Miracle (boyxboy)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The old man in white came up to us, and I stumbled back a step. He raised his sunglasses onto the top of his head and scanned me with bright blue eyes.

Never mind that visually he wasn't that attractive. Barely average looking, in fact. Nonetheless, my dick throbbed and I was maybe ten seconds away from launching myself at the guy and humping his leg for some relief. He reached out and touched my face, tilting it up toward him. He was nowhere near as tall as Ezra, probably not even six feet, but he was still taller than me.

The sudden erotic fantasies that were playing out in my head as he examined me were more shocking than any porn clip I'd ever watched. My face had to be day-glo pink, because every part of me was on fire. If he'd asked I would have dropped my pants for him on the spot and done whatever he asked, no matter who was watching.

"My, my, Ezrael," he said in a voice and tone that were unapologetically feminine—and held a foreign accent I couldn't place. "You didn't tell me your little Eljo was so potent. I could smell him a mile away. And now just look what he's making me do."

Crap. A surge of lust rolled up into my lungs and came out as a whimper.

Ezra laid a hand on the man's forearm and pressed it down, effectively forcing him to let me go. He stepped in between us, but at the same time gave the man a formal half-bow, as if he was guarding me and being carefully respectful at the same time.

"Swan," he said evenly, "I am grateful for your assistance. But I must remind you of your promise."

"Oh, psh," the Swan answered, though he did back off some. He turned his twinkling eyes on Ezra instead, and ran an admiring hand over the broad muscle of Ezra's chest. He paused right where his nipple would be underneath the black hoodie, and flicked a fingertip.

My entire being flooded with jealousy. I wish I could have said it was on Ezra's behalf, but it wasn't.

"As I recall, I gave my word not to coerce the mite into things he doesn't want. But it seems that won't be a problem, don't you think?"

No problem at all.

Ezra stood his ground. "His ripening has barely started. He doesn't know what he wants."

The hell I don't. The pressure in my pants was decisive.

The Swan chuckled. "Well, but isn't that what ripening is all about? I think you're selling him short, my friend. Truly, though, he's a beauty, even all banged up. Now I understand why you keep turning me down." He looked Ezra over and clucked his tongue. "Meanwhile, you're running on empty, I see. It's a good thing you contacted me, he'll do fine at my place. No one will even know he's there." He extended a palm to Ezra and curled his fingers expectantly. Ezra reached inside his hoodie, and handed over a bottle of the pheromone blocker.

The Swan's face lit as he held it up to the sun. "Ooh, it's pretty. Let's give it a test." He spritzed it onto his wrists like an expensive perfume, then raised one to his nose and made a face. "Heavens, would it have killed you to add a little lavender or vanilla or something?"

"You have to put more on," I said from behind Ezra's elbow, trying not to pant between the words. "It doesn't work if you only wear it like that."

He gave me such a brilliant smile, I felt my stomach turning to water. "Is that so, sweetness? Then here, why don't you show me."

He held the bottle out. I took it, aimed at his neck and curly-haired chest, and aggressively applied three pumps of the formula. "Hold out your arms," I instructed, which appeared to amuse him. He complied, and I sprayed his underarms. Then my gaze dropped to the front of his pants. Renewed heat filled my face as I could plainly see that under the tailored linen, this guy was as aroused as I was.