Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  Alex resisted the urge to bang his head on the built-in dresser and instead laid his hands on Sergei’s shoulders. “Hey, Serhoya, ça va! Everything is okay.” He gently patted Sergei’s cheek, trying to convey with his tone and expression and touch that by ‘everything’ he meant even the things they weren’t talking about. “Can I have that tea now?”

  “Da, da. Of course.” Sergei tensed, hesitating for a second, and then pulled Alex into a tight, silent hug.

  Alex had been hugged by Sergei before, of course, but this time they were aware of their bodies pressing together in a whole new way.

  When Sergei left to put the kettle one, Alex let the cats out of the carrier. They inched out, sniffing suspiciously as if he might have dumped them somewhere hostile. Torvill looked around the room as if searching for something.

  Oh, crap. He’d forgotten to grab the litter box. Damn it. He was the worst cat parent ever.

  With a sigh, he flopped back onto the bed. Maybe he could leave the door to the deck open and hope they were smart enough not to run away and fast enough not to be eaten by coyotes. If he took the top off the cat carrier, maybe they’d use the bottom as a litter box. God knew it wouldn’t be the first time they’d peed in the dang box.

  Alex lay on the bed, staring at the inside of his eyelids and listening to the soft thumps of the cats exploring the room.

  Sergei came back clutching an enormous towel, a half-used roll of toilet paper, a plastic bag full of hotel toiletries, and a few airplane hospitality kits Alex knew from experience were stuffed with sleep masks, miniscule toothbrushes, and ill-fitting socks made from a fabric not found in nature.

  The cats followed Sergei into the bathroom, and the sound of his deep voice murmuring to them as he puttered around the room settled over Alex like a blanket.

  Sergei had him. He was safe. No matter what happened in the future, as long as Sergei was around Alex could relax tonight. Sleep crept over the edges of his mind, and he slipped into a state somewhere between wakefulness and dreaming.

  In a vision that was half dream, half memory, he pictured himself waiting for Sergei to get out of the shower so he could take his turn. Outside, the world was still dark and cold at five o’clock on a Saguenay winter morning. Downstairs, his mother filled a thermos with strong, hot coffee to warm them up during their pre-dawn skating practice.

  A hand in his hair pulled him out of the memory. “Is it my turn?” he muttered.

  “Your turn to sleep, zaichick,” Sergei said warmly.

  Alex muttered and turned his head into Sergei’s hand as his fingers carded through his hair. “Keep petting me.”

  “Hedonist,” Sergei chuckled. The bed dipped as the big man sat on the edge of the mattress.

  Alex curled toward him, throwing an arm over Sergei’s strong thigh. “Stay.”

  “All night I should just pet you?”

  “Umm-hmm. I can’t see why not.”

  A cat jumped on the bed, and Alex flinched as a cat nose nuzzled at his ear. A paw joined Sergei’s hand in Alex’s hair. Torvill, then. She loved to groom Alex as if he were her kitten.

  Alex groaned and rolled reluctantly away from Sergei’s warmth.

  “What is wrong?” Sergei asked.

  “I forgot to bring the litter box. The monsters are going to pee all over your floor.” Alex could hear the gears turning in Sergei’s brain. “I thought I could use the bottom of the carrier if I had something to line it with.”

  “Like what?”

  Alex sat up. “I don’t know.”

  Sergei thought. “Would sand work?”

  “Yeah, it’s better than nothing. Maybe newspaper, but who gets the newspaper delivered anymore?”

  “I do. I get the Seattle Times daily and the New York Times on Sunday.”

  Of course he did. The man read more than anyone else Alex knew.

  Sergei stood up. “I have sand maybe in garage. I go check.” And he was gone again. Alex was exhausted just watching him. He’d played an entire hockey game tonight, driven across town to Charles’s place, fought with Charles, and then packed up Alex and moved him in. And now he was going to haul sand up the stairs for Alex’s cats because Alex was too pathetic to remember that cats had to pee.

  He was useless.

  The shrill whistle from the kettle dragged him out of his self-pity. The least he could do was make tea.

  He’d filled the teapot by the time Sergei came back in through the garage door carrying a giant bag of sand over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Alex let his gaze roam over Sergei’s body in a way he almost never allowed himself anymore.

  But, God. Everything about him was perfect. Physically, they were total opposites. Sergei was almost a foot taller than Alex and a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. He had broad shoulders and a wide chest covered with soft dark hair, strong thighs, and a perfect ass. And all of that physical perfection encased one of the biggest hearts and smartest brains Alex had ever met.

  Sergei was genuinely a good man. That’s all there was to it. And it was so fucking sexy Alex could weep.

  Wanting Sergei was a thing that ebbed and flowed through Alex’s life. The time he had spent on detailed fantasies of what he would do with a naked Sergei was equivalent to the time he wasted spending the millions of dollars he would have when he won the lottery: a mindless way to spend some middle of the night hours, and either fantasy could end in orgasm.

  Sergei coughed, and Alex realized he’d been staring for a few beats too long. He dragged his glance back up to those warm brown eyes. Sergei was looking at him like he was a mystery waiting to be solved or a present to unwrap.

  He turned to the teapot to hide his blush. "I know I’m a mess. Pathetic. How did I let my life get this bad? Thank you for letting me crash. I'll pay you back, I swear. I'll be out of your hair in no time. I don't want to impose, I just…"

  Alex heard the thud of the sandbag hitting the ground, then Sergei’s hands were on his hips, turning him around. He gasped as Sergei pulled his hair, yanking his head back. Then Sergei’s lips were on his. Sweet baby Jesus.

  6

  Alex

  Alex couldn’t breathe. And not just because of the whole lips of Sergei thing, although those were amazing. Sergei was just so damn big and strong. He enveloped Alex, his arms wrapping completely around his back as he lifted Alex up on to his toes to pull their mouths together.

  Alex had never seen Sergei kiss anyone. In all the years he had known each other, Sergei hadn’t seriously dated anyone. He’d assumed Sergei was mostly asexual. But this kiss was not tentative. Or hesitant. It was hot as hell. When Alex wrapped his arms around Sergei’s shoulders, Sergei’s warm, callused hands slipped under Alex’s shirt.

  Oh, fuck, that was nice.

  His beard scratched against Alex’s face, setting his nerve endings on fire, and he smelled amazing.

  Alex whined when Sergei’s tongue touched his lips. Oh, God. Fuck it. He opened his mouth and drew that tongue inside for a brief taste. Okay. Fuck. Enough.

  Hating himself, he put his hands flat on Sergei’s chest and pushed Sergei away, before he found himself humping Sergei’s leg until he came in his pants. But he couldn’t resist running his hands down Sergei’s chest and abs. Sergei stepped back, and in the most mixed of messages, Alex grabbed his t-shirt to stop him from getting too far away.

  “I am sorry!” Sergei said quickly. “I should not have done that.”

  “Okay. Wait.” Alex sighed deeply and let go of Sergei’s clothing. Smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt, he patted Sergei’s chest. “Okay. Tea?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the teapot. He spoke as he prepared the tea the way they both liked it.

  “Okay. What was that about? Not that it wasn’t hot as hell, but why?” The spoon clinked against the edge of the glass teacup as he stirred in the sugar with trembling hands.

  “I don’t know. I wanted to see what it would be like.”

  “And?” Alex set the spoon down,
hands balled into fists on the counter while he waited for the answer.

  “I never. I feel…I don’t know.” Sergei sounded so confused. Befuddled.

  “Was it that bad?” Alex forced himself to turn around and hand Sergei a cup of tea.

  “Thank you,” Sergei said. His eyes widened as he registered what Alex had said. “No! No. The kiss. It was not bad.”

  “That’s a glowing review,” Alex smirked.

  “I, I don’t mean…”

  “I know. But answer me one thing. We’ve been friends forever. Why now? Why all of a sudden did you kiss me now? It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to do it before.”

  Sergei set his cup down on the counter. “That is not true.”

  “Oh.” Okay. That was something he was going to have to think about some other time.

  “The words Chuck said,” Sergei continued, stepping closer to Alex. He lifted his hand as if to touch Alex, and Alex held his breath until Sergei let his hand drop back down. Sergei tapped the side of his head with his finger. “It sticks in my brain, and I think, why am I not kissing Alex?”

  “And now that you’re paying for me, you thought, why not?” Alex said bitterly.

  “No! Nyet. Never. Never would I think that.” Sergei stepped back. “Do you think I am like Charles?” He spat the name out. “You think I give you bed and I take your body? You think I could be like that?”

  Alex was horrified to see tears shining in Sergei’s eyes. God, he was such a fuck-up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sex always messed everything up. One kiss between them and already they were fighting. Panic filled him at the thought of losing Sergei’s friendship, of things being awkward between them forever. He would never survive that.

  “No!” He launched himself at Sergei, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his head in Sergei’s chest. “No. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  Slowly, hesitantly, Sergei wrapped his arms around Alex. This hug felt more familiar, more like the hundreds of other times Sergei had comforted Alex or taken comfort from him. “I am sorry, too.”

  Alex sagged against the larger man, trusting Sergei to hold him up. “It’s been a long, really rather sucky day. Let’s just give the cats somewhere to pee and then go to bed.” He tensed, waiting for Sergei to agree with him, praying that he wouldn’t try to make Alex talk. If that happened, Alex might jump Sergei’s bones simply to avoid having to talk.

  “Okay,” Sergei said. He dropped a small kiss on top of Alex’s head. “Okay, bratiska, sleep now. Talk tomorrow.”

  Or never, Alex thought. He forced a smile as he backed out of Sergei’s embrace. “Okay. But if you are going to kiss me, maybe you shouldn’t call me little brother. It’s a little creepy.”

  He laughed at the horrified expression on Sergei’s face. There were too many layers to their relationship, too much of a past for them to be anything but what they were. Friends, brothers, family.

  Frankly, Alex needed that more than anything. Lovers came and went, relationships ended in betrayal and tears. He needed Sergei in his life, and he wasn’t going to risk losing him over something as stupid as a little unresolved sexual tension. The best thing for everyone would be to move past it.

  Three o’clock in the morning and the world outside Alex’s windows was dark and still. Only the red lights from the ferries and cell towers shone now. The mattress cradled him like a lover’s arms. The silk comforter was filled with down from the wings of angels as far as he could tell, and the cats snored quietly on either side of him.

  Exhaustion weighed down his limbs, and he should have been sleeping, but his mind insisted on obsessively replaying the details of the night so Alex could over-analyze and dissect every word that he, Charles, and Sergei had said to each other.

  Sure, Sergei had denied it, but obviously, something Charles had said had bothered him. What if Sergei really did think Alex was some kind of whore and now he somehow belonged to Sergei?

  No. Sergei would never think that. Alex shifted restlessly, remembering that kiss and the feel of Sergei wanting him. God, that kiss had messed with his mind more than any other kiss in his life.

  It was official. He was never going to fall asleep. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed. Grabbing a soft blanket Sergei had tossed at the foot of the bed, he wrapped it around him, slipped his feet into the beat-up bunny slippers-a gift from Sergei years ago-and left the room.

  The cats trailed after him as he walked down the hallway in the dark, trying to find Sergei’s bedroom by memory. Holding his breath, he pushed the door open quietly. “Sergei?”

  No answer. He couldn’t hear Sergei’s snores, and the room felt empty. He stepped farther into the room to be sure. Yeah. It was empty.

  There was only one other place Sergei could be. “Come on, guys,” Alex said to his not-so-furry companions. “To the study.”

  Blue flames burned low in the gas fireplace in the bookcase-lined study. Soft moonlight snuck through the curtainless windows, lending enough illumination for Alex to see Sergei lying on the enormous leather couch he loved. His eyes glittered in the low light.

  “Hey,” Alex said pushing Sergei’s feet up a little so he could sit on the end of the couch. “Can’t sleep?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” Sergei asked, not moving.

  “Both. I can’t sleep. Why are you on the couch?”

  Sergei shrugged. “Sometimes is easier to sleep here.”

  “It’s my favorite room in the house,” Alex confessed.

  Sergei kicked him gently. “Then lay down. We both sleep.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time they’d shared that couch. Sergei had bought the eight-foot-long monstrosity with his very first paycheck and then hauled it from place to place over the years.

  “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good. Should I…” he indicated the end of the sofa opposite Sergei’s head. It was how they normally shared the sofa, heads on opposite ends, feet crossing in the middle. That usually ended up with Sergei’s feet in Alex’s face or a knee in his bladder. Plus, it wasn’t what he needed tonight.

  Sergei scooted deeper into the sofa and lifted up his blanket in invitation. “Come here.”

  Well, okay. Sergei was the boss. And, Alex reasoned, that was the only rational way to handle it. Like grownups. Grownups who cuddled. On a sofa. In a platonic way. After a bizarre kiss that may have changed the entire topography of their relationship.

  Alex nodded and crawled under the covers. The cats settled at their feet. Alex held himself tensely away from Sergei until Sergei sighed and wrapped an arm around his chest, pulling Alex against him.

  Oh, that felt wonderful. Alex relaxed completely.

  “I’m sorry,” Sergei whispered into the back of Alex’s head.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Alex answered, knowing neither one of them was sure what they were apologizing for. Leaving any more introspection for the rapidly approaching morning, Alex rolled into Sergei, wondering how someone could simultaneously be the reason he needed to be comforted and the one to provide that comfort.

  Alex wrapped his arms around the sleepy, warm bulk of his best friend and fell into a deep sleep.

  7

  Sergei

  A soft but pointy paw lightly tapping his nose and an unaccustomed but not unpleasant weight on his chest were the first things Sergei registered upon waking.

  The next thing he noticed, which probably should have been the first, was Alex snuggled up against his side, trapping Sergei’s left arm beneath him. In his defense, it was far from the first time he’d fallen asleep on the couch with Alex, but it was the first time he’d woken to find a hairless cat sitting on his chest.

  “Koshka,” he grumbled, freeing his other arm from underneath the blanket to scratch at the kitty’s head, “why you wake me up, and not your poppa, hey?”

  Torvill responded by rubbing her head against his beard. Sensing the movement of someone with opposable thumbs who might even know where the can opener was, Dean stalked along the back
of the couch with a questioning meow.

  “Because she knows I don’t love her in the mornings,” Alex mumbled against Sergei’s chest in answer to his question to the cat. “I don’t love anyone or anything in the morning.”

  Not even me? Sergei thought. He tightened his arm around Alex, feeling wildly out of his depth. He didn’t know what he was doing here at all. How did people do relationships? Was he supposed to date Alex? Did Alex even want a relationship?

  “I can feel your heart pounding, and can sense you angsting,” Alex said. “Stop. It’s too early.”

  Sergei judged the light in the room. “It is after nine.” Which meant he was already behind schedule, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to stay right on this couch with Alex and the cats.

  What he really wanted to do was kiss Alex again. Actually, he wanted to do more than that. For the first time in a long time he wanted more. He wanted to feel Alex’s body against his, wanted to map it with his hands.

  “Coffee,” Alex groaned. Heedless of the cats, he rolled off the couch, dragging the blanket with him. Torvill and Dean seemed to be used to the move and simply surfed the blanket down to the floor.

  When Alex failed to stand up, Sergei looked over the edge of the couch to see him curled up in the blanket on the floor, apparently sleeping again. Alex really wasn’t a morning person.

  Sergei sat up rubbing his eyes and getting his bearings. He didn’t mind mornings, usually, but while the couch was bearable for one person, sharing it with someone else left his shoulders and hips stiffer than normal. Not to mention other body parts. He frowned at his erection, hoping Alex hadn’t noticed.

  Thinking of Alex gave him a weird bubbling feeling in his stomach, as if something amazing or tragic hovered just out of reach.

  By the time Alex staggered into the kitchen looking adorably half-asleep, Sergei had gone to the bathroom, washed his face, got his overexcited penis under control, fed the cats a can of tuna he had found in his pantry, and brewed coffee.