand to face him--only to find the spot he was leaning moments ago abandoned. Whipping your head back and forth, you almost scream when a strong arm wraps around your middle and pulls you backwards.
The smirk that pulls on the side of your mouth is helpless when his voice fills your helmet.
"I may not have struck aurelac tonight, but it appears I did locate something almost as valuable in the Green this evening."
Flipping you around to face him so quickly you see stars, he steps forward, pushing until the back of your thighs touch the rock that concealed you moments ago. You can see the sweat dripping down the sides of his face when one of his knees forces its way between yours, sliding up the insides of your thighs until you whine when it presses tightly against your center.
"Here is the way I see it, sweet dreamer. Tonight, you witnessed me make an awful mess of the inside of this suit. So, I believe it's only fair to afford me the same opportunity."
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princessanglophile · 4 months
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The Wonderful World of Pedro Masterlist
🏰 ✨ A Series of Disney Princess AUs starring your favorite Pedro Pascal characters 🏰 ✨
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(UP NEXT) Someday My Prince Will Come — Din Djarin x F!Reader
⭐️ Full list of fics ⭐️
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magpiepills · 4 months
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Kill Shot Masterlist
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Ezra x f!reader
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Kill Shot Part 1: Fools Gold
Kill Shot Part 2: Wild and Woolly
Kill Shot Part 3: Gut the Fencer
A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm?
Warnings: INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO- SMUT, PIV, fingering, oral (m&f receiving) pet names, spanking, dub con, angst, anal play, deep throating, cum eating, thigh riding, dirty talk, double penetration, toys, teasing, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.
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xdaddysprincessxx · 6 months
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Sweet Creature
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Vamp Ezra x SW!f!reader
Warnings: Dark/Dead dove, tw: sexual assault (it’s not explicit but it is there, sex work IS NOT glamorous) Vampirism, sex work(reader is a high end escort), finance bro talk (idk it’s like one sentence), boot riding, blood, p in v (wear a fucking condom my dudes), neck biting, oral (f receiving), I believe that’s it, lightly edited, all mistakes are mine.
A/n: if you can’t tell by now that I have a raging boner for vampires, well then idk what to tell you.
Moodboard made by moi 😇
The cold, winter air hits your face as you walk out of the Hilton hotel. You pull your faux fur coat tighter around your body as you make your way to the car sitting at the curb waiting for you.
Opening the back door and ducking your head as you lower yourself into the black Rolls Royce your mistress sent for you. Sliding over the black leather seat, you quickly got comfortable and relaxed as your driver pulls off to take you back to your shared townhouse. About two years ago, you met this beautiful woman named Serena and the two of you became friends. She knew of this “job opportunity” and told you how perfect you’d be for it. She explained how all you had to do was go on a date with this old, rich guy. He’d pick you up, take you to dinner and drop you back off at home after. He would pay for everything and all he wanted was your time and attention. Easy right? Wrong. You went on that date with what’s his name? Richard or something? He picked you up from her place, took you to this super fancy restaurant, ordered pasta and lobster for you and made sure to keep your wine glass full. After dinner, once the two of you were in his car instead of going towards your friend’s apartment where he picked you up from, he took a different route leading to a sketchy ass looking hotel. You weren’t in the most sober mindset so it didn’t really occur to you to be scared or nervous. Richard had been lovely all night. You followed him inside and it became a huge regret of yours very soon. You see Richard was not a nice man at all. It didn’t matter that you said no. You said yes to going to dinner with him. You said yes to spending his money just fine. After he had his fun, he left you laying on the bed covered in his spend and tears running down your face. He did leave you six thousand dollars in an envelope on the dresser for you. The money didn’t take away the pain but it did help dry your tears some. And that’s how you found yourself working for Serena as one of her girls. You’ve managed to make a name for yourself in the escort industry. Billionaires, athletes, actors, if they had money and a dick, they asked for you. By name. You had the best pussy and you weren’t this little submissive girl to them either. You had a sassy mouth on you and you weren’t afraid to tell them where,what,how and why. That was part of your appeal. You were effortlessly cool and dominating in a way that these men liked and craved from a woman. All too soon your ride came to an end as you pulled up to your townhouse. Braving the cold once again, you got out and walked up to the door and let yourself in.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
Another Friday night and you unfortunately found yourself stuck going to this gala as some finance bro’s date. All you wanted to do was stay home, lay around in sweats and eat junk food and watch your fave true crime shows. But here you are in a gorgeous black, floor length strapless dress with a high slit on the side. The gala is held at the Four Seasons Hotel and you already know your date has a room ready for after the event is over. Your walking around with a flute of champagne while you listen to these old, rich dudes talk about whatever out of touch shit they talk about. That’s when you spot this little patch of blonde hair attached to these beautiful brown curls. Ezra. You’ve never gone on a date with him but he runs in the same circle as the guys who do hire you so you’ve met him before. He’s always such a mystery to you. There were rumors about him. People always said they’ve never seen him during the day, he only shows up to events at night, he refuses to be photographed, and a few have said he’s a biter. One girl you knew from working for Serena, she had gone on a date with him except she said he never ate in front of her, only drank a little wine and claimed he bit her neck. She even had these weird little puncture marks. Unfortunately like a couple of days after that she went missing. The rumors never bothered you though, a lot of the men who frequent Serena’s are very weird. You have noticed how he always seems to undress you with his eyes every time you see him. A huge part of you wished he would call for you and whisk you away from this lifestyle. Standing with what’s his face, Derek? No. Steve maybe? Anyways You get lost in your little daydream about the man you wished you came with when you suddenly feel the eyes of someone watching you.
“Well hello gentlemen and ladies.” You hear a southern, husky voice say. You turn your head to the left and see Ezra has made his way over to your little group. Standing there in an all black tux, eyeing him up and down, your cunt clenching when you saw the boots he had on. As dominant as you are with your clients, Ezra is the one man you want to submit too. The one you want to kneel down for and do as he says.
“You look extra delectable tonight birdie if I do say so myself.” Ezra says to you, causing your cheeks to heat up as you blush
“Oh thank you Ezra, your flattery is always welcomed.” You say back, doing your best to brush off the fact this man affects you greatly.
“Ah Ezra how are you? We were just discussing the current stock market situation and who should be dropping what stocks. Care to chime in?” Your date says.
“As much as I would love to discuss the stock market I actually came over to whisk your lovely date away for a quick word.” Ezra replied as he held out his hand towards you, hoping you’d take it and leave with him.
Taking his hand and thanking whatever god is out there for this rescue, “Of course, I’ll be right back honey” you tell your date, handing him your champagne flute before you walk hand in hand with Ezra out of the gala.
Once the two of you were out of the ballroom, you cleared your throat, “So what exactly did you want to talk about?”
“I saw how beautiful you looked tonight and couldn’t let you continue to go to waste out there. Those men never deserved you birdie.”
His words caused a deep blush to cover your cheeks. Finally he’s calling on you. He wants you! You’ve been waiting on this for what feels like forever. Ezra is actually whisking you away even if only for the night.
The two of you finally stop in front of suite 108, Ezra let’s go of your hand to grab the key out of his pocket and quickly unlocks the door, ushering you inside. Taking a few steps in, Ezra comes up behind you placing his hands on your hips as he guides you over to the king sized bed. As the two of you come to a stop at the foot of the bed, you notice a floor to ceiling mirror directly in front of the bed, along with these gorgeous blood red roses sitting in various vases around the room. Some roses were even laying on the bed. Turning around in his arms you lift your arms around his neck,
“What’s all t-“ Ezra cuts you off, placing a finger over your mouth.
“Shh no more questions. I’ve been watching you for awhile now birdie. Always with a different man, selling your body. I know you hate it. I’ve been waiting for the right time but unfortunately there isn’t a right time so I’m taking you. Make you mine. Mine to love and feed on and use as I please.” He says before ducking his head down and leaving a kiss on the base of your throat. He makes his way up your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, causing your brain to shut off almost instantly.
“You always smell so divine my love. I can hear your delicious blood flowing through your body, your heart beating as if to say it’s mine for the taking,” he says in between kisses, “mm yes you will be the most tasty little treat I’ve had the pleasure of having.”
Now that’s a very weird way of saying he wants you. What exactly does that even mean? He can hear my blood? You aren’t exactly vanilla when it comes to sex but blood play is a new kink for you. Tilting your head back to allow him more room, Ezra starts to suck right below your ear earning him a beautiful soft moan to tumble out of your mouth. Soon his mouth leaves your neck as he starts to guide you down towards the floor.
He’s still standing, just bent over as you are almost on your knees in front of him. He pushes the tip of his boot in between your legs.
“Sit down birdie. Go on. I’m not a patient man.”
Without hesitation, you straddle his boot, sitting all the way down. You can feel it all along your wet cunt. Looking up at Ezra, who’s now standing straight up again, you can’t help but squirm ever so slightly as he reaches down and swipes his thumb on your bottom lip.
“That’s it pretty girl. Show me how well you can ride my boot.”
You begin to rub your cunt on his boot just as he asked, taking his thumb in your mouth. You lightly suck his thumb as you hold onto his leg and ride his boot. You can feel yourself get wetter by the second. The dominance he’s showing over you is the biggest turn on ever. All you want to do is show him how good you can be. You keep your eyes locked with his the whole time. You start to feel him tap his foot up, hitting your clit as you ride. Your little red lace thong you had on was completely soaked at this point. It barely covered you to begin with, now it’s practically useless but you love it. You can feel the sleek black leather, the little ridges of the seams, all it does is make you start to ride him faster wanting to feel ecstasy.
“Oooh that’s it birdie. Rub your sweet little cunt just like that. I bet you’re soaked aren’t you? Ah yes. Yes you are aren’t you birdie? Look at you. Riding my boot and sucking my thumb wishing it was my cock. What a beautiful sight you are.”
You have drool running down your chin and you just know his boot is soaked from your juices. You’re so close it’s almost embarrassing how quick it’s taken you just from rubbing yourself on his boot. It makes you feel like a damn virgin discovering your clit for the first time. Ezra removes his thumb, pinching your face as he pulls you up off his boot and turns you in his arms to face the mirror.
Forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror that’s when you notice, you can only see yourself! But Ezra is right there! Why isn’t he in the reflection looking back at you too?
Still holding your face, Ezra runs his nose up the side of your neck, inhaling deep. “Scared yet birdie? You really should be.” He says in a low gravelly tone. Once he spoke those words, your eyes went wide as he opened his mouth wide exposing his fangs as he bites down on your neck.
You try to scream, your mouth dropping open as this searing pain heats up your whole body. You try your best to flail your arms when the pain changes to a sweet sweet sensation that you find you never want to go away. Raising your arm, you find his head and card your fingers through his hair. Gripping onto his luscious brown curls, you do your best to keep his head right where you want him.
All too soon Ezra lifts his face away from your neck, blood dripping down his chin. His entire lower face is covered in the liquid. It’s the most erotic sight you’ve ever seen. With your hand still in his hair, you push his face towards yours, kissing him deeply. You feel him push his tongue into your mouth, tasting the metallic liquid you can’t help but want more of it. You suck his tongue best you can, continuing to kiss him as if your life depended on it.
Ezra pulls away, blood colored saliva strings connecting you two. His lips all plumped and bruised from the intense kiss you two shared. You feel his hand pull on your dress zipper as his other hand roams all over your body. In an instant you feel your dress fall exposing your bare breasts and soaked thong. Ezra slowly moves down, taking a breast in each hand. He gives each nipple a gentle suck before he continues on his way down.
Ezra’s on his knees in front of you as he looks up giving you these big puppy dog eyes. You reach down and cup his messy, beautiful face. He lifts one of your legs so it bends,
“Such a sweet, beautiful creature you are birdie,” he says before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee, “Now you’re a child of the night. You’re mine for the rest of eternity.” He tells you as he goes to peel your thong off your body. You help by stepping out of it, placing your hands on his shoulders for stability.
“And you’re mine Ezra. If I’m yours, you are mine.”
He growled in response, his eyes rolling back in delight. “Of course my love. We belong to each other now.” He says as he goes to lick a wide stripe up your wet slit. His big hands gripping the globes of your ass as he starts to lick into your cunt, exploring your entrance with his tongue. Your fingers card through his hair, gripping tight and pulling him more into you as you begin to rub your pussy on his willing mouth. You’re mesmerized looking at Ezra on his knees, eating your cunt like it’s his last meal. He looks up at you as he puts his lips around your clit and sucks. You’ve been ate out before but for some reason this is the greatest feeling you’ve ever felt. In fact everything feels better than it ever has.
Just as soon as you get close once again, Ezra pulls away. It’s as if he knows your close and he’s just teasing you. You let out a frustrated whimper as he pulls you down onto the floor with him. Laying you on your back, he climbs on top of you as he goes to kiss you again. Your tongues licking into each others mouths, you can taste yourself on him making you moan out loud. You can feel Ezra’s free hand go down and start to unbuckle his pants. He pulls away as you both go to work to free his cock from their confines. As soon as you see his thick cock you let out a gasp as you go to wrap your hand around him. He’s easily the biggest you’ve ever seen, your hand doesn’t even fit around him. Giving him a few pumps, he goes to move your hand away as he takes over, rubbing his cock through your soaked folds, collecting your wetness on himself before notching himself at your entrance. He pushes into you in one swift motion before he begins just pounding the shit out of you. His heavy balls slapping on your ass as his thick cock stretch’s you out like you’ve never been stretched before. It takes your breath away, all you can do is lay there with your arms wrapped around him tight and just take what he gives you. He dips his head down and starts sucking and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your neck. The only noise in the room is the wet slapping of your bodies meeting and the soft moans and grunts coming from you both. Ezra slows his thrusting down, grinding his cock deep inside of you making your eyes roll back. The two of you lost in the all of the sweet pleasure. Ezra’s face is hovering over yours as the two of you stare deep into each others eyes. The feeling of his cock massaging your walls has you both doubled over in ecstasy.
Without speaking, Ezra picks up speed again thrusting deep in your pussy. His forehead falling on yours as his eyes close, you feel him snake his hand down and his thumb gently circling your clit is your undoing. You hit your high, screaming out loud as he lets out a loud moan, laughing a little, “That’s it birdie cum for me. Soak my fucking cock my sweet creature. Nngh that’s it baby fuck I can feel you choking my cock. Just like that baby that’s it ooh. Oh fuck,” he grunts out as he hits his high. You can feel his cock throb and pulse deep inside you, his thick load coating your walls. His face still pressed to yours, his aquiline nose smooshed next to yours as you both lay there, catching your breath. You smile, breathing out a little giggle before you kiss the side of his mouth.
“So forever huh? I get to enjoy this for the rest of my days?” You say as you open your eyes to see him above you with a silly little grin on his face.
“I told you birdie. We’re children of the night. I’ve made you mine. And I have no problem reminding you every day and night that your mine and mine only.” He said punctuating that last few words with a deep grind of his cock.
“That’s fine with me.” You say with a breathless giggle. The two of you lay like that for awhile before he got hard again. He took you in every position on every surface that night. The next day you two stayed in bed, curtains closed. Once night hit, you left with Ezra, hand in hand, ready to spend eternity with him.
A/n: okay sooo we will def be seeing more of these two again!! I hope y’all like this! Every like/reblog/comment makes my day and I appreciate every single one of you babes!
Tagging my fellow vampire lovers: @patti7dc @multiversed-daydreamer @lumoverheaven @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @bonezone44 @survivingandenduring @neverwheremoonchild
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absurdthirst · 1 year
Text
Boyfriend for Hire {Ezra x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 21.1k
Warnings: Modern AU, escort work, technically prostitution, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, masturbation, angst, miscommunication
Comments: When you are instructed to bring your boyfriend to the company New Year's party, you have a problem. He doesn't actually exist. Hiring Ezra, an escort who provides companionship for those who can afford it, turns into something far different than what you imagined.
A/N: Happy late New Year!!!!
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
Thank you @thewaythisis for finding the pic I wanted.
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“I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season with your families.” You stare down at your checklist for the end of year board meeting and halfway turn out, knowing you will be working through the holiday to get ahead on some projects that will be happening in the year to come. “That brings me to our New Year’s Eve party.” The CEO captures your attention and you look up as he smiles happily. “This year, I’ve decided to host a party for all of our execs and junior execs. I want all of you to be there.” He turns towards you. “We can finally meet this mysterious beau you keep talking about but we never see you bring to work functions.”
Panicking slightly but trying to remain calm, you shake your head. “Uh, we have plans for the New Year.” You protest, making him frown. 
“Unless you are out of town, which you’ve already said you will be here, I expect all of my employees there.” He decrees. Shit….now you have to pull a non-existent boyfriend out of thin air. 
Ezra looks away from his laptop when his phone begins to ring, his work phone. He takes off his glasses and sets them down before he pushes the green button to answer the call. “Hello?” He answers after clearing his throat. 
“Um, hello. Is this Ezra?” A woman asks and Ezra smiles at how nervous she sounds. 
“This is he.” He responds, tapping his fingers on his desk. 
“I, um, I got your number from a friend. I have a New Year party to attend and I need a man to go with me…to pretend to be my boyfriend.” 
Ezra bites his lip to smother his chuckle at that, “that’s my speciality, little bird. Shall we meet for a drink and see if I’m a good fit?” He suggests. 
“Ye-yes. That sounds good.” Ezra lets you pick the time and place and after telling you he will be there, he hangs up with a smirk. He has a job for New Year’s Eve. Perfect.
You fidget as you wait, choosing a high top table away from the rest of the bar, your drink in front of you medicinal to keep you from jumping out of your skin. You know what you are. What you are perceived as. A workaholic. A bitch boss who demanded too much of your team and only cared about your career. 
It was true, you were career focused and you didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, when everyone started asking about your personal life, because apparently separation of work and home life doesn’t exist anymore, you had lied. Made up what sounded like the perfect man, at least not anyone you had ever dated. Now you need to produce this wonderful person and you have no clue how to go about it without hiring someone. You’ve not been on a date in years and you don’t really want to. Men are always insecure when they realize you hold more power or make more money, or whatever seems to emasculate them. “Shit.” You hiss, lifting your drink to your lips with a slight tremble to your hand.
Ezra spots the red dress you said you’d be wearing and makes his way over to the table, adjusting his jacket as he confidently strides over to you. “You must be my date for the evening.” He offers you the most charming smile he can muster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Ezra, at your service.” He declares and takes a seat opposite you, admiring you for a moment. You’re beautiful, not the usual elderly woman he is escorting to boring social events. You’re gorgeous in fact and he smiles, knowing this won’t be a difficult date for him unless you are an absolute bitch.
You introduce yourself and then lean back as the waiter comes over to take Ezra’s drink order, giving you a moment to observe him. He’s elegant, far more than what you expected. None of the greasy appeal you had assumed you would have to deal with. His date casual outfit looked like it would belong at any high class country club, although the blonde streak in his otherwise russet hair is shocking in its charm. “Ma’am? Another?” You break away from looking at Ezra and stare down at your ice. 
“Please.” You murmur and wait for Ezra to speak as the man walks away to fulfill the drink orders.
“So…New Year’s Eve? A work shindig. Tell me little bird, what kind of man are you searching for to accompany you to the party? I am well versed in being whatever gentleman you require. You give me the details and I will play whatever part you desire.”
Twisting in your chair, you pull out your notebook, having written down everything you’ve told your colleagues about this fictitious boyfriend. Sighing as you open it and turn it around to hand to him. “This is what I’ve told them about my…lover.” Boyfriend seems so very juvenile to say and you swallow harshly, waiting for him to scoff at the unrealistic spin you’ve woven.
Ezra takes the notebooks, reading your bullet points and he bites his lip at the imaginative meeting between you and your “lover” until he reads what your beau enjoys, how he treats you. “Chérie, you might’ve discovered the most perfect man on the planet.” He jokes softly and you sigh, reaching for the notebook. 
“I know I embellished but I- I wanted you - him - to sound good.” 
Ezra pulls the book away from your reach, “I didn’t say it was impossible to create. I am a talented actor, I can assure you that this man will be attending your party with you. I can be this man but…I’m not cheap.”
It’s on the tip of your tongue to say that price doesn’t matter, but what kind of executive would you be if you gave away your negotiating power? “What would be your cost? Expenses? What would I be paying for?” You ask, tucking the notebook back into your large bag and looking over to see the waiter bringing the drinks back to your table.
Ezra smiles and thanks the waiter for the drinks, pausing the conversation, then he looks back at you while he lifts his drink. “Cheers, Chérie.” He smiles and clinks his glass against yours. “I’m not cheap. I am very discreet. I am good at what I do. I guarantee by the end of the night everyone will be convinced that I am in fact your lover. Three thousand. For the night.” He tells you his price, knowing it’s high but he’s good at what he does.
He is pricey, especially when you consider what the going rate for escorts is. You aren’t blind, you’ve seen the expense reports for some of your male counterparts, claiming it as ‘entertainment’. However, you aren’t looking for sex, you want a sophisticated man to be able to charm those around you and give a convincing performance. You take a sip of your drink, contemplating the idea. “Agreed, I will pay you half upfront and half at the end of the night. However, if you are not convincing, I will keep the other half.” 
Ezra smirks, liking your moxie, and he shifts to lean closer to you, “oh don’t you fret, little bird. You’re gonna be thrilled by the end of the night.” He lifts his glass towards you and takes a sip of his drink. Leaning back in his seat, he’s excited to spend the New Year with you. 
****
As part of the package, Ezra picks you up in the town car he hired for the evening. A friend of a friend has a company and he has a deal with them. A few hundred bucks isn’t much when he’s making thousands. He knocks on the door of your ridiculously posh apartment and waits for you to answer, adjusting his bow tie to ensure he looks suitable for your beau.
Putting in your earrings, you quickly walk to the door and open it. “I-“ stopping mid-sentence, you take in the polished suit and the way that his hair is even more carefully styled. “You look fantastic.” You murmur. “Let me get my purse and wrap.”
Ezra nods, hanging by your front door. He doesn’t want to intrude and he waits patiently for you to come into the hallway after you lock your front door. “You look exquisite, chérie. I will surely be the envy of every man in the room.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. “Shall we go? The car is waiting.” He extends his arm after letting go of your hand, excited to remember all the tidbits he’s been memorizing since your meeting a few days ago.
Nervous as you take his arm, you allow Ezra to walk you towards the elevators. “Have you memorized the key points?” You ask softly, the clicking of your shoes on the marble floors the only thing you can hear beyond your quiet conversation. “When we met, first date?”
“We met in that coffee shop over on Desmond Street. Brewsters. We bumped into each other during the morning rush and that was it. I took you to dinner at Le Mar and brought you roses. We kissed that night but nothing else. We’ve been dating for ten months. It’s been bliss. I took you to the fair and bought you that pretty bracelet you’re wearing for your birthday. I know your middle name. I know where you were born. I know the town you grew up in. Trust me, baby, I am a professional.” He pushes the button to call the car, turning to look at you. He reaches up to caress your face.
Suitably impressed, you wonder why your cheeks heat up when he touches your cheek. “You have a scar.” You just realize it, seeing the thin, silvery scar on the apple of his left cheek. “Where did you get it? In case anyone asks, of course.” You don’t mention that you think that it’s charming, giving him an almost roguish appearance that makes you think of old fashioned duals for honor with his syrupy accent.
Ezra chuckles softly, “serving this country. I was lucky that’s all I got. I nearly lost my arm. Was shot a few times but made it through. You should probably mention that I was an army man. Might win some of those bigwigs you associate with over. They always appreciate a man in uniform I’ve found.” He snorts, remembering the amount of times he’s seen lust in their eyes imagining him in a uniform while their wives stood beside them for appearances. You press the button for the ground floor and Ezra stands beside you after you drop his arm.
“Oh.” You murmur to him. “Sorry.” You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, the silence settles between you as your elevator car takes you down and you step out into the ground floor. You take a deep breath, wishing you could just stay on your couch in your leggings and work on reports while watching the New Year’s Eve program on TV and drink the wine you had bought and the nibble on the little charcuterie board you had ordered with your groceries on a whim.
Ezra shakes his head, stopping you walking for a moment. “Hush. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t send me to my death. Those bastards did. Let’s make this an amazing night for you.” He cups your cheek and leans in to softly peck your lips. “Come on chérie, let’s go impress your coworkers.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to the town car.
“Thank you.” Ezra helps you into the car and slides in beside you as the driver closes the door. You are impressed that he went to the lengths that he has with ordering a car. You had half expected to have to order an Uber. “Where did you grow up?” You ask curiously. “Is your accent authentic or…dramatic?” 
Ezra smirks, “I’m not that good an actor. I’m from Louisiana. Born and raised until I joined the army and left for good. Moved here about five years ago after my - my incident. You like the accent? Or no?” He asks, watching you as the car pulls away from the curb towards the hotel your company picked out for the event.
“I like it.” You assure him, reaching over and patting his thigh before remembering yourself and pulling your hand back. 
“Don’t.” Ezra grabs your hand and pulls it back. “We would be comfortable touching each other, chérie.” He reminds you. “You have paid a lot of money to be with your ‘lover’ tonight.” 
You bite your lip, shyly looking away and clearing your throat. “You must think I am ridiculous, needing to hire you to pretend to be my lover.” You murmur. “I - I concentrate on work, not men.”
“That’s smart. Men fuck everything up. Men complicate things. You’re a smart girl, focusing on you and your work. The right man…he will come along eventually. I understand the pressure, the way people question you constantly. As a woman, you’re expected to settle down and marry, be with a man and have the American dream but not everyone is made for that. Some don’t want the man, some don’t want the kids, some don’t want the house. It’s 2022 for God’s sake, women should be able to do whatever they damn well want.” He says with conviction, “I’m - I mainly attend functions with older women whose husbands have passed.”
That catches your curiosity, wondering if he is some sort of a con man. Swindling sweet old ladies out of their money with sweet nothings and attention. “How did you decide to become an..an escort?” You lower your voice, not wanting to say it too loudly even though the window of the town car was up.
Ezra sighs, "um, it's a long story but the short version? I got out and back here I had physical therapy and therapy...lots of it. By the time I was healed, I couldn't find a job so I moved to the big city. When I got here, I got in touch with some friends who put me in touch with an older woman who wanted company - no sex just company - and from there, she referred me and so on. It pays well and no one cares about my résumé."
“Fascinating.” You truly mean that. It’s not like you are unaware of people paying for company, hell, you are doing it now. But his story on how he came to get into this is interesting. The things he must see and here while he’s providing entertainment are sure to be noteworthy. “Have you ever had disagreements with your clients?”
“Sometimes. Not everyone is a fit but as long as the terms are laid out, we don’t tend to have a lot of issues or complications. Communication is key so if you don’t like something, you need to tell me, chérie.” He orders softly, offering you an accompanying smile.
“I don’t understand why they wanted to do this on New Year’s Eve.” You huff even though you do know why. It’s an opportunity to get drunk and party, writing it off as a corporate expense. “I don’t like being out on nights like these.” You admit quietly, looking out the window at the crowded streets.
Ezra snorts, “I have always had a hatred for the new year. Another year wasted.” He sighs just as the car pulls up and he shifts to get out, holding his hand out for you to exit the car. He smiles at you, shifting into character as he prepares to face your coworkers and bosses.
Stepping out of the car, you’re nervous. All of this could be a disaster, what where you thinking? This was insane, you should have just told them you broke up with your mystery boyfriend but it’s too late now. Ezra’s hand is a lifeline and you cling to it, never really liking social functions. For work was fine, but you hate small talk and know that they will be judging you - and the man you brought.
Ezra squeezes your hand, noticing how stiff you have gone. “Relax, chérie. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, knowing it’s his job to take care of you but also, part of him wants to make sure this night goes well. You seem like a good woman despite your workaholic tendencies and he wants to ensure you impress your bosses. Walking into the ballroom, Ezra is impressed at the display and immediately a man approaches you, saying your name.
“Charles.” You smile warmly, reaching out to the CEO of the company as he stops in front of you. “You said to be here and here I am.” You chuckle and shake his hand, motioning to Ezra beside you. “And I have brought my significant other, as requested.” You introduce the two to one another quickly. 
Ezra extends his hand after letting go of you, shaking your boss’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir. My chérie has told me good things about you.” He offers a charming smile and Charles chuckles, “all good I hope?” He asks and Ezra nods, taking your hand in his again. “Of course. My lady works hard for your company. Workin’ all hours of the day and away from me.” He pouts playfully and leans in to kiss your cheek.
You hum, tilting your head as if it is a kiss you receive everyday rather than this being the first time. “Well, you know I love my job.” You smile and look back at Charles. “The party looks like a success, everyone is having fun.” Code for quickly getting smashed but it’s not sloppy yet.
Ezra lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “Yes. Yes. You should go have fun. Ezra…it was a pleasure to meet you.” Charles smiles and Ezra nods back, “come on chérie, let’s go get a glass of champagne.” Ezra guides you to the bar, gesturing for the bartender. “I think that went well.” He murmurs, leaning close to you so it looks like he’s murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.
“Yes it did.” You look around the room, already ready to leave. Allowing Ezra to order for you, you are happily surprised when he orders a good vintage of champagne. If he is hanging around older, wealthy women, he would most likely have developed good taste and you appreciate it.
Ezra thanks the bartender and hands you the flute, lifting his own up. “To 2023.” He smiles, clinking his glass with yours. “I think it would be appropriate for me to kiss you…if you will allow it.” He adds, not wanting to overstep however, he can feel eyes on him and he wants to make a good impression.
You bite your lip for a brief second before you nod. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t wondered if he was a good kisser. The little crease in his bottom lip very distracting and you’ve glanced at several times. “I think a moderate kiss would be appropriate right now.” You murmur, knowing you don’t want to cause a scene.
There’s a part of Ezra that wants to kiss you, the way your lips part and the small furrow in your brow has him ready to kiss you silly. He doesn’t kiss during his usual bookings, most of the women are older and don’t require that of him. He gently grips your chin with his free hand, leaning in and his eyes meet yours for a brief moment until he closes them to press a soft kiss to your lips.
It steals your breath. Making your eyes glitter and your hand reaches up to grip his shoulder. Nearly overwhelmed just from the petal soft feel of his lips against yours. It’s not demanding, but you yield anyway, the softest moan echoing in your throat.
Your moan makes Ezra deepen the kiss a little. Sliding his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment until he pulls back and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Well, isn’t this adorable?” Cynthia, one of your department managers comes over to see you. “This must be the beau you’ve mentioned before. Though we never caught his name.” She clicks her tongue and Ezra extends his hand after lowering it from your chin. 
“Ezra, pleasure to meet you.” He offers her a charming smile while keeping his posture aligned towards you.
You and Cynthia never really see eye to eye. She has some kind of grudge against you since you were promoted over her although she didn’t have the skill set for your job. “Cynthia.” You nod politely and smile. “Where is your husband? I’m sure Ezra would like to meet him.” Her husband is boorish, but you have to pretend to enjoy his company to play nicely. 
“Oh he has a work meeting. He’s been so busy.” She waves it off and Ezra frowns, “work meeting? It’s New Year’s Eve.” He takes a sip of his champagne and pulls you close with his free arm. “It’s a shame he left his beautiful wife to see in the New Year alone.” He tuts, “I would surely perish if I wasn’t able to kiss my beautiful girl at midnight.”
You fluster, slapping at his chest lightly as you feel the heat creep up your cheeks. “You always say the most outrageous things.” You tease, like he is always showering you with praise. Your perfect man would, even though he is a figment of your imagination brought to life by paying Ezra three thousand dollars.
Ezra grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on your skin. “I merely speak the truth, mon chérie.” He coos, nudging his nose against your hairline. 
Cynthia narrows her eyes slightly, “I can’t believe we are finally meeting Ezra. I thought she had made you up. You seemed too good to be true.” 
She raises her eyebrows when Ezra shakes his head, “she’s focused on her work and we like to keep our private life just that. Private.”
You don’t like the tone of Cynthia’s voice, but you bite your lip and lean into Ezra’s side. “He is my little escape from work when I need it. So I keep him away from our office.” You don’t like the accusation in her comments, especially because they are true. 
Cynthia hums, “very well. We had better mingle. I know everyone is just dying to meet your Ezra. Come on, let’s go mingle.” She reaches for Ezra’s hand and he pulls away from her. 
“I’ll let my partner lead tonight. We will need another drink before we continue our exploration around the room. Pleasure to meet you Cynthia.” He says a little sharply and she huffs before striding off. “I can see why you decided to indulge in a fantasy boyfriend.” He murmurs in your ear then kisses your neck when he catches the eyes of your coworkers now speaking to Cynthia.
“She is very competitive.” You snort, closing your eyes slightly in pleasure. “I’ve never seemed to understand why, but she wants to prove that I wasn’t the right fit for the position. She wanted it. Or wants it.” You indulge yourself and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I know you technically have to be, but thank you.”
Ezra wraps his arm around you and gestures for the bartender to order you another round. “I might have to be here but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He tells you truthfully, “you are a beautiful, smart woman and you deserve a perfect New Year’s Eve. You deserve your coworkers to know you are dearly loved and adored. You should be. You’re a good woman.” He murmurs, caressing your waist.
It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such a strong attraction to someone. Your stomach clenches and you feel your pussy bottom out. “You are engaging and attractive, so I will take your words as the highest compliment.” You promise him, picking up your champagne glass when the bartender brings it and taking a small sip. You don’t like to get too drunk, but the bubbly is delicious.
Ezra grins, glad to hear that, and he looks over his shoulder as the band starts to play. He reaches for your glass, setting it down on the bar and he grabs your hand. “Let’s dance, chérie. I want to show you off to your coworkers.” He guides you onto the dance floor, pulling you close into his arms.
This is completely different than any other time you have been out with your coworkers. Often mandatory drinks where you have one and leave, or work dinners where the focus is work. This is an actual party. Letting yourself be pulled into his arms and smiling as the two of you start to move in time to the music.
Ezra has always prided himself on his dancing. His mother had taught him and after he came home injured, he promised himself that he’d learn to dance again. He promised his mom a dance before she died. Now, he’s swinging you around to the music, a smile on his face.
You know people are staring at you, but you don’t care. Too busy enjoying the moment and you let out a happy laugh when Ezra pushes you away to spin you around and pull you back close to him. “Wow.” You beam at him. “You are amazing.”
Ezra is pleased that you’re happy with him. “Not as amazing as you, mon chérie. Every man in this room wants to be me right now with how absolutely exquisite you look.” His hands slide lower, dangerously close to the curve of your ass. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck.
“I am.” You confess breathlessly, feeling like this is some kind of hazy dream. It would be a fantasy, and you are enjoying every minute of it. His hand flexes right above the swell of your ass and you wish he would just squeeze it, but you won’t beg for that. “Ezra…”
He knows what you want from him and he usually would never indulge in the physical affection his clients desire but you are different. His stomach twists with how beautiful you are - inside and out - and he obliges your wordless request, cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours.
The two of you dance in your own little world, your heart pounding as his tongue flicks against your lips and you let him in without a second's hesitation. Feeling like it is the most natural thing in the world, you have come to stop on the dance floor and you don’t even realize it.
People watch you and Ezra, some with mirth, some with surprise, quite a few with jealousy. Ezra keeps you close and only pulls back when the song ends, applause thundering in the ballroom and Ezra pecks your lips before he turns to clap his own hands. “The best dance I’ve had in a while.” He winks and takes your hand to guide you to a nearby table. “Are you hungry, chérie? You want some food?” He gestures to the buffet of hors d’oeuvres.
“We should, since we are drinking…” You hum, enjoying the warmth of his hand far more than you probably should. You know his rules, sex is off the table but right now that is all you can think about. Blaming it on the champagne, you look over to him. “Should we share a plate? Try a little of everything?”
Ezra nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead then he makes his way over to the buffet to grab a plate of food for you to share. He sits back down beside you, handing you some napkins. “Here you go, chérie. I can get more.” He tells you, winking at you as the band continues to play.
Picking up a spinach and cheese tart, you hold it out to Ezra to try. Surprising yourself because you are not trying to talk about work or slip away since you have been seen by the CEO. You are actually enjoying yourself. “Have a bite, sweetheart.” You coo playfully.
He eagerly leans forward, taking the bite and he can’t help but let his tongue touch your fingers before he chews. You are too delectable. Sexy and independent. Two qualities he greatly admires in a woman. He leans in to kiss your jaw after he finishes swallowing, “delicious.” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.
Your lip is between your teeth and you wish that he would never stop. Food play has never been an ideal fantasy for you but now you want him to eat everything off your body.
“So this is your mystery boy toy?” Jackson, another department head, strides over. His posture is cocky as he looms over you and Ezra. “You gonna introduce me? I’m her work husband. She’s never mentioned you.” He wrinkles his nose at Ezra. Jackson has always wanted you, flirted with you, and now he’s not happy that you brought your mystery boyfriend to the party.
“Yes I have, you just haven’t listened.” You roll your eyes and look back at Ezra. “Ezra, this is Jackson. Jackson, Ezra.” You manage to make it appear that you are smiling but your teeth are clenched together in annoyance. “He is a colleague and not my work husband.”
“I shouldn’t be jealous, I know I’m a lucky bastard to have this exquisite creature as my lover. It’s, uh, interesting to make your acquaintance, Jackson. She’s never mentioned you. My name is Ezra. Lucky to belong to this exquisite woman you have the pleasure of spending your work days with.” Ezra reaches for your hand, kissing the back of it.
Jackson narrows his eyes, unhappy that the so-called boyfriend exists. He had been sure it was a figment of your imagination, no man was that perfect. Embarrassed that you would call him out about your work relationship, he presses on. “Don’t worry, Ethan, was it?” He purposefully says Ezra’s name wrong. “I take good care of her while she’s here. If I didn’t bring her lunch, she wouldn’t eat!”
Ezra frowns at that, looking over at you. “Is that true, amor? You don’t eat lunch? We shall have to rectify that. I shall be making you a lunch from now on.” He promises, not even looking back at Jackson. “And the name she moans in bed is Ezra, just so you know.”
Your cheeks flame hot but not because he’s embarrassed you, but because you are imagining doing just that - moaning his name in bed while he pounds into you. You have no idea what his dick size is but you can just tell he would be an attentive and exhausting lover. It makes you squirm slightly, needing friction and your suddenly dry mouth needs some more champagne.
Ezra watches you take a sip of champagne, your neck extended, and he bites his lip, deciding to take the chance. He leans in to kiss along your neck and you softly moan. His cock twitches in his pants and Jackson stands there for a moment until Ezra pulls away from you to look at him. “Are we keeping you from mingling?” He inquires and Jackson shakes his head, huffing before he stomps off. With a chuckle, Ezra kisses along your neck and down to your clavicle, “I must say, you smell simply divine, chérie.”
You whimper, shivering slightly at the feather light kisses along your skin. “I- wanted to- to seem like- like someone you would be with.” You admit breathlessly, aware of your reputation as dull. The sexy perfume was an indulgence beyond the clean scent you would wear into the office. Something that made you think of sex rather than work meetings.
Ezra hums, pulling back to look at you with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be with someone like you?” He asks softly, hating the insecurities he finds swarming your eyes and he cups your cheek. “You’re a beautiful, smart, successful woman. You’re far too good for someone like me.”
You know that he is a companion, that you are paying him, but you also know that he has to be very intelligent in order to move in the circles that he does seamlessly. “I’m not.” You protest quietly, reminding yourself you had to pay him to pretend to be your lover. “I doubt you would be interested in someone like me. I am a workaholic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being dedicated to your work but you need to take time for yourself. For your pleasures. Indulgences. You only live once, mon chérie. Don’t waste your life working.” He tells you just as the band announces the countdown to midnight. “Come on, let’s see in the new year in style.” He stands up and extends his hand to you.
When the clock strikes midnight, Ezra pulls you close and presses his lips to yours. Cupping your cheek with one hand and his arm around your waist, he slides his tongue into your mouth with a groan and kisses you at midnight. Putting his heart behind it as he wants you to feel special.
It’s just for the night, you know this. Still, you cling to him, letting the streamers and balloons with the confetti fall around you. Noise makers being blown and others exchanging kisses. Although all you think about is Ezra. Making you whimper when he finally pulls away after half a minute of kissing into the New Year.
He grins when he pulls back, “happy new year, chérie.” He kisses your nose and pulls you close again, marveling at the display of balloons and confetti as the band begins to play “Auld Lang Syne.” He doesn’t ever break his rule of not sleeping with his client but you, pressed against him, feel marvelous and he leans down to kiss you again. This kiss is dirtier, sloppier, as he tries to wordlessly portray what he wants.
It shifts - this feeling between you. The spark ignites and you would be lying if you said you did not want him. Your own arms around him tighten and you press yourself against him shamelessly. If it wasn’t so rude, you would drag him out of here. Only when he pulls away to gulp down air do you dare voice it. “Should we leave?” You ask breathlessly. “Go back to mine?”
Ezra hesitates for a second, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this but he desperately wants you. He wants to make you moan his name, he wants to pull you apart piece by piece. “Let’s go.” He rasps, “do you have to say goodbye to anyone?” He asks, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass.
You know none of them will miss you, you shake your head and whimper when he squeezes again. “Let- where is your driver?” You demand, ready to say fuck it and drag him to a bathroom. You don’t care right now.
Ezra nods, taking your hand after reluctantly letting you go, and he guides you to the exit. Practically dragging you through the hotel to the car he has waiting for you. He opens your door and helps you in before he gets in after you and slams the door. “Chérie, you are -” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, a rare display of speechlessness from Ezra.
This time the kiss is even more desperate, consuming. You moan louder now that you are in the safety of a vehicle and away from the prying eyes of your coworkers. Not worrying about what they will say about you. Instead you let your hands wander over Ezra’s suit, sliding under his jacket to the warmth underneath.
Ezra groans your name against your lips as your hands slide up his chest but when you touch his shoulder, he pulls back. “Sorry!” You rush out, wondering what you’ve done wrong and Ezra shifts away from you. 
“It’s okay, chérie. Just - gimme a moment.” He rasps, shifting a inch away from you as he tries to catch his breath and compose himself. He turns his head to look at you, an easy smile now on his face and he leans in to kiss along your neck.
You want to push away, something not being right about the way he reacted but you can’t make yourself. You will ask later. Ezra kisses at your pulse, his tongue pressing against it and making you groan. “Ezra….” You whisper breathlessly, your fingers sinking into his hair and your movement guides him to kiss down your chest into your cleavage.
He licks along your cleavage, dipping his tongue below the material of your dress and the car comes to a stop, the driver clearing his throat. He pecks your lips and shifts to get out of the car, adjusting himself before he offers you a hand. After paying the driver, he shuts the door and wraps his arm around your waist. “Come on, chérie. It’s a new year. Let’s celebrate it in style.” He kisses your cheek while you grab your keys for your building.
There are several other couples making their way back to their units, spirits high. You and Ezra cling to one another in the elevator and giggle with other drunken couples. Only pulling away from each other when the car stops on your floor and you pull him out into the hallway. “Happy New Year!” You call back to the other two couples still on the elevator as the doors close.
Ezra is eager as you struggle to unlock your door, his hands caressing your waist and his lips kissing along the nape of your neck. You pant and struggle to open the door so he takes the keys, swiftly opening the door to your apartment and he pushes it open, letting you lead.
Normally you don’t throw things around, keeping everything in its place so you can know where it’s at, but right now all you want is him. Tossing your keys, clutch and wrap to the floor, you swing around and press your lips to Ezra’s the moment he steps inside your apartment as you back him up against the door and close it.
He loves how eager you are and he feels the same way. His hands trying to touch every inch of you he can reach. He groans into your mouth when you start to push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s grateful he remembered to wear a t-shirt underneath. His hands squeeze your ass and he tentatively reaches for the zipper of your dress, not wanting to overstep so he waits for your reaction before he continues, pulling the zipper down.
Biting your lip, you nod. Eternally grateful that you have worn something sexy underneath the dress. You didn’t wear it for Ezra, you wear things that make you feel good. Especially when it clashes with proper business attire during the week. This is merely a coincidence that you have lace and sheer material under your dress. Letting him peel your dress down to reveal your body to him, you wait for his reaction.
Ezra swallows harshly when he sees what you are wearing. “Oh chérie. You are - you are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever had the honor of laying eyes on.” He coos, almost scared to touch you in case you disappear. He finally summons the courage and pulls you into his arms, his lips pressing against yours while his hands explore the newly exposed skin.
His hands feel like hot silk on your skin, caressing you and seemingly bringing you to life. This time your tongue flicks against the seam of his lips to beg entrance. Making you huff happily when he groans and opens to let you in. Your own hands move down to his belt buckle, ripping at it hastily.
Ezra groans, flicking open the lace bra and he pulls back so he can tug the straps down your arms, flinging the lingerie aside and he ducks down to take a nipple into his mouth, groaning against your warm flesh as he works the sensitive bud between his teeth.
“Ezraaaa!” You cry out, eyes widening before they close. You manage to get his belt open and then the suit pants. Shoving your hand down to wrap around a thick cock over his underwear, you moan sinfully when he twitches in your hand. “I- fuck, oh my god.” You whimper, imagining him inside you.
He hisses around your breast when you squeeze him and he swears he could cum then and there. “Fuck.” He curses as he switches to your other breast, his hands hooking in your panties and he pushes them down to your ankles. He pulls back and away from your grip, his breath hitching at how utterly devastating you are and he kneels, kissing your stomach as he lifts your leg onto his shoulder.
Your eyes widen when you realize what he is about to do. Unable to comment before he is nuzzling into your thigh, inhaling your scent right before his tongue swipes across your cunt with enough skill to make you cry out.
He is tentative, not in a hurry, but as soon as your tangy arousal hits his tongue, he’s ravenous. He growls, diving in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking your clit and his hands grab your ass to pull you close.
Your knee threatens to buckle, but you stay upright. Looking down at the sharp curve of his nose as it presses into your mound. “Of fuck, shit Ezra-it’s-its been so long since someone’s done this.” You admit breathlessly.
He pulls back for just a moment so he can look at you. “A travesty, mon chérie. You should have this gorgeous pussy sucked and licked often.” He tuts and dives back in, doing just that and revealing in your cries.
The sounds you make are filthy, and loud. You know people passing by can hear and you don’t care. All you can think about is the way the tension in your belly is pulling tight and you’re going to cum. “Ezra, Ezra, Ezra!” You cry out, body trembling when you fall apart.
He keeps you upright, pushed against him, and he works you through it with lazy strokes of his tongue. He loves how he’s already pulled you apart and he kisses your clit for a moment until he offers you a lazy smirk, looking up into your hazy eyes.
“Oh my god.” Your entire body seems to melt under the pleasure of your orgasm. Panting as you look down at him and wonder how the fuck he’s going to top that. “I- wow.” You manage, a goofy grin on your face. “I don’t know if you can top that.”
Ezra smiles, “I can have a damn good attempt at it, chérie.” He stands, licking his lips and he kicks off his dress shoes and reaches for his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. He shrugs off the dress shirt and you reach for the hem of his long sleeved t-shirt. “I, uh, that stays. I don’t want to take it off.”
Your brow furrows in confusion as you look up at him, but his eyes have almost a pleading expression so you nod. “Okay, no problem.” You wonder if he has some scar that bothers him, it would make sense. Instead of making it a big deal, you turn and walk towards your bedroom, looking over your shoulder. “Come Ezra.” You order playfully.
Ezra exhales softly in relief and lets you guide him into your bedroom. It’s sophisticated and warm and he only gets a second to admire it before you are pushing him onto the mattress. “You’re eager, baby doll.” He chuckles, caressing your waist when you straddle his thigh and his hands slide up to squeeze your tits.
For a moment, your own insecurities rear their ugly head and you wonder if you seem desperate. Not that Ezra lets you think of that, or anything for long with his hands on you. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward and bite his bottom lip. “I am eager.” You confess. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“Condom?” He rasps against your lip, his hands sliding down even more to squeeze your ass and rock you on his thigh. His cock is throbbing. It’s been a while since he’s had sex and even longer since he got to touch someone so utterly beautiful. His usual clients are older women who try to get him in their beds but he won’t sleep with them, no matter how much money they offer. He wants sex to be natural, something he desires, not just based on money. He loves the way you moan his name. “Condom, baby doll.” He repeats, needing to be inside of you.
“I- shit…” Your clit is grinding against his skin and it feels amazing. “I- I think they - I have some in the drawer.” You aren’t sure, it’s been so long and it’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you don’t need it, but you are strangers. No matter how natural and easy this seems, it wouldn’t be smart to sleep with him unprotected.
Ezra manages to reach into your nightstand, searching around for the condoms while his eyes watch you grind on his thigh, feeling how slick you are. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He growls, growing impatient but he manages to find a condom, ripping into it and handing it to you. “Put it on me, chérie and use my cock for your pleasure. I want to feel you cum, see you fall apart.” He orders, squeezing your hips when you take the condom from him.
Your hands shake as you roll the condom down his impressive length. Nearly leaning forward so you could take him into your mouth, but you stop yourself. Knowing that the two of you are too worked up for teasing. Once on, you are quickly moving over him, straddling his waist and lining him up to sink down on his cock far faster than what is probably necessary but you love the stretch of him.
“Fu-” Ezra’s words die on his tongue as you envelop him in your hot, tight cunt. His jaw clenches as you sink down onto him and he caresses your hips while his eyes threaten to close. “My - my God, chérie. You are - so delectable.”
Your own moan claws out of your throat while you circle your hips and press him deeper. “So good, Ezra.” You whine. “You feel so good.”
Ezra looks up at you, reaching up to grab your neck and drag you down towards his mouth so he can kiss you. He slides his tongue into your mouth and groans when you start to move, rocking on his cock. “Feel so good, chérie. So tight.” He murmurs, caressing your side until he can squeeze your ass.
It’s unusual, bracing your hands on his chest and feeling his shirt rather than skin, but you don’t let it stop you. “Been a-a long time.” You pant, starting to bounce on his cock a little faster and feeling a little rush of arousal to make it even slicker.
“Me too.” He confesses, watching you and he caresses your arms up to your shoulders as you bounce on his cock. He’s desperate to see you cum again but he can be patient. He grabs your ass, spreading your cheeks before he brings his hands down to smack them.
You squeal, rocking forward and clenching around him. “Fuck!” The sting of his hand feels amazing and you are immediately rocking back onto his cock even harder. “Again, more- fuck, please.” You beg, biting your lip as he twitches inside you and presses against something wonderful.
He repeats the action, loving your squeal of pleasure, and he loves your begging. Wanting to hear more, he grabs your hips and manages to flip you over onto your back without slipping out of you. He doesn’t waste a beat, pushing into you with a deep groan, he starts to fuck you.
Pulling your knees back, you gasp out his name. Loving how deep he surges into you with the harsh and steady slap of his hips. Rougher, just like you imagined. It’s thrilling to have a man who is polished outside the bedroom who knows how to fuck. Instead of touching his shoulders since he had tensed up, you grip his sides and moan.
He grabs your thigh, pushing it back against your stomach and he sinks even deeper, drawing moans from you both. “Fuck, chérie. You - you feel divine.” He moans and leans in to kiss along your neck. “Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs against your flesh and he licks up to your jaw, biting as he steadily thrusts into you, adjusting the angle every other thrust until - “oh shit!” You squeal and he smirks against your skin. “There it is. That’s the stuff. Cum for me baby doll.”
It’s not hard to give into his demands. The hard pace coupled with the intensity of his focus on the angle that had made you squeal nearly makes your back arch up off the bed. “Ezra- gon- gonna c-cuuuuuuum!” You cry out, your entire body stiffening when your cunt clamps down around him and soaks his cock in your juices.
Seeing and feeling you cum around him has him groaning out your name, loud and wrecked as he thrusts into you. It’s true what he said, it’s been a while and he’s not sure if he’s going to last. “Fuck baby. I- I’m gonna - shit. Shitttt.” He hisses, barely managing to thrust a few more times before he cums, spilling harmlessly into the condom.
Panting, you nearly forget yourself and grab his shoulders but you manage to catch yourself. Lunging up, you press your forehead against his and kiss his lips for a long moment while he rides out his high. Collapsing back into the bed with a satisfied sigh.
Ezra grunts, closing his eyes as he revels in his high until he has to pull out. Gripping the condom, he pulls out of you and ties it off, tossing it onto the nightstand and he grabs you to pull you against his chest. “That was…absolutely indescribable.”
You relax against him, making sure you don’t touch his shoulder and smile. “Yes it was. Best way to ring in a new year.” You laugh and are shocked at how good you feel. You didn’t want to go work, or boot up your laptop. You wanted to stay right here. With Ezra. “It was wonderful.”
Ezra kisses your head, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He is sad to leave you tonight. The first time he's truly enjoyed the company of one of his clients and he knows his next client will pale in comparison to you. He sighs, shifting away from you. He knows you'll want him to go and he feels dirty to think about the remainder of the money but his rent is due today. He needs it.
There’s a shift and you are sad to feel it. Now that you are both satisfied, it’s time to remind yourself that this was a business transaction. The sex hopefully wasn’t a part of it, but you owe him the money you promised. “Let me-“ you slide out of the bed and reach for your robe. “I’ll get the rest of what I owe you.” You turn and rush out of the room, wondering if he had slept with you because he wanted to, or to make sure he was paid the full amount. Picking up your clutch off the floor, you open it to pull out the small envelope with fifteen hundred dollars in one hundred dollar bills in it. Sensing that he would prefer payment in cash rather than risk a check.
Ezra is behind you, grabbing his pants and shoes to redress while you gather the rest of the money. He feels dirty. He has never had sex with a client before and right now, he feels like he’s being paid for fucking you even though he wanted you, not for the money, but because he likes you. He is tying his shoes when you hold out the cash for him, standing there in your rope with your hair a mess and mascara smudged. You look like a fucking angel that he has dragged down into his hell. “Thank you chérie. I- I had a wonderful time. I hope you are satisfied?” He asks once he stands up, shoving the cash into his pants pocket.
“More than I ever expected to be.” You admit with a smile. It’s slightly awkward and you wish you knew what to say, but you aren’t smooth with things like this. “Thank you Ezra, for tonight. I know that we went beyond some of your boundaries, but I- I really had a great time with you.” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you don’t want to push.
Ezra smiles, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Me too. I had a great time. Best new year I’ve had in a while.” He admits and unable to resist, he leans in to kiss you softly one last time. “Thank you chérie. Happy New Year.” He grabs his jacket and tie from the floor and walks towards your front door, looking back at you one last time before he leaves.
****
It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Ezra. You tap his card that you have on your desk, contemplating your next move. It’s been a distraction you don’t need but you can’t get him out of your mind. Popping up while you are working and especially when you are in bed alone, your hand or vibrator between your thighs. Sighing to yourself, you pick up your phone and select his contact information and hit call.
Ezra frowns when he sees your name come up on his phone. He keeps all his clients in his cell phone and his stomach twists as he picks up the phone and hits answer. “Chérie, my dear, how are you?” He answers, leaning back against his seat with a soft smile.
“Ezra.” Your stomach flips and flutters at the sound of his voice. You wonder if he’s thought about you at all. You hope he has. “I was wondering if you had a free evening this week?” You murmur softly, feeling unsure of yourself now. “For a- a dinner.”
He opens his agenda, searching the week. He has a couple of events with his older clients but he has a free night on Thursday. “I am free on Thursday night. I, uh, won’t charge as much for a dinner.” He says, unsure if he needs to keep this professional despite the way his heart is thumping in his chest.
Of course he wants payment. Your heart clenches, the hope that he had felt something during your time together dying. You’re a practical woman and try to see it as having a need met. Men did it all the time, why shouldn’t you. “Thursday will be fine.” Your voice is stronger this time. “Let me know your rate and where to meet you.”
“One thousand. I’ll text you the restaurant. I know a great bistro. Private and delicious. See you soon, chérie.” He murmurs before he hangs up. Hating how he is taking your money when he enjoys your company so much but he has to keep up appearances. He needs to be professional and practical.
One thousand dollars. It’s a lot, but you want to see Ezra again. You know you shouldn’t do this, but you never felt as good as you did when you were with him and you crave that feeling again. Opening your calendar, you make sure to block out that night as unavailable. You will be busy having dinner with Ezra.
****
Ezra adjusts his tie as he waits for you to arrive. You told him you’d meet him at the bistro and he stands when you walk in, looking absolutely gorgeous in a black silk shirt and jeans. “Chérie, you look absolutely delectable. I doubt I will need dessert from this bistro if I get to have you.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly before he pulls the chair out for you.
You fluster at the compliment, unable to stop yourself from melting into his arms. The kiss was too brief and you sat as he pushed your chair in. “That would be up to you.” You promise, staring at his gorgeous form as he sits down before you put your napkin in your lap. The bistro is intimate and you wonder which one of his clients brings him here. “How have you been?”
Ezra shrugs, “not too busy. I’ve mainly been working on my manuscript. I’ve been working on a play. A re-enactment of my time during the war and how my life went to it. My therapist got me started on it, said that writing things down is healthy and it snowballed from there. You? I’m sure you’ve been busy with the new quarter.” He offers you a soft smile and reaches for your hand to squeeze it.
“It’s been busy.” You nod but you want to focus on his comment. “A manuscript? Ezra that’s- I’m sure it’s amazing.” Your skin tingles where his hand is touching you and you swear that your heart skipped a beat. “Have you been writing for long? I feel like you would be amazing at it.”
Ezra bites his lip and shrugs, “I, uh, I’ve been writing it on and off for months. Pausing when I can’t figure out the next step and resuming when it comes to me.” He caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, “I haven’t - I don’t have any backers and no one has read it yet so it could be utterly shit.”
“I doubt that.” You assure him. “You are far too eloquently spoken and a story weaver for that to be true.” You want to offer to help him but you aren’t sure if he would take offense. “You could always test a chapter, see how it’s received?”
Ezra sighs, “I don’t have the contacts. Actually, there’s this client whose husband is a publisher but she can hardly ask on my behalf.” He shakes his head, knowing the husband turns a blind eye to her evenings with Ezra going to events he doesn’t want to go to. “Perhaps…you would read it? See if you like it?”
“Of course.” You immediately nod, eager to read his writing and offer any suggestions you can. “You can send me whatever you would like me to read and I’ll give you my honest opinion.” It does sting to learn that he accompanies married women but it is none of your business.
The smile he offers you is sincere and wide and he squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips to kiss the back of the. The waiter comes over and Ezra orders a bottle of red wine, “and two of the special.” Ezra orders, turning to look at you. “You gotta try this cheese soufflé. You’re not allergic are you?” He asks, silently cursing himself for getting ahead. He doesn’t know if you are lactose intolerant or vegan or have other requirements.
“Oh that sounds delicious.” You moan, your stomach agreeing with you by giving a particularly loud rumble of hunger. Wincing, you are thankful the waiter has already walked away and didn’t hear it. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since…” you actually don’t remember when you’ve eaten last, you had gotten roped into a work meeting at lunch and hadn’t been able to get something.
Ezra frowns, “you haven’t eaten today?” He asks and you shake your head. He tuts, “that simply will not do. You must eat, I insist on it. You must prioritize yourself, chérie.” His tone is low but intense as his dark eyes focus on you.
“I forget at times.” You admit. “Or I drink enough coffee that I’m not hungry.” Your life is caffeine, perhaps too much of it.  You smile softly. “I do need someone to bring me lunch, I guess.” You joke, reminding him of his promise in front of Jackson.
Shaking his head, Ezra tuts, “I’ll come to your office and take you for lunch. Show that smarmy prick that you are treated right and I’ll make sure you get some lunch.” He remembers that he will have to charge but part of him doesn’t want to do that. He wants to spend time with you, find out more about you.
“No, you don’t have to do that.” You promise, knowing that it’s not his responsibility to take care of you. This is all pretend. “I will start having meals delivered to the office regularly and just have them say it’s from you. So no one suspects.” Why you didn’t think of it before, you don’t know. “I know you are a busy man.”
Ezra chuckles softly as the waiter comes over to open the bottle of wine. “I’m not that busy. Not too busy for you.” He says without truly thinking about it. He lets go of your hand and tastes the wine, nodding and thanking the waiter after he pours two glasses. “To us.” He toasts, a soft smile on his face as he looks at you.
“To us.” You murmur softly, wondering what he means by that as you take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious and you smile as you take another sip. “You seemed surprised to hear from me when I called.” You set your glass down and decide to be straightforward. “Did you not expect to?”
“I figured I’d had my use. Planted the seed about your boyfriend and you’d make the excuse that I work a lot, I’m away on business until you eventually reveal that I was too clingy and wanted too much from you - wanted you to cut back on work - so you broke up with me. You are sad but composed and me? I’m a wreck. You tell them I’m calling you over and over again to beg you to get back together but your job is more important. Impresses your bosses, confirms that you’re wanted and maybe, you’ll meet someone at work who can fulfill all your needs. This ain’t my first rodeo, chérie. I know how it goes.” He tells you. 
You snort, impressed with his genius and shake your head. “No office romances for me.” You tell him firmly. “I’ve seen too many of them go up in flames where  someone has to leave. No, I would prefer to have a lover outside of my profession. Even a competitor with another company  is not for me.”
Ezra hums and nods, understanding more about you. You are a strong, independent, smart woman and he loves it. “I can understand that.” He nods and leans back as the soufflés are placed on the table.
You send the waiter a smile of thanks and groan at the incredible smell. “Ezra, it smells delicious.” You are nearly drooling as you pick up your fork. “Thank you for having dinner with me. I- this is better than eating alone in my apartment while I work.”
“Chérie, It’s always a pleasure to spend time with you. Never, ever think that I don’t want to spend time with you. You’re - you’re so beautiful and smart. I just can’t believe you don’t have a man to spoil you.” He doesn’t say that because you’re paying him but it’s the truth. Deep down though, he’d be here regardless of the money.
“No one would want to put up with my work schedule.” You scoff, remembering how it was frowned on that you worked the way you did. “Men put in hours and they are praised for focusing on their careers, being a real go-getter. Women do it and it's unbecoming.” You roll your eyes and bring a piece of the soufflé to your lips. “Oh my god.” You groan happily at the taste, closing your eyes at how perfect it is. “This is delicious.” 
“Unfortunately some people still think women should be in the home.” Ezra rolls his eyes, “Neanderthals…every single one of them. I don’t subscribe to that archaic mentality. Women like you…they are capable, strong, independent. You pick a man based on how you feel about him, not based on what he can provide and that scares men. To have a woman not dependent on them? You have to be a strong character to enjoy a woman like you.” He winks and takes a bite of his own soufflé, a groan escaping his lips.
“Are you a strong character?” You ask flirtatiously, enjoying his outlook. “Why am I asking? Of course you are. You deal with women of all ages, some of them more independent than I am.” You hum, reaching for your wine again. “I am sure you have stories to tell. After your first book, you should write those stories down. Names changed for privacy, of course.”
With a chuckle, Ezra sets his fork down and nods, “oh there’s been some tales. Some women…they had lovers who they wished to make jealous. Some had occasions that I simply wasn’t prepared for…like a funeral as they didn’t tell me the event, just that it was a family function. Some wanted more from me than I was prepared to give.” He frowns at that one, remembering the way the woman groped him and offered far more money than they agreed. He doesn’t have sex with his clients…well didn’t…until you came along.
“Oh…..” you wonder if he counts you among those women now. You had assumed that he had wanted to sleep with you, but you had never heard anything from him and the only way you could spend time with him is if you paid him. “I’m sorry that you had bad experiences. You aren’t a piece of meat to be bought and treated how they want.” You offer, feeling slightly ashamed of the way you had practically begged him to fuck you.
“It’s nothing compared to what female escorts go through. Women don’t get nasty, they don’t threaten me or force me. I am lucky. I - I only have sex when I want sex and you…you’re the only client I’ve ever had sex with.” He reveals softly, his eyes flicking around the restaurant before they settle back on you.
“Ezra….” You reach out and touch his hand gently. “That night- I didn’t expect to sleep with you because I paid for your time.” You promise him quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I wanted to be with you and it was amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about someone everyday and replay something like I have with that night,”
Ezra inhales with a soft chuckle, squeezing your hand. “Baby doll, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I left your apartment building. You are funny, intelligent, and devastatingly gorgeous. I- I want to spend more time with you.” He says and brings your hand to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of it.
Biting your lip, your stomach flips pleasantly. “I- I want to spend more time with you too.” You confess, smiling at him. “I broke down and called you because I couldn’t stay away.”
“I’m glad you called. I- I want to spend more time with you. It’s just - my rate-” He knows he should tell you he will be with you for free, he wants that, but he also will be sacrificing time he could be earning money from his other clients. 
“I can pay.” You rush out, knowing you’ll spend whatever it takes to feel like this again and again. 
Ezra bites his lip, knowing he shouldn’t do this but he wants you, “I can do a reduced rate so - so it’s not as expensive.”
“What would you think?” You ask him, feeling a negotiation coming on and you like that. It wouldn’t be fair to just demand his time for free and yet you know you don’t want to pay expensive rates every time you want to see him. Especially if it’s how you want to be spending time with him. “I think that it might be fair to say we might sleep together again, and I don’t want you to feel that I expect it - but there is chemistry between us…”
Ezra grins, nodding in agreement, “I feel it too. Rest assured, I feel this - this spark of chemistry between you and I, baby doll. What about…$500 a date? Nothing extra if we should happen to fall in bed.” He suggests, feeling dirty to take your money but he needs to survive.
You purse your lips and tilt your head towards him. “I was thinking $300 a date and I will pay for any dinners or activities.” You counter with a small smirk on your face.
He raises his eyebrows, cock twitching in his pants at the look in your eyes and he nods slowly. “$300? That’s a deal.” He reaches for your hand once more to shake it and he kisses the back of your hand. “I look forward to many more nights in your company, mon chérie.”
You make a little noise of pleasure, sure that your time together will result in you falling into bed together often. “I must confess something.” You slide your hand out of his delicately and pick up your wine again. “I want for you to come home with me tonight and let me pleasure you the same way you pleasured me last time.”
He can't stop the smirk on his face as you offer to pleasure him. "It is I who should be offering to pleasure you. You were...exquisite. I want to bury my face between your thighs and remain there until my dying day." He confesses, licking his lips as he remembers how you moaned his name.
You try not to take that to heart, knowing he is flattering you. Perhaps not like a paying client, that would be vulgar. More like a new romance. “Then I suggest you finish your dinner.” You tease, taking a sip of your wine and then picking up your fork. “I want to have you for dessert.”
Ezra dramatically picks up his fork, shoveling the food into his mouth and he downs the rest of the wine then he calls the waiter over. "Can you cork the wine and get us the check? My lady wants dessert at home." He winks at you and leans back in his seat.
You giggle quietly at how eager he is, knowing you’ve already soaked your own panties underneath your dress. Finishing your own dinner before you reach for your purse. “No, I will pay for tonight.” Ezra insists, making you pause, but you give in when he shoots you a serious look.
"I want to pay." He tells you, knowing he will feel guilty if you suck his cock tonight and he couldn't pay for dinner. He may be an escort but he's a gentleman first and foremost. He hands the waiter his card and signs the check when the waiter comes back over. "Are you ready to leave, chérie?"
“Absolutely.” You take his proffered arm when the two of you stand. It feels like you are a real couple, walking out after a fantastic meal to go home together. “Did you drive, or…?” You had taken an Uber, wanting to be able to drink if you wanted with no issue.”
"I took an Uber. I can't - I don't have a car." He admits and he bites his lip as he pulls out his phone to summon an Uber to take you both to your apartment. He wraps his arm around your waist while you wait for the car, leaning in to kiss your neck as you stand on the sidewalk.
Closing your eyes, you lean into him. “Ezra…” you murmur, feeling that pool of arousal in your core already. “Do you-“ You break off, hesitant to push but then you decide to ask. “Would you like to stay the night? Rather than going home? Or is that too much?”
Ezra bites his lip and looks at you, “I, um, I would like that. It’s not too much.” He assures you and leans in to kiss your neck, “I would surely be remiss to deny myself an opportunity to remain in your bed after our carnal pursuits.”
The Uber pulls up and you excitedly jump in, eager to get back to your apartment with Ezra. “I- god I wish we were already back there.” You whisper in his ear. “I have been thinking about you all week but my fingers haven’t been enough.”
“I’ve been thinking about you too.” He promises, his hand on your knee sliding a little higher as the Uber drives towards your apartment building. “Been jerking off thinking about that exquisite pussy.” He whispers in your ear before he nips it with his teeth.
Shuddering, you let out a tiny moan, shifting your knees apart so he can move his hand a little higher. “Should have called me.” You pant. “I would have told you to come over. Jerk off on me.”
Ezra smirks, taking the hint, and he slides his hand higher until he is pressing against your clit through your jeans. Your responding whimper has him aching in his pants and he wishes he could finger you in this Uber but he’ll receive a bad rating. “You’re a naughty girl, baby doll. Would you have licked up my seed if I’d asked you?”
Blowing out a harsh breath, all you can do is nod, making a small sound of need. You could imagine it, on your knees in front of him while he is jerking his cock and telling you to open your mouth before covering your skin in his seed.
The Uber driver hears whispers and looks back to see Ezra has his hand between your legs. With a snort, he speeds up a little, certain that you want to be out of his car as much as he wants you out before you start to get frisky. 
Ezra chuckles at your squeak, his fingers rubbing you through the denim until the car pulls up outside of your building. “Thank you kindly.” Ezra says, withdrawing his hand and reaching into his wallet to hand a tip to the driver for your PDA. Once you’re on the sidewalk, Ezra wraps his arm around your waist to guide you towards the entrance, now desperate to feel you naked and beneath him.
This time the elevator ride is more tense, both of you not letting go of one another but there are others in the car. Making you nearly sigh in relief when the doors open to your floor. You smirk when the elevator closes again and rush towards your apartment, eager to have him inside you again.
Ezra reluctantly lets go of you so you can unlock your front door but he grabs your hips, kissing the back of your neck. “Hurry up, chérie. I want you to strip down and wrap those pretty lips around my cock.” His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and your hands shake until you finally get the door open.
Again, you are dumping everything and turning around to reach for him. Desperate to feel him. You feel him unbuttoning your shirt and push back so you can quickly strip down to your bare skin. Eager to get on your knees for him and watch him fall apart right against the door of your apartment.
Ezra groans at the skin you bare and his hands are immediately reaching for your bra. Last time was hesitant and new, now he’s hungry for you. His hands reach for your tits after you let him pull your bra down your arms and he pinches your nipple, wanting to be a little rougher.
“Fuck.” Your head rolls back and your chest pushes itself into his hands, loving how he’s being more aggressive. Still wearing your panties, you start to sink down to your knees but Ezra catches your arm, shaking his head. “No, chérie, I want your pussy to leak onto your floors.” He growls, making your cunt clench and you hastily follow his orders to remove your underwear before you kneel down in front of him,
He watches you as you kneel down and reach for his belt, expertly unbuckling it and he groans when you pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. “Fuck chérie.” He hisses which turns into a low moan when you take him into your mouth. “Shit.” He curses, eyes fluttering but he refuses to close them as he looks down at you.
You can feel him react. His cock throbbing in your mouth and you love it. Taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat. It’s going to be hard to take all of him, so you wrap your fingers around the base to start pumping while you get used to his girth.
“Fuck. Oh Jesus Christ. Chérie, your mouth- it’s heaven on earth.” He compliments breathlessly, trying to keep his hips still so he doesn’t choke you but fuck, it’s hard to not want more. You whimper and he caresses your cheek.
Humming around him, you already have spit sliding down your jaw and your eyes are watering but you don’t care. All you want is to see the wrecked look on his face. You hollow your cheek and press deeper, swallowing when you feel you are going to gag.
“Fuck baby.” He leans over slightly so he can squeeze your tit and he closes his eyes when you take him deeper. “Oh shit. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me- you want - face? Mouth?” He pants out, not wanting to cum down your throat unless you want it. It’s been too long since someone sucked his cock.
You pull off for him for a split second. “Down my throat.” You gasp, taking him back into your mouth and looking up at him through your watery eyes. Letting go of the base of his cock, you grab his hips and pull him towards you, encouraging him to let go and use you.
Ezra hisses, rocking his hips and he groans when you swallow around him. A few thrusts of his hips, he is cumming down your throat in hot spurts, your name pulled from his lips.
You try to swallow it all, but it’s not something that you can manage. His cum spilling out from the edge of your lips to slide down your jaw while you gulp the rest of it down and let him ride out his pleasure, watching him as your cunt throbs.
Ezra pants, struggling to keep his eyes open as you let him drop from your mouth and he hisses, caresses your cheek before he scoops up his cum from your chin and pushes his fingers into you. “Jesus Christ, chérie. You - you are - fuck. Are you dripping?” He asks, shifting to kneel down and he cups your cunt, wanting to see if you are wet enough.
Whining, you grind against his fingers, wanting to feel him. You are soaked and ready to cum even though you know he is not going to be able to fuck you right now. “Fuck, Ez…” your eyes close and you lean forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder.
He rubs your clit, wanting you to cum while he recovers. You lean against him and he slides his fingers back to push two inside of you, groaning at how fucking wet you are. He presses his thumb against your clit, “want you to cum for me.”
You don’t care that you are still on the floor, his fingers inside you feel amazing. Thicker than your own and able to curl against that spot that makes your entire body light up in pleasure. “Fuck!” You gasp out, grabbing his arm to steady yours as your hips jerk towards him.
Ezra hisses when your walls flutter around his fingers, showing how close you are to cumming. “Yes baby doll.” He feels you gripping his arm and he tries to not flinch but he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Cum for me?” He asks, not telling you but asking you to cum for him.
His gruff request works, asking you to come apart for him does the trick. The clever fingers curl and press up against your g-spot again and you wail his name. Cunt spasming around his fingers while you soak them, thighs shaking in pleasure.
“Yes. That’s it chérie. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, working you through it and he groans when you lean forward to press your lips to his. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” He asks, cock hardening once again.
“Yes.” You whine breathlessly, lashes fluttering and you finally realize that you are holding onto his arm. Letting go without trying to draw attention to the fact that you feel him wince. “Here or in the bed again?”
“Bed.” He rasps, wanting to fuck you from behind. He groans as he helps you stand and he pushes his pants down, pulling off his shirt and he remains in his under shirt. “I want to fuck you from behind.”
You have no problem with that, leading him into your bedroom and you look over your shoulder as you kneel down on the bed. Smirking, you shake your hips at him invitingly. “Come fuck me.”
Ezra can’t help but reach out and smack your ass, loving the way the skin jiggles and he chuckles at the squeal that escapes your lips. “Condom?” He asks, his cock now aching with need and he grips his length, pumping himself a few times.
“Same drawer.” You bite your lip, wanting to ask if he would get screened so he didn’t have to wear a condom, but you don’t want to pressure him into something like that. You watch him open the drawer and pull out another foil packet, cunt clenching when you see his cock bobbing as he moves.
He rips it open and rolls it into his length, groaning as he pumps himself before he kneels behind you, gripping his cock to position himself at your entrance. “Fuckkkk chérie.” He hisses as he pushes into you. He leans over you, kissing along your neck as he pushes deep and gives you a moment to adjust around him.
He feels so deep in this position. Making your head fall to hand down and hips to push back against him as you moan. “Fuck Ezra, you- you’re so deep.” You whimper, walls fluttering around him as you enjoy the way he fills you. “God, I- be rough.” You beg, wanting to feel him for days after this.
Ezra follows your order, grabbing your hips and he sets a harsh pace, pushing into you with soft grunts escaping his lips. He wants to be rough, he wants to push into you hard and make you feel him for days. “Fuck baby. You feel so good.”
Gasps and whines are all you can manage through his harsh pace. Gripping the sheets in your fists while he pulls your hips back as he slams into you. His hips slap your ass and it feels like his cock is spearing up into your throat. You love and show him by clenching down around him every time he hits that perfect spot inside you. “Ez-Ez-Ezraaaaa!” 
Your moans spur him on and he leans over you, cupping your tits and massaging them as he rocks into you. “Fuck baby doll. You feel - you feel like heaven.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and nipping, careful to not leave a mark.
Every thrust of his hips pushes you closer to cumming. That heat and tension curls in the pit of your stomach and makes you arch your back when he pinches your nipple harshly. Gasping out his name and closing your eyes. “Fuck baby, so close.” You pant, collapsing down to your elbows and laying your cheek against the bed. “Harder.” 
Ezra slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting you to cum around his cock. He hisses your name, rocking into you. “Cum for me, mon chérie, please.” He begs wanting you to cum for him, to clench around him.
Within another dozen thrusts, you are doing just that. Almost a delayed cry of pleasure as you suck in a breath of air, you squeal out when you exhale. Your entire body responds to the overwhelming punch of his cock against your g-spot and you swear you feel him jerk to a halt, unable to move for a split second while you lock down around him. 
When you cum, he stills, unable to move and he kisses along your spine as you shake beneath him. He withdraws after a moment, shifting to kneel on the floor and he leans forward to lap at your clit, sensitive from your orgasm, and he pushes you into another one, wanting you to cum again. His hand squeezes his condom covered cock while his tongue pushes into you.
“Fuck, fuck!” You moan, unable to believe that he hadn’t just continued to fuck you. Making you pant and squirm under the broad strokes of his tongue. He’s relentless, not allowing you to settle down before he’s demanding your body give him more. Your stomach clenches and heaves when he curls his tongue deep and that sharp nose presses against your other hole and nearly breeches it, making you cry out again as another orgasm rushes over you. 
He works you through another orgasm, loving how responsive you are. He hisses your name and shifts to kneel behind you, pushing back into your fluttering cunt. “Oh Jesus Christ.” He groans and starts to fuck you, hard and fast as he seeks his own pleasure. “Fuck chérie, You are heaven sent.” He is close but he wants you to cum one more time so he starts to rub your clit, his cock pushing deep.
“Ezraaaaaa.” You whine shifting forward to lay down on the bed, Ezra following you where you are flat on your stomach. Turning your head, you watch him out of the corner over your eye. His fingers are trapped under you, rubbing your clit and you moan again.
He straddles your thighs, one hand grabbing your ass while the other continues rubbing your clit. He desperately needs you to cum, his cock aching as he pushes deeper than before, punching into your guts as he pants your name. “Cum, one last time. Cum for me baby doll.” He pleads, so close to his own orgasm and he needs you to cum one last time.
You scream his name, clenching down around his cock and soaking him in your juices. Panting out while he furiously rocks into you and seeks his own high. “Pl-please c-cum!” You beg, desperate to feel him cum, even if he’s wearing a condom.
He can’t hold back even if he tries, he pushes into you, gritting his teeth, and he thrusts a dozen more times before he’s burying his cock deep. Spilling into the condom, he groans, unable to say your name as lights flash behind his eyes, the pleasure consumes him and he slumps on top of you without pressing his weight into you. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants, kissing your neck.
“Godddddddd.” You groan, laughing quietly as you pant. “That was so, so good.” You murmur, wishing you can kiss him. It’s strange to feel his shirt on your sweaty skin, but you understand that he has some kind of hang up about being shirtless. “Wish you had filled me up.” You slur, almost unaware that you had said it.
His cock twitches inside of you and he swallows harshly, “yeah? You want that? I’m clean. Always - always get tested monthly just in case. Shit, baby girl. You want me to fill you full of my cum next time? Make you drip?” He rasps, biting down on your shoulder.
Whining softly, you nod against the sheets. “Fuck, please Ezra.” You try not to think about why he gets tested monthly. It’s not your business and it’s not your place to feel possessive of him. Your cunt clenches around his softening cock and he hisses against your skin. “I want that.”
“Me too.” He murmurs, kissing your neck again and he grips the base of the condom before he pulls out of you. He sighs and shuffles off of the bed, tying off the condom and disposing of it before he lays down on the bed next to you again. “So good.” He murmurs, turning onto his side and cupping your cheek, leaning in to kiss you softly.
Turning, you lean into the kiss and enjoy it. Your eyes closing and humming against his lips until he pulls away. “Let me go get us some water.” You murmur, moving to shift off the bed. “Worked up a thirst and I know you must have too.” You want him to be comfortable. Especially since he’s staying.
Ezra watches you go with a soft smile on his face. You’re an incredible woman and he’s lucky to be in your company. He feels dirty for having you pay him but he has to pay his bills. When you come back into the room, he has his underwear on and he is sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thanks, chérie.” He says before he gulps down half the bottle. “I, um, I need - I want to show you…all of me.” He says, gesturing to his shirt.
You can feel the anxiety rolling off of him in thick waves, making him seem a little green around the gills. You set your own bottle of water down and move over to where he is sitting. “Only if you want to.” You promise, touching the back of his hand that’s resting on his thigh. “Just because we are spending time together and in bed together doesn’t mean you have to do anything you don’t want.”
“I want to. I- it’s just - you might be disgusted by my monstrous appearance. I- I was injured, as you know, and upon my return from war, I had surgeries and therapy and - I - my ex hated how I looked. Said I repulsed her and if you should happen to feel that way, I understand. I just - I feel like I want to show you all of me.” He swallows harshly and reaches for the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it over his head while his heart pounds in his chest.
You don’t say a word. Your eyes map the scars that crisscross over his torso and shoulders. He apparently almost lost his right arm, the deep scar tissue around it nearly cutting the meat of it in two. “Ezra…” standing, you slowly move towards him. You want to reach out and you do so ever so gently, not wanting him to flinch away. “I see a man who survived horrors and I’m glad you did.” You promise, touching his bare skin and caressing one of the marks on his body.
“You- chérie - You’re not repulsed? You - you don’t think I’m a monster?” He asks softly, his entire body sparking as you caress skin that hasn’t been touched in years. “You didn’t pay for a monster. You deserve more.”
“You are not a monster.” You want to scream at the bitch who planted that idea in his head. “You are a man who has seen war, and been marked by it. But that does not change who you are here.” Your hand drifts up to his heart and you press your palm there to feel his heart pounding. “I want what I see right now.” You promise him, leaning down and kissing his shoulder, one of the scars on his skin and look up at him. “You deserve more than to believe you are a monster.”
Ezra sighs, cupping your cheeks and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, unable to believe how fortunate he is to have you in his arms, with him. “Chérie…you are magnificent.” He murmurs against your lips and his heart pounds in his chest. He knows the lines are blurring for him between client and lover but he can’t seem to stop himself.
You sigh into the kiss, closing your eyes and you let your hands slowly caress his skin. Tracing the scars gently and reverently, wanting him to feel appreciated. When the kiss ends, you smile at him. “You can leave your shirt off around me. I don’t mind.”
Ezra swears he nearly cries when you kiss his shoulder and he knows in that moment, he falls for you. He swallows harshly and caresses your waist, “thank you chérie. Are you- are you thirsty? Let me get you some water.” He wants to look after you, he wants to care for you.
You smile at him, wondering if he has forgotten that you brought him water. “I’m good.” You promise. “If you need to do anything, the bathroom is through the door right there.” You offer.
Ezra was so caught up in his emotions, he forgot you brought in water and he nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You wanna watch a movie? It’s still kind of early.” He caresses your spine, just breathing you in.
There’s something incredibly domestic in the idea of watching a movie with him. Nodding, you smirk and send him a small wink. “As long as we don’t wear clothes.” You compromise teasingly, knowing that if he wants to get dressed, you won’t stop him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable. “Here or in the living room?”
“Here. I want to keep you in my arms.” Now that Ezra has had skin to skin, he wants as much as possible. He was terrified you’d reject him, think of him as a monster but you haven’t rejected him so he wants to spend as much time as possible with you. He wants to feel you pressed against him.
“Perfect.” You kiss him again and stand up so you can pull the covers back and pile the pillows in the middle so you can cuddle together. You slide into bed and pat the spot next to you. “We can turn on something and just relax.”
He lays down, pulling you against him after you grab the remote. You’re both naked but he’s never been more comfortable. He kisses your neck while you scroll through Netflix. “What do you want to watch?” You ask and his hand caresses your waist before his fingers slide lower until he’s cupping your cunt. 
“Whatever you want to watch.” He murmurs, sliding his finger between your folds to slowly rub your clit.
“Ha.” You pant, the slow press of his finger against your bundle of nerves is incredibly distracting and you can already tell that neither one of you is going to pay attention to the TV. You quickly select a movie, not even aware of what it is and throw the remote down so you can give him the same amount of attention, your hands caressing his chest gently and your lips pressing against every scar you can reach.
His heart pounds in his chest as you caress skin he’s kept hidden since he left Louisiana and he adds a second finger, rubbing your clit with soft movements, in no rush to make you cum. He wants you to savor this, just enjoy the pleasure without any urgency. “Good movie choice.” He jokes, voice raspy as his cock starts to harden as the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.
You moan, lips against his skin and your eyes flicker up to meet his. He’s someone you are paying for his time, but this feels like more. It feels real and for the first time in forever, you wish you were in a relationship. You wish you were with Ezra, that this was just a normal night. Continuing to kiss every mar and imperfection on his body, your other hand slips beneath the sheets and wraps around his half hard cock, holding him firmly.
Ezra hisses when you grip him, his fingers rubbing your clit a little harder and he shifts his hand, pushing two fingers into you, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You are perfection, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck before he presses his lips to yours, loving how breathless you are as you slowly work his cock.
It is the height of decadence. Lazily stroking a gorgeous man’s cock while his fingers pump into you just as slowly. Giving and taking pleasure as the movie plays and neither of you pay attention to it. “It is so easy with you.” You admit, almost afraid that you might say something stupid and break the spell over this moment.
Humming in agreement, Ezra works his fingers deeper into you, pressing his thumb against your clit a little harder as he wants you to cum again for him. “It’s because you’re so - so fucking perfect.” Ezra admits with a groan when you twist your wrist just right to make him moan your name.
You aren’t perfect. You know you aren’t. It’s not like every man you’ve tried to have a relationship with hasn’t pointed that out. You work too much, you don’t have time for them, you don’t mother them. Instead of focusing on that, you twist your wrist again when he curls his fingers deep. “Always easy with you.” You moan.
He loves hearing you say it even though you both know you’re paying for him to be here. He hisses your name and thrusts into your hand, pumping his fingers a little faster while the movie continues to play. “Are you going to cum for me, chérie?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your neck, biting down gently on your earlobe.
You groan out his name and your eyes flutter shut. “Eventually.” You tease, a small smirk on your lips. Squeezing his cock, you’re rewarded with him twitching in your hand and you pump him a little faster. “Only when you cum with me.”
He groans, loving the way your fingers feel wrapped around his cock and he hisses when you swipe your thumb over the edge. “Shit. You’re gonna - I need you to cum with me.” He pleads, continuing to pump his fingers despite his balls pulling tight to his body, warning him of his incoming orgasm.
“I’m going to, baby.” You pant, feeling your cunt start to flutter around his fingers deep inside you. “I’m gonna cum for you. Gonna cum all over your fingers.” You whine, turning your head and pressing your lips to his. Your moan pouring into his mouth while stars bust behind your eyes.
He groans when you clamp down on his fingers and you grip his cock just right in your hand, squeezing him so that he grunts into your mouth. His tongue slides against yours while his cock pulses in your hand, spurting his cum onto his stomach and chest, dripping onto your hand.
It’s beautiful, both of you coming apart together. Groaning into each other and riding out your pleasure panted out with every breath. “Ezra.” You whimper, kissing his lips again and again until his cock softens.
He withdraws his fingers, pushing them into his mouth with a groan to taste you and he cups your cheek with his wet hand, sliding his tongue back into your mouth. He has never felt this sexually charged. He’s almost ready to go again, certain that he would be if he was younger. “Fuck, my baby doll, you’re - you intoxicate me.”
You chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you feel the same but it has to be usual for him. Maybe he’s a little vulnerable because he’s exposed himself, but any number of women would give anything to have his attention and his touch. “Hopefully that doesn’t change anytime soon.” You murmur, shooting him a grin before you duck your head down and lick up some of the cum splattered on his skin.
“Jesus Christ.” Ezra hisses, caressing your cheek, and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, tasting his own cum on your lips and he smiles against your lips when you pull back. “Shall we restart that movie?” He jokes and you giggle, nodding as you snuggle into his side. 
****
The next morning, Ezra watches you get ready for work with a grin on his lips, loving this routine you go through. It’s unbelievably sexy to watch you get ready and he sits there in his pants, watching you as you put on your underwear. He knows he could easily watch you do this every morning and that scares him a little, how easy it is.
It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten dressed in front of anyone, but you don’t mind Ezra watching you. There’s something in his gaze that makes you feel warm and you like it. Humming to yourself as you rub lotion into your skin, you think about the outfits you haven’t worn in awhile and walk into your closet to pull out the business attire.
When you come out of your closet, Ezra groans at how beautiful you look in the blazer and skirt. He shifts, standing up and he walks over to you, kneeling down on the floor. His hands run along your legs and he pushes your skirt up. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, looking up at you and he hooks his fingers in the panties he watched you put on, pulling them down. “I want breakfast.” He teases, lifting your leg onto his shoulder before he slides his tongue through your folds.
“Ezraaaa.” You whine, thankful you don’t have your shoes on as your fingers tangle into his hair. You had expected him to leave first thing, or to not be interested in anything intimate, but his tongue proves you wrong. “Fuck- I- I’m going to be late.”
“Be late. For once in your fucking life.” He winks and dives back in, flicking his tongue against your clit until he sucks it into your mouth, groaning when you buck against his mouth. He grabs your ass, encouraging you to rock against his face. Once he’s made you cum, he will leave even though he’s going to hate it.”
“Oh fuck!” You cry out, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. You vaguely think about calling in sick and staying like this with Ezra all day but he has places to be as well. “Fuck, fuck, you’re going to fuck me, right?” You gasp out. “Oh fuck, fill me up and let me ruin my panties all day?”
He groans into your pussy, wishing he could spend all day buried in your cunt but you have to work and he needs to spend time away from you before he gets even deeper. He slides his tongue into your cunt, his nose pressed against your clit and he fucking loves the way you rock against his face.
Your body loves the attention, primed for another orgasm by his skilled tongue or cock through most of the night. You hadn’t slept much but you feel invigorated. “Fuck Ez,” you whine, tugging on his hair until he groans into your cunt again and it sends you over the edge. Crying out wordlessly, you flood his tongue with your juices.
He laps it up, working you through it with his tongue while he savors everything you give him, his cock now aching and he caresses your legs as he pulls back to look up at you. “Chérie, you want - you want me to fuck you?” He rasps, chin glistening with your cum.
Despite the fact that you need to leave for work, you are nodding. Turning around and pulling your skirt up more as you bend over the bed. “Fuck me. God, I want to feel you all day, baby.” You beg, closing your eyes so you don’t ask him to be here when you get home.
Ezra doesn’t think about the condom, too focused on pulling his trousers down to pull his hard cock out, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside of you with a deep groan. His hands grip your hips and he doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust before he starts to fuck you hard and fast.
Rocking up into the balls of your toes, you cry out when he punches deep. Loving how it feels like his cock is kissing your womb and hitting perfectly inside you. Mewling every time his hips slap against your ass, all you can do is take it and you Fucking love it. “Ez- oh-oh fuck!” You squeal when he pushes deep and hits your g-spot.
To feel you without protection has Ezra thinking he’s been allowed into heaven. He hisses and continues his hard pace, eyes fluttering closed with how wet and tight you are around him, so fucking hot. “Oh shit, baby doll, you feel - it’s so good. So goddamn fucking good.” He smacks your ass, loving the squeal that echoes in your bedroom.
Every thrust of his cock pushes you closer, legs starting to shake and you feel like you are about to combust. Pushing your hips back and where he roughly drills into you again, you shatter. Toes curling and back arching, you practically scream his name. Creaming all over his cock and you realize he’s not wearing a condom and it makes it even sweeter.
“Can I - fuck. Can I cum inside of you, chérie?” He asks, panting as he leans over you. His eyes fluttering closed as he bites down on your neck, trying to control himself as you squeeze his cock, soaking him and his entire body shakes as he tries to control himself and not cum inside of you without you saying yes.
“Yes! Fuck yes, Ezra cum inside me. Please cum inside me.” It’s borderline pathetic how desperate you sound but you reach back to grab his hip. “Fuck baby, fill me up.”
He can’t deny you anything, thrusting deep as he cums, painting your walls as the deep groan of your name bounces off of your bedroom walls. “Oh my fuck-” He chokes, cock pulsing as he slumps over you, filling you up with his hot seed.
The whine you let out is low, pleased, as he fills you up. Loving the slow rolls of his hips while he pumps every last drop into your cunt. Knowing you will be leaking him for hours while at work. “Fuck-I, no more condoms.” You pant. “Just like this, every time.”
Ezra kisses along your neck, unable to believe you trust him enough to cum inside of you. He’s never had that with a client but the line is blurring. You are no longer a client, you’re more than that and it terrified him. “Fuck yes. So good.” He murmurs and pulls out of you with a hiss. He grabs your panties, helping you step into them and pulls them up to keep his cum inside of you, stopping it from dripping on the floor. “You need to get to work, baby doll.” He smacks your ass before he pulls your skirt down.
Turning around, you press your lips to his again. It’s crazy how deeply you feel for him but you know that his time is money. As it is, you feel like you’ve taken advantage. “Let me know when you’re free again.” You murmur, straightening up so you can fix your appearance for work. “I would like to see you again soon.” Like tonight, but you don’t say that. You don’t want to be clingy.
“Me too.” Ezra murmurs, knowing he needs the $300 rate you agreed but he wants to say fuck the money and continue kissing you. However, he has obligations and when you step back to grab your purse, he feels dirty, he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. “Maybe tomorrow night. I have…I have an appointment tonight.” An older lady, a widow, who wants him to attend a function with him. He knows he will just be there to impress her friends but the money is too much to pass up. Maybe he can work on his writing this afternoon.
Taking out the bills, you fold them over and for a moment - fear that he is fucking you to make sure you come back floods your system. Making you falter for a moment before you press the bills into his hand and kiss his cheek. “I- I should leave.” You murmur, not sure of how to ask him to get dressed and leave with you. You aren’t together and you shouldn’t leave him in your apartment by himself.
Ezra nods, pulling up his trousers and tucking his shirt in before he shoves the money in his pant pocket. “I’ll see you soon, mon chérie.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek and he grabs his jacket while you lead him to the door. He knows you need to leave and he follows you out of your door. The elevator ride is silent and he watches you as you stare at the numbers on the screen. He wants to say something but what can he say? You want him for company and sex, he needs to push his silly feelings aside.
The doors open and you look up from your phone, stepping out into the lobby. “Thank you for last night.” You offer, wanting to kiss him but you aren’t sure about what you can do now that you’ve paid him for his time. Your phone beeps and you sigh, looking down at it. “I’m sorry, I am so late. Ask the doorman to get you a car if you need one.” You flash him a smile and turn around to hurry toward the doors that lead to where your car is waiting. 
Ezra watches you go with a sigh, knowing you just want him when you aren’t working. He needs to control his emotions and be professional. That’s what you are doing and he must follow suit. 
**** 
You snuggle into his chest, the morning light shining through the window and Ezra caresses your spine as you sleep against him. He didn’t get a lot of sleep, too busy thinking about work. Too busy thinking about you. You’ve been paying him to stay at your place for the past month, going out for dinners, you even took him to a work event. Three hundred dollars for every night he spends with you and you’ve spent a lot of money. He hates it and today, he’s going to end it. He can’t keep taking your money. You stir against him and he kisses your hair, “morning, chérie.”
A soft, sleepy smile starts on your face as you turn your head. Mornings with Ezra are amazing and you have slept better and been more relaxed than you ever remember being. It’s sad that you have to pay for a man that you’ve fallen in love with, but you understand it. Time is money and you knew that the first time you slept with him. “Morning.” You hum, scooting up to press your lips to his. “Hmmm, what time is it?” 
“It’s ten. You slept in. Someone must’ve kept you up all night long.” Ezra teases, pressing his lips to yours once more until he remembers that he has to end this. He sighs, shifting off of the bed. “My damn arm has gone dead. Let me - I need to piss.” He says, pulling away from you as he shuffles into the bathroom. He doesn’t know how he’s going to end this, it’s going to destroy him but it’s for the best. When he comes out, you are sitting up in bed, still sleepy and yet so gorgeous. “I’ll make you some coffee.” He says as he grabs his pants, pulling them on so he can have this conversation with you.
You rub your eyes, a little confused at why Ezra is rushing out of the bed. Although it’s late, you have been spending hours in bed on the weekends before you finally get up and venture out to get brunch. There’s something odd about it and it makes your stomach flutter nervously as you slide out of bed and grab your robe to tie around you before you make your way to the kitchen. “Do you want to go out and get coffee? Some breakfast?” You ask, coming over to kiss his bare back as he stands in front of your coffee maker. His back tenses and you slowly pull away, thinking he is having some pain this morning. Sometimes his scars ache. 
Ezra doesn’t respond as he works on fixing you a cup of coffee. “No. I, uh, I can’t go out for brunch today. I have…other obligations.” He lies and you frown, stepping back from him. 
“Oh. I, uh, okay.” You swallow harshly and he bites his lip as he watches you walk over to your purse on the counter. “I can pay you now. Let you leave and we can - we can see each other tomorrow.” You aren’t happy but what can you do? You can’t force him to stay. 
“No.” Ezra says, his voice almost wavering but he manages to remain strong. “I don’t - I don’t want your money and I can’t - I can’t see you again.”
“Oh.” Your heart breaks with his words and immediately you are trying to fight back tears. It’s stupid that you had gotten in so deep with this man when it was only supposed to be one evening, one stupid New Year’s party. “I see.” You manage to keep your voice steady and you turn to pull out the crisp, three one hundred dollar bills and you lay them on the counter for him. “Take the money, you spent last night with me.” You insist before you set the bag down. “I- I need to - excuse me.” You rush back towards your bedroom, needing to lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment so you don’t do something stupid like begging him to stay.
Frowning as you rush off, Ezra looks back towards the door you just slammed. He shakes his head, suddenly pissed that you are just dismissing him without even talking about it. He knows he’s the one ending this arrangement but that’s because of his feelings for you. You just seem to not give a fuck. That makes him furious. He stomps over to your door, banging on it. “You can’t just lock yourself away. I- is that it? We’re done?” He asks you through the door, leaning against it as he sighs, his heart breaking.
Inside the bathroom, you cover your mouth with your hand, tears pouring down your face. “What do you want, Ezra?” You sob. “Is this- I don’t understand.” Your heart feels like it’s about to explode and all you want is to be left alone so you can wallow in your misery. “Is it a shakedown for more money?” You didn’t think it was all fake, but maybe he had just been using you. Maybe this was to try to get you to offer him more.
He hates hearing you cry and he’s so mad that you think this is because he wants more money. “More money? Are you fucking joking with me, baby doll? I don’t give a shit about the money. I- I can’t keep taking your money when I- it’s not just work anymore. It never was. Not since the moment I met you. It’s never been an arrangement for me. Chérie, it’s always been for pleasure, because you’re incredible. I - I can’t keep taking your money when I’m in love with you. It’s not right and it’s best that I walk away now. I know you just wanted company and I’m the moron who caught feelings and it’s not fair to push that onto you.”
His confession just makes you sob harder, confused and hurt by all of this. Especially the suddenness of him not wanting to be with you anymore. “Don’t lie, Ezra!” You shout, curling your arms around yourself to try to provide some small comfort. “I know- I know that you were just doing your job. I know that the only way I would get to be with you was if I paid you. Why-” You voice breaks and you gasp out a sob of heart wrenching pain. “Why do you think I kept paying you? It’s the only way I could spend time with you! Stop making fun of me.”
Ezra frowns, “what - what the fuck are you talking about? Please. Please can you come out of there so I can talk to you properly? I’m not making fun of you, my love. I - I want to be with you. I just - you kept paying me and I - I’m a scoundrel and shouldn’t have taken your money. I’ll give every cent back to you. Just - just please, let me see you one last time before I go. I can’t - I know you don’t love me. I’ll go.”
You don’t want to, you don’t want to confront him. You’ve never been good in relationships, never wanted to fight or deal with the heartbreak associated with it. You would rather just leave, let him go but he’s in your house right now. Stumbling to the door, you know you look horrible with tears running down your cheeks and your nose running but you can’t care right now. You open the door and you can’t even look at him, staring down at your feet. “Please stop.” You beg him softly. “I know- I know I’m stupid but stop pretending.” You hiccup and try to wipe away your tears. “You don’t want to be with me, I know that. So just- go if you want.” 
Ezra’s heart breaks at your confession and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup your cheeks. “My love, oh mon chérie. You are - please - seeing you cry has me damn near ready to beat myself up.” He tenderly wipes your tears with his thumbs, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want your money. I want you. I love you. I’m - I’m a fool to let this arrangement have carried on for this long but I need you to know that I am madly in love with you and if you don’t feel the same, I will walk out that door. I will return your money. I cannot take it. I did not need to be paid for a single moment of this time together.”
Your chin trembles and wobbles while new tears spill over your lashes. Wanting so badly to believe him but why would he say he couldn’t see you anymore? “I- then why can’t you see me?” You ask. “I- I always want you here. I love you, Ezra. It’s why I’ve wanted you here. Everyday, I - I’ve wanted you. I paid you because I- I thought it was the only way I could have you.” 
He’s dumbstruck when you tell him you love him, taking a few moments to respond to you. “Why would you love me? I- I’m a monster. I- I don’t have a proper career. I spend my nights as a date for elderly women and I am not good enough for you.” He admits with a whisper, wiping away the new tears. “You deserve better than me.”
“I hate whoever told you that you’re a monster.” You hiss, shaking your head still cupped in his hands. Your own hands find his sides and you pull him closer. “You're not. You are a man who gives older ladies companionship and friendly banter, letting them feel young and wanted again.” You know he’s not sleeping with anyone else, you’ve actually met a few of his clients when you’ve been out to dinners. They are all sweet, lonely women who can pay for his company. “You are a writer, and a good one. Your book will be a bestseller, I know it.” The conversation has shifted focus and you find yourself defending him to him. “Why do I deserve better than the man I love?” 
Ezra swallows harshly, tears stinging in his eyes, and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Can you forgive me, mon chérie? For talking about leaving? I didn’t want to leave. I- I love you. I love you and I don’t want to go. I want you. If you can accept me as I am, I want you.” He murmurs, kissing your nose.
“There is nothing to accept, Ezra.” You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. “I love you, just as you are. I- you are perfect to me.” He never got upset at you when you worked at home, always let you finish up while he lounged beside you on his own computer or watched TV. Never tried to get you to change. Why would you want to change him?
He smiles, exhaling shakily then he presses his lips to yours, sweet but passionate as he breathes you in. He pulls back after a moment, “I love you, chérie. I love you more than life itself. I thank whatever deity is above that you called me for that New Year party. You’ve - you make me feel whole and accepted and loved. I could spend a lifetime repaying you for that.”
“I love you.” Now that you’ve said it, it’s almost second nature to repeat it. Addicted to the way it sounds when you tell him. “I- God, you don’t know how much you mean to me.” You promise, hugging him close and hiccuping again.
****
Ezra keeps his arm wrapped around your waist, smiling as you enter the ballroom for your company’s annual New Year party. Last year, you hired Ezra to come with you and now, he stands proud beside you. His book is now published and on the bestseller list like you predicted and he’s given up his escorting, now deciding to spend his nights with you and only you. “Have I told you you look gorgeous tonight, chérie?” He asks when you are standing at the bar, waiting on your champagne.
“Only when you tried to convince me to stay home and allow you to peel off my dress early.” You tease, leaning in and stealing a kiss. He’s officially moved in and every morning you wake up in his arms feels like a miracle. The second bedroom has been turned into his office, allowing him space to write and create. Often when you come home from work, you will sit on the sofa there and go through your emails while he finishes his self imposed writing limit. “But it pales in comparison to how handsome you are.”
Ezra bites his lip, staring at you and unable to believe how lucky he is to have you. You accept all of him, scars and blemishes, all of him. "Marry me." He blurts out, his dark eyes fixed on yours while you lean against the bar.
Rocking back, your eyes widen in surprise. “Ezra- what?” You forget how to breathe for a second and all you can hear is a slight buzzing in your ears. “I- you’re joking, right?” Ezra shakes his head, knowing it wasn’t the most articulate proposal in history, but he’s not joking. “You-you want me to marry you?” You whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening. 
He clears his throat, reaching for your hands, and he turns you towards him. “Mon chérie, I- I adore you. I wake up and am beyond grateful that you are in my arms. I never thought I’d find someone like you. I never imagined being with a woman like you after coming back from the war. I love you, I want you to be mine. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.” He requests and lets go of your hands to reach into his pocket. “I planned to do this later but I- I can’t wait.” He opens the small velvet box, displaying the simple yet impressive diamond he had purchased for you.
Gasping softly, your hand covers your mouth as you stare at the perfection that Ezra has picked out for you. Making tears spring to your eyes as you imagine marrying this man. Something that you never thought was in the cards for you. “Yes!” You cry after a moment, laughing and flustered. “Yes, I will marry you.” Lunging forward, you throw your arms around him and kiss him fervently. “I love you.”
He wraps his arms around you, the ring box in his hand and he grins against your lips until he is pecking them over and over. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and takes the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger. Others have noticed the scene and are applauding, including your bosses who orders a bottle of champagne for you and Ezra. 
“Congratulations. Who would’ve thought you’d be getting engaged tonight?” Your boss winks at Ezra who chuckles, having emailed your boss to ask for the band to play your favorite song - the song that was playing during your first dance a year ago. 
The song begins to play and Ezra takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor. “I want to show off my beautiful fiancée.” He smiles, pulling you into his arms and he begins to sway with you to the music while your entire company watches, the ring on your finger glistening. You have tears in your eyes when you rest your head on Ezra and he kisses your hair. You had hired him a year ago to pretend to be your boyfriend and tonight, you’ll be leaving with him as your fiancé.
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grogusmum · 9 months
Text
Seven Tears (Part 7 and epilogue)
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SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER
WORD COUNT: 3500ish
SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: After Ezra is forced to make a terrible choice, his Moonbeam goes about setting it right.
WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white. Violence, Drowning, Near Drowning, mention of blood (As always see something say something. Please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)
Series Masterlist
Part 6
AUTHORS NOTE AT THE BOTTOM
Gaeilge Translations (at the top and bottom of the fic to be closer to where they occur)
Rón Inis Island of the Seals
M’fhíorghrá My true love
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Ezra's eyes fixed a path to Rón Inis (Roan Inish), watching for the seals as he began to undress. 
“My most sincere apologies to you, Thomas - I am fully aware that this is more than you bargained for.”
Thomas laughed a bit awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Ezra’s backside. And when the first seal was spotted, Ezra pitched himself over the side of the boat. The seals circled Ezra, the pelt in their strong jaws. Once he had it in his hands, something in him changed. With a momentary look at Thomas, he galvanized his plan and his promise, then dove deep into the fathoms, wrapping himself in the seal-coat. 
Down, down Ezra went, the pelt and he merging, coming together like raindrops. Bubbles whirled around him, and his seal brothers stayed close to his side. They broke the surface, breaching high in the air, seawater rained down on Thomas and the little outboard. Back in the seal skin, Ezra's lungs grew stronger, and his sleek hydrodynamic body flew through the water. He could not help but show off a few corkscrews, twisting easily, but while his body seemed to celebrate, his mind was on Cee, on reaching the boat before the unthinkable. On he pressed, when his mind gravitated to you pain gripped his chest, then anger would rise again. This cycle continued, round and round, until he could see another seal, a smaller one. He broke the surface for air, and there was Cee, who slammed into him barking and butting her head against his. His barks are stern, eyes searching her.
‘Yer free! What happened?’
Cee told Ezra the tale of her capture and the threats she heard.  
‘Chewed clear through the-’ She barked triumphantly, then her brown eyes turned wide. ‘What are you doing here? Like that?’
‘I could never leave you to break free on your own, Cee. Never.’ Ezra rubbed his face on Cee’s.
‘But-’
‘That is not for now. Go to the Rock, get to them. Tell them what happened. I have to see about the Kelly Boys. I will do more than shred their nets’ His bark was a snarl, then Ezra kissed Cee’s brow and took off in the direction Cee had come. He sent the other seals with his daughter, wanting to keep them out of harm’s way.
Ezra fumed. He tried not think on the notion that he needlessly donned his pelt. But he did, and with every passing moment, he was prepared to take down the vessel plank by plank. 
Finally, it came into view, he took one more deep breath before going below with no plan to come up until he was on them. Ezra smirked at the ship, it was smaller than a mackerel yowl. He sped up to grab the remains of Cee’s net in his strong jaws and then under the boat he went. The boat lurched, and when he was sure he had gotten their attention, he wrapped the net in the rudder and prepared to board. 
Ezra reveled in their shock-turned-horror, from the moment Colin and Jamie grasped what was happening when the first cleat was pulled from the stern after the line got fully tangled in the rudder to the moment he shot out of the water and landed square on the mainsail, still in a harbor furl, and there came a mighty crack. Colin came at Ezra. For any other man, under any other circumstance, Ezra would have admired his puck. But not him, not the man who seems hellbent on your pain. Ezra’s powerful jaws closed on his arm, and there, too, was a satisfying crack, and the taste of blood. Jamie was knocked off the starboard side, and Ezra brought a half-conscious Colin over the side with him. When the cleat broke free, it left a length of line, now attached to the rudder, Ezra took it up in his mouth and wrapped it three times around the two men. Binding them together, to bear the fate they offered up his Cee. He knew no power would offer them reprieve. No silken pelt would save them from their fate. Then he bashed the hull of the boat like a bull until its foundering was assured. When his work was done, Ezra left when without a backward glance.
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It is just you and Rory, on Widow’s Rock. You know soon it will be too chilly, that you will have to bring your wee one inside, but for now, you just cannot bring yourself to leave. You need to know Ezra is safe, that he has not come to harm while doing whatever he has done. 
“He will come, you know.”
You smile sadly and pat the rock for Cee to sit upon. 
“I know. If he can, he will.”
Having gone back to the house, Cee is dressed in some of your old clothes, the blanket folded over her arm. She opens it and wraps you and Rory in it, and you give her a watery smile, then you look back out over the water, hoping to catch a glimpse. 
The three of you sit in silence, waiting. Cee smiles first. 
Ezra swims up, and you can not help the tearful laughter of relief as he bobs in front of you. His brown eyes, full of sorrow. He comes closer and rests his head on your knee, eyes going from you to Rory and back. 
“M'fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah), my Ezra,” your hand goes to the side of your seal man’s muzzle. He leans in as you caress it. Your tears continue. “‘tis true, we never did finish discussing my joining you in the sea. But we don need to. Mo ghrá, there is nothing else to discuss. I will join you. You have to know I would. Without hesitation!”
Ezra looks at Cee.
“It will have to be. For the magic to work, you must be without reservation,” Cee explains. Ezra keeps a close eye on your reaction, then barks and whines. You look at Cee. “Da said, it is his turn to feel selfish. That he is taking you from what you love.”
Your lips purse in a tight smile, thinking of that day, when he first came to you. Turning, you hand Rory to Cee, and give her the blanket. Then you slip off your shoes and off the rock, then into the cold water. Ezra’s eyes go wide, and then slowly close as you wrap your arms around his neck. His head tucks into the crook of your neck, and his whiskers flex and relax. You stay this way, moments stretching. Only when your start to shiver that you break away from each other. 
“What do I need to do, Cee? Please tell me you know.”
“I do, but it can' be done before the full moon.”
The Brennan family sits once more around their supper table, heartsick, but determined to support you. Still, supper sits mostly untouched. Rory, chewing a hard biscuit in the highchair each one of the Brennan children sat in at his age, including your Da.
“Seven Years... What about the baby?”
“He will come with me after I’ve transformed. He is like Cee and will take to it without trial. We just need to prepare him. He will go to the sea, regardless, it’s only a matter of time, he is borne of a selkie man. I will not be parted from my child, nor my love. But Mam, just like Cee, he will be able to visit you any time, even when I can not.”
“When she goes in, it will have to be without qualm, Cee reiterated.
“Which means I - I need to know you to be alright with this choice I am making. Please.”
“What happens if you go in - you go in, and you do have reservations?” Felicia asks.
“She will drown.”
The table silences. You look into each of their eyes, desperate to show your love for them, but your determination to be reunited with Ezra, to have your little family together.  
“When I was a child, would you not have followed me, to the moon, if need be? Or Felicia, Hugh, or Thomas?” You look at your parents. Their eyes go bright and with small smiles they nod together, all the assent you need. 
Deirdre clears her throat, picks up her fork, and then puts it down again.
“Well, we will have to see about renting one of the Conneeley cottages on the island, then. Much better for Rory’s comings and goings, hmm? What’s the difference, fishing from Rón Inis or here? Hugh, you can go with yer Da and get off to school.” Patrick chuckles, and Hugh looks stunned.
You too are stunned. Whether all of that comes to be or not, your family… your dear family-
“Thank you, Mam, Da- everyone.” 
You count down the days. Back on the island, you and Rory go to the water to meet Ezra, and the three of you play with the water. Rory slaps at it and kicks his little feet. Laughing when it comes and trying to follow when it retreats. You can not understand Ezra’s bark exactly, but Rory listens like he does. One morning, changing his nappy, you notice webs between his fingers, you check, and they are between his toes, as well. You wonder if he will leave before the full moon, and you have to remind yourself that you are not being left behind.
“Look at you, more and more like your father each day.”
When you meet Ezra at the water’s edge for Rory’s “lessons”, you show him. Ezra lets out a barking laugh, rolling in the surf. This brings other seals to the beach, Rory laughs at their joyous antics, his dark eyes smiling. Ezra presses against you as he watches his little boy, and then you feel his snout nuzzle you. When you lean into it, Ezra rumbles in his throat and suddenly throws himself into the surf, gamboling excitedly. 
You watch the moon swell each night, missing Ezra’s human touch. Knowing what he meant when you told you the bed was too big. You tell yourself it will not matter when you are a seal as well. You hope.
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“Well dear, I think you are correct. As a seal, you will be able to,” Tilda clears her throat delicately, “commune with him in a way that will not leave you wanting. I am sure of that.”
“I am truly sorry, Tilda” you cringe, “to be so brash, but-”
“I am glad you came to talk,  you must sort out these thoughts, so you are ready with your whole heart for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” you echo. You examine the flip of your stomach. Realizing they are butterflies of excitement. Hoping they are, only, butterflies of excitement.
You talk and she feeds you, and when you leave you feel better. Not only incredibly full of food and still holding on to the warmth of Tilda’s hugs, but just having said it out loud, diminished your fears. 
After an endless night, the morning breaks, and Cee helps you close up the cottage. Dust covers for the furniture, and all but a few clothes are boxed up to go to your sister’s, Cee makes sure there is little food to bring to your parents’ with the help of her bottomless stomach. Your mother is adamant that they are moving to the island, and Tilda is for it, but it takes time to move them. For now, Rory’s things are to be left at the cottage, but you box it all up for them. 
By lunch, everything is ready, and your brother comes in the jon boat to help bring your things back. 
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You had thought your transformation would happen off Rón Inis. 'No Widow’s Rock is better,'  Cee had told you. When you pondered if it was due to you and Ezra meeting there, if the magic was deeper, Cee shrugged and said, 'Probably, but honestly, Widow’s Rock has deeper waters surrounding it at hightide'… she is a practical girl. You had lunch with your family, Cee, Tilda, and Fergus. It seemed some rumors had started going round, especially after Jamie’s boat was found. Your cousin Courtney, for whom you stood as her Maid of Honor, ended up at your parents’ doorstep.
She met Cee, and Rory. Then she cried and told you she was pregnant and wished the babies could be friends. You gave her a hug and went to your childhood bedroom with your sister. ‘I have to be without regret, I can’t be worrying about Courtney’, you told her, and Felicia threatened to tell her off.
As the moon rises, in a simple dress, you stand on Widow’s Rock, the water lapping at your feet. Your family watches from high on what is left of the beach, the full moon’s high tide taking more of it than usual. Seals watch from the rocks further out. Ezra, Cee, and Rory are in shallow waters where the land and ocean meet. You think only of your goal, your desire. Your goodbyes have been made, besides it’s not goodbye. It is 'until we meet again', your Da had said. And you repeated, 'until we meet again'. You look at Ezra, Rory, and Cee. Ezra is itching to be with you. You can see it in his keen eyes. Cee holds Rory, who watches with interest at what his mummy is up to. Ezra nudges Cee, and with a nod, she calls -
“It is time.”
Without hesitation, you plunge into the deep waters. Opening your eyes in the cold and dark as you come out of your dive and break the surface, the water is like glass. Kicking your feet to stay afloat as you unbutton your dress, trying not to think too much about your family on the shore. You let the dress go. Then, turning to orient yourself toward Ezra and Cee, you await what is to come next. But there is no more instruction. Seals and selkies you presume, slip gracefully into the water from the rocks and encircle you. You know you need to take deep breaths and ready your lungs. As they surround you, long trails of seaweed in their mouths. As Cee had explained, you take the ends of several and hold them at your chest and the seals circle winding the kelp tightly, binding your arms across your chest. You can hear Cee talking, but it's not to you, perhaps an explanation to your family. With your arms bound, your legs work harder. Soon, there is a tickle of vegetation against your legs. You marshal your breath, deep and controlled. It will happen soon. You can still hear Cee. She’s a good girl, you think, as you begin to sink, one last breath to take in and hold. Not that you expect it to save you, just give you time. To your family, you think, don be afraid. Legs and arms bound tight by the wrappings. All you can do is sink below. Was that Ezra calling you, barking for you? Sounds muffle. You can still see the moon. You focus on it. The seals orbit. Your lungs scream, and you try not to let your body's instinct to thrash take over as bubbles start to rise from your nose. You can not hold onto that last precious breath of air any longer. You only feel the animals now, their flippers grazing you gently. 
'Tabhair chugam mo chóta róin síoda' (tur xu’m mu xo t-uh roan shi d-uh), you think just as everything goes black, 'Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, táim réidh.' (MEER-ggrah, Tam REEg)
(Translation: Bring me my silken coat, Ezra, my true love, I am ready)
Ezra watches your slow descent into the sea, he waits as the surf pulls at him just as every instinct in his body and mind is screaming to go after you, but to go in early could ruin all. He looks to Cee, knowing she will be the one thinking more clearly on it. She is watching the spot where you disappeared below the surface. His worried eyes follow hers just as bubbles appear, and he can hear your family murmuring. Then the murmuring turns to keening.
Ezra crashes into the water, and like a bullet, he speeds to you. You aren't far, and seals still swim around you. Ezra sees you when they break formation. Broken ribbons of seaweed still wrapped around your form. He comes in and kisses your muzzle, nips your neck, and starts to pull away the let over bindings. 
You startle awake, eyes opening wide, and you see Ezra. He kisses and wraps himself around you as you rise through the depths, to the world above. Your sleek body is now perfectly suited to the cold waters.
The cheers and cries of relief sound when you breach and make for land. 
On the strand, right where you left them is Cee and Rory. You come up to them, Ezra by your side.  Cee puts Rory down, and he pats your head, and Ezra barks a laugh. 
"Alright Rory, your turn," Cee says. 
How will you ever fully repay Cee? She is still a child and has been a teacher and guide, like no other. 
Rory slips into the water like the little Waterbaby he is, between you and Ezra. You feel him beside you, rolling in the surf, instinct telling him what to do. His hand runs down your flank, you feel his little feet, then after another roll, they no longer feel like hands and feet but flippers, his soft skin now furry. You lift a flipper to look between Ezra and yourself, and there is a fluffy seal pup, barking happily. 
You cover him in kisses, barking, 'What a clever boy you are'. 
Ezra nudges him with his nose and kisses his head.
 Your human family rushes to you, cheering and well-wishing. You look up at them all, and you hope your face can express how much you love them and how you can never fully express how much their support has meant. 
In all the commotion, Cee's transformation has gone unnoticed until she is in the water with you, a seal again. 
The four of you bark happily at the Brennans and slip into the sea. One backward glance sees them waving. 
You know that for your family seven years with feel like a long time, but you will be back. 
You and Ezra, with Rory and Cee, make for Ròn Ins, the Island of the Seals with your selkie family, whole and safe.
"And just before the stroke of midnight, they have made it back to sea
And she's donned that magic seal-coat and become a maid selkie.
Now they've gone into the ocean, hand in hand into the sea,
She has gone along -- a fair seal-bride for her selkie."
The Maiden and the Selkie (Heather Dale)
Epilogue
Seven years later…
Your Mam had done as she promised. She, your Da, and brother Hugh moved house to the island. Felicia and her husband moved into the Brennan house behind the fishmongery, and Thomas stayed on the mainland as well, working the family business. 
Your time as a seal moved quickly, and you loved it. You visited both the strand of your village and the sands Ròn Ins to see your family, but you looked forward to being able to talk to them, and hold them. 
On the day that marks the seventh year, you and your pod excitedly follow the jon boat that brings Felicia and Thomas to the island. With them is Felicia's husband Dermot, a child, and what looks perhaps like a friend of Thomas'. 
On the sand are Dierdre, Patrick, and Hugh, a young man now, cheering your return. 
The four of you galumph your way right into your cottage to take off your pelts. Ezra and Cee, of course, pull them off without hesitation. Rory, who has visited his Nana and Granda often over the years, also pulled open the invisible seam without a second thought. You, however, balk. Cee and Rory dress quickly as they make their way out to the many hugs and kisses awaiting them, leaving you with Ezra. 
Your beautiful seal man kneels next to you, his warm wide hand cupping your snout. 
"Pearl, it is alright, mo stóirín (mu store-EEN), take your time." 
You pull at the seam, and your seal-coat pulls away. Your head and shoulders emerge, and your arms come around Ezra's neck. You laugh, and you notice it's a bit more of a bark than before. Half in and out of your silken pelt, Ezra has you, and just as that first night, so long ago he turns you in his strong arms so you are on his lap, as your pelt slips the rest of the way off. 
Rocking you slowly, his face in the crook of your neck Ezra murmurs- 
"Mo shíorghrá (muh HEER-ggrah), Nil aon tintean mar do thintean fein" (neel ain tintin marr duh hin-tin fane)
"Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, (MEER-ggrah) you are my home."
The End
Gaeilge Translations
Tabhair chugam mo chóta róin síoda, Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, táim réidh Bring me my silken coat, Ezra, my true love, I am ready
Mo stóirín my little treasure/darling
Mo shíorghrá My eternal love
Nil aon tintean mar do thintean fein there is no hearth like your own hearth
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💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚
If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.
A/N: Well, we've reached the end of the tale of the Seven Tears, and I can't lie, I am feeling pretty emotional about it. I am so very grateful to everyone who took the time to read it - waiting for unpredictable updates, including an unintentional break of a year. To those that shared their thoughts about it, sent requests and seal pics and gifs, found comfort in it, and cheered me on, a very special shout out.
Topping out at 21k words (not including the side fics), about the size of a novella, this little story has meant a lot to me. Selkie stories are bittersweet at best, but most often frought with sorrow and yearning for what one can't have. I've always known I would subvert this with my fluff, with the hope it would not come off too... saccharin. I've thought about tinkering with it more, but I think that's down the line. For now, I am content. And I hope you are too, dear readers. 💚
I know I will visit them again, and asks and requests are always welcome.
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writer-darling · 3 months
Text
Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?
Chapter 8: Out of the Woods | Read Chapter 7: Style!
I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)
Rating: M - Mature (THE TIME HAS COME) (18+ MINORS DNI)
Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader
Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, OF ALL KINDS, reaches an all-time high. Adult language. A LOT of feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at an 83.5% but ends up at about a 90.79% in this chapter). Mentions of smoking and cigarettes. Crude language. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary!: Things are different, changed after last night. As you and Ezra both try to comes to terms with what's happened, there's a disruption.
******
“Are we in the clear yet?
In the clear yet, good
(Are we out of the woods?)”
Ezra sees the change in you instantly. You’ve always been hyperfocused, even when not on the job. It’s one of the first things he ever admired about you… before he admired everything else, of course. But today is not like any other day. No… it most certainly is not. You’re avoiding him, as he suspected, but you don’t seem upset about what happened. No, rather you seem… out of it. Like your mind is miles away… or perhaps more accurately: hours in the past. Your distraction is obvious as you try to go about your day, but your eyes have a dazed, glassiness to them and you curse under your breath repeatedly every time you almost drop the clean laundry you’re trying to remove from the clothesline, which is becoming a frequent occurrence this morning. 
He watches as he sits outside of his tent, spending the morning sitting on a stool shining his boots to perfection, and chainsmoking like he’s never smoked before. He’s meticulously changed the laces, wiped the leather clean, and buffed and conditioned them until he can practically see his reflection. He’s heard your frustrated mumbling all morning and it has worried him. While he wishes to help, his guilt stops him. 
He doesn’t regret what happened, not one damn bit. It was the catalyst of all the fantasies he’s had these last few months. No, he doesn’t regret it at all. The guilt comes from how he handled everything else that happened yesterday. The petty bickering, his stubbornness, how the catalyst started, and the fact that he practically ran out of your tent like a bat out of hell just to fuck his fist before he took things much, much further than either one of you would’ve been comfortable with.
He should’ve stayed. He should’ve finally told you everything he wanted to tell you. He should have held you and apologized for his earlier behavior and then he should have had that amazing dinner with you tonight where he would finally tell you what he really wanted. That catalyst should have come from a place of understanding, of harmony, of love - maybe. But, Kevva-be-damned, he just couldn’t help himself last night. He loved seeing that fire in your eyes, hearing that venom in your voice. It drove him damn near crazy, it always did. Which, admittedly, wasn't the healthiest thing. But, Ezra could admit he wasn’t perfect, and he had never claimed to be. Still, he can’t help the slight anxiety that rises in him each time that crinkle between your brows deepens. Like now,
“Kevvasake!” You whisper angrily to yourself, your gloved palm on your thigh as you yank a particularly stubborn shirt. He can almost picture the whites of your knuckles under the leather of your glove. You sigh once it finally falls, tossing it into the laundry basket with the rest of the clean clothes, which you then lean against your hip. You straighten up and meet his gaze as if you sensed his eyes on you. Your eyes meet his for only a microsecond before you look away and head into your tent, not even giving Ezra a chance to offer you a smile or a wave. 
He sighs as he exhales his latest drag, and debates with himself to call after you, but ultimately makes the decision not to. It’s clear he pushed you too far, and you deserve some modicum of respectful distance from him. Even if it stings like carrom acid in his chest. Denver’s voice interrupts his internal debate, and Ezra realizes he didn’t even hear him walk up. Denver’d also been keeping an eye on you, and on Ezra.
“The hell’s going on with you two?” Ezra cracks a smile, a brief one. His brow furrows as he thinks of how best to word this, throwing the bud on the ground and crushing it with his boot before he answers Denver.
“We had a bit of a situation last night, boss.”
“And I’m guessing you screwed everything up?” It’s not really a question. Ezra sighs before answering, setting his boots aside with a sharp nod,
“...Your assumption would be a fairly adequate estimate.” 
“Hm… how bad?” The question makes Ezra pause for a moment as he meets Denver’s green eyes.
“That remains to be seen.” Both men go silent for a few minutes. Denver looks pensively at the forest floor. Finally, he speaks,
“Fix it.” Ezra raises his eyes to Denver’s, who’s already looking right at him again. Ezra simply salutes and trudges off to find you. When he pauses at the entrance of your tent, he realizes you’re not inside after his call for you goes unanswered. 
You’re not anywhere in the camp. But eventually, he finds you, knowing where you’ve headed.
You sit by the pool's edge, staring into the dark but tranquil water, your gaze unfocused. It’s only upon seeing the area that he remembers. He remembers what you told him about the apprentice camp. Shit. He clears his throat and you turn to face him.
“Can I ask you somethin’?” He starts cautiously.
“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask either way.” You respond, but your tone isn’t harsh at all, which floods him with relief.
“Did last night… Did it trigger anythin’ for you?” Your brow furrows at the way he says that. He’s thrown you for a loop with that question.
“What do you mean?” You ask. He sighs, the guilt suddenly back and threatening to swallow him whole. He approaches but keeps his distance, a good ten feet away from you. He removes his helmet and runs a gloved hand through his hair.
“I mean… about your… previous experience with prospectors.” He says. “Is that why you’ve been off all mornin’?” You blink at him a few times. That was not at all what was on your mind. Now Ezra’s really tearing himself up inside. It all spills out in a rush now. “I’m so sorry, rook, I didn’t even think. I was such a goddamn, horned-up fuckmonger that I completely forgot about that and I never meant to cause you any further trauma. If you no longer wish to speak to me, I fully understand, please believe that. I’m such a damned idiot that I-”
“Ezra.” Your voice is firm and clear, but again not as harsh as he expected. He shuts up instantly and focuses all of his attention on what you say next. You wait until his undivided attention is on you before you continue with your response, “No. It didn’t. I reciprocated. I’m only… confused. That’s all.” You say. For a second it seems like he doesn’t believe you, but he nods anyway.
“That’s fair then.” He says. You sigh and run a hand through your hair next.
“Truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But I know what we agreed on, and so I’m gonna let it go.” You conclude.
“Let it go?” He asks. You nod and smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes for long.
“Mhm, just pretend it never happened. Easier that way. I mean that’s what we agreed to do, right?” You ask, your tone far too nonchalant for this conversation. And even as Ezra’s brow furrows and he mumbles a quiet confirmation, you both know that’s the last thing either of you want.
Especially Ezra. It’s like your words have an effect on him. As he averts his eyes, all he can see, hear, feel, and think is last night. The way you looked at him with starry-eyed haziness. The soft whine of your voice as you begged him for more. The heat of you as he touched you over and over again. His trousers are suddenly uncomfortably tight and he turns his body away from you for a full minute as he tries his damned hardest to get himself under control.
“Look, I’m fine.” You insist, making him turn towards you again. “I was just… overreacting. We’re friends.” You say, your lie does little to convince either of you. But you don’t let that stop you. “C’mon,” You brighten up and smile again. “We gotta get back to camp.” You walk ahead without turning to see if he’s followed.
You’re committed to this ‘friends’ bit, Ezra will give you that. He gives you your space but it’s like you insist on proving his concern for you wrong. You smile and joke with him and are suddenly hyperfocused as usual, going from one extreme to another. And Ezra isn’t quite sure how to feel about it, but he plays along. As lunch rolls around, you invite him back to your tent for a round of cards. He agrees, even if his heart skips in his chest and a light flush takes his face. 
You stop by the dining hall and have a difficult time maneuvering your way around. You’re still distracted, painfully so, but you try your best to just power through it. Still, the hall seems stuffier than usual. Like there’s suddenly every prospecter on camp inside it. As you look around for Ezra, you realize it is packed to the brim. Damn, were there always this many men in here? 
“Rook,” Ezra’s voice catches your attention and you notice he has his pack on his shoulders. He smiles and leads you two out with ease. You both make light conversation as you walk back to your tent for the moment, but your mind is still on trying to let last night go. It’s not healthy for you to be so focused on the vents of last night. Ezra’s not acting any different, so why are you? 
That all flies out the window as you two enter the tent and the tension almost threatens to paralyze the both of you as you’re alone now, with not even the distractions of nature as a buffer. But, you smile and walk over to your ice chest, acting like nothing’s off.
“Want anything?” You ask as you grab a water bottle from inside. He grabs a chair and shakes his head.
"I'm absolutely fine, I brought my own snacks from the mess hall." He says with a chuckle, "You got any other fun ideas for today? Other than playin’ cards and me havin’ to serve you once again?" he asks. He’s well aware he’s pushing his luck with that little flirtation at the end, but he wants to know how you’ll react anyway. Hell, he needs to know. He’s tempted to ask if you two are still on for dinner but he has a feeling that if he even remotely brings it up, you’ll go running for the hills. So, for once, he wisely holds his tongue.
“Serve me, huh?” You ask, opening up your bottle and taking a big gulp. You smile a little as you sit on your cot, in front of him. “Now there’s an idea.” You say with a twinkle. “I could use a personal servant.” You laugh softly, clearly joking.
Ezra laughs a bit louder as his eyes light up at your words, and he can't help but smile as you speak. "Is that so?" He asks, taking an apple out from his pack and taking a big bite from it before he tosses you one. "That... actually sounds nice, don’t it? Me as your personal servant..." he says with playful sarcasm, enjoying every second of the teasing between you, even with this added tension from the last 24 hours still looming over your heads. "Just imagine all the fun things I could do for you. You could have me at your beck and call… completely at your mercy…" he suggests with a sly grin.
You can’t help it as you go red as red as the apple in your hands at that. Having him at your beck and call. You clear your throat after a moment, hiding your embarrassment as best you can as you take another sip of your water, suddenly feeling hot. Ezra notices your sudden blush as soon as he makes his joke, and he decides to play into it. 
"Does that sound nice to you?" he asks, and there’s almost a tinge of desperation in his voice, leaning in closer and playing along. He can't help but feel a bit of pride at the little red tinge that comes to your cheeks, and he's enjoying every moment of it. His teasing is obvious, but it's clear he's having a good time being able to be around you and be himself, even with this uncertainty.
You recover quickly with a light scoff, even as your blush deepens again. “Pfft, in your wildest dreams.” You say, pushing his chest playfully.
He leans back in his chair with an amused expression on his face, even as every ounce of his will wants to drop to his knees in front of you. "Well look at that, I almost had you there," he teases, his smile still bright. "I was beginnin’ to think you might enjoy that," he muses. "But, I do have to know... if you could have me at your beck and call, wouldya?" he asks, still playful but wanting to get a legitimate answer. He just needs to hear it from your own lips. He knows the answer already, but goddess above, he’s dying to hear you say it. All he needs is one confirmation and he can finally relax, finally breathe without feeling like he’s got Bakhroma spores in his lungs.
Your mind immediately fills with images that are not at all PG, but you clear your throat again, swallowing hard but you recover quickly, blinking a few times to dispel them from your mind before you answer. “Yeah totally… I could use the forced manual labor to help me carry those damn packs full of gems.” You try to joke but it doesn’t come across as easily as it did before. You’re still feeling very overheated as you tuck your hair behind your ear.
Ezra laughs at your words despite their sarcastic tone. His whole face lights up at your words and he enjoys this little game you're playing. The little slight nervous glance away just makes it all the better for him. 
"Well okay then, let's test it..." he continues, "Tell me somethin’... what do you need me to do right this moment for you? Just give me a task that you feel is worthy of having me at your disposal," he asks, the smirk returning to his face as his voice takes on a slightly playful tone. "Come on. Test me."
You see that he’s serious. He wants you to test him. “Alright, I’m game. If you really want me to ‘test you’,” you make sure to add air quotes to that. “You can um…” You glance around and spot your pack. “Oh, you can count my earnings for yesterday.”
That was... not what Ezra had expected, and he can't help but grin as you speak and give him his task. "You know what? Sure, why not?" he says with a shrug and an approving nod. He reaches under your cot and grabs the pack, bringing it out between you two as he counts the four suitcases full of gems. "I'll count it all up and tell you the final tally," he says with a smile, "let's get this test underway. Ya got a notebook?” You crack a small smile and lay a notebook and pen out in front of him. He removes the button-up he’s wearing, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt, similar to the one from last night. He wants the most freedom available to him to work. 
He gets to counting the earnings, and he's actually quite the little perfectionist when it comes to these things. He takes it seriously, even just a test such as this. He wants to make sure you're impressed.
You 100% are as you watch him work. At first, that’s all it is, you feeling greatly impressed as he suddenly shifts his playful demeanor and hyper focuses on the task before him, his grin dropping into a neutral expression. Only a slight furrow of his dark brows reveals his concentration. It’s sort of endearing how earnestly he’s approaching this. And that makes you unable to tear your eyes away from him. But then… 
You can’t help it as your mind is suddenly elsewhere as you watch him with his head bowed over his task. The way he takes each case and carefully opens it up, counting each gem and making a rough estimate based on size and quality, then recounting them for good measure. Your focus goes from what he’s doing to the way he looks while he’s doing it. There’s that same furrow that creased his brow last night. And then, your eyes focus on the muscles of his arms as they flex and shift when he brings out each case. Reminding you of what those same muscles looked like half-hidden in shadow and moonlight. His long, thick fingers hold each gem he inspects like they’re the most precious material on terra firma. Those same fingers that maintained such a good rhythm that you fell apart faster than you ever have with your own touch. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he slightly hunches over the cases of aurelac. The same hair you ached to tug on last night.
 Fuckssake. You’re pretty much gawking at him by the end of it.
Ezra's not even realizing that you're watching. He's so focused on his test - in his eyes, every single gem counts. He's very careful and thorough as he lays out all the gems and counts them, making sure to not make even a single mistake as he writes it all down in the notebook in front of him, the pen cap between his teeth. There's just something incredibly attractive about the way he's so focused and determined to do this task. And the fact that you see him this way is just... well, you've just become totally infatuated.
As he finishes, Ezra looks up at you and smiles, "Alright, well the final tally is 142 gems, with the most valuable one bein’ worth 400 hecaton grade. How does that compare to your initial estimate?" He asks, looking over at you with a smile. His eyes are still bright and his tone is warm, the playful nature of your previous interaction having now faded as you two had gotten deep into this little test. His expression is a little confused when you don’t answer right away. "Did I pass?"
You’re very impressed and also suddenly very aroused. He did it. He managed to impress the hell out of you. And Kevvasake, did it all while looking attractive as hell. You clear your throat as what he asks snaps you out of your reverie.
“You-You’re right on the money.” You say.
Ezra smiles and he chuckles as he stands, his eyes sparkling. "Well good," he says with a playful smile, still seemingly unaware of the effect he's having on you. "How's that for a first test?" he says with a wink, and he crosses his arms, giving a little chuckle as his whole face lights up in happiness. "And if you don't want me to be your personal servant... well, how about we just keep bein’ friends?" he suggests with a small smile, "Sound reasonable?"
You nod, your eyes still fixated on his arms and the way they move. Again some very not parent-friendly images come to your mind. You can’t even say anything, just watching the way his shoulders move with each breath he takes.
Ezra finally realizes the full effect that he's having on you, and he seems to just take it all in for a moment before he steps a little closer to you. He's right in front of you and he has what appears to be a gentle, caring expression on his face. He speaks in a whisper when he talks next, his head lowered so he's speaking down slightly towards you, right at eye level. "Hey... can ask you somethin’?" he asks softly, the playfulness completely faded.
You’re taken aback as he approaches and force yourself to focus on what he’s saying. You blink a few times, his dark eyes making you dizzy. “Y-Yeah, what’s uh, what’s up… buddy?” You internally slap yourself for saying that. It sounds so inorganic, just further revealing your nervousness. But he still smiles a little, understanding. You clear your throat, trying very hard to seem nonchalant and failing miserably.
Ezra's face turns soft as you refer to him as your ‘buddy,’ and his whole demeanor becomes more gentle the closer he is to you. He reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face. His eyes lock with yours as he looks down at you. "I really like you, and I want you to be honest with me, yeah?" he says with a soft smile, his voice quiet and gentle. You can see the serious, honest emotion in his eyes and he looks so... peaceful? It's hard to explain. The playful nature is gone from his voice, and you can tell what he's about to say is really important to him.
“I-I like you too, Ezra.” You say, your eyes briefly glancing at the movement of his fingers as he brushes your hair back before meeting his eyes again. You offer him a small smile, still visibly nervous. “Why?”
The sigh he releases sounds troubled and his brows furrow. Your own brow furrows too. “Ezra, tell me.” You add when he hesitates to say what’s on his mind.
“Last night was… fuckin’ incredible.” He breathes suddenly and your heart stutters at the intensity in his eyes. “I just want to make sure I didn’t bring up any bad memories for you. I want to make sure you don’t regret it.”
“Ezra, we-”
“I know what we agreed.” He says firmly, cutting off your attempt to deflect. “But, please… I need to know how you feel about it.” His voice is so desperate. You feel a lump in your throat as you feel frozen in place by his gaze. There’s an electric moment, tense and charged as you think.
“It was amazing.” You finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Ezra’s smile is like the suns breaking through dark storm clouds. His shoulders almost sag with relief and he holds your gaze for a moment before pulling you into his arms and hugging you. 
It's the most gentle embrace, and you can feel his momentary hesitation, but it's the first time he's actually hugged you. He lets out a content sigh as he holds you tight for a moment before he looks back at you with the same soft, almost... dreamy expression from before. His hands come up to the side of your face before his thumb brushes against your cheek. "You can tell me anythin’, no matter how big or small, and I will be there for you. You got me, rook?"
You’re taken aback by the sudden hug, realizing it is indeed the first time you’ve ever hugged each other. If you’re honest, you were expecting a completely different reaction but you’re not mad about it at all. You hug him back slowly, your arms wrapping around him as you lay your head against his shoulder for a short moment, breathing in the scent of his cigarettes. His sigh makes you melt a little and when he brushes his thumb along your cheekbone you almost want to lean into his touch as soft thrills run down your spine.
You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the shift at the moment. There’s a vulnerability, an intimacy here you weren’t expecting.
“I got you.” You respond, growing a little misty-eyed. “And I hope you know I feel the same way. You can count on me for anything, Ez.” You say softly, sincerely. “I know things between us are… weird right now but I do trust you.”
Ezra's smile grows as you speak, and he puts his forehead against yours for a moment as his other hand rests against your lower back. You never expected this moment to come, but this feeling - this... connection - you two have formed is something special. He can tell you mean what you say... he can see it in your eyes and feel it when he embraces you once again. 
There’s something else in his eyes too, something that wasn’t there moments ago. Something you only saw a glimpse of last night. But then it’s gone as he smiles and lets you go, giving you your space again.
"Well then, partner," he says softly once again, the playfulness returning to his voice, "I guess we're friends now. Official, official friends. How's that sound?"
“Official, official friends.” You say softly, nodding and laughing gently at his cute terminology. But then your mind once again fills with the image of his obsidian eyes as he made you come on his fingers and your chest feels hollow.
It seems he’s about to say something else when suddenly you both notice a commotion outside; there’s the sudden sound of gunfire outside and screaming from your fellow prospectors.
Your eyes flash to Ezra with concern as you both drop immediately to crouched positions, the sounds of combat now in your ears as your adrenaline spikes.
******
Finally after 5 months, here is Chapter 8! Yes it's a cliffhanger BUT I WILL BE UPDATING CHAPTER 9 NEXT WEEK!! Happy holidays AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! <3
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Read Chapter 9: The Great War!
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insomniamamma · 6 months
Text
Gravity: Ezra x f!reader
A/n: Written for my year of kisses. @yearofcreation2023 The prompt is a kiss on the eyelids, and I originally intended to write it for Boba Fett (which I may still do) but then I rewatched Prospect and gave myself the yearns. Title inspired by this song. This jumps around in time.
Warnings: Much flirting and fluff. Reader has unspecified medical condition that keeps her from going to space. Ezra needs his own warning. Medical treatment. References to sickness and medical procedures. References to sex but nothing explicit.
Ezra hums contentedly beneath your hands. Shirtless and tilted backwards over the deep sink, towel draped around his sun-freckled shoulders. He positively purrs as you smooth the conditioner through his curls, scratching lightly over his scalp, tugging, but just a little. Real shampoo and conditioner are an imported nicety, expensive and not often used. Seems a shame to so thoroughly clean his hair only to shear so much of it off.
Long hair is a pain in the ass when you’re doing suit work, a pain in the ass in microgravity. You can tie it back but if it comes lose, you have random threads sweat-plastered to your face or tickling your nose or nape or eyebrow without being able to fix it. You don’t know this from your own experience. Born sickly, you could not follow your brothers off world, never as strong as them, failed the g-tests and the orientation tests and the flight instructor took you aside, look, you get the right combo of meds and cautery and you might be able to work a tug or a yard-switcher up to the Bench, but you’re not gonna get out of this well.
So you stayed. Da long gone, died way out towards the end of the Great Arm. And your brothers faded out of your life one by one by one. Once in a while you’d get packet drops, grainy vids squirted between can-haulers and freighters, a game of telephone that stretched the length of the Great Arm, but those became less and less. Even after contact waned, the points would still accrue in the family account, remittance from Kevva knows where. Until they didn’t. Faded out of your lives like comets flaring bright before slinging out into the black. You stayed behind and made due.
Learned the herbalist’s trade from your Ma who learned it from her Ma as far back as your first kin who colonized here, who built the house you live in now, who planted the gardens that provide food and medicines. Leaves and flowers and roots all diagrammed out, with their varied dangers and uses recipes for salves and tinctures and dyes, soaps, meticulously drawn and copied out from Ma’s book into one that you stitched and bound yourself. A right of passage of sorts, preserve what’s come before and add your own knowledge. The last few entries of your Ma’s book near illegible, from when the Wandering Sickness took her ability to write, a hash of Central glyph-speak and her own short-hand.
Ma had been gone for about a year when you met Ezra, or rather, when someone in town took pity on Ezra and sent him to your door. He was naked from the waist up skin blotched in swollen, crimson wheals. You shake your head. Off-worlders never learn. “I must apologize for my state of disarray,” he says, “The rubbing of my shirt seams became unbearable on my walk from town. I seem to have an allergy to the local flora.” He speaks a lilting off-world accent. One eye is red and puffed into a narrow slit, looks like he’s winking at you. “Humbleweed,” you say, “Looks like you rolled in the stuff. Come on in, spacer, lets get you fixed up.” “It’s called humbleweed because it puts people fool enough to touch it in their place?” “That’s right,” you say, leading him inside, “Wanna tell me how you got coated in it?” “Me and my crewmates are camped out along yonder lake. We were passing around a bottle of firewater and got to tussling. Not unfriendly like, but I took a bad step into some bushes. Didn’t think much of it at the time—“ “Please tell me none of you were stupid enough to throw any of that mess in a campfire.” “No, Ma’am, there was bone dry drift wood a-plenty.” “Good because the smoke would make your lungs do the same thing that’s happening with your skin, and we’d be calling for a dropper.” “That sounds most unpleasant,” he says, and you gesture towards the large, hammered metal tub. “Strip,” you say, “And hop in.” You say, fetching a rusty metal canister and a scrub brush from the shelf. You pull on some disposable gloves. An imported nicety, but you don’t want humbleweed resin getting under your own nails. “Ezra.” “What?” “My name is Ezra, and I’d like to know yours before you see my nether regions.” You laugh. This big, swaggering spacer with his odd, archaic way of speaking is shy. Damned if you don’t see his ears and cheeks going red. You tell him your name and rest a gloved hand on his upper arm. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen, okay? Unless they build men different further down the Arm. Give me your clothes. We’ll need to treat and wash them too.” Ezra reluctantly peels down. The worst of the rash is on his upper half, but there’s a particularly nasty line of welts around his waist, snaking down along the soft swell of his belly, telltale lines where he scratched at it in his sleep, got the sap under his nails and dragged it around, unthinking. He stands stone still while you run your gloved hands over him, checking places he wouldn’t think to check himself, armpits and the soles of his feet and juncture of hip and thigh, squirms under your touch. “I’m sorry—“ he says, red faced— “No need,” you say, “I once treated a man who was fool enough to wipe his ass with the leaves. He waited until it all blistered up to get help—“ You push the metal canister and scrub brush into his hands. “You sluice this over the red patches and scrub, clear? It’ll sting some—“ “This smells like engine degreaser.” “It is engine degreaser,” you say, “But it’ll do the job. Let me get your face though. Don’t want you getting this in your eyes. Get what you can reach and I’ll take care of your clothes, yeah?” His clothing goes in the deep sink, warm water and a generous pour of degreaser. You can’t help but look at him, his back to you, all broad freckled shoulders and red, puckered scars, tells of a spacer’s life, trying to reach over the curve of his own spine with the scrub brush. “Miss? Ma’am? I can’t quite—“ You find yourself smiling, take the scrub brush and canister from him, pour a cold rill down his spine and scrub, and he shudders. “Stings.” “I know.”
He flinches when you bring the degreaser soaked cloth to his face, draws back, his eye a puffed red slit leaking tears, his hands circle your wrists, stilling you. “Ezra. You need to let me do this.” “Perhaps this can wait for the Bench, this may be beyond what you can do here, not saying that I mistrust your skills or judgement but—“ “Look up. You see that bundle of Kind Sister? The star shaped flowers?” “Yes, but I don’t- “Look up and hold still. You keep your eyes right there.” You wipe the degreaser over the puffed skin below his eye, and you can feel the tension in him, thrumming beneath his skin. “Breathe, handsome, I’ve done this many times.” “It’s not that I don’t trust—“ “Just keep looking up.” “Burns a little.” “It will.” You dab the cloth over his skin, right up to the fringe of his lashes. “Close.” “I don’t think—“ “Don’t need you to think. Close your eyes.” He feels the chill on his eyelids and flinches away. “Sssshhhhh. Hold still. Not gonna hurt you.” He stills and lets you wipe his eyes with the degreaser, and you can’t help but admire the way his dark lashes fall against his cheeks.
“You’re unsettled.” “Maybe I don’t want to shear off these pretty curls.” You thread your fingers through his hair and raise the scissors to start cutting, but his hand curves around your wrist. “You’ve not been this unsettled before,” says Ezra, “Talk to me Gentle, tell me what’s bothering you.” And you can’t help but smile, his nickname for you always manages to make your chest tighten, someplace between swelling love and crippling fear, presses his lips to the soft skin of your wrist where the veins rest so close. “You’re going so far this time, and you know I can’t go after you if things go wrong—“ “The risk is greater, but the reward is….” he trails off, fingers tracing the landscape of your knuckles. Ezra has words for everything, three words when one will do, and to hear him go silent, to see him search for words feels wrong, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t. He draws inward for a beat and then those dark eyes find yours. “The reward is such that I could stop my rambling ways. If we find what we suspect is there.” “You’re saying you’ll stay.” “I am.” The shiny scissors in your hand tremble, sending little arcs of light across the rough hewn walls. “You’ll come down the well. For keeps.” “For keeps, Gentle Hands. My heart already resides here. I finish this job? You’ll have all of me. For as long as you can put up with my nonsense.” Your hands still. Dread replaced by spreading warmth. You smile. “You’d be surprised at how much of your nonsense I can tolerate.”
“Oh, Kevva,” Ezra sighs and sags against you, “You are surely one of Her kind sisters. She has given you the touch, the blessing—“ You lightly slap his cheek with a gloved hand. “Don’t you go boneless on me, handsome.” You’ve been liberally coating the red wheals and rising blisters with a salve of kind sister, sersath and bird-eye berry. This salve counters the miserable itch of humbleweed, and triggers a kind of euphoric sedation in maybe one in five people you’ve treated. “You’re having a strong reaction. It’s not dangerous. Kevva’s just smiling on you. That’s all. You’ll feel right as rain in about a sixteenth. Hey! You go limp and I will not heave your ass off this floor.” “I will gladly spend the rest of my days gazing up in admiration.” “Hmmmm. Might hold you to that, pretty spacer.” “Would give my life into your gentle hands,” “Okay. Okay, let’s get you settled,” You steer Ezra naked and greasy towards a fresh-sheeted cot you keep against one wall, just in case. He’s not the first stray to rest there a spell and surely won’t be the last. He stretches himself out like a cat lounging in a sunbeam, yawning hugely, even covered in angry red wheals and pinkish goo he’s quite the sight. Pretty man, you think, too bad I’ll probably never see him again. “y’can look all you want, Gentle Hands,” he mumbles, and you feel your face go hot, “I don’t- I don’t mind.” “Here,” you say, pulling the top sheet up to his chest, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--“ His hand finds yours, warm and enfolding. “Gentle Hands,” he says, but his eyes are already closed, his holding hand already letting go, dropping away from yours, arm dangling stiffly off the edge of the cot, “Kind heart.” And you know it’s the salve, maybe you’ve got the proportions wrong, the strength of the bird-eye berry varies depending on where it’s picked. Have to pay more attention next time, or maybe this pretty spacer just reacts stronger than most for a whole slew of reasons that have nothing to do with you. Ezra snores. You smile and lay his hand over his chest so his arm doesn’t fall asleep. And then go to fetch his clothes from the deep sink so you can rinse them out.
You thread your fingers through his hair and cut like you’ve done many times before. Always makes you a little sad, seeing the curls he’s grown in his time with you piled on the floor in front of the deep sink. Ezra luxuriates under your touch, relishes the feel of your hands carding through his curls, tugging, measuring with the width of your fingers, ruffling his hair this way and that, making sure things are even. You’ve done this for your brothers and now you do it for your lover. Brush the stray bits of hair from his shoulders, letting your hands wander the breadth of him, tuck yourself into the join of his shoulder and neck and his arms come up around you, cradling you against him, the two of you swaying together. I’ll be back before you know it.
Ezra finds you in the front garden says your name and snaps you out of your reverie, the muscle-memory motions of removing errant weeds and dead leaves. You stand and wipe the dirt on your pants and turn to look at him, feel yourself grin. He’s wrapped the top sheet around himself like a toga, shuffles along the walk like a newborn calf, a bit unsteady and blinking in the bright sunlight. The swelling around his eye has already gone down significantly. “Ezra. How you feeling?” “A little tingly,” he says, “A little foggy headed, truth be told, I don’t recall dozing off. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you-“ “You haven’t,” you walk the narrow path through the herb beds to where his clothes hang on the line. You frown. “Still damp. Come on. I think I’ve got something that might fit you. Don’t want to send you back into town with a wet ass.” You move to herd him back into the house, but he stops you, his hand curled gently around your wrist. “I, uh, I worry that I may have said something untoward,” says Ezra, “My mouth has a tendency to run along on it’s own and Kevva knows I have not experienced such gentle care in a whole heap of stand-months--“ “You flirted with me a little,” you say and feel yourself smile, he drops your wrist but you catch his hand in yours before he can pull away, “But I flirted right back.” “Did you now?” “Mmm-hmm.”
Ezra kisses you in that slow way of his, soft press of his lips to yours, his way of lingering, lips hovering over yours sharing breath between kisses, soft pecks and nuzzles, coaxing your lips apart so he can dip his tongue between them, his hands sliding warm beneath the hem of your shirt and when he breaks away so he can dip his face into the curve of your neck to nip at that tender place below your ear, you push him back, a firm hand on his chest. “No.” His brow knits, but his eyes are smiling. “No?” “Go shower off, Ezra. I don’t want all those little stray hairs in my nice clean sheets.” “Those sheets won’t be clean for long, Gentle Hands,” “Doesn’t mean I want to be all scratchy while we’re making a mess of them. Go on now.”
“This isn’t right,” you say, poking at the screen of your much repaired data-pad, “This is far more than what we agreed on.” “You’ve taken very good care of me,” says Ezra. He’s dressed in clothes your middle brother left behind, his own folded into a bundle and tucked under his arm. You reject the transaction. “I take very good care of everyone, Ezra, it’s my job.” “Still I spent a quarter cycle snoring away in your great room,” he says, “I expect most others would have roused me and sent me down the road. I wish to repay you for your kindness.” “I don’t need payment for that. Not with points anyway.” Ezra smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You got some other currency in mind?” “Maybe. You’re not boosting tonight are you?” “No,” he says, “We’re hopping the Magra-Tripoint line. Don’t need to hit the bench for three cycles and a little. You got something in mind, Gentle Hands?” You feel blood rise in your cheeks, something about his newly minted name for the you and the way he says it, lilt and rumble of his voice holding something that could be want, something that pulls on you, maybe a cycle or so of fun with a pretty man, but maybe something more. “There’s live music in the square tonight,” you say, “They usually start up around dusk--“ and you feel suddenly shy. Ezra’s a spacer, he’s been places you probably can’t imagine. “It’s not that weird twitchy shit coming out of Central these days is it?” You laugh. “No, nothing like that. What do you say? Take a girl dancing?” “I would be honored,” says Ezra, “But I’ll have you know that I am a terrible dancer.” “The steps are easy. I’ll show you.” “I look forward to it,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the square at sun-down.”
You have to go into town anyway. You sell your wares at the general store. Balms and salves and tinctures and teas, bird-eye berry gel for teething babies, kind sister and chamomile for sleepless nights. Callie takes her cut, but that’s the price of not having to man your own shop. Everyone in town knows to send the severe cases your way, and otherwise leave you be. There are always a few special orders, things not entirely above board, a powder made of bloodspot spores that will end a pregnancy, opium and bird eye berry dried and made into a tea that can ease someone’s passing with few questions. Giggle-weed infused syrup to help a man get hard, everything passed out in folded envelopes, dark glass jars,blank and innocuous. You do your rounds and make your way to the square, watch the first band set up. A cello imported from Kevva knows where, goatskin drums, a flute carved from a reaper-bird’s hind strut. Rough made guitars. You scan around the square and see the usual faces. There’s a couple of nightclubs closer to the docks, places where the spacers go and you imagine him there. Little prickling like a thorn inside your chest. Never going to see him again anyway so what does it matter?
“Well, there you are!” You turn from the pint of cider you’ve been nursing and smile. “Ezra! Wasn’t sure I’d see you!!” You stand and he pulls you into a strong embrace, and then holds you at arms length. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you either,” he says, “Pretty lady who soothed my hurts and listened to my yap and saw my pale and unimpressive ass? I’m surprised you didn’t run for the hills.” “I knew you’d be pretty once the swelling went down.” “You clean up nice, too.” You wonder for a second if he’s making fun, traded your usual workday clothes for your favorite dress, not fancy by off-world standards, river-linen dyed summer sky blue, but there’s no judgement in his eyes and widening smile, just warmth, slides his palms down your arms and squeezes your hands in his. The band plays and the caller names the steps, and people swing their partners and turn and Ezra’s face tightens. “This looks unduly complicated,” “Let’s get some cider in you. It won’t seem so complicated then.” “If you say so, Gentle Hands.” “I do say so. Just watch for a bit and then let me lead.”
Despite your best efforts, Ezra is truly a terrible dancer, the reels and jigs and square dances see him dazed, unable to tell his right from his left and after one particularly disastrous dance the two of you collapse into each other, laughing, clinging to each other and then the band starts a slow one, which means that the caller picks at his guitar and sings a song of lost love while the rest of the band hit the bar and give everyone else a chance to catch their breath. A handful of couples make their way to the floor, and Ezra holds his hand out to you. “This is a dance I know, if you’d do me the honor.”
You expect you’ll never see him again. You’ve come to regard the spacers you meet as spring-sprites, all sun glittered wings, pulling themselves out of the mud only to live a hand of cycles and then vanish. He’ll persist in your thoughts for a bit, this pretty man with his odd way of speaking and his lovely dark eyes, but once he leaves the well he’ll fade like they all do, become a tender memory and nothing more, but for now you ache pleasantly from his attentions. The dock is swarmed with clotted crews of spacers, stacks of luggage, piles of gear waiting to be loaded, low hiss of regulator-valves triggering along the snake-work of cable leading from the tanks to the transfer ship, a squat soot-stained wedge, plated in dingy heat-tiles like a fish’s scales. You suspect this craft is older than you. “This isn’t goodbye, you know,” says Ezra, and your heart squeezes. You’ve heard this before. A delirious hand of cycles, but they always go and they never come back and most times you are able to guard your heart, but not this time, not with him, and your usual glib response doesn’t come. “Ezra, I—we—it’s not?“ He reaches for you and cradles your face in his warm, rough hands, and you expect to feel his lips on yours, his mouth hungry and fever hot, but instead he stretches up and kisses your forehead, and something inside you tugs, pulls, cries out at this unexpected tenderness, tears sting your eyes so you close them, as his breath fans warm over your skin. Ezra kisses your closed eyes, right then left and then rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you again, Gentle Hands,” he says and pulls you into a crushing hug, and then the deck hand calls out a string of numbers over an intercom, balky speakers strung up on wooden poles all around the port and he’s gone into the surging crowd.
Ezra sings in the shower. He always does and Kevva have mercy that man can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Sweep his damp, shorn curls into a little pile to be scooped up and sprinkled into the garden beds, human scent revolting to the local fauna, but then it screams up at you, a little curl of starlight among the tangled dark, little twist of white hair cut from his temple that you so like to twine your fingers through, now discarded. You bend and pick the damp curl of hair from the floor and roll it between your fingers. You move almost without thinking, tuck that little curl into an envelope you usually use for dry herb blends, fold it closed and hold it in your hands a beat, press it to your chest, and then laugh at yourself. Ezra will come back.
He always comes back.
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bonezone44 · 9 months
Text
Muddy Waters, pt. 2 (18+)
'Muddy Waters'
Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller
Summary: You keep hearing someone calling your name and you fear for your life (it's cool, though. you're fine). You visit Joel Miller to see what he wants.
Word Count: 5,8k
Part 1 Part 3 (story masterlist) (my masterlist)
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tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.
This Chapter: Pet names: baby, darlin. dry-humping, brief masturbation (m), coming in pants, cuckolding (i think it counts).
Author's Note: I've been putting off very important responsibilities to write this chapter because I literally can't stop thinking about this. <3 god bless y'all. (It'll be a while for the 3rd chapter)
+++++
You placed your hand on your stomach in an attempt to ease your nerves.
You had been sick with worry and paranoia for over a week.
Two days after you visited Joel Miller for the first time, you ventured to the stables. You had planned to help out Jerome and brush some of the horses, but changed your mind once you got there. It was too beautiful of an afternoon to do anything. The sun was bright and beaming and the clouds were thin and wispy. The air: warm and dry. You walked over to one of the empty corrals and climbed up–sitting yourself on the wooden rail with your chest high. You greeted the great Helios above with your eyes shut and a closed-lip smile on your face. One hand anchored you to the nearest post as the other stretched down and out from your side–fingertips providing a small counterbalance to keep you steady. You washed and basked in the pulses of ultraviolet frequencies as they massaged and vibrated all the pains and worries straight right outta your soul.
It felt so good to be alive.
You wished everyone had the time to sit and absorb the goodness our universe had to offer. You wished everyone in town could take a whole day off to do nothing but vegetate in the elements. Whether they wanted to soak in some water or back in the sun or find peace in the cool air of a cave. You wanted everyone to feel as free as you felt in that moment, meditating on the giant ball of chemical explosions that kept our planet alive from millions of miles away.
You could hear the snorts and clops from the horses in the stables and part of you wished they were all free and running wild across the Wyoming prairies. You heard the blades of grass rustling against one another in the breeze. You heard the distant chatter of town–hammers, music, a vague cloud of conversation. There were closer voices, too. Stablehands talking while they worked.
Then, at a distance you couldn’t decipher, you heard someone calling your name. But you didn’t want to turn around, yet. Too enraptured in the healing power of the sun. And if it was Jerome, you knew he would find you soon enough.
But when you heard it a second time, you figured it was a sign to stop loafing around.
You sighed and abandoned your little paradise–reluctantly venturing back into social order. You hopped down from the fence and wobbled a little. Your muscles had gone stiff from their unmoving positions. You honestly don’t know how long you were sitting there.
You looked around as you stretched but didn’t see anyone–well, anyone who seemed to be looking for you, anyway. You headed over to the stables. Jerome was inside talking to one of the other handlers.
“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile. “Were you lookin for me?”
Jerome’s brow twisted. “No,” he answered simply. “I mean, I saw you out there but I figured I’d leave you alone and let you do your thing.”
An embarrassed smile bloomed on your face and you tucked your head down. “Yeah, it’s nice out.”
“It is.” He smiled wide and pleasant. “It’s good to know someone gets to enjoy it.”
You knew he meant what he was saying, but shame lingered across your skin. “I–uh, I thought I heard someone callin me.”
He shook his head. “No one from in here.”
“Huh.”
That was weird.
The next day, you woke up with a burst of energy and decided to use it to clean up the apartment. You and Ezra were fairly sloppy on your own, but your powers combined could turn a museum into a dumpster in the matter of minutes. You were folding the mountain of laundry on the couch when you heard Ezra calling you from the bedroom. It was strange for him to say your name instead of ‘baby’ or ‘precious’ or some other tender moniker. So instead of answering aloud, you walked to him–worry building in your mind. When you got to the bedroom and opened the door, he was fast asleep and snoring. Drool soaking into the blue cotton pillowcase.
You would have brushed it all off, chalked it up to your mind playing tricks on you. But then, later that day, it happened again in town. 
You were trotting along to the general store when you heard your name shouted. You stopped so abruptly that the person walking behind you ran smack-dab into your back. 
She apologized. You waved her off. 
You didn’t even look at who it was that hit you, your eyes too busy scanning the street.
But there was no one.
Well, yeah, technically there were people out there walking around and going about their business. But none of them seemed to be the one calling your name.
You walked straight home after that.
Later in the evening, while Ezra was out on patrol, and you were lying in bed and on the cusp of slumber–you heard it again. And it was loud. Loud and clear enough for you to distinguish that it was a man’s voice. You just couldn’t recognize whose.
You shot up from the bed in a panic and searched the whole three room apartment. You emptied the kitchen cabinets and the drawers and pulled the dresser from against the wall and rolled up all the rugs.
Someone was looking for you and you knew it.
Ezra came home the next morning to you wide-eyed and trembling in a ball on the couch.
“Uhh… baby?” His eyes slowly circled the disaster you had spent hours re-creating after spending the whole previous day cleaning. He took a slow step forward. “W-What happened?”
“They’re comin for me, Ezra. They’re comin for me and I know it.” You growled and pounded your fist on your knee. “I know it!”
“Who’s comin for you, baby?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know… exactly,” you muttered. “I’ve been narrowin it down and I think it was that guy’s brother that I killed.”
Ezra closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wiped his bare hand down his face, scratching the scruff along his jaw.
Your lips trembled. “Him and his friends are comin for me. I know it. I know they are.”
He tip-toed around the debris strewn about the floor. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around your tense shoulders. “Baby, I explained that to you. You did what you had to do to–”
“That’s not what this is about!” you spat and nudged him away.
He scooted back with his palms up in surrender.
“Someone has been calling my name! I keep hearing it again and again and when I turn around there’s no one! No one! But they’re calling for me like they’re comin for me! Like they’re gonna kill me!” Your eyes filled with tears.
“No one is gonna hurt you, baby.” Ezra’s hand gently squeezed your thigh.
“You don’t know that!” He made you furious sometimes, thinking he knew everything in the world. He couldn’t know someone wasn’t gonna hurt you because you knew that somebody was.
“I do, actually,” he responded with an attitude. “Because me and everyone else in this little town are here to take care of you and guard you from any harm.”
“That’s–that’s not–” you shook your head, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully deny it. No, not everyone in the town existed to serve you, specifically. But you had made connections in Jackson. Real, emotional connections. You had made some real friends for the first time since you were a child. Jackson was becoming your new family. You knew that the people around you would protect you just as you would protect them.
Ezra was right and the thought of it all finally broke you.
“I don’t want to die!” You sobbed, gut spasming and tears flowing. “I’m not ready to go, yet!” You fell over into Ezra’s lap and wrapped your arms around his waist.
“Then we will all ensure that you do not go.” His warm hand gently pet your shoulder.
You continued to cry, surrendering all your tension to Ezra’s comforting love and to all the people of Jackson.
+++++
You were able to get some rest, but that didn’t mean you were going to be leaving the apartment anytime soon. You holed yourself up just to be safe. And the more you resisted the call, the stronger it became, feeling like someone was tugging you to come outside your sanctuary and—well… that was what scared you so much. You had no idea what they wanted from you. Just that they wanted something . Otherwise, what the hell would they be calling you for?
So when Ezra came home and told you that Joel Miller had been asking for you, you pieced the two together and saw a vision of him in your mind. Clear as day. He was standing on his front porch in a green button-up and combed hair. His hand was curved around his mouth and he was shouting your name–waving for you to come over.
But why was he looking for you? Why didn’t he just come over to your apartment? It was a small town. Everybody knew where you lived. And if he didn’t, he could have just asked Ezra or… anyone else for that matter.
Part of you wanted to find him immediately and share some choice words, but another part of you said ‘No. Make him wait.’ You had been suffering for days. Joel could suffer at least one more.
+++++
Ellie answered the door when you showed up and she pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged her back, but she kept holding on. You had never figured out how to measure the appropriate amount of time to hug someone. Everyone was different, you had learned. Especially around Jackson. So you stayed, hugging back, until she let go.
“What are you doing here?” she looked up at you.
“I’m just here to bother Joel. What are you doing here?”
She gasped. “I’m also here to bother Joel!” She grabbed your hand. “Let’s go bother him together!”
“Okay!” you answered with bright eyes and let her tug you around.
“Joel!” she shouted.
“What?” you heard him answer gruffly from another room.
“You have a visitor!” she said with emphasis on the ‘tore.’
You heard him scoff and then you heard his boots stomping down the hall. Once he emerged and saw you standing there in his kitchen, all his tension fell away. He looked surprised, but pleased, to see you.
“Hey,” he said while his mouth hung open, quirking upward at the edges.
All that fire you had inside of you the day before had disappeared at the sight of him. His jeans wrapped tight around his thighs. His hair slicked back like he just showered. He wore a dark t-shirt with only the edge tucked in at his belt buckle. “Hi,” you smiled once you found his eyes.
“We’re here to bother you!” said Ellie.
Joel turned to her and that angry scoff repeated itself. “Go occupy yourself, Ellie.”
She huffed. “Why?”
He put his hands on his hips and glared with wide eyes. He briefly pointed to you. “She needs some work done on her house. You wanna stay and hear us talk about it?”
Ellie let out a long, fitful groan and turned to you. “Contracting is so boring! ” She kicked her foot. “It used to be cool til I had to deal with it every–single–day! You guys suck.” She swiftly turned back to Joel on her heels. “Can I go stay the night at Dina’s?”
“Yeah.” He threw his hand up. “Just come home for breakfast.”
Ellie let out an evil chuckle and grabbed her backpack on the way out the door.
You were impressed by how quickly he got rid of Ellie. You figured he must do it a lot to have a ready excuse on hand. But now that you had Joel alone, you didn’t know where to begin.
“How are you?” you asked quickly, satisfied to start off simply.
“Good.” Joel stared at you a moment with a small smile and his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His eyes turned to his cabinets. “You want somethin to drink?”
“Sure.”
He pulled out a bottle of dark liquid. “I got whiskey.”
“Ehh, no thanks,” you said and sat down at the table.
Joel was taken aback. “You don’t like whiskey?”
“Nah, I don’t like the taste.” You waved him off. “It’s alright. I don’t need anything.”
"Sorry,” he frowned. “S’all I got besides Rena’s moonshine.”
“Ooh! I’ll have that!”
“What?” He looked at you befuddled. “You like Rena’s moonshine over aged whiskey?”
“Yeah!”
He shook his head and sighed. “Well, alright then.” He pulled out two glasses and poured your drinks, replacing the bottles in the cabinet. He sat your glass next to you with a soft thunk on the wooden tabletop. He took his own seat at the opposite end, six feet away.
It felt different than the last time you visited and you couldn’t put a finger on why. The world outside, the past week or so–it all felt so far away.
“So what did you need me for?” you asked casually and sipped your moonshine. It was sharp and brutal and you coughed a little. Moonshine wasn’t meant to be sipped, but it didn’t feel right to down the whole glass at once. The man just sat down. You didn’t wanna make him get up again.
“What?” Joel glanced at the door and then back to you. “You just came here.” He punctuated with his finger on the table. “I figured you needed me for something.”
“Well, no. I mean–” You waved your hand around. “--you’ve been looking for me.”
“I– hmm …” He stared at you with his lips between his teeth and a question in his eyes. “Ezra mentioned you thought someone was lookin for you.” He tilted his head. “What was it that was makin you think that?”
“I kept hearing someone calling my name,” you answered plainly.
“Callin your name?” He shook his head. “Like… how? Just out loud?”
“I mean, kinda. It sounded like someone off in the distance. But it was more like a thought. Like a really loud thought.”
“Someone thinkin your name?”
“No. Just callin for me. Tryin to get my attention. Wantin me for somethin.”
He nodded slowly, fingers on his glass. “And you think it was me?”
“Well, yeah.” You responded as if it was obvious. “Ezra mentioned you asked about me and–”
“Did no one else ask about you? I mean, you were out and about all the time and then outta nowhere you just kinda… stopped.”
“No, there were others, but–”
“You makin house calls to them, too?”
“...No.” You were starting to doubt yourself, feeling Joel poke at you the way he was. But at the time, it was so loud and so clear–there was no room for misinterpretation.
“Just me, then?” he asked.
“Y-yeah.” You suddenly felt so stupid. Maybe you did fuck up. 
But it felt so real, though.
You took another sip of moonshine.
“So you thought I was callin for you–” he leaned back, smirking, looking cocky as hell. “--and you just came runnin?”
“I–” you blinked. Is that how it looks? Is that what really just happened? “I just wanted to see what you wanted,” you mumbled.
“Okay,” Joel chuckled. “Alright.” He took a sip of his whiskey.
You stared at your own glass–head swirling around with worry. ‘ Did I make it all up in my head again?’ You drank the rest of your moonshine in one go–social graces be damned.
Joel chuckled again. “You want s’more?”
“Sure,” you nodded rapidly.
He rose from his chair and pulled the jar of moonshine out again. “Ezra told me about when you made him go to LSU.”
You sighed. Grateful for the change of topic. “Yeah, he loves tellin that story.” You waved your hand. “He’s always goin crazy with it.”
His brow furrowed as he walked back over to you and refilled your glass. “It didn’t happen?”
“No, it did. I mean–” you smile warmly and shake your head. “--He always says we walked for twenty four hours, but he doesn’t know that for sure.” You two have argued countless times over it. “We didn’t have watches on.” You pointed at the one on Joel’s wrist. “It could have been sixteen or twenty or something.”
“But you did it.” Joel sat back down, leaving the jar of moonshine on the table.
“Yeah.”
“How’d you know where to go?”
“LSU used to be used as a hurricane shelter before the outbreak and sure enough, it got turned into a safe haven afterwards. We’d been hearin talk about it for a while, so it was our best bet. We walked from one interstate to the next, following the road signs like anyone else would.”
Joel hummed. “That makes sense.” He smiled briefly. “But… how did you know? How did you know for sure that they could help? That they would help?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly have any other options. He wanted to go to Florida but that meant crossin New Orleans from where we were at.” You looked at Joel dumbly. “I mean… New Orleans? After all that shit–” you spun your finger in the air. “--went down?” You shook your head. “Nuh-uh. I was not about to do all that. I mean, Baton Rouge ain’t much better but I knew New Orleans was a fuckin death trap.” You placed your hand on your chest. “No matter how near and dear that city was to my heart.”
He gave you another brief smile before he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But what if you were wrong?”
You shrugged. “Well, that woulda fuckin sucked then, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned back and laughed.
Making him laugh, making his face relax–even briefly–sent a warmth through you strong enough that you had to look away. You felt it between your legs, too, much to your embarrassment. But you could easily blame that on the alcohol. That’s just how you got when the poison kicked in. That and you started cursing a lot more.
It may have gotten a laugh out of him, but you needed to rein yourself in.
“Ezra makes it sound like I’m magic or psychic or something. But I’m not. I mean, everybody has an intuition. Mine is just really strong sometimes. And,” you shrugged as your lips grew into a tight smile. “Even then, sometimes I’m wrong.” Your eyes wandered the kitchen’s yellow walls. “Sometimes it’s all in my head.”
He grunted and nodded. Took another sip of his whiskey. “How long have you known Ezra?”
“Oh, since the beginning, really. He tells the story better than I do.” You tried to wave him off. “He makes it funnier.”
Joel leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Maybe I want the real story.”
You fought to hide your glowing smile. Between the two of you, Ezra was the storyteller and you were the listener. It wasn’t often you got to share your version of things. “I met him in a grocery store.” You played with the glass on the table as the words tumbled out of you. “I was alone and… following a trail of dead infected and, I don’t know, maybe some uninfected, too. I didn’t look all that closely. I was just lookin for somebody with a gun. And somebody had to be killin all those things. So I–” you threw your hand up. “--barged through the front doors and started singin at the top of my lungs hopin they would just shoot me and put me out of my misery.” Your eyes went wide as you stared at your glass distorting the wood grain beneath it.
“Why didn’t they?”
“Ezra says they were all too excited to see a girl the same age as them.” You looked up at Joel with only your eyes. “But I think they were conservin ammo, because I–” you pointed at your chest. “--I looked like shit.”
He smiled.
“Then… I started singin into those big deep freezers ‘cause they were empty and it made my voice echo all funny.” You grinned. “I was tryin to be real annoyin. Hopin it would make them just… get it over with quicker.” You smiled at yourself. You hadn’t had the strength to say you’d been bit. That would have really been the way to get the job done. “Ezra said his cousins were arguin over what to do, but he wound up choosin for ‘em because he comes outta the back screamin at me.” You remember how he looked, too. In a black Tool t-shirt and dirty jeans. His hair was matted with sweat and his beard was sparse and prickly. He looked like a tall, thin rat holding onto a shotgun by its barrel. “But he was screamin at me ‘cause I was singin the words wrong.”
“That’s what did it, huh?” Joel chuckled.
“Yep.” You nodded. “Ezra was trying to correct me and I shouted at him–” you screwed up your face. “--’Who cares about the lyrics? It’s the end of the world!’ and he yelled back, ‘No, it isn’t!’” You threw your fists down just like he did–like a little boy trying to get his way. “And he yanked me into the back room and introduced me to him and his cousins and gave me a knife.” You smirked at Joel with a shrug.
He grinned. Long fingers toying with his glass. “So that was it, huh?”
“That was it,” you said with a wave of your hand.
Joel wore a soft smile on his lips as he sipped his whiskey. “You’ve known him that long, huh?”
“Yep.” You tried not to think about it. All those memories and untold stories threatening to boil over your placid surface.
He tilted his head. He opened his mouth to say something before deciding otherwise. “You two are just… different.”
“In some ways we are, but we have a hell of a lot in common, too.” You nodded at Joel. Determined to stay cool, calm, and collected. “It’s been a long journey,” you added simply. 
“Sounds like it.” He stared at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. Something in his eyes was changing.
You smiled back politely as you tried to ignore the feeling in your gut–hoping that if you ignored it, then it would go away ( as if that ever fuckin worked ).
“Does he know you’re here right now?” Joel asked, brows up and worried.
You blinked. The way he asked it made you feel like you were doing something wrong. As if this visit was somehow tawdry. “He knows.”
“And it doesn’t bother him?”
“Should it?” Would it? You wondered.
“Maybe.”
You didn’t know how to respond. Anxiety bubbled inside of you. You felt sunken into the chair and–you realized–if you were there for less-than-pure reasons, you didn’t exactly mind.
Not with him standing up from his chair, jeans bulging between his legs, hair slowly curling as it dried.
He walked to your end of the table, jar of moonshine in his hand and refilled your glass. You hadn’t noticed that you emptied again. “I would want my woman visiting another man at night alone.” He screwed the lid back on the jar, metal ridges sliding against the glass. “Drinking all their liquor.”
Everything in the room had then shifted a few degrees. The air felt more humid. Your hearing felt cotton-y. The color of the floors and walls looked warmer–tinted red. You sipped the moonshine and it didn’t burn this time. It felt like the same temperature as the rest of you. 
“Ezra doesn’t keep me on a leash.” You looked up at him with just your eyes. He hadn’t moved yet. Still standing tall next to you. He was so close, so near. You could feel the heat coming from him–somehow distinct from the rest of the room. He smelled like leather. Leather and the whiskey he had been drinking. 
His hand moved forward, and two knuckles grazed your neck. “Do you want to be kept on a leash?”
You closed your eyes and sucked in a sharp breath of air. His touch sent pulses of electricity down your body. You could feel it in your gut, too. Strong oscillating waves of gravity pulling you towards him. A flurry of images played in your mind at a speed too fast to hold on to. You leaned your head back, but you didn’t move yourself away from his touch. “No. I don’t.”
His hand found its way to the back of your neck. His fingers scratched into your scalp. “You want something, though. Don’tchu?”
You kept your eyes closed, melting into his affection. “I-I don’t know.” You didn’t know how to voice it. You were too afraid to. Too afraid of saying the wrong thing and him stopping.
“Well, you came over here for somethin–”
You looked up at him with furrowed brows. “I came over here because you wanted somethin.”
“Right, right.” Joel chuckled. “It was all me.”
“It was you.” You gritted your teeth. He was playing tricks on you and you knew it. If he hadn’t wanted you, he wouldn’t have been touching you the way he was. All tender and perfect.
“Sure thing, darlin.” Joel shook his head with a smile.
You rolled your eyes and he released your head. You immediately missed his touch.
He put his hands on his hips. “But even if it was, you still showed up, didn’t you?”
“I–” you wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You were too warm, too turned on, too eager to see where Joel wanted to take you. He was standing waist high in swirling, muddy waters and offering you his hand. You sighed. “You’re right. I did.”
Ambrosial. That was what Ezra would call it when you gave into those urges that everyone else told you to keep at bay. Divine. “I can’t keep this from him. From Ezra.”
“That’s good,” he said quickly and earnestly. He pulled out the chair next to you and moved it to your side, so he could sit down without the table between you. He put his large hand on your knee, thumb on one side and long fingers splayed on the other. “Cause I want you to tell him everything,” he said harshly. His hand slid up your thigh with a light squeeze. “I want him to know–everything .”
Your mouth hung open in shock. Nothing had even happened yet exactly but goddamn his hand on you felt like a searing hot stove and you wanted to be branded. Branded all over. You wanted marks and bruises and aching bones that told everyone in town what Joel did to you to get off–not just for Ezra’s knowledge.
Fuck, it felt so good to be alive.
“D-Do you often go lookin for women who already have partners?”
“No,” he said quickly with a shake of his head. His other hand joined the first, rubbing up and down your thighs. “First time.” He said licking his lips and staring at yours.
Your stomach swooped. You wanted to kiss those lips but you couldn’t will yourself to move.
“Can’t help myself, I guess,” he smirked at you, looking into your eyes. “Can’t help but think–” the man looked starving for you. “--that you could use somethin different after all these years.”
You felt like you were gonna faint. You had never–no one had ever hypnotized you before with such basic, carnal desire. And Ezra– “Ezra’s the only man… I’ve ever been with.”
“Good,” he nodded. “I like that.” One hand left your thigh and found your neck, fingers wrapping and guiding you towards him. He pressed his lips into yours and you could taste his whiskey–a taste much better indulged on someone else’s lips–no, on his lips. 
Joel Miller, a man you barely knew, was kissing you in his house at his beautifully lime-washed kitchen table.
Too much.
Too new.
Your brain couldn’t compute.
He broke his lips from you briefly and pulled you upward to stand. With his hands on your hips, he guided you to sit on the table.
You anxiously grazed his body along the edge of your palms. Your limbs felt detached as they moved in slow motion.
He pulled away, smirking. “You this soft with Ezra?”
You wanted to hide your face. “No, I just… don’t know what to do–what you want.”
He grinned wide, hazy eyes staring at your lips. “I want whatever you want, darlin.” He grinded his clothed hardness between your legs. “C’mon, now.”
You moaned at his girth pressing into you. “Okay, okay,” you nodded.
You grabbed the back of his neck and licked into his mouth. Your other hand scratched up his back and then pulled his chest tight against you. You rolled your hips into his, cunt pulsing around nothing–just the anticipation of his fat cock stretching you out.
“That’s what I’m talkin ‘bout.” He grunted and thrusted hard against you. “That’s what I want.”
You kept at it, rubbing your clit against his thickness. You were both fully clothed, dry humping like horny teenagers. But you didn’t wanna stop to take anything off. Didn’t wanna do a single thing different. You continued chasing your high, moaning and whimpering.
Joel matched your rhythm. His hands squeezed your ass cheeks, molding and toying with what he could through the thick fabric of your pants. Mouth sucking and tonguing your neck–leaving cooling lines of spit.
“Oh my god!” You cried out, feeling that tell-tale burn rising up in you.
“Yeah? You gonna come, darlin?” Joel spoke into the skin beneath your ear. “You gonna come and I ain’t even touched you, yet?”
“Mhmm! Mhmm!” You panted and writhed against him.
The whole table was moving and shaking and scraping the floor. Every grunt and moan reverberated and echoed loud and uninhibited. Your empty glass of moonshine fell over and Joel reached out to pick it up in his hand.
You bit into his shoulder when you came with a sharp sob–mouth full of his cotton t-shirt and whatever flesh you were able to grab beneath it.
“Fuck, darlin,” Joel groaned, his hips slowing and stopping. He released the glass from his hand and pushed you back flat on the table. He pulled your shirt up, exposing only your stomach. He rushed to get his cock out, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants in the flash of a second.
Your stomach dropped at the sight of it, russet and aching. Uncut and angry. He wrapped his hand around the head, pumping himself furiously.
Your cunt was still pulsing, aftershocks rippling through every muscle in your abdomen. 
He slapped his free hand down on the table next to your shoulder and leaned over you. He looked into your eyes–his own were red and glazed over. His expression was pained–lips and brows pulled tight. He called out your name and it echoed in your mind like it had for the past week and a half. Him calling and calling for you. Again and again.
His hips stilled suddenly and he came on your stomach, spend soaking into the edges of your shirt and pants.
You looked up at him with wonder. Wondering what was happening and what it all meant.
He sighed with a smirk and fell on top of you, nuzzling into your neck.
You wrapped your arms around him, hands sliding up  and down the planes of his back as air filled and emptied his lungs.
“That was good,” he said, kissing you softly.
“Yeah.” The word came out of you with a breath. “It really was.” You stared at his ceiling, wondering if the light fixture came with the house or if Joel had replaced it himself.
+++++++
Just like you said you would, and just like Joel told you to, you told Ezra everything. You tried to start at the beginning and work your way through but there were so many emotions involved and you kept jumping around and trying to explain it all out while you were wringing your hands and pacing the small main room of your apartment.
Ezra looked dazed the whole time you spoke, only glancing at you every once in a while. It made you so nervous that you couldn’t stop–you couldn’t stop talking and describing and explaining.
“Are you gonna fuck him?” he asked, eyes half-lidded, his breaths short and high in his chest.
“I-I-I don’t know.” You hadn’t exactly made more plans with Joel.
“You wanna fuck him?”
“Yeah.” There was no denying it. “I do.”
He looked like he was gonna be sick and it scared you. Then his hand slid between his legs and he started palming himself. You hadn’t noticed he was hard.
“You wanna fuck him, baby?” he asked again, more urgently. “You wanna fuck him?”
You nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered.
“Yeah?” He cried out. “Yeah?” he asked louder.
“Yeah, baby.” You said as you looked into his fervent gaze. “I wanna fuck him.”
Ezra’s whole body went tense. His eyes shut tight as he keened, squeezing himself through his jeans. It took a few minutes for him to come back down. His breathing was heavy as he rested his head on the back of the couch.
He looked like he had gotten the fuck of his lifetime and all he had done was sit there. He swallowed hard. His adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t think–” He licked his lips. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard since I was in juvie.”
You put your hands on your hips, staring down at this man you’d known and grown to love over the course of twenty years. You laughed.
Ezra picked up his head and smirked. Then he started laughing, too.
For how good it all was, it still scared the shit outta you. You barely knew Joel. You barely knew anyone in Jackson, in a way. For all the good will you’d developed over your time there, you weren’t sure what kind of social consequences would occur if word got out about this.
You also weren’t sure if you really gave a shit.
--------------
there's more chapters to come, fyi!
Authors Note: What song were you singing that Ezra was correcting you on? That's up to YOU! I didn't wanna be too specific. In my mind, Ezra was definitely into Tool, Rage Against The Machine, Jay Z. I bet Ezra lost his damn mind the first time he heard hip-hop.
tags: @toxicanonymity @walkintotheriveranddisappear (oops! forgot to tag u!)
Part 1 part 3
(story masterlist)
(my masterlist)
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jessahmewren · 9 months
Text
Trial
4.6k / Ezra x Fem!Reader
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Warnings: 18+ mdni. Dystopian society, noncon/dubcon, rape, forced breeding, breeding kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, come play, oral (f receiving), pussy slapping, sexual slavery/bondage, brief mention of su*cidal thoughts, implied squirting, nicknames (darlin', pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc), no use of y/n.
Summary: You are one of the last fertile women on a desolate world, subjected to an endless cycle of abuse in the name of the greater good. All of the men are nameless, faceless brutes. Until you meet Ezra.
Also on AO3
All thanks to @two-birds-alone-together for the excellent beta!
You crane your neck up to look toward the door. A tall, broad man in blue scrubs walks toward you. He is tan, his eyes a deep brown. There’s a curious white patch at the front of his hair, and it’s brushed downward, making him appear boyish. But he is no boy. He has strong shoulders and large hands…a well-defined nose. He approaches your head where you lay against the table and looks down at you.
-0-0-0-
You’re little more than breeding stock. You know that now. On this planet, to this endless parade of doctors and scientists, your entire worth has dwindled down to your fertility…what you can grow in your womb to repopulate a planet devastated by civil war.
You never thought you would long for the mining colony you’d been kidnapped from…for the hardships of your life before. You’d spent cycles in the mines without rest or food, scrabbling to make points from what you could unearth from the gas-ridden caves. But you were free. Your body was your own, until one day a routine blood test changed your life forever.
You’ve been in the same room for so many cycles you’ve lost count. You’re intimately familiar with the tiles on the ceiling, the harsh fluorescent lighting, the low couch by the window that looks comfortable, but that you’ve never been allowed to sit on. You’re strapped to a table, legs spread and cunt on display. It horrified you at first…the clinical exams, the blatant disregard for your comfort. Your cheeks burn with the memory of your first “trial.” You had kicked and screamed until they’d sedated you. You woke up sore with cum dripping out of you, no question as to what had happened.
Now they don’t bother with sedatives. You no longer fight. The punishing march of cycles has sapped your will. You’re never getting out, not unless you give them what they want. Unless your belly becomes round with new life, your life, as far as you can see, is over.
Tears are dried on your face from the last trial. It’s your fertile time, they’ve informed you, so the trials are daily now. The next man, one of the institute’s finest specimens of virility, no doubt, fucks you with a bored expression on his face. You look at the ceiling. You can feel his cock twitch after about a minute, feel his precious seed fill you to overflowing. He snarls as he comes, digging his blunt nails into your thigh.
The only mercy is that it never lasts long.
He backs up from where you are laid bare to him and puts himself away. “Did you come?” he asks perfunctorily. “The doctors say it’s more likely to take if you do.”
You say nothing. Of course you didn’t come. You never have. You were a virgin when they brought you here. You’ve never even touched yourself. Daily rape is not going to change that.
He shakes his head at your silence. You can feel his seed running out of you. A single tear tracks down your face, and you hear the door shut behind him.
A nurse comes in once a day to clean you up. It’s not enough. You have at least three trials a day, different men each time, and multiple blood tests. Your menses comes when you’re due, without fail. No pregnancy. No hope of ever escaping this hell you’re trapped in.
You’ve thought about killing yourself, but there’s no way to do it. Your arms are tied down away from your body. Your feet are secured and your legs forced apart. You’re never given sharp objects; your meals are liquid. Every cycle the sun rises and you wish again that you were dead.
It’s another early morning when you hear a soft knock at the door. That’s new, you think. No one ever knocks. They come in, use your body for tests or trials, and leave, usually without a word. If you don’t die from the abuse they are putting you through, then maybe you will die from loneliness. It would be a mercy.
Another knock on the door, and it piques your interest like nothing has in a long time. “Come in,” you say in a raspy voice. It’s been so many cycles since last you spoke, your lips can barely find the words. The door opens, and you brace yourself for what comes next.
You crane your neck up to look toward the door. A tall, broad man in blue scrubs walks toward you. He is tan, his eyes a deep brown. There’s a curious white patch at the front of his hair, and it’s brushed downward, making him appear boyish.
But he is no boy. He has strong shoulders and large hands…a well-defined nose. He approaches your head where you lay against the table and looks down at you.
That also, is new. Most men who come in go straight between your legs. You almost never see them up close. Sometimes you never see them at all.
“Hi darlin’,” he says, his peculiar drawl thick and syrupy. He’s smiling down at you a little lopsided, his head cocked slightly. “Let’s get you all undone, now. Let you stretch your legs a bit.”
You blink up at him, trying to comprehend this radical change in protocol. He’s already working on the restraints binding your arms, then the large one across your middle. He moves down to your feet, and your gaze immediately finds the ceiling, expecting the worst.
Instead, he loosens those restraints as well. When he sees the reddened skin around your ankles, he tuts, taking one of your feet and gently massaging it. You say nothing, wondering if this is some sort of cruel joke. You’ve never been unrestrained during a fertile time before, not since you first arrived.
The man returns to your head. He takes one of your hands in his, thumb making little sweeps over your skin. It’s the first time someone has touched you with any sort of kindness in a long time, and tears spring to your eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he says softly. “My name’s Ezra.”
You look up at him and reflexively draw your hand away. You marvel at being able to move your arms. They’re stiff and tingly from being bound, but you relish the sensation. You whisper your name and he smiles.
“That’s beautiful darlin’,” he says pleasantly. He holds out his hand again while his other hovers near your shoulder. “Need some help sitting up?”
The first thing you do is close your legs, wincing at the pain in your atrophied muscles. Your modesty intact for the first time in a long time, you let Ezra gently pull you to a sitting position. The hospital gown covers you, finally, and you let your legs dangle over the side of the table.
You still avoid his gaze, though you can feel it burn you where it lands. You chance a glance at him and his eyes are soft, thoughtful.
“I bet a shower would do you a world of good,” he says, still congenial…still seemingly kind. You’re unused to it. It makes you immediately suspicious.
“Are you…are you a nurse?” You ask him. The only time you’ve been cleaned up (and those were hasty wipe downs with a cold basin of water) was by nurses during your scant few bathroom breaks. A shower, as unbelievable as that sounds, still feels like a trick.
He chuckles at that. “Not a nurse, sweetheart. Here to take care of you, though. Here to make you feel good.”
You frown. How could you possibly feel good in a place like this? After all that’s been done to you? You shake your head in refusal.
He sighs, leaving you sitting on the side of the table. “Let me start the shower for you, darlin’. You think you can manage by yourself?” His brow is furrowed, his eyes sympathetic. “I know it’s been a while since you stood.”
Suddenly you see the adjacent bathroom. You watch Ezra as he walks into it; you listen as the water turns on. Hot steam wafts from the open door, and you close your eyes.
Then you remember…the door to your room. It’s probably open. You can get away, or try to. This is the first time you’ve had any actual hope of escape, and you’re drunk off of it.
You bolt toward the door, but your numb legs betray you. You fall on your face, crying out, the hard floor jarring your bones. Ezra is by your side in moments.
“Ah, now,” he soothes, taking you up by your shoulders. “Can’t be running off like that. I’m trying to help ya honey. Nothing more.”
You look up at him where he holds you in his arms. He’s handsome, you think distantly, but the realization has no physical effect on you. You lost any sexual desire you had a long time ago, when these people weaponized reproductive organs as a means to an end, a tool to be used for the greater good.
Ezra helps you to your feet. His hands are big and calloused, but they’re warm. You’re not used to gentleness. It makes you wary, but you find yourself craving it all the same.
He leads you into the bathroom…stands you up by the sink. He offers you his arm, looking away as you step out of your hospital gown.
The steam feels so good on your skin; you’ve been cold for so long that your very pores starve for warmth. Ezra leaves you and you step under the hot spray. A wanton little sound of relief, the nearest sound you’ve ever made to pleasure escapes your lips, and you snap your mouth shut.
You spend the next few minutes washing your body, your hair, letting the suds run over your skin and down the drain. You clean the dried semen from your folds, scrubbing just a little too roughly. You stand there swaying under the water. You haven’t had a hot shower since your youth, since before you were sent to the mines. You huff a disbelieving laugh at how good it feels. You forget about Ezra and stay there until the water runs cold.
When you step out of the bathroom, there’s a fresh gown waiting for you on the counter. You towel off, slipping it on over your head. Feeling the cool, threadbare cotton against you just reminds you of where you are, what your purpose is, and the previous contentment from the shower, scant as it was, immediately evaporates.
You pad out of the bathroom and onto the cold tile. Your legs are still wobbly. You’re lightheaded from the hot shower, and before you know it the entire room tilts.
But you never hit the floor. Ezra catches you under the arms, sweeping you up to cradle against his chest like you weigh nothing. He murmurs something, his voice a low and pleasant rumble, but your ears are still ringing. He sits you down beside him…not on the cruel examination table, but on the couch.
You come back to yourself, and Ezra is tucking your wet hair behind your ear. He lets his hand linger by your cheek in a soft caress. You blink up at him, not understanding.
“Why am I on the couch?” you ask. Ezra looks confused, then his face transforms into a wide smile.
“Well, it seemed a mite more comfortable than where you were,” he says softly. He ducks his head, trying to catch your furtive gaze. “You feel better?”
The question catches you off guard. You do a quick, basic self-assessment and realize that you do feel a tiny bit better. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Thank you for the shower.”
Ezra preens, seemingly pleased by your gratitude. He tracks his thumb back and forth across the soft skin of your cheek, humming to himself. After a moment, he leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead.
You instantly recoil, pressing your back to the end of the couch. He scoots forward, crowding you a bit. Your heart picks up.
“Mmm,” he hums, that low rumble coming from deep in his chest. “Y’ smell good.”
You bite your lip, refusing to meet his eyes. “I smell like hospital body wash,” you say, still trying to parse what’s actually going on.
He drags his knuckles up your bare leg, and you look at him. His eyes are dark, his strong nose scenting the air. “Wasn’t talking about the soap,” he says, grin lopsided, and then you realize.
He’s here for a trial.
You swallow hard. He’s got his arms braced on either side of you; it unfurls a strange warmth in your belly. It feels like fear…anticipation, but you’re not really afraid of him.
“If you’re gonna fuck me then just fuck me.” You look up, your mouth a firm line. “Why play all of these games?”
He tuts again, eyes bright and looking at you softly. He floats his hand down the column of your neck, settling at your shoulder.
“Such harsh words, sweet thing.” He gives your shoulder a little squeeze, and your skin burns with his touch. “I’m going to make it so good for you. You have my word.”
A little thrill goes through you, and you shiver. Without a word he pulls you to him, wrapping you up in a warm embrace. He’s speaking, but you don’t register much of it. It’s soft nonsense, words you would use to calm a frightened child or animal. You close your eyes against the white noise, and your nose catches his scent.
It’s uniquely masculine, something earthy and rich. Saliva pools in your mouth.
He holds you there for a long time, whispering soothing words into the shell of your ear. He trails his hands down your arms, smoothing the gooseflesh he finds there.
“You cold baby? You need a blanket?”
He leaves you on the couch, going to a closet and withdrawing a blanket. In all your cycles here, it’s a comfort you’ve never been offered. He wraps it around your shoulders, rubbing his hands over it like he can stoke warmth into your bones.
“Th-thanks,” you say, your teeth chattering. You realize it’s not entirely from cold.
Once you’re wrapped up, Ezra leans in again and you stiffen but do not pull away. You realize this is a foregone conclusion. Ezra is here for a trial, and nothing you do is going to change that.
He noses the skin beneath your ear, and you exhale. He presses his lips in a trail down your neck, gentle little pecks. When he reaches the fluttering pulse there, he seals his mouth over it and sucks.
You gasp softly and arch against him, feeling the warmth in your belly from before travel lower and settle between your legs. You feel your heartbeat throb in your center. That’s never happened before, and it makes you want to squeeze your thighs together to make it stop.
You reach up between you and press a hand against his chest.
“I won’t fight you,” you say. Your voice is thready and soft, and you hate how demure it sounds. “Just do what you have to do.”
He ignores you, letting his tongue wet your skin where his mouth is still sealed over your neck, then he teases it with his teeth. You tremble again, from nerves or cold you know not. “Ezra,” you whisper breathily, and he groans.
“You got me so worked up, darlin’,” he breathes against your neck. He kisses down to where your collarbone juts out of the wide neck of the hospital gown and closes his lips over it. He pulls away, observing the flush of your cheek, your shallow breath.
“Gonna take care of you,” he murmurs. “Gonna put a baby in you. Maybe two. Right here.”
You look down and he has his large hand splayed over your stomach. Your pulse quickens. Your gown is hitched up, and your legs are on display.
You shake your head. “Can’t get pregnant,” you say, “no matter what the blood tests say.” You turn your head, cheeks blooming red. “Been through many trials. Nothing’s ever worked.”
Ezra pouts, pecking at the line of your jaw. “Bet no one’s ever made you feel good though,” he says, his hand sliding from your stomach down your thigh to catch the edge of your gown. “Bet no one’s ever fingered this pretty little pussy before.”
Your mouth pops open, and he uses it as an excuse to claim your lips. His are full and soft, and your eyes slip shut. You’ve never kissed anyone before, so you have no comparison, but you like the way it makes you feel…warm, wanted. His whiskers tickle your chin. He slips his tongue in your mouth and your eyes fly open, a little noise purring deep in your throat.
He moans into the kiss, probing your mouth with his slick tongue. Tentatively you kiss him back, unsure of exactly how, so you simply touch your tongue to his and hope it’s enough.
His hand slips up your thigh and you feel a gush of liquid between your legs. You pull away, mortified, and move to stand. “I think I need to go to the bathroom,” you stammer. You feel strangely off balance. Your skin’s on fire, and there’s a steady ache between your legs.
You’ve never felt this way before. Something’s wrong…Ezra has done something to you and you don’t understand what.
Your legs are shaking, and you look down at the wet spot on the couch. “Oh no,” you murmur, face red. You feel the sudden need to hide, but there’s nowhere to go, and Ezra has both hands on your arms.
“Sit down, sweet girl.” There’s color to his cheeks, too, and you can see his hard cock tenting the front of his scrub pants. He pulls you back down and gently kisses your cheek. “It’s normal, honey,” he says sweetly. “It’s what’s ‘sposed to happen. That little pussy just needs a cock is all. It’s crying for one.”
Your core throbs, and you feel even wetter at his crass words. The dull pulsating sensation is now more urgent, sharp and unceasing. You want to touch, thinking that would make it go away, but you’re not sure how or where.
Ezra places his hand back on the inside of your leg, slowly dragging it upwards. He kisses you again, gentler this time. His hand reaches the humid juncture of your leg and pelvis, and he pets through your damp curls with the back of his hand.
“Unngh,” he moans into your mouth, then pulls away. He withdraws his hand, and his knuckles shine in the sunlight coming through the window. “Haven’t even got my hands on you properly and you’re already soaked. Kevva’s sake, girl.”
You’re trembling again, gripping Ezra’s upper arms. He slips beneath your gown once more, parting your seam with two big fingers.
“Oh shit,” he breathes, scooting up some on the couch. “You’re dripping, babygirl.” He locks eyes with you, and his are impossibly dark. “This all for me?”
You bite your lip and tell him the truth. “I don’t understand,” you say, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. “This has never happened before.”
He smiles, his eyes sparkling. “Good,” he says around a smirk. “You mean you’ve never touched this pretty thing, not once?”
He pulls your gown up, exposing your soaked cunt to the cold air. You shiver. “Kevva be damned, you’re beautiful darlin’.”
He drags through your folds with those same two fingers, groaning at the wet heat. He finds your clit, giving it an experimental little tap, then circling it with his thumb. Your legs quiver and your head falls back.
Your panting now, chest heaving, arms braced against the couch. You unconsciously widen your legs and feel yourself leak onto the cushion.
“Goddamn,” Ezra groans. “You’re unbelievable baby.” He makes another gentle circle over your clit, and you can scarcely believe the sound you make.
You can feel your body tightening. Your muscles go rigid and your toes curl. The warmth in your belly returns, spreading out to your limbs. “Ezra…,” you say, tears in your eyes. He continues his ministrations, shushing you gently. “You’re just aroused, sweet girl.” He dips into your folds, bringing more of your essence to your swollen clit. Something’s about to happen…you can feel it. Your heart beats faster…your skin feels tight. Ezra presses one of his fingers against your entrance and locks eyes with you. “Gonna give you one finger, my good girl. Just one. Give you something to clench around.”
You nod, not sure what you’re agreeing too. It’s all so much so quickly. Ezra smiles and looks down to where his finger enters your body.
You cry out, and he’s barely a knuckle deep when your walls close around him. He pumps his finger in an out, hooking it just so. You see stars. Your vision goes black at the edges, and your legs shake. He coos, laying you back onto the couch. He’s still working you through it until you start to whine, overstimulated.
He’s showering your face with kisses when he finally stops circling your clit. He withdraws his finger, giving your pussy a slap. His palm falls wetly against your folds, causing a pleasurable little sting.
You’re still catching your breath when he’s opening your thighs again. “You were so good for me, sweet girl, taking that finger. Did I hurt your little clit, rubbing it so hard?” He’s trailing his hand over your abdomen. It tickles, and the skin there quivers. You shake your head.
“Uh huh.” His hand slips down between your legs, cupping your pussy. You groan, arousal stirring again. “I’m gonna kiss it better all the same.”
He slides down the couch, kissing his way over your belly, to the top of your mound. “Ezra,” you moan, and he has to palm himself. “Ezra, please.”
He noses your curls, chin bumping against your folds. You groan louder, feeling the pressure build inside of you. He seals his lips over that tender bud and sucks.
You arch off the couch, crying out. Your heels dig into the cushions and your hands drop to his hair. He nips your clit with his teeth, stealing your breath, and still travels lower.
He looks up at you, eyes hooded. Your slick paints his mustache and patchy beard. You feel a fresh gush of it coat your thighs at the sight.
He probes your entrance with his tongue, and you twist under him. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. There’s pain in the pleasure, but you also need more. He licks a stripe up your seam, and it makes you shake. “You taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, and the vibrations of his voice against you almost send you spiraling. “Could stay here all cycle.”
His lips return to your clit, swirling his tongue around the little bundle of nerves. Two fingers probe your entrance, and he slides them in without warning. It’s a stretch; your walls flutter around him to accommodate the intrusion. Then he starts to move.
“Goddamn pretty girl. I think you can take another.” He slides in his ring finger aside the other two after just two pumps, and you groan at the stretch.
“So full,” you murmur, already cock drunk and you haven’t even had it yet. He pumps his fingers in and out of you while eating you out, feeling your cunt tighten and clench around him.
“Gonna give me another sweet girl? One more before you take this cock?”
You find yourself nodding…anything just so he doesn’t stop. He crooks his fingers and presses into that spongey spot inside you, and you keen.
It hits you like a lightning bolt. The tension in your belly unspools, and before you can stop yourself you’re riding his face, hands clenched in his hair. You know it must hurt, but you can’t be bothered to care.
He coaxes you back down with soothing words, his soaked hand rubbing little circles on your inner thigh. “That’s my good girl,” he says to you over and over. “Gonna take this cock so well.”
When you finally come down he’s holding himself, languidly stroking your juices over his shaft.
Your eyes immediately go to the cock in his hand. It’s big…you’re not entirely sure it will fit. Your mouth goes dry as you notice the little bead of precum clinging to the tip.
“It’ll fit, darlin,” he says, reading your mind. “Gonna fill you up good. Like nobody else.”
His cock twitches, and he gives it a squeeze. “Gonna put a baby in me,” you murmur, and he smiles, cock lined up at your entrance. “That’s right, sweetheart. That’s what I said.”
The fat head of his cock breaches your entrance and you gasp. It’s a stretch, and once you’ve adjusted he eases a few inches inside you.
You both groan in unison. You can feel yourself relaxing around him, the initial twinge and stretch all but gone. It’s always hurt before. It’s never felt like this.
He’s got both elbows planted on either side of your head. He bends down to kiss you, and sinks his cock to the hilt.
You moan into the kiss. For a few moments neither of you move. His breath is coming in warm puffs. His hips are moving in little thrusts; he’s not fully fucking you yet…it’s like he’s settling in.
“Knew this pussy would take me,” he grits out. “So perfect. So tight.” He pulls out and then slams back in. It takes your breath. He finds a rhythm, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into your tight heat. His pelvis grinds against your clit. He balances on one arm, pulling up your hospital gown and exposing your chest.
You blush. He looks at you in awe, then bends and licks a stripe up your sternum. “Knew these tits would be perfect, too,” he says before taking one his mouth.
Your mouth drops open. He’s fucking you hard, and you’re so full you wonder briefly if they’ll be any room for his seed. You wrap your legs around him, the wet squelch of your bodies joining and your harsh breathing the only sounds in the room.
He pulls off your breast, a string of saliva dragging from his lips. “I’d come on these pretty titties if it wouldn’t be a waste of seed,” he stammers out. His hips are stuttering…there’s high color to his cheeks, and his hair is soaked in sweat. He flicks one of your hard nipples and it goes white at the sting. “Maybe next time.”
You clench around him at the thought of a next time. He pulls out suddenly and flips you on your belly. He slaps your thigh. “On your knees for me, sweet girl. Gonna pound you deep.” You’ve barely processed what he’s saying before he’s slipped inside you again, fucking you at a furious pace. He is hitting you deeper at this angle, you marvel, and a blooming warmth starts unfurling in your body even more rapidly than before.
Ezra reaches for your clit with his free hand, and it sends you over the edge. You soak his cock, and he groans, pulling you up and grabbing your hips in a bruising grip. A few more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you; his hot release branding your insides.
He collapses against you. You’re both breathing heavily, your body slicked in sweat. Ezra stays there for a long time, pressing sloppy kisses into your shoulder.
You feel sleepy, fucked out. Your eyes slip closed as Ezra slips out of you. He presses what seed escapes back into your loose hole, holding it inside with his fingers.
“Gonna take, pretty girl. We’re gonna populate the new world, you and me. Gonna be a regular Adam and Eve.”
You moan into the couch cushion. You’re pleasantly sore, and your mind is blissfully blank. Ezra’s fingers wiggle within, and you clench around him, trying to keep him inside.
You never wanted to help repopulate the world, you can’t help but think. But if Ezra was by your side, maybe a baby wouldn’t be so bad.
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60 notes · View notes
princessanglophile · 4 months
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Official List of The Wonderful World of Pedro Fics
Hi everyone! You voted. The full list of which Pedro boys and Disney Princess AUs is down below the cut. But before you look a few things:
I do apologize if I didn't match your favorite Pedro boy with your favorite Disney movie/princess. I matched them based off of what I think would best fit each Princess' story and the ideas I came up with.
If you'd like, I can find some other Pedro Disney Princess AUs and recommend them to you. And I can always write one with the boy and princess of your choosing, just not as part of this series.
I'm also kind of scared at what your reactions are going to be. I really hope to please everybody ❤️
Also, keep in mind, this is not a masterlist. I will post the official masterlist sometime soon. I probably won't get around to this till sometime in the new year. I am swamped with finals right now and my priority will be finishing The Flower of the North Season 2 right after. I will update you on when the first AU will be out.
With all that out of the way, look below at the cut at the official list:
🍎 Snow White 🍎
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👠 Cinderella 👠
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💤 Sleeping Beauty 💤
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🐚 The Little Mermaid 🐚
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🥀 Beauty and the Beast 🥀
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🧞‍♂️ Aladdin 🧞‍♂️
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🍂 Pocahontas 🍂
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⚔️ Mulan ⚔️
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🌃 Enchanted 🌃
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🐸 The Princess and the Frog 🐸
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🍳 Tangled 🍳
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🐻 Brave 🐻
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❄️ Frozen ❄️
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🌊 Moana 🌊
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Some of these may be odd choices, but I promise I got plans 😉
Hope you like these! (And if you don't, that's OK. Just please don't get rude about it).
Feel free to message me in my inbox if you got any questions 👑
33 notes · View notes
magpiepills · 4 months
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Kill Shot part 3: Gut the Fencer
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Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY MDNI
Pairing: Ezra x f! Reader
Word count: 2.3k
Summary: the final part of our reader’s adventure in the green!
Warnings: including but not limited to: SMUT! DUBCON! Anal play, toys, PIV, double penetration, spanking, foot stuff, teasing, misuse of aurelac, angst, manipulation, dark! Ezra, human trafficking, bondage, so on and so forth. Don’t read this if you’re sensitive to any of these things.
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A word from the author: the grand finale! I’m so excited to finish this story, to write Ezra as the dirty dog I know he is, to make him dark the way I think he has the propensity to be. I love him, your honor. Really I do. I will talk about Ezra all day if anyone is so inclined! Thank you so much for reading this garbage. I love you. Most love of all for the magic sluts.
Blood rushed through your ears, pounding with your heart as you darted back up the little hill, not caring to cover your tracks. Let them find him! you thought. If you got to him first it wouldn’t matter. Your anger and rage gave way to humiliation and despair. You’d trusted him and you’d been had. What chance did you have now of ever getting back home? Ezra was gone. Gone the aurelac, gone your kit, soon you’d be gone too, one way or another.
You felt sorry for yourself. You thought of something else your grandmother used to say. “Broken hearts want broken necks.” It ached to think of her. You cried, unable to wipe away your tears, they dripped down your cheeks. Your pace slowed as you tried to follow the almost imperceptible desire path that had been made back toward Ezra’s tent. You had to watch your step, ever vigilant of the spore producers that could overwhelm your filter, the rocks and vines, the biting insects, the animals in the trees. So many threats lurked.
You were glad the BG line was shutting down. This Kevva forsaken moon was cursed. Everyone who came here was cursed. Nothing good was here. You kicked and shoved at the branches in your path and as if on cue, you snagged your boot on a vine and fell forward until you were abruptly snatched back up by your arm.
“What are you doing out here?” That familiar voice hissed. “Where are you going, pussycat? Where are you running with no thrower?” His voice was low, angry with a top note of suspicion. Jerking from his grip, your spun to face him, hurt and seething. “YOU left ME, Ezra! I don’t have a thrower because YOU took it. YOU took MY aurelac!” There was more to scream at him, but your voice was cracking so you charged at him instead. You could take out his knees, knock him down, disarm him, and dispatch him. That was the best plan. It was your only plan until your shoulder met his chest and he barely wavered. He just put an arm around you and dared to laugh. “Pussycat. I met with the Sater. They are early risers and I didn’t want to disturb you. I should have told you I was leaving. I apologize for the oversight.”
You softened against him, trying to work out if you should believe him or not.
“Why’d you meet the Sater?” It came out more accusatory than you meant. Ezra smiled at you, wide and boyish. “Let’s discuss this back on the ship. While we walk you can tell me where you were going to so fast that you nearly rolled down this ravine?” He took your hand and led you, looking back every few steps to watch with a sympathetic scowl as you told him how you were frightened when you woke up alone, how you thought he’d used you, abandoned you, left you to die.
By the time you made it back to the ship, apologies were made and re-made, vows to never leave you again sworn, and looks of devotion and care and desire exchanged.
Inside the ship, your suits were stripped, his hands cupped your face and yours twisted in his soft undershirt.
Your back met the paneled wall as Ezra’s forehead fell
against yours, he lifted you and held you in place against him. “I’ve got to tell you. I wanted to wait until
It was all finished, but I can’t wait. I went to finalize an entente with the Sater. Our smallest gem for a starter that I can hot wire to this derelict ship. It won’t be long.” You were speechless. It was too good to be true. “Ezra…” you started, but he stopped you with a kiss. “You need to understand me now, Pussycat. I found you for a reason. I’m not keen to give you up. The aurelac is yours, this ship is yours, and you are mine.” He punctuated the last word with a firm push against your wet pussy, making you whine and rock your hips. “This pussy is mine. These tits are mine. Your hands, your mouth, all mine.” His cock swelled against your mound, more precum beading at the swollen head.
“You’re going to let me have you however I want, and I’m going to give you a little present.” You nodded, servile and soft for him.
He moved you back into the bunk where you woke up alone, and called you his sweet girl, his good girl, his only one. He kissed you and squeezed you, made you putty in his rough hands. Arousal dampening your panties so that they stuck to you, translucent, making you throb just to this side of discomfort. He sat up and pulled you across his lap, ass up, legs splayed. He murmured something unintelligible and loving caressed the back of your thighs, up over the swell of your ass, tugging your panties to wedge between your cheeks and pull taut against your aching pussy. Back down, he massaged you, everywhere but where you needed him most. Down your inner thighs, nudging against your puffy lips. As one hand made it’s way up your calf, the other kneaded your ass and inched down to tease at the wet fabric over your entrance.
Circling your ankle in his hand, he pulled your foot toward him, bringing your toes to his mouth and sucking two at a time, making you jump in surprise at the strange sensation. No one had ever done such a thing. It felt dirtier than anything else he had done. While he sucked and hummed around the little digits, his other hand played lazily with your pussy, smacking it gently through the wet fabric, pressing the saturated cotton into your folds to show every detail of your center. He finally turned loose of your foot, but returned his attention ten-fold back to your cunt. Both hands were on you, rubbing, pressing, massaging, smearing slick as he praised your obsequiousness.
You tried hard to keep your breathing steady, so worked up but with no relief, you pinched, pulled, rolled your nipples and keened, rolling your hips looking for more anything. Ezra answered your prayers with one more loud, stinging smack to your pussy.
“Are you ready for your present now? I think you are, if the way you’re soaking my leg is any indication.” You thought he might leave you, go get your gift, but he pulled a small case from under the pillow. An aurelac case. An odd gift considering the amount of aurelac you had struck, but you watched with curiosity as he slid the case in front of you, leaving you across his lap, adjusting his cock.
As expected, inside you found a small aurelac pearl. It was shiny, as if it had been polished and refined, making the reticulation of the amber inside sparkle. It was lovely. “Thank you, Ezra. It’s beautiful.” You twisted back to kiss him, but his eyes had darkened and he had begun running your through again. “Take it out.” He instructed. You carefully plucked the litttle gem from
The case and saw it had been carved. It looked like a spade, an objet d’art. You turned it in your hand, appreciating the fine detail of the shaping and the way the small stand at the bottom was shaped into a perfectly flat circle. It would be perfect on your desk. “Do you recognize it? That’s the first gem you harvested. The Sater are deeply religious, but they do undertake art as well. When you agreed to be mine, well, I couldn’t resist. And now you’ll have a little memento from this dig and from me. Wear it in good health, Pussycat.”
“Wear it?” Was it jewelry? “Ezra, I don’t understood. It’s very pretty though, very sweet of you. Thank you.” You reached for the box to tuck the gem away for safe keeping, but Ezra took it from your hand. “I’ll show you how you’re going to wear it for me. He closed the little sculpture in his hand, warming it as he resumed his ministrations. Sliding his fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit, teasing your entrance, he completed that circuit a few times while you rocked your hips slightly. On the last pass, he dragged a slick finger over your tighter hole. For the second time tonight he made you squirm. “Have you done this before?” He teased, and you shook your head. He dragged his middle finger through your folds and brought it up to join the first, pressing against your tight ring of muscle, you felt him move again, the rustle of fabric, and the snap of a lid. Unable to see what he was doing you could only guess what he was doing.
Soon enough the answer came in the form of a drip of cool liquid. It dripped down, mixing with your own arousal. Ezra spread it around and slowly, determinedly pressed the tip of his finger into your ass. You whined, he soothed you with his soft voice, his free hand rubbing your back gently as he worked. You weren’t aware of the effect it was having on him to be the first one to explore you this way, to have you so wrapped around his finger that you didn’t protest at all as he readied you for the next step. Adding more of the liquid and twisting his finger before joining it with another, the stretch was foreign and new, not exactly uncomfortable, your body seemed to adjust to each new thing he introduced, something you pondered on as he pressed further, sliding the two fingers in and out gently, shallowly, as he thumbed your clit. Your pussy ached for attention.
When Ezra decided you were ready, he positioned the aurelac where his fingers had been inside you, gave a few testing presses, added more liquid, and set to work, pressing, twisting, easing the gem into your asshole as you whined and whimpered, until it was settled, just the wide base remaining. Ezra admired his handiwork. “You’re a marvel. How’s it feel? Big?” You nod, “Yeah, Ez. Big. Full.” Ezra pressed on the little toy, watching with glee as it sank in.
He rolled you carefully to your back, soaking in your naked body, spread out and open for him, and him alone. He bent to kiss and suck at your nipples, up your chest, and licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, with more passion than you’d ever experienced. The kind you thought existed only in movies. But here he was, so giving and tender, so mad for you and your body, so eager to give and take. You were breathless, both of you when he pulled away, searching your face, staring at your lips. “Open up.” You obeyed. “Stick out your tongue.” You were unsure, but you obeyed. Grinning, he spit onto your tongue. Your eyes went wide as it dripped to the back of your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Leave it right there while I take more of what’s mine.” You could only nod, breathing hard through your nose as he dragged his cock through your folds, smacking the head against your clit for good measure before easing into your pussy, aware of how much tighter you were, how sensitive you were with your aurelac in place. He moaned, feeling his cock rub against that defiled gem while he fucked your cunt. Slow and easy, gentle, he rocked back and forth, listening to your cries and moans, knowing you couldn’t make the noise you wanted to with his spit in your mouth. “Swallow it.”
Watching you follow his every instruction without question, a toy for him made him hard like never before. He fucked into you faster, spurred on by your uninhibited sounds. He slid his hand between your bodies to tend to your clit, giving you the last little push you needed to come. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, bucking your hips, squeezing your tits, reaching the highest height you could imagine. You were hot and cold, boneless and rigid, you were nothing until he was inside you. Ezra hadn’t stopped his own pursuit, just slowed until you settled, but now he was on the hunt again, bouncing your ties with every thrust, making wet, sticky sounds fill the air with his sneer. Remembering last night, you reached up and took a handful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, never letting go until he was coming with a strangled shout, leaving you dripping his cum. It was exhausting to love Ezra. Terrifying to admit that you loved him. Such a short time in the grand scheme, a tiny tick on the timeline of what would be the rest of your lives together.
You tangled your limbs together, holding each other, whispering sweet things, kissing for a long while until he sat up. “I’ve got one more thing for you, pussycat. Do you trust me?” You promised that you did and he left, rummaged a minute before returning, holding a short length of rope. He climbed in above you and kissed you again, the sort of kiss you wanted to feel forever on your lips. “I want to tie you up. Are you going to let me?” Happy to please him, you held out your wrists. He kissed each one, and crossed one over the other, thing an intricate knot that looked like a bow. You liked being a little gift for him. “One more thing.” He whispered, and ducked out while you waited for his return, eager to see what he had in store, wiggling to feel his gift inside you. You heard movement, and opened your eyes, expecting Ezra, but seeing a figure in black, a Sater. You screamed for Ezra to come save you, but he stepped into view with his hand on the sater’s shoulder, starter in his hand. “You really shouldn’t trust anyone out here, Pussycat.
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xdaddysprincessxx · 7 months
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In Every Lifetime
Demon!Ezra x Witch!Reader
Warnings: none, Reader is mid to late 20s, witchcraft, tarot, yes the witchy things depicted in this is real witchcraft things, use of Latin (look for the a/n at the end for the translation)
Summary: It’s fall of 1974 in your quiet small town of Chesterfield when everything falls apart. Or is it the beginning?
A/n: I’m super excited for this series, I hope y’all enjoy! This is not edited or beta’d, written on my phone, any mistakes are mine(: & the moodboard is made by moi!
🌙 A little ping sounds off as you enter your favorite used bookstore. The distinct smell of old books and worn leather floods your nose as you step inside. Ronald, the store owner, must be in the back, leaving the place all to yourself for the moment. You immediately head back to the nonfiction section hoping to find some books on the moon. Ever since you were little, you’ve found yourself drawn to the moon. Always a beacon of light for you in the darkness of the night. A few years ago for your birthday, your best friend Louise dragged you to a tarot reader to get your cards read. The first card the tarot reader pulled was the moon.
“Be wary of the illusion in front of you. Release your grip on your painful past and look for answers within yourself and your dreams.” the lady said.
Ever since that night you’ve poured yourself into learning everything you can about the moon, tarot and witchcraft. Since you’ve begun your craft, you’ve found you have quite a knack for kitchen witchery. But lately you’ve found yourself wanting to dabble in more mystic arts. To put it simply: you want to work more with the Greek goddess Selene and work on actually casting spells.
Lost in thought as your finger glides across all of the different book spines a sudden thud brings you back into the present. After jumping out of your skin you quickly look around trying to find the source of noise. That’s when you notice a small black book laying on the ground at your feet. Bending over to pick it up, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull. Almost as if the book wants you to pick it up. Giving it a quick wipe to get the dust off, you realize it has no title on the front and a little lock holding it closed. Twisting the little knob you unlock the book and open to the first page. As you flip through the pages you realize it’s a journal filled with notes and little drawing of the moon, various spices and herbs and on one particular page; a drawing of a terrifying creature with horns and green eyes. Your curiosity got the better of you and you quickly put the journal in your bag before zipping it up and adjusting the strap that sits diagonally across your body. Giving the store one more quick glance around to make sure nobody saw you, you make your way back to the front and leave.
Once outside you make your way back home. The quaint little town you reside in seems quieter than normal for such a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves scattered the ground and all the stores lining up and down main street all have their fall decorations adorning their windows. As your passing the little cafe on the corner, you can’t help but notice a stranger sitting at one of the little tables outside the cafe. Being in a small town you know everyone and everyone knows you. There is next to no type of privacy. And yet here this man sits with a small tea cup in front of him. With dark shades covering his eyes, he has a distinctive blonde patch on his otherwise dark brown hair. You find yourself staring at the man when you realize he’s smiling. At you.
“You do know it’s not polite to stare?” he says with an air of lightheartedness in a deep southern accent.
You begin to open and then close your mouth a few times before you found your words, “I am so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to stare. I- I just I’ve never seen you around here before. That’s all.”
The man’s smile widens as he sits back and tilts his head up at you, “And this is how you choose to show a stranger some hospitality?” he teases.
“I- welcome to Chesterfield mister. This cafe has a good herbal tea that cures colds and the diner down the street going”, as you point in the opposite direction, “that way has the best pancakes you’ve ever had and if your looking for something fun to do well then you’ve come to the wrong place. We have a rather rundown movie theater that only holds two movies at one time, the local high school has a pretty decent football team if your into that and here soon ole farmer Joel will be opening up his corn maze and hayrides to the public.” You say in a single breath. As much as you love living here it is a small town and there’s not much to offer.
“Well then I guess I’ll just have to find some other way to pass the time then. But thank you for that marvelous introduction to your beautiful town.” he says with a smirk still on his face.
“You have a good night now!” You say, rather high pitched, as you raise your hand to wave goodbye to the man.
🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙
Soon enough Main Street is a distance behind you as you turn into your neighborhood. With just a little bit longer before your home, you can’t shake the feeling that your being watched. The feeling is so sudden and strong it makes you stop in your tracks. Looking around real quick to see if anyone was following you, you find your the only one outside. Now that’s weird. You’re the only one. No cars driving by, no kids outside playing, the only noise is the wind rustling the leaves. It’s as if your in a ghost town. Unnerved you start walking again, this time with a little pep in your step so you can get home faster.
You live at the dead end in your neighborhood. A small, one story brick house with a tree in the front yard and two jack o lanterns sitting with their smiling faces on your front porch. You speed walk up your driveway, speeding past your little Volkswagen bug as you make your way up the few stairs leading to your front door. You unlock your front door, getting inside and shutting the door quickly as if you were running from someone. Placing your keys on the hook you take your shoes off and go to throw your bag onto the couch. Making your way into the kitchen you pull out your favorite mug and grab the tasty tea mixture you recently made and started making you a hot cup of tea to help calm your nerves.
Walking back into the living room while you wait for the water to heat up, you plop down on the couch and go to retrieve the journal laying inside your bag. Unlocking the little lock holding the journal closed, you open it to the first page and start reading. You soon find yourself immersed in this strangers writings. Different spices and herbs listed with descriptions on the best time to use them and for what purpose, the different moon phases and rituals to do during them. Looking at your calendar you realize tonight is a full moon. Perfect you think, no time like the present to try out a ritual you found in this mystery journal. What could go wrong?
🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙
Excitement fills you making it hard to wait until midnight to perform this ritual. You cleared the floor of your bedroom, lifting the rug you had laying down so you could write these symbols on your hardwood floor. Sitting in the middle of the triple moon symbol drawn with chalk and covered with a mixture of cinnamon, aloe, mugwort and hibiscus combined and crushed to a powder. You have a single red candle sitting in front of you with the journal laid open to the page depicting the full moon ritual. Repeating the incantation in your head, you glance over at your clock noticing it just hit midnight. Clearing your throat you speak out loud,
Vivamus, moriendum est
Ergo dum me diligis
Cor meum tuum est
And so it shall be.
As soon as the words left your mouth, you heard a loud, incessant banging on your door right before a gush of wind blew your candle out seemingly taking every light out with it.
A/n: !!! Okay I really hope y’all like this! Yes the moon is the star of this show! The incantation is Latin meaning: Let us live, for we must die. So long as you love me, my heart is yours. Let me know how y’all like it! I’m already working on chp 2 now! Happy hauntings my little witches 🌙
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