Saving Ezra - 5. Chapter 5

Ezra tucked his clothes in the hamper next to the bathroom door. The teen moved quickly past the mirror, avoiding his reflection. At the tub he spun the knobs quickly and flicked the switch from faucet to shower. Soon, steam wafted from the hot droplets in a pale vapor. Ezra stepped in quickly, not bothering to test the temperature. The boy sucked in a hiss as the steaming water pelted his myriad bruises, pain flaring before the heat began to sooth his aching body. He stuck his head under the steaming water, head hanging as the drumming spray pounded on the back of his neck and shoulders knotted with tension.

Ezra stood there for several minutes, wrapping his arms around himself, letting the water and fog envelope him. Showering was one of the few truly private times he had. Ezra wasn’t allowed to lock the bathroom door, but his dad always knocked and spoke through the door before he would come in. Ezra didn’t even have that kind of privacy in his bedroom. The door to Ezra’s room was always supposed to be open. His father said there was nothing the boy should be doing in his room that Ezra couldn’t do in front of his dad. The teen could kind of see where his father was coming from, even if he didn’t like it. Ezra got dressed in the bathroom after showering, so he wasn’t usually naked in his room. He still hated it when his dad just walked in his bedroom without even knocking on the door frame or announcing his presence.

So, Ezra liked showers. They also seemed to help a lot with soreness and bruising. They weren’t great for cuts, but he hadn’t had to worry about those since the previous year.

The teen let himself soak a little longer before starting to wash. He thought of his day, wondering what job Joshua would have for him on Monday. He hadn’t minded the papers and stapling, it would probably get pretty boring if that’s all he’d be doing for the whole semester, though. The senior mentally shrugged as he rinsed his hair, he should just be grateful it was a job he could handle. Boredom was a small price to pay to be able to graduate on time.

Joshua had gotten Ezra to talk more than he should have, though. That was worrisome. He’d just have to be more careful. The college student was so... appealing. He seemed kind and funny, which was good. The twenty-one year old was also sinfully attractive to Ezra, which was very bad. The senior knew he was physically attracted to Joshua, knew he was weak and sinful to have these lustful feelings for another man. The boy just couldn’t seem to stop them. There was nowhere safe that Ezra could look at the young man, every part seemed to hold appeal. Especially his lips and eyes. Oh, those were the most wicked of all. Just thinking of it made his penis start to get hard.

Ezra wrapped his arms around himself, fighting the urge to reach down and touch himself… even just a little. The action reminded him of the hug. Ezra squeezed himself tighter, remembering long warm arms around him. At first it had startled him, he hadn’t known what to do. For a moment Ezra had worried that he had somehow tempted Joshua into feeling inappropriate things for him, but the college student had done nothing but hold him like he was something cherished and hadn’t tried to touch him anywhere else making Ezra relax fractionally.

The teen closed his eyes, remembering how Joshua had smelled, like hints of some shampoo or body wash and something more smoky and herbal, maybe incense or something. Ezra had been so close to the sandy-haired college student. He could have turned his head and brushed his lips across the skin of the bigger man’s cheek, could have nuzzled into his throat and felt the soft heat there.

Ezra’s heartbeat sped, one hand releasing its grip on his side to slowly slide downward. The teen clenched his wandering fingers into a fist. No.

No. No. No.

Doing that was sinful and dirty. Maybe Ezra’s father wouldn’t come in and see, but God was always watching. Judging.

Ezra’s hand shot down, clenching his cock in a cruel grip, willing his erection to go away. It throbbed in his palm like a living thing, undeterred by Ezra’s choking hold. The pleasure was an aching fire that spread out to pool in his stomach. The teen squeezed tighter, grunting in pain and then frustration as his cock refused to go down and images of Joshua wouldn’t leave his mind.

Like images of Joshua joking about blowing raspberries on Ezra’s stomach… Joshua gently knocking him down onto a couch or… or even a bed. Ezra bit his lip to hold back a moan. His hand relaxed on his hard length, squeezing it gently. He thought of the handsome college student pinning him down, one strong hand holding both of Ezra’s wrists above the slender boy’s head. The teen began to stroke himself, a little bit of remaining soap on his hand slicking the warm friction.

There wouldn’t be any teasing in Joshua’s blue-green eyes as the college student yanked Ezra’s shirt above the teen’s nipples and the man’s mouth, those lips with shining silver rings accentuating their fullness, dropping slowly toward Ezra’s pale skin. In his mind, the teen’s body was unmarked, no bruises or scars to mar him or bring questions into Joshua’s heated gaze. Then hot lips with two deliciously contrasting cool flashes of metal would press into the smooth skin of Ezra’s belly. He clenched his teeth as his fist moved faster on his cock, precum mixing with slippery soap. When he imagined Joshua’s lips parting and a hot tongue searing the skin just below Ezra’s naval the teen couldn’t hold in a gasp. He leaned against the chilly, damp tile, afraid he might fall over otherwise. He braced his feet, two fingers tracing the flesh around his belly-button as he pumped his weeping cock with his other hand, eyes clenching shut.

When his mind had Joshua grinning wickedly and tugging down the teen’s waistband while licking a molten trail south, it was too much for Ezra. He stifled a moan as his stiff length twitched in his hand. His orgasm burned through him, starting low in his gut and rushing fast to pull his balls up tight to his body then spread up his cock. Little white puddles splashed to the tub floor, only to be swept away by the swirling waters. The teen stroked himself until the sensitivity made the touch more pain than pleasure. He panted, leaning heavily against the cool wall as he floated in the euphoric rush.

As his bliss faded shame began to tickle the back of his mind. Ezra was just roughly rinsing himself clean as a quick knock at the door made him startle and nearly slip and fall.

“You about done in there, son? You’ve been taking an awfully long time to scrub up when I think I was pretty clear you needed to get a move on.” Ezra’s father called through the door. “No point delaying things. You know it’s just worse on yourself when you try to put it off.”

“Y-yeah, Dad!” The teen quickly turned off the water and grabbed his towel. “I’m done right now! Just one sec!”

The boy rushed to dry himself, the steam from the shower swirling around him. The heat that had seemed so soothing before now left the room stifling and heavy. Ezra yanked a brush through his hair and turned to the door. A thin gray robe hung from a hook set into the wood. Ezra reached for it with a shaking hand, tugging it free and pulling it on. He tied it quickly, covering his naked body with a shudder. The robe’s fabric was scratchy and uncomfortable, it always made Ezra’s skin crawl at first.

“Okay.” Ezra wrapped his arms around his chest. “I’m ready.”

The door swung open, steam swirling out into the hall as a cool draft wafted in. Ezra’s father waved a hand in front of his face as he stepped in the door.

“Good grief, Ezra.” The big man griped. “Do we have any hot water left? I was going to shower later.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The teen dropped his eyes.

“You always say you’re sorry. Yet your actions speak louder. I hear the devil in them.” Paul took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to keep his temper. “No more putting off your therapy. Go get the ice.”

Panicked hazel eyes flashed up to his father’s grim face. “Dad, please…”

The man held up a big hand, halting his son’s words. “Ice. Now.”

Ezra slunk past his father, keeping his eyes down. He didn’t bother going to the kitchen. That wasn’t the ice his father wanted. The teen’s toes chilled on the cool wood stairs to the basement. He hurried to the big freezer in the corner. Ezra tugged the lid open and leaned in, standing on his tip-toes. The air cooled his cheeks as his breath fogged while he reached for the twenty pound bag of ice slumped in the far corner of the deep freeze. The angle was awkward, but Ezra finally was able to wrestle the lumpy plastic bag out. The teen awkwardly balanced the ice on one hip to free a hand to shut the freezer. The cold lingered against Ezra’s side even when he shifted the sack to carry it more easily. The boy didn’t dawdle. Nothing good would have come from putting it off any longer. The last thing Ezra wanted was to get his therapy while his dad was mad at him.

The teen’s fingers and chest were chilled by the time he made it back to the bathroom. His father was crouched next to the bathtub, hand testing the water rushing from the faucet. He turned his head and gave Ezra a nod, then looked back and shut off the water running into the tub. The teen lugged the ice to his father and stood awkwardly next to the half-full tub.

Paul gestured for Ezra to set the ice next to the tub. The man reached into his pocket to pull out a small knife. Ezra fought not to flinch away as his father flicked it open. The blade made a quick slice across plastic, opening the ice bag wide. Paul made sure the ice wouldn’t spill out before snapping his knife closed and returning it to his pocket.

Paul knelt on the floor and Ezra quickly followed, the tile cold and hard as it dug into his bare knees. They both folded their hands in prayer.

“Heavenly Lord,” Paul’s voice seemed to boom in the small space. “We humbly beg your presence and guidance as we seek your grace. Please, be with us, Lord, as we ask your help in ridding this boy of the evil of man and Satan that he may be filled instead with your light. Amen.”

“Amen.” Ezra echoed.

“Let’s begin.” Paul said, voice softening as he moved to stand.

Ezra stood, as well, body stiff as he clumsily untied his robe. His father eased the rough fabric from the teen’s shoulders and returned it to its hook on the door. Paul returned, offering Ezra a hand. The boy took it and stepped gingerly into the tub. The water was cold, reaching his shins and making him shiver. Paul kept hold of Ezra’s hand, helping him to sit in the chilly water. Ezra sucked in air as the liquid enveloped his lower body. He grimaced as his genitals pulled tight to his body, it felt like his balls were trying to yank themselves up into his belly.

A pat on the shoulder had Ezra sliding lower in the cool water. The tub was large, he could nearly stretch out in it, only needing to bend his knees a little. When only his head was above water he stopped scooting down. The water didn’t feel as bad now, his body adjusting to the cooler temperature. Paul stood next to the tub, looming over the thin naked teen.

“Therefore consider the members of your earthly body as dead to immorality, impurity, passion, evil, desire, and greed,” the tall man recited from memory.

“Colossians,” Ezra responded automatically.

Paul leaned over and picked up the large bag of ice, hefting it without difficulty. “If you are living according to the flesh, you must die; but if by the Spirit you are putting to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”

“Romans.” The teen’s voice trembled slightly.

“Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”

“Galatians.” Ezra said weakly and his father upended the sack over him.

The boy closed his eyes tight as frozen chunks rained down. They splashed into the water with wet plops. Some bounced off his head and face, but he held very still, keeping his arms down in the water. It didn’t take long for the cold of the ice to begin creeping into the water.

Ezra fought not to shiver, trying to be strong. Soon, he couldn’t fight it, though, the wet cold creeping through his skin to sink into his muscles, making him shake. The movement made the water shift, bumping the teen with melting pieces of ice, chilling him further. The sensation of cold moved from discomfort to pain, starting in the tips of his fingers and toes then spreading. It hurt. The boy’s breaths came faster as the cold invaded him, he panted through parted lips.

“Calm now,” Paul’s hand patted the top of Ezra’s head. It was meant to sooth, but only felt jarring to the frozen boy. “Let the light of God in. Let it cleanse you. It’s going to be okay.”

The touch became firm on top of the teen’s head, with one swift move Paul pushed Ezra’s head under the frigid water. The boy’s hands flew up to the sides of the tub, but he was able to stop himself from grabbing at his father’s hands. Ezra clamped his mouth shut, even as his body demanded he open it and suck in a shocked breath. The teen wondered at this odd reaction of his body, why being dunked into freezing water made his mouth want to open and his chest strain to suck in air that wasn’t there.

Ezra fought for stillness, trying to do as his father told him, to let the biting cold push out the evil and sin in him and allow the goodness of God back. The boy knew the evil was in him, hadn’t he just sinned flagrantly right there in that shower just a little earlier? He’d even spread his sin to an innocent Joshua by his wicked thoughts and actions. He deserved all the pain, discomfort, and more. Ezra didn’t want to be bad. He didn’t want to be filled with evil and sin.

The hand eased on top of his hair and Ezra pushed until his head and shoulders were clear of the biting iciness of the water. His gasps were loud and ragged, tearing through his chest. Before he had caught his breath Ezra’s head was shoved back under again. Bits of melting ice bumped his face as he struggled to keep still, be a good boy, accept God’s grace.

Ezra knew his father was counting as he held him under. The teen tried to count in his head, but couldn’t seem to focus and kept losing his place. His chest was burning when the boy’s father let him up next. The small room filled with the boy’s desperate gasps.

Too soon, Ezra was under again. He fought to keep his body still, not to fight. He was able to control himself for two more times out of the water for air before he lost it. His mouth was parted, drawing a deep breath, when his father pushed him back under. Ezra wasn’t ready for it, freezing water shooting up his nose and filling his mouth. He grabbed the sides of the tub and braced his feet, trying to shove himself upward.

The hold on his head shifted. The hand that had been open just keeping gentle pressure on the top of his crown now dug in. Strong fingers clenched into Ezra’s dark hair, forcing him down as he struggled. The teen grabbed at his father’s hands, yanking fruitlessly at strong arms and immovable fingers. The cold on his skin burned, like he was surrounded by fire instead of water. His fingers were numb, clumsy as they scrabbled against his father’s rough hold, but the rest of him stung in burning waves.

And still, his father held him under.

He was going to die. Ezra wouldn’t be able to hold out this time. He hadn’t gotten a good breath when he’d been suddenly submerged. He had no air left in his lungs, just an aching, sucking vacuum that threatened to cave in his ribs.

At least if he died now he would be clean of his usual wickedness. Maybe God would even be merciful enough to consider letting him into heaven. He could be with his mom.

Suddenly the fist in his hair was pulling him up instead of forcing him down. He sputtered as his face cleared the water, choking and flailing. Ezra was released to collapse over the edge of the tub, hanging limply over the side as he coughed raggedly. Paul patted the teen on the back, trying to help him get over his coughing fit.

“There we go.” The big man said gruffly. “I’ve got you.”

Paul yanked the plug to drain the freezing water as Ezra struggled to remember how to breathe correctly. The wracking shudders shaking his slight body making it hard to catch a full breath. When the last of the cold water had drained away and all that was left were chunks of melting ice, Paul stood, taking a large fluffy towel from the back of the toilet.

“Up we go.” The big man said, hooking his hands under Ezra’s armpits.

Ezra’s movements were weak and sluggish as his father helped him out of the tub and onto his feet. The shakes continued as Paul steadied his son with one hand and rubbed the towel over him with the other. When the boy was dried to the man’s satisfaction, he wrapped the towel around the teen’s chest, tucking the ends so it would stay in place. The big man hunched over, putting Ezra’s arm over his shoulder to help him stumble out of the bathroom and across the hall to the boy’s room. Paul sat his shaking son in a folding chair near the bed. He crouched in front of the teen, helping the boy fold his hands together.

“I have been crucified with Christ,” Paul’s voice was strong and sure, “and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”

“G-g-g-galatians,” Ezra stuttered through chattering teeth.

“Amen,” his father said calmly and stood.

Paul went to his son’s bed, turning back a comforter and several blankets to reveal an oversized heating pad that had been tucked between the bottom sheet and the blankets. He moved the warm pad to the side and went back to his shivering son. He helped the boy into underwear and pajama pants before tucking him into the toasty bed. Blankets surrounded Ezra with the heating pad placed on top. The warmth was painful, but Ezra knew it would pass. The shivering would eventually go away as well.

“I’ll be back to check on you later.” Paul patted the heating pad covering his son. “I have my own therapy I need to get to.” The man straightened and stepped out the door, turning the light off as he went.

Ezra’s shivers were starting to subside and the stinging pins and needles were fading from his fingers and toes when he heard the rhythmic sound of leather striking flesh from his father’s room down the hall. The teen recognized the noise as a whip, the braided cat had a dozen or so tails each with a hard knot in the leather at the tip. Each strike was kept to a controlled rhythm, though after the first few minutes every thudding slap was followed by a pained grunt.

The teen pulled the warm blankets over his head then pushed his pillow to cover his ears.

Ezra really hated Fridays.