Ezra X You - Tumblr Posts

This is beautifully written! My word, I felt those emotions deep in my soul 🥺😭

False God

Ezra x f reader

Warnings: p in v, religious tones, angst, infidelity, he’s a cheater, honestly OOC Ezra (he would never do this, my opinion tho) not beta’d, very lightly edited, all mistakes are mine.

A/n: this is my Taylor Swift drabble for @beskarandblasters challenge! She gave me False God x Ezra. It’s honestly crazy how much I needed this song given my current life and how much I could relate to it lol. I interpreted the song as being in love with someone who doesn’t fully choose you. But you keep going back just to feel loved.

WC: 1719

Loving Ezra was like breathing. It didn’t take long for him to get you into bed after you had first met. His sweet words and beautiful eyes had turned you into putty in the blink of an eye. He never really had to work hard to convince you to take his hand as he lead you back to his place.

His lips on yours, tongues exploring each others mouth, the taste of beer and Marlboro reds forever imprinted on your taste buds. His hands roam all over your body, touching, pinching, filling you up. Once he had you inside his apartment, he took no time in getting you naked, on your back. Didn’t even make it to the bed. Lying on the carpeted floor, Ezra plunged his cock into your wet heat for the first time. His lips on your neck as you both held onto one another as if the other might float away. That night he took you on the floor, on the couch, slowly making your way to his bed before he took you again. The next morning he had you bent over the counter as he took you from behind. He had made a mess of you and you him.

You two had fallen into an easy flow. Soon you were moving in with him, life was fun. It was easy with Ezra. Everything felt natural. Time flew by. From that first night to one month, you blinked and suddenly it had been a year.

That’s when things started to fall apart. One morning you woke up, Ez was still asleep in the bed next to you. His phone buzzed. You reached over to grab it, just to see who was texting him so early.

Her name was Marisol. You’ll never forget her name. Or the messages exchanged.

Your heart dropped into the deep pit in your stomach. Your whole being had gone cold. Shaking with betrayal and anger, you woke him up. Of course he tried to deny it, tried to say it was nothing he was just bored working night shift and she was somebody to talk too.

Eventually you two made up. He made you feel beautiful and wanted. Ezra was your everything, he was all you wanted. You did your best to forgive. You never forgot.

Day after day after day goes by.

Soon it’s been about five months since Marisol.

You found yourself sitting in the car while Ezra ran inside to pick up the takeout you had ordered. His phone sitting on the middle console, face up.

The little screen soon lighting up, a text from your best friend. On his phone.

You knew better than to look. But your gut told you to look. Things had felt weird to you the last time all three of you had hung out.

Now this betrayal broke you. Your best friend. The one person besides Ezra that you told everything too. The one you were gonna ask to be your child’s godmother one day.

He said it was never physical, just texts. Those words cut deeper than any knife. You had left this time, staying at your parents for a couple of weeks. Broken heart and swollen eyes from all the tears. All you wanted was him. You missed him so much. He had become your best friend, your lover, the only one you wanted to spend your life with.

Ezra showed up at your parents house one night with flowers. He begged and pled with you. Convinced you that you were the only one he loved and wanted.

The whole ordeal made your heart clench. As much as you ached, you gave him another chance.

Another year passed. Life had been good, you and Ezra were happy and in love.

Your life was completely intertwined with his. At one point he had used your phone to sign into his email.

Forgetting he had done that, when you got the notification for an email from a Mark, you were confused.

Emails detailing what and how and when. Seeing for yourself that your love was meeting another for oral.

Of course he denied it. Said he never actually met this person.

Emails with this Mark came up two more times over the next couple of years.

At this point you’ve spent six years with him.

He was still the love of your life. Your home. Your comfort. When life got bad, you stayed with him. When your parents told you to leave, you stuck up for him. Even after all the others, you forgave him and tried to work on yourself. Tried to be what he wanted, what he needed. You made yourself sexually available, always saying yes to him so he would be satisfied.

Seven years. Seven whole years. You’ve spent with Ezra. Building a life with him.

Sharing laughs and whispered I love you’s, cooking side by side, having a shoulder to lean on when life gets hard.

The way he strums your body, worshiping you as if your hips were his alter. You, his own goddess, one that he loved and cherished. The love you shared with him became your own personal religion. Your bed became your church. He knew just how to touch you, what to say, knew all the places to kiss to make you melt. Ezra was your whole world. The only name that ever dared to leave your lips, no God to be found. Only Ezra.

The happy, easy days started turning into bad days. It was slow and then suddenly all at once. You aren’t sure what happened or if you said or did something wrong. Ez started acting funny, being more mean and cold hearted toward you. You did your best to brush it off, pretend like it was just your imagination or something. Until you saw the texts. It’s a different person this time. But the words exchanged are the same nonetheless.

The sharp dagger of pain cutting through and piercing your very soul. You knew deep down there was another, again. You also knew this time things were different.

You confronted your love. With tears in your eyes and a soul filled with pain and sadness. You broke things off with Ez.

Unfortunately you couldn’t just move out right away. Having to suck it up and continue to live together. Life was weird. After a couple of months, the two of you were able to sit and really talk about things. It became a little bit easier to breath again. He’s always been your best friend. You missed him, missed having someone to confide in and joke with and enjoy life with.

Things didn’t last long with Ezra and the new person.

One night you had come home after working all day. Frustrated with things, annoyed with people, you needed an outlet. Somewhere to put all the emotions you felt so it didn’t burden your body any longer.

Ezra sensed this. He always knew when you needed to let go.

Standing at the sink in the bathroom, you had dropped your head down as you leaned on the counter. Doing your best to take deep breaths when you heard the door open.

He came in, standing behind you. He brought his hands up to your hips, rubbing circles as he dipped his face in between your shoulder and neck. The tip of his aquiline nose trails up and down the sensitive skin. His breath creating goosebumps that begin to blossom as he gently kisses a spot right below your ear. Letting yourself just feel. No more fighting. No more holding yourself back. This is your Ez. Your love. You let your head roll back, laying on his shoulder as he continues leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. His big hands engulf your hips, gently pulling you back into him. The feeling of his chest on your back, his hard cock against your ass. A soft whimper tumbles out of your lips.

Letting him take full control, Ezra begins to undress you. His lips kissing every inch of skin as it’s revealed to him. You haven’t even realized he had coaxed you into the bedroom until he gently laid you down on the bed.

You sit up on your arms as you look down at your own God as he sinks to his knees at his alter.

He spreads your legs as he dips forward, his beautiful nose running along your thigh as he makes his way to your cunt.

His lips soon find what they’re looking for. Leaving a soft kiss to your clit, you lay back down as your hands make their way to his hands. Holding hands as he works his tongue around your sensitive spot, working you close to orgasm already.

Oh Ezra

Legs shaking as he takes the sacrament of his God. Your juices quenching his thirst for holy salvation.

He quickly covers your body with his, his lips soon attached to your lips as you taste yourself on him.

Back arching as he parts your holy waters, his cock filling your cunt in the way only he can.

You hold him close to you as he fills you over and over. Each deep stroke bringing you to eternal salvation.

He pulls your hands off his shoulders as he brings them above your head, fingers interlocking with his. Deep kisses in time with each thrust.

Oh Ez Oh oh my -

You chant his name over and over as he brings you higher and higher. No God to be found here, only him. Only Ezra. Your love. Your heart. Your soul.

You know it’s wrong to keep doing this. To keep giving in to him. He’s a drug that’s hard to quit. Ever since then you find yourself giving in to him whenever he wants. You know things are over between the two of you. You know he doesn’t want you in the same way you want him. But you still let him in your temple. You still allow him to take the sacrament freely if only to feel the love you once shared for a little bit. You continue to live, broken and shattered. Feeling whole, even for just a quick moment. You still worship his love even if he was a false God.

A/n: I hope yall enjoyed this, I know how sad this is. To be completely honest, this is literally my story. My last relationship/on going situationship. Um it’s very complicated. But I want everyone reading this to know you are beautiful and deserving of love. You deserve to be picked, to be chosen. To be loved for who you are. If you ever wanna talk to vent or anything, I’m here for you 🩵

KIKI! My word 😫 I may just love these two as much as I do Frankie and Mouse. The patience and kindness Ezra shows has me SWOONING!!! 😍🥰😍🥰😍

The Mouse Turned Little Bird feat. Frankie Morales, Ezra & f!reader

Summary: The lead up to dinner was stressful - but are you ready to take it further? Part 3 of There are Other Fish in the Sea

Pairing: Frankie, Ezra & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,052

Content Warnings: Kissing, mentions of food, overcooked salmon, unseasoned quinoa, wine, playing hooky from work, deep thoughts, deep feelings, Ezra being a patient wonderful human being, Ezra also has two arms (sorry for not mentioning that previously)

Author's Notes: Mouse is trying, y'all... she really wants to move on and get better, but as we all know, healing isn't linear.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled, @mothandpidgeon and @neverwheremoonchildfor their eyes and love.

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You couldn’t sleep. 

Despite the initial joy you got from rebuffing Frankie and getting a yes from Ezra, you weren’t able to settle. The day’s events, while not enough to move mountains, had moved you a little farther on your path to…

Fuck.

You had no idea where this path was leading you or if there even was a path. Maybe you were lumbering through dense forest towards a chasm, or wandering aimlessly through a desert. Or maybe there was a path, but it was the wrong one and you were trudging to certain doom and not self discovery. 

The room was so quiet as you laid back and blinked in the dark, thoughts and worries swirling in your head as your heartbeat thrummed loudly in your ears. You felt guilty on top of the uncertainty. The guilt gnawed at you; Benny had opened up his home and put the relationship with his brother and his best friends below you and you felt that there was nothing you could do to repay him or even let him know how much you appreciated it. 

But there was something else, under that guilt, picking away the last bit of shrunken-in-the-night confidence you had left - regret.

Regret for denying Frankie the chance to show you he was a better man now and regret for perhaps moving on to Ezra too soon. What if Frankie was truly sorry? What if Ezra was no better? What if you still loved Frankie and you could never love Ezra?

Why the fuck am I thinking about loving Ezra? I wonder how big his dick is.

Your face skewed in shock at yourself. 

“I didn’t mean that.”, you hissed out in urgency, as if that would atone for the alleged sin of thinking about Ezra’s manhood. You paused, waiting to see if someone would answer then you furrowed your brow.

“Who the fuck am I talking to?”

*****

You’d taken a sick day since you got so little sleep, opting to stay in bed and mull over the irony of a sick day while you had a work-from-home job. After texting Benny to let him know, you tossed your phone down and rolled over.

There was a knock at your door, then it opened and cats came in, wailing their morning song, followed by Benny carrying two cups of coffee.

“So you’re moping.”

“M’not moping.”, you groaned into your pillow.

“Hey, man - I am all for taking advantage of sick days, but you’re not sick. You’re moping.”

Benny places the coffee cups on your bedside table and sat on the end of the bed, then laid back, his head on your blanketed calf.

You shifted your leg in irritation and huffed, and he in turn grabbed your ankle from under the blanket and tugged gently.

“Tell me again why I should go away and abandon you for a weekend?”

“Benny…”, you sighed.

“Just say the word, Mouse. I’ll stay.”

You said nothing because you knew your silence was enough of an answer.

You both laid there quietly for a period of time, the cats both joining you on the bed, and you were just about to lull off to the sound of Bagels purring as he rolled up in the crook of your neck when Benny spoke, the shit eating grin on his face apparent in his tone. 

“You’ve got a fuckin’ date tonight.”

*****

Benny left for work, taking his packed bag with him and said he would see you Sunday night, and you spent the day tidying up the apartment. Grocery shopping 2.0 was far more successful and you got the items you needed for making dinner.

You knew Ezra was not a vegan or vegetarian - based on his declared love of trying exotic meats on his travels, and you knew he did not like mashed potatoes, given the face he made when another patron at the bistro mentioned them and he responded with, “Solanum tuberosum was meant for roasting and nothing else, friend, Saying otherwise is an affront to nature herself.”

The memory made you smile, recalling how Ezra smirked and winked at you after you googled what a slolanim toobera som was and mouthed Potato? at him.

*****

You buzzed Ezra up to the apartment and nervously fixed your dress. You heard his footsteps in the hallway and preemptively opened the door. His hand was up, ready to knock, and his eyebrows were raised. You both look at each other, nervous excitement charged between you.

“You are an eager host, little bird.”

Even though you forgot the salt in the quinoa and the salmon was over cooked, Ezra never let on that there was anything wrong. He talked at length about him and his life, and repeatedly gave you the chance to step in and share, which you did albeit cautiously. His eyes never carried judgment - just curiosity, like the kind you might find in the eyes of someone trying to solve a riddle. And he didn’t prod too deeply, but  rewarded you with his smile when you did share.

“Any more family beyond Benny?”, he queried as he took a bite of very well done salmon.

“Benny has a brother, but he and I are… we’re not close.”

Ezra nods. “I, too, have family that I find associating with beyond my mother’s annual yule note to be grating.” He took a sip of wine. “Which is why I firmly believe in the family you make.”

You nodded and watched him. You wanted to know why he took such an interest with you. You’d wondered aloud to Benny once, asking if certain people were drawn to broken things and if so, was it because they wanted to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable state. Benny had smiled and responded with, “Some people are just tinkerers and want to help fix broken things.”

Benny’s words had reminded you of Frankie and his innate need to pull apart engines and electronics and rebuild them in a way he thought was better - like he wanted to control the make-up of the things around him and make them work better for him. Maybe even you fell under that banner.

Ezra didn’t seem like that. Less concerned with control, he was more of a poet: he watched and observed and made commentary. He seemed to be more along the lines of ‘let the pieces fall where they may’ and that is what drew you to him. But what was it about you?

“How long have you lived with Ben - “

“What’s the catch?”

He raised his brows at you and put his wine glass down, huffing a chuckle. “Catch?”

You nodded, grinning slightly and leaning in. “You said yes to coming for dinner after I left you in a panic. I’m just curious.”

He sucked his teeth a bit and sat back, crossing his arms. 

“You looked lost when you darkened my doorway the first time.” Looking you over, he seemed to be contemplating how to answer. “You seemed to find yourself a little more each time you sat across the bartop from me. And the more I saw of that little bird, the more I wanted to know why she could not fly.”

Your question was answered.

*****

After the table was cleared, you stood in front of the kitchen sink, rinsing the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

“Mouse.”, he murmured softly.

You looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at a picture on the fridge - the one that was torn in half, its partner probably thrown out or burned. It was you and Benny from a few years ago, both wearing shirts with your names crudely spray painted across them. The other side of the picture that held Will, Santi, Hannah and Frankie was left behind in your old home.

Ezra kept his eyes trained on you in the photo, leaning in, and his index finger gently grazed the torn, ragged edge. You swallowed, wondering if his mind was trying to imagine what the missing piece held that rendered it unwanted, and solve another riddle you had set out for him. The longer he stayed quiet, the more fidgety and anxious you felt.

“I assumed Mouse was a pet name reserved only for those in your inner circle.”, he mused softly, taking one last look at the photo before turning to you with a lopsided smile. “You prefer Mouse or…”

You let go of the breath you were holding with a nod, relief washing over you. You moved toward him in a few small, slow steps. “Uh - Mouse was a nickname from when I was a kid that stuck. I- uh, didn’t really have a say. I… I kinda like Little Bird - but you can call me Mouse. Whatever you want.”

The nervous, forced titter of a laugh that you ended with made his eyes soften. Ezra nodded, turning his body towards you. He grinned, giving you a flash of his gold tooth. “Then I dub thee Little Bird.”

****

“... and I made Benny swear that he’d go to his grave with it, but I’m sure my mom knew something was up - how could she not?”

Ezra’s eyes creased as he laughed. “You are as devious as you are beautiful.”

As you sat on the couch, turned towards one another, both nursing a second glass of red wine. God, you wanted to kiss him. That freckle on his neck, the dimple on his cheek… you imagined kissing him and running your tongue over the golden tooth in his mouth. His fingers played the sleeve of your shirt and his eyes softened and darted to your lips and back up.  His jaw ticked as if he were weighing his options and deciding on his next move, seemingly thinking the same thing as you were.

“A conundrum you are, Little Bird.” His voice was so soft, yet it held so much power. “Sublime, soft, sweet, vexxed - but wounded.”

Your face heated up and you looked down at your glass of wine, clutched in your hand. You mulled over how much to share with him; you didn’t want to scare Ezra away, but you felt he deserved to know at least something about where you had come from.

“The last guy I was with… He and I had- well, we ended things at a low point… badly.”

He shook his head, hushing you. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re - “

“He had issues and I couldn’t- didn’t help. Communication was not his strong suit and eventually, it felt like I didn’t know him anymore. And… he hurt- we hurt each other. A lot. And he cheated on me.”

Raising your gaze, you looked at him, cautiously, waiting for the fallout. Instead you met with Ezra leaning in, taking your wine glass and putting it aside, and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He lingered there for a moment. As he moved to pull away your hand came up to his face, silently begging him to not stop. He pushed in further, running his tongue along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth. It was nothing like you imagined; for the last six years, you’d only ever kissed Frankie and his kiss was dominant and forceful, like a freight train. Ezra though - his unfolded like a slow, enchanting dance. There was nothing rushed and you felt as though you were falling hard for him.

It was too soon. Too fast. You barely knew him outside of the almost two months you’d spent sitting at the bar and tonight’s dinner. Your mind began to panic, racing with the thought of Frankie’s crestfallen face as you rejected him and now you were kissing another man so soon after.

You parted from him, clenching your eyes and you rested your forehead against his. His large hand held your jaw, his thumb soothing over your cheek and murmured, “Little Bird…”

Sitting back, you felt foolish and vulnerable, but you forced yourself to speak.

"I... I don't think I'm ready. Ezra, I - I'm sorry." He took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the grooves in your palm. 

"You'll take flight again, Little Bird. And when you're ready, I'll be there to help open your cage."

Oh fuck me. 

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Oh I love this so much!!! I’m loving that we get to see Ezra and Little Bird flourish 😍🥰

Pointing Fingers feat. Ezra & f!reader

Summary: Will has an opinion and you have a need for comfort. Part 4 of There are Other Fish in the Sea

Pairing: Frankie, Ezra & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,964

Content Warnings: verbal fight, words said in anger, digital penetration (f receiving), mentions of Watership Down (childhood trauma)

Author's Notes: Strides are being made. Will is a big floppy donkey dink.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled and @mothandpidgeon for their eyes and love.

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Dating Ezra was something else. Since that first night in the apartment, you’d both agreed to go slow and get to know each other further. He’d admitted to you that he, too, was nervous, given he hadn’t been in a solid, actual relationship in a while, spending the last decade in and out of ‘dalliances of convenience’.

“Situationships?”, you asked, trying to suppress your grin.

“Situa- Little Bird!”, he exclaimed, faux-chiding you as his eyes danced with a laugh. “How on earth do you know such a bastardization of the English language?”

Throwing your hands up in surrender, you laugh. “That’s what they call it!”

“Oh yes, they!”, he mock-scolded you. He stands up at the table in the coffee shop and leans over.  “They! The ones who hold the power to command society in their hands!”

At that moment, you didn’t care that other patrons in the coffee shop were looking at you. The squealing giggle you let out spurned Ezra on and he gave you a gleeful, mischievous grin.

Standing up straight, he raised his arms as if he were giving a Shakespearean soliloquy, and declared,  “They! The ones who decide on all of humanity’s terrible statistics and give us their opinions on our horrible habits!”

Dating Ezra was something else, and you were loving every minute.

***** 

You arrived home one evening after a date, and upon walking in the door, Will was sitting in the living room. He stood up and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You’d avoided him since that lunch you had at Denny’s. 

“Hello.”

Will crossed his arms across his chest and gave you a parentally-critical look. You fought the beg-for-forgiveness feeling that he elicited in you, dropped your purse and jacket on the bench by the door, and mirrored his stance, crossing your own arms. 

“Hi.”

Benny let out an irritated sigh, getting up from the couch. He turns to Will and points. “I’ll leave you to it, but if I hear so much as one unhappy sound coming from her, I’ll break your nose. Again.”

Benny went into the kitchen to give the two of you privacy, and you stood awkwardly squared off with Will.

After a tense few seconds, Will cleared his throat.

“Ben says you’re seeing someone.”

You nodded, looking down at your anxious, tapping foot, then back up. “Yeah. Yes. I am, yes.”

He hums in response, nodding his head once. You noted his jaw had tightened slightly. You didn’t feel intimidated anymore and your patience was running thin. How dare he show up unannounced and try to throw his weight around. You didn’t owe him shit. 

“And you’re happy w–”

“What do you want, Will?”

Your interjection earned you Will’s raised brow and cold stare. When you didn’t back down, he dropped his arms and stepped towards you.

“I want to make sure you’re okay–”

“Bullshit.”, you snapped. “You came here because Frankie came whining to you about me telling–”

His eyes widened under furrowed brows as his head tilted. Will raised his finger to his mouth in a shushing-motion. “Mouse - don’t. I am just checking in.”

No. He was not allowed to come in and tell you to be quiet in your own home. “Oh come on! This is not ‘checking in’! You come here to interrogate me because-”

“Mouse–”

“--you think I am doing everything wrong by trying to–to move on and have a life that you don’t approve–” “Mouse–”

“-- of and who the fuck do you think you are, Will? My dad? You aren’t! You wanted me to stay with a guy who cheated on me and drank himself into sleeping with Santi’s sloppy fucking seconds and– “

“Mouse, I–”

“He wasn’t good for me anymore!”

Will walked up to you and held your shoulders. His eyes looked over your face sadly. This did nothing to soothe your temper.

“Mouse, honey–” Will’s voice was softer now and his thumbs rubbed your shoulders as he tried to get you to calm down. “He hurt me, Will, and you wanted me to go back to him!”, you snarled, shoving his arms off you and stepping back.

Will looked down, as if he were trying to collect himself and let out a sigh. When he raised his head again, his icy blue eyes were staring daggers at you. 

“You’re so fucking stubborn!”, he yelled. 

“Oh, I’m stubborn? You fucking come here to pick a fight with me, your own cousin, over a relationship that ended last year! You’re the fucking stubborn one!”

“Big fucking deal, Mouse! He fucked up and he apologized! You didn’t even give Frankie a chance! He loves you and you’re killing him!”

You felt your face grow hot and you clenched your fists. “What the fuck did you say?”

Will took two strides towards you, his hand jutting out and gripping your shoulder. His eyes bore into yours and he spoke in a low and terrifying voice. “You owe Frankie better. You are better than this. You can’t turn your back on your family- ”

Benny came sprinting into the room and pulled Will back from you. “You’re done!”

Will turned, shoving Benny off him and turned back to you, pointing aggressively. “I hope you know what a fucking joke you are, Mouse!”, he yelled as Benny grabbed him from behind, hauling him to the door. “You are a fucking piece of shit for doing this to him! You’re dead to me!”

The disgust and burning rage he’d left you with was threatening to pull you apart. You needed a release - a knife to the cord trap that had you tethered. You needed Ezra.

As soon as Benny had him out of the apartment, you grabbed your purse and jacket, and took off out the door. Hearing Benny loudly ripping into Will as he dragged him down the stairs, you went the opposite way to the building’s emergency exit and out into the cool night air.

****

Ezra’s door opened to your hasty banging, and his face grew concerned when he saw you.

“Little B–”

His words were stopped when your mouth landed on his, your hands gripping and pulling him into a feverish kiss. The force that you threw yourself on him sent the both of you stumbling back into his apartment. He sensed the desperation in you, and when you pushed to deepen the kiss, he yielded. It wasn’t until his own need and fervor matched yours that he moved up off the console table you had him pinned against, his hands furiously working to rid you of your jacket.

You parted, both panting through reddened mouths. Chest heaving, Ezra knew what you wanted and, as much as he wanted to launch himself at you and give you what you were demanding, he couldn’t ignore the shards of pain in your gaze.

He held his hand up, gently pulsing it towards you as a signal to slow down. “As much as I am sorely tempted to fuck you senseless, Little Bird… I must ask what is happening?”

You felt the heat creep up in your face and you realized what you had done. Your hands dropped to your sides, fingers fidgeting in and out of fists, and you looked up, blinking, to stop the tears.

Ezra lowered his hand and stepped towards you, eyes sympathetic, and he clicked his tongue and pulled you into a hug.

*****

“Remind me again why your cousin is so invested in getting you and-and that man back together?”, he asked softly.

You sat tucked into Ezra’s side with his arm around you securely. You sighed, eyes fixed on the glow of the TV.

“Will was the only dad-archetype I ever had. What he said was gold and, even though he was wary of me and Frankie dating at first, I think he liked keeping it, you know, all in the family…”

“He knew things were bad with us, but he… he told me to tough through it because he knew what Frankie had seen when he was deployed and I needed to be his-his anchor… or whatever.”

Ezra hummed in response, nodding as his thumb gently rubbed circles on your arm.

“I don’t know why really… I just know that based on tonight, he’s made it clear what I am to him.”

“Words spoken in anger are rarely honest. We spew all sorts of nonsense when we hurt with the intention of hurting others, Little Bird.”, he murmured as he pressed a kiss into your hair, then laid his cheek on your head and pulled you in tighter.

His words reverberated in your skull. Was Will hurting? You’d never stopped to think about how badly your and Frankie’s break up had hurt everyone. Sure, you knew they were affected, but hurt? 

You silently mused for a moment before asking, “How’d you get so smart?”

Ezra chuckled softly. “Experience, mostly. I spent my youth hurting people, Little Bird. Using my words to hurl daggers at anyone who I saw fit. I drove away a lot of good until I allowed myself to admit that I was hurting.”

You sat back and looked at him. He finally turned and you saw the weariness of guilt on his face for just a moment before he smiled softly. 

“I say this because you are hurting, Little Bird, and as much as you want to lash out and seek comfort in carnal things, you need to let those wings heal first.”

His hand came up and gently held your face. “And heal you will, Little Bird.”

*****

Sleeping in the same bed as Ezra had excited you. At least until he fell asleep and you laid in the dark in a strange bed, staring up at the ceiling. His soft breaths accented by the occasional light snore were an upgrade to the sound of the pipes rattling in your apartment with Benny, but it wasn’t enough to calm your mind. 

You quietly slipped out of bed and padded softly into the living room. The dim light from the streetlamp outside lit the room enough that you could make your way to the couch. Turning on the table lamp, you grabbed the book on the side table, looking at the cover: Watership Down. You hadn’t read this since your elementary school days and your interest was piqued. You flipped it open and on the first page there was a scrawled message:

Ezra,

Happy 10th birthday! May all your days be spent hopping in a field carefree.

Love, Mum

October 30th, 1990

You smiled. You assumed based on this that his mother had never read or knew the plot of this book and just saw the illustrated rabbits on the cover. Then again, it had been so long since you read it…

*****

Ezra found you on the couch, sipping a glass of water, his old copy of Watership Down on the couch next to you. He kissed you softly from behind the couch, then leaned his weight on the back of it on his elbows. His fingers gently slipped through your hair. 

“I awoke and found myself bereft of you. And yet here you are, seeking comfort with Hazel and his warren.”, he muttered into your hair with a kiss, feigning irritation with a small grin.

“You’re mom gave you this.”, you stated, holding the book up.

He nodded. “That she did.”

“Did she know what this book was about?”

Ezra looked down and smiled to himself. “I believe she did.”

You stared at Ezra, a little confused.

He sighed and turned his head down, eyes on the couch. “My mother - above everything - believes that life’s best teacher is failure. And failure only happens with risk. Risk starts with asking questions, and questions are prompted by a need for knowledge… her choices of books for me were part of that.”

“Smart woman.”

Ezra chuckled and stood up, stretching. He let out a groan as his sleepy joints popped and cracked. Looking at him, you couldn’t help but admire his form, backlit by the window behind him. He caught you ogling him and his smile seemed to rival the warm light silhouetting him. 

“You’re gonna read for me.”

He sauntered around the couch and sat heavily beside you. 

“Am I now?”, you smiled back.

“Yes, you are, Little Bird.”, he breathed as he leaned in and kissed your neck. His hand slipped across your waist and he pulled you closer to him.

His voice was low and gravelly.  “Go on, now. Read.”

You sighed and opened the book, trying to at least make your voice as appealing and melodic as his, but knowing it was a futile effort. 

Chorus: Why do you cry out thus, unless at some vision of horror?

Cassandra: The house reeks of death and is dripping blood…

“You skip that part.”, he huskily grunted into your neck. 

“The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the–”

Ezra’s mouth nipped, sucked and kissed at your neck a little more fervently and the large hand that held you close slipped down between your crossed legs, palming your mound, causing you to pause.

“Keep. Reading.”

You’d lost your place as his middle finger pushed his boxers into your slit. Ezra smiled against your neck.

“So easily distracted…”, he cooed with a grin. 

He pulled his hand away and pulled the book from your hands, tossing it to the side. He then maneuvered you onto your back with him wedged on his side between you and the back of the couch. Your arm closest to him was under your head, allowing his head to rest on your upper arm.

As his fingers trained down your body, he kissed you. It was just as fervent and demanding as his mouth’s assault on your neck moments ago. His hand reached the waistband of the boxers and gently pushed underneath. A soft moan passed from your mouth to his as his fingers, no longer burdened by fabric, gently touched and pet your folds. 

“You tell me… Little Bird, you tell me that you want this… that you want me…”

“I want this- you. Fuck yes. I… I-oh fuck, Ezra!”

 His long, thick finger circled and pressed down on your clit, pulling slick up from your hole.

“So very special, Little Bird… so responsive.”, he grunted again, nudging his nose against your jaw to gain access to your neck. 

You could feel his erection pressing into your thigh as he adjusted, dropping a leg over yours to pull your thighs apart a little further. Your hand darted down to his cock, assuming he would want it, but he pulled his head back and shook it subtly. 

“No, sweet girl. I want to watch you fall apart unburdened by my needs.”

He danced a finger around your hole and watched with heavy lids as your lips parted, soft, panting sounds escaping. “Keep singing for me, Little Bird.”

Your hand then moved on top of his, holding his wrist as he began to prod his finger in and out of you. Moving from his wrist slowly, your hand covered what it could of his.

You hadn’t been touched like this in… ever. This was sensual and didn’t feel rushed or forced. You almost allowed another moment to compare Ezra to Frankie, but the way he pushed in a second finger blanked your mind. Your body responded by arching your back slightly and the low whine that peeled out of your throat had Ezra’s cock seem to harden further against your thigh.

“That’s it,  let me in…”

Ezra pulled his hand back and adjusted himself beside you to have more leverage. He pulled down the boxers, and you lifted your hips to allow him to remove them completely. He hovered over you, knelt between your legs, holding his body up on the armrest above your head, and leaned down to kiss you again. 

His fingers found your sex again and pushed two fingers into you, finding a rhythm. Your hands gripped his impossibly broad shoulders and you panted and moaned into his mouth. He sat back, eyes trained on his fingers disappearing over and over in you and he licked his parted lips.

“Please… sweet girl, let me… fuck!- let me see you cum.” 

His pleading voice and the way his eyes watched you was adding to the tightening coil. His thumb found your clit again and lightly rubbed small circles. 

Your body tensed and Ezra’s brows furrowed; he let out a low groan as your core fluttered and squeezed his fingers. 

“Please… please, Birdie… lemme see…”

He’d lost the ability to loquaciously vocalize his every thought and was reduced to under enunciating his words as he watched you fall apart.

You cried out, eyes clenched and your hands gripping each of his wrists. He panted along with you, murmuring praises.

“That’s it… there it is… my sweet Birdie…”

You came down and he pulled his fingers from you, wiping them on the discarded boxers, and he laid down on the couch again, pulling your back to his front.

You laid together for a moment, breathing in tandem. Ezra kissed your shoulder softly.

“Thank you.”, you murmured.

You could feel his smile as he pressed another kiss. “I should be the one thanking you. I was the blessed party that got to watch you succumb.” 

You let out a laugh, a real, full, genuine laugh, and Ezra joined in. You felt a peace in your heart that was slowly flooding the rest of you. 

It didn’t matter if this wasn’t going to last - in this moment, you felt free.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

I fear…. I will never be able to get a massage again without being reminded of this fic 😳

🫠🫠🫠

I WANT EZRA TO GIVE ME THAT SORT OF MASSAGE!!!!

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

FYI, I’m having tumblr trouble. Notifications aren’t showing in activity in tumblr, so I’m missing out on seeing your likes/rb’s/comments and I’m also having some difficulty replying to comments on my own posts. They just disappear ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I if i don't reply to your kind words, you know what’s up 😵‍💫🫠 not intentionally ignoring anyone!!

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty voice. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, dove, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

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