Page 54 of Wrath

“The battery?”

He smirk-smiles. “Yeah.” He looks smug.

He nudges the metal pronged thing toward me with a fingertip, and I frown down at the battery. “I guess it snaps in…like a smoke alarm?”

I try to fit the battery into the snap, but… “One of them is bent? What the hell…”

“Here.” He takes the battery from my hand, and the little metal prong thing. He pushes the battery into the snap, then he hisses “fuck” and drops it on the tabletop with aclank.

He bows his head for a second, holding it with one hand. Then he lifts his face, and I see color flood into his cheeks as he looks around. A few people are staring our way, but Bumble is at his desk with his head down.

“Did it shock you?” I ask.

“No.” I watch his shoulders rise and fall on a breath. Then clenches his jaw and pushes the battery into the snap, and a thin wire of brilliant light blue jumps between the metal prongs. “What do you say, Millsy?”

“To you?” I scoff. Does he want me to thank him for snapping the battery in?

He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “To me,” he confirms.

“Go fuck yourself?”

“You’d like to watch.”

“You’re gay,” I murmur softly.

“You are.” Ezra arches one dark brow.

“I’m not thanking you for dick,” I tell him.

My accidental double entendre makes him grin. “I guess we’ll see about that.”

Sixteen

Ezra

What would DG do if I slid under the covers with him?

It’s been almost a whole day, but I still feel his thick erection under my palm. I can feel his coarse curls brush against my fingertips when I reached down to grab him by the balls. Those fucking balls, so warm and full and heavy, drawing up as I tugged on them.

The way his cock was fucking ramrod hard as I toyed with it. When I rubbed my palm over the tip of him, the fabric of his boxer briefs felt damp. I jerked him off, and DG moaned and rocked his hips and panted like he’d just finished a marathon. Finally, he came—because I made him.

He was…helpless. Nothing but a porn star dick with moaning boy attached. I bet if I had put my mouth around him, I could’ve sucked and he would’ve blown right there, pouring hot cum down my throat like a fire hydrant that sprung a leak.

Maybe more like a fire hose.

Today I struggled through homeroom and skipped lunch. Saw DG, of all damn people, on the walkback from the gas station; that gave me a jolt. Physics, I could barely keep my dick down. The fucking thing is waking up, and it’s a creature with a mind of its own. I woke up this morning with a monster boner that I haven't seen in months. It's long and thick and springy, standing up toward my six pack. It’s so sensitive it hurts, so sensitive that I could come just tracing my fingertips around the head of it. Like it used to be—before.

Right now, as I watch Mills in his bed, the thing starts coming alive in my boxers. I have to reach inside and wrap my hand around it. If I don't, my balls get achy and my brain gets fogged up.

I rub a fingertip over the tip of it, the way I did with DG. Most people don’t think much about the little slit that’s up there, but I learned the hard way that it’s sensitive as fuck.

I think of DG, and my finger rubbing in his little wet spot. I pretend the dick I’m grabbing hold of is his. My knees tremble as I remember his head thrown back, his dark hair pressed against the base of my throat. I think of my hand, full of his cock. Rubbing at his cum-soaked briefs. My ears full of his moans, and how heavy he felt against me. Like an anchor.

I think of him in physics today, sliding glances at me, those dark lashes flickering against his cheeks. He thought I wasn't watching but I'm always watching. I know how he touches the tip of his thumb to the tip of all his other fingers on his hand when he's distracted—like a tic. He chews the inside of his cheek when Dr. Bumble rambles on and on, explaining something DG understands.

I can tell he's good at school. He raises his hand at times he doesn't have to, and when Bumble calls on him, he knows the answers. Every night, he comes upstairs after dinner and studies.He's got textbooks on his dresser, by his sketchbook. I'm not walking over there to see which ones they are, though.

I work my dick until it’s fat and long and fuckinghard as hell, until my balls are swollen up, needing to blow. I’ve always been a bigger guy. Even in peewee football, when we’d shower and stuff, I was bigger than the other kids. Until DG, I’ve never seen another guy as big as me. Like this thing is a ball bat and my balls are damn balloons. Well, his are too.

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