Ezra's Body
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Story Notes:

Originally written and shared on the Kanezra Discord server.

Sometime in the past two years Kanan has acquired a voracious appetite for Ezra’s body. A kind of primal bone-deep yearning for his scent and his taste. Particularly his precum. There is no sweeter substance in the galaxy than those first clear beads of dew that leak from Ezra’s slit. They’re beautiful. Little diamond-drops of love and eagerness that exist solely because of Kanan—and for him. They’re all his. His doing.

He looks Ezra in the eye and wraps his hand around him and drags his tongue over the head of Ezra’s penis, lapping up his slick nectar.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

Panting through parted lips, Ezra curls his fists into the sheets and gazes down at the man between his thighs.

Kanan purses his lips and forms a soft wet rosebud for Ezra’s cockhead to nestle in. He suckles him until Ezra’s toes curl and his fingers are tangled in the bedding. Ezra moans whispers of encouragement. Kanan coaxes more precum out with his tongue, squeezing the glans between his lips until the slit turns into a round leaking hole. He licks and sucks and nibbles the ridge on the underside, flicks his tongue against the stringy skin where head meets shaft. He does this and nothing but this for a long time. He never swallows past Ezra’s crown. The boy is a shivering hormonal mess beneath him, oozing sweetly and constantly into Kanan’s mouth.

He pulls off every now and then to keep Ezra from cumming. “You taste like youth,” he murmurs, breath hot on Ezra’s firm, tight little sac. “Like sunshine and rain. Ripe fruit. Moonlight on the leaves of trees. Did you climb trees when you were small, Ezra?”


Kanan smiles and draws Ezra between his silky wet lips again.

The muscles in Ezra’s lean belly suddenly go taut. He arches with a whimper. “Unh, Kanan, please, I’m—!”

Kanan refuses to take him deeper. He cradles Ezra’s head on his tongue and strokes the underside until he cums, warm bitter tangy semen pulsing out from that sweet flesh and filling his mouth.

Kanan gulps. And gulps again. Taking Ezra into him, his vitality, his energy, his adolescent seed kept fresh by virtue of the boy’s constant masturbation.

“Enough, enough, please!” Ezra wails, and Kanan lets him go. He leans over Ezra and drags his tongue up his penis, over the rough bristles of his pubic hair—musky and familiar, a scent he knows and loves—and to the soft dip of his navel. He rewets his tongue in his mouth before continuing his journey up over Ezra’s belly, his breastbone, his clavicle, his throat. When he arrives at his lips, Ezra opens up and welcomes him with his tongue. He wraps his arms around Kanan’s wide shoulders and hugs him with his legs. He drinks the flavor of his body from Kanan’s mouth. Plays with the lips that caressed his tenderest anatomy. The shy pink taste of teenage blushes and private skin.

Sweet as innocence.

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