Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  Alex slid past Sergei with a grunt and opened the refrigerator. Staring into the brightly-lit interior, he pulled a bottle of store-brand non-dairy creamer out of the fridge and frowned at it suspiciously. “How old is this?”

  Sergei shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think it’s still good?” Alex turned the bottle around and around, searching for an expiration date.

  Sergei took the plastic bottle from him, sniffed it and frowned before handing it back. “Can it even go bad? I think it may be some kind of liquid plastic, no?”

  “Good point.” Alex opened a few cabinets until he found the coffee cups.

  Sergei studied his face as he dug through the slim selection, finally pulling out two with a scowl. Even his scowling was attractive. Had one of his eyes always been a little darker blue than the other or was Sergei only noticing it for the first time?

  Alex poured coffee and creamer into both cups and then handed one to Sergei. “L’chiam,” he said, holding his mug out for a toast. Sergei obliged him with a tap.

  Alex pointed to a picture on the fridge of twin infants being held by an exhausted but still beautiful redheaded woman. “Oh, my God! Are these yours and Lena’s babies? They’re so cute and tiny!” He pulled the picture off to look at it more closely.

  “That is old picture. They are ten months old now,” Sergei said, smiling at the babies he had created with his friend at her request. One boy and one girl. “Lena says they get very big. They are beautiful, no?”

  “They are beautiful, yes. What are their names again?”

  “Tatyana Sergeyevna Vassiljeva and David Sergeyevich Vassiljev.”

  “Big names for little babies.” Alex laughed. He stuck the picture back on the fridge. “I can’t wait to meet them one day.”

  “Maybe in the summer we go visit.” It would be good to see Lena and the babies. He hadn’t had a chance to do so since they were born.

  “So, what’s the plan for the day?” Alex asked. “It’s not a game day, right?”

  “No, no game today.” It was two days before Christmas Eve. He had a game tomorrow and then four days off in a row. He had been wondering what he was going to do with all that free time. Now it stretched out in front of him like a gift, giving him time to figure out where he and Alex would go from here.

  “I thought we would get the rest of your things from his place and pick up supplies for the cats. I could not find food for them. They were very unhappy.”

  Alex sighed. “I suck at being a parent.”

  Sergei patted his shoulder. “You were distracted last night. They will be fine. They have the chicken of the sea to eat this morning.”

  “Now fish I can understand cats getting a taste for,” Alex said. “But beef? Did some sabretooth cat ancestor take down a cow or two?” He set the mug down with a sigh. “Whatever. I have a few lessons to give today. Though probably one less than scheduled. Allie and the kids were supposed to come by today, but I’m assuming they will cancel.”

  Sergei growled. He didn’t like the fact that Alex was so dependent on Charles and his money.

  As if he knew what Sergei was thinking—and he probably did—Alex smirked self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I can’t believe he put me and Allie in that position. Now we both look like idiots. He was probably laughing every time he wrote a check for the lessons. God, I hate that I took his money.”

  Alex leaned his hip against the counter and sighed. “Which brings us to some things I don’t really want to talk about, but we should.”

  Sergei didn’t like the sound of that, but he couldn’t disagree with Alex. They should talk about something. He just wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say.

  It was weird to feel nervous around Alex. He hadn’t been this uncomfortable around Alex since the first day he’d arrived in Canada. Grief-stricken and unable to communicate with anyone around him, he had been so lost.

  But then a scrawny kid with big blue eyes had taken him by the hand and with the help of a Russian—to—French dictionary welcomed a stranger into his home and family.

  It was okay if he didn’t know what to say. He had faith that Alex would be able to help him figure out what they should do. Whatever he had to say, Sergei would listen. Sergei looked out the wall of windows at the view Alex had made him remember he had. “Can we talk on the terrace?”

  Alex nodded and refreshed his coffee. He held up the coffee pot to Sergei. “Refill?”

  Sergei nodded. “Please. I’ll be right back.” He went into the study and grabbed the blankets off the back of the couch.

  Torvill and Dean followed them onto the deck. The redwood was smooth and cold under his feet. Clouds hid the tops of the Olympic Mountains across the bay, promising rain later in the day. He handed Alex the light blue, alpaca wool blanket he had gotten while on a tour in Ecuador.

  “Thank you,” Alex said, wrapping the blanket around him. “It’s chilly out here. But the view is lovely, and the air smells nice.” The deck wrapped around three sides of the house and the cats quickly disappeared around the corner.

  “Should we follow them?” Sergei asked.

  Alex shook his head. “No. I think they’ll be okay. They are big fat cowards. They won’t go that far from us.” He leaned his elbows on the top rail of the fence, cradling the coffee cup in two hands. “So,” he said. “I’m not sure how to start this. I don’t want to make any assumptions, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  8

  Sergei

  The butterflies in Sergei’s gut froze and dropped to the bottom of his stomach. How was Alex going to hurt his feelings? He hadn’t wanted Sergei to kiss him, had he? Sergei hadn’t even asked, and now he had probably ruined their friendship. God, he was so terrible at this. He hadn’t wanted somebody, hadn’t felt this way about anybody, since he was a teenager. And that first love had ended in a tragedy that forced his parents to get him out of Russia.

  Alex placed his hand on Sergei’s, peeling his fingers back from where they dug into the railing. “Stop panicking. It’s okay.”

  “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

  Alex shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve dreamed about you kissing me for at least ten years. It just never crossed my mind that you had thought about kissing me.”

  “I have,” Sergei answered slowly, realization stealing over him even as he spoke. Ever since Alex had moved back to Seattle, Sergei had been looking at him differently. He would catch a glimpse of Alex and see not the man who was closer to him than a brother but an intriguing stranger; a fascinating, beautiful man he wanted to get to know better.

  “Really?” Alex asked skeptically. “I think I would have noticed.”

  “It is mostly new feeling,” Sergei admitted. “Since you move to Seattle.”

  Alex tilted his head sideways to look at Sergei. “So why now?”

  He leaned his elbows on the rail, mimicking Alex’s position down to the coffee cup cradled in his hand. This put their heads on almost an equal level. “I do not know. Something about that man. Touching you, talking about sex with you, and implying that I was having sex with you too. I didn’t like it.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t appreciate that either. But it’s not like it was that far out of an assumption. I guess that’s all my… arrangement…with Charles was. I thought it might be love one day. I’m an idiot.” Alex stared out into the middle distance, trying to cover his expression with the coffee cup, but Sergei knew him too well. Alex was ashamed. Sergei wanted to bash Chuck’s smug face in. Instead, he put his hand on Alex’s arm in a show of silent sympathy.

  Alex cleared his throat. “So.” He straightened up, hand caressing the smooth wood of the railing. “If you didn’t like the thought of having sex with me…” He trailed off as if he wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

  “No, that is not what happened, not what I thought at all.” The coffee roiled in Sergei’s otherwise empty stomach. Could he say what he had been—what he was currently—thinkin
g?

  Was this how normal relationships started? It felt weird to have to spell everything out like this. In the movies, people looked at each other across a crowded room and just knew. The other players didn’t have long conversations with the women they left the bars with. They all seemed to know what the other was thinking without words.

  He spoke three languages with varying degrees of fluency, and Alex was his best friend. So, why was it so difficult to put what he was feeling into words? Why was he so scared?

  “What did happen?” Alex pulled the blanket more tightly around him. “You have to give me something here, Sergei. I’m tired of thinking I know what’s going on and then being painfully wrong. I can’t risk it with you. You’re my best friend. If one kiss is making things between us so awkward, I don’t think we should go any further down this road.” He smiled to try and soften his words, but his eyes were sad. “No matter how many of my more pornographic fantasies feature you.”

  “You think about me?” Sergei asked hand gripping his now-cold coffee. “When you…when you touch yourself?” The thought sent a bolt of lust through Sergei’s groin. He clenched his jaw, feeling the muscles jump.

  Alex’s gave him a positively wicked smile. “Would you like it if I did?”

  Sergei nodded, mouth too dry to speak. He took a sip of the now-cold coffee.

  “I’ll remember that.” Alex kept his eyes locked on Sergei’s as he sipped his coffee.

  “I did not like his tone,” Sergei said forcefully, changing the subject but unable to look away from Alex’s blue eyes.

  “Whose tone?”

  “Chuck’s tone,” Sergei spit out. “He made it sound bad, the idea of us being together. In his mouth, it was poshlost.” He shook his head, trying to dispel his growing anger. He did not want Alex to think his anger was directed at him. “If we were to do that, to be intimate together, it would be very special. Precious. Like you are precious to me always.”

  “Oh, Serhoya,” Alex said softly, covering his mouth with his hand. “You’re killing me.” He closed his eyes briefly. Sighing, he opened them and cleared his throat. “Um, this is another awkward part. You have had sex, right? I’m your best friend.” He interrupted himself. “I am your best friend, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “So I’m your best friend, and you know my entire sordid history. I would think that if you had managed any hanky-panky, I would know. And so, far as I can tell, outside of a few random hookups, your life seems remarkably hanky-panky free. Unless you’re hiding things from me?” He narrowed his eyes. “Since it’s a morning for bluntness, I always assumed you were either a prude or asexual.”

  Sergei shrugged. “I have not hidden anything. And no, I am not a prude, I do not think. If you mean by that someone who does not like sex. And I am not completely asexual, if you mean I have no sex drive.”

  He almost wished he didn’t have a sex drive. Life might be easier. The way he felt about Alex was stirring up so many things Sergei had thought dead and buried. After years of feeling like a freak, he had come to a grudging acceptance of his strange sexuality, mostly by deciding not to think about it. It was irrelevant, anyway, since he rarely even tried to date anymore. But, sadly, now that his libido had decided to make an appearance, he had less idea than a teenager what to do with it.

  “So, have you had sex?” Alex asked. “I remember you said you had a boyfriend in Russia, but you were so young. And you were always so vague about the few randos you hooked up with. And, not to be crude, but I assume you and Lena went the turkey baster route to make those adorable munchkins?”

  Behind his beard, Sergei’s cheeks flushed, face burning in the chilly morning air. “Um. No. We…she…had read that results were much, um, higher if you do it the normal way.”

  Alex’s eyebrows rose higher than Sergei would have thought possible, and he touched his chest with the fingertips of one hand as if shocked beyond belief. “Sergei Ivanovich, are you telling me you went all the way with that beautiful woman? You put your ding-dong in her hoo-hah?” Barely-concealed laughter colored Alex’s faux outrage.

  Sergei rolled his eyes. “Yes, Alex Pierre. That is generally how it is done.”

  “I know. I just don’t like to think about it.” He shuddered. “It’s so, so hetero.” He tilted his head to the side, studying Sergei.

  That was never a look Sergei liked seeing on Alex’s face. It always led to awkward questions. Of course, it would be hard to make this conversation any more awkward.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  Sergei held back a sigh. Okay, that did make it more awkward. “It was fine. Nice. There was a lot of vodka.”

  “So, you consider yourself gay?”

  “Still gay.” That, Sergei was sure of. He had only ever been romantically attracted to men. “I love her as a friend. But I am not in love with her.”

  “People have sex with people they don’t love all the time,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

  “Yes. I do not. It was interesting.” That was one way of putting it. It had been very awkward. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant that first weekend, Sergei had been going to strongly suggest they go the turkey baster route, as Alex called it.

  “So, you must think I’m a slut,” Alex said.

  “No. Not at all.” He grabbed Alex’s arm. “It is me. I am the freak. For a long time, I worried I am being broken.” He struggled to find the words. “Everyone wants to have the sex, right? It is everywhere.”

  He paced back and forth on the deck, feeling Alex’s eyes on him the whole time. He knew he was waving his hands around like a crazy person, but he couldn’t stop. It was difficult enough sticking to English. This discussion would be so much easier for him in Russian, but Alex wasn’t fluent enough.

  “But, not me,” he said. “Not Sergei. No. I do not look at man and think, oh, he is handsome. I should make sex with him. But sometimes, rarely, I look at friend and think oh, he is handsome man. Why don’t I see it before? And then I think, maybe I want to kiss him? But then is too late.” He stopped pacing and gave a big shrug, hands spread wide. “He is thinking Sergei is my friend and not for kissing.”

  “How rarely?” Alex asked, latching on to the one point Sergei had hoped he wouldn’t.

  He’d spent enough time in his head last night following that train of thought to the end. If he mentioned that he was starting to think he was only sexually attracted to people he was already in love with, and if he was sexually attracted to Alex – that would mean he was in love with Alex, right? And he was not ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone to Alex. What if Alex didn’t feel the same way? What if he ran, and their friendship ended?

  He had to end this conversation. Maybe he could jump over the railing? He measured the distance to the ground. It didn’t look that bad, though fairly steep and rocky. If he weren’t barefoot, he might give it a shot.

  Something rustled in the bushes, and he squinted at the spot where the noise had come from. Two wrinkly feline foreheads popped out from underneath a shrub. “Oh, look,” he said to distract Alex. “The bad kitties have run away.”

  Alex peered over the rail to where Sergei pointed. “Torvill, Dean, get back up here before you get lost, you monsters,” he called to the cats.

  “Should I go get them?” Sergei asked hopefully.

  Alex shook his head. “No, they’ll come back, wagging their scrawny tails behind them.” He pinned Sergei with his gaze. “So, back to sex.”

  Sergei threw his arms up. “Why is it always about sex?”

  “Well, I kind of thought that’s what this whole conversation was about. Am I wrong? We already know we are friends. Then you kissed me. I know that there’s a big step from there to sex, but it’s a new thing for us. I don’t think it’s wrong that we talk about it. Do you want to start some sort of physical relationship with me?”

  “Is that the measurement of the value of a relationship?” Sergei asked, sidestepping the frankly terrifying question.
“Is a relationship without sexual component, a love without sexual component, it is somehow lesser?”

  Alex pursed his lips, and he looked up at the sky while he thought about it. “It does feel like there is this hierarchy of relationships, doesn’t it? Like friendship is somehow less important than romantic relationships. Is romantic love without sex less real, less valid, than romantic love with sex?”

  “Not to me,” Sergei said firmly.

  “Do you even like sex?” Alex asked.

  “I like sex, da, but not randomly. For me it isn’t the sex first, then love.”

  “First comes love, then sex? Then comes marriage, then comes Sergei with the baby carriage?” Alex raised his eyebrows again.

  “I think I am past the baby carriage stage.”

  “What about little Tatyana and David? Do you miss them? Do you ever imagine them in your life?” The way Alex tilted his head to stare at Sergei reminded him of a sharp-eyed crow.

  “I will be in their lives, but not as their father. Lena and I agreed that I would be their Uncle Sergei,” he answered, sidestepping the question.

  “Lena still hasn’t told anyone that you’re the father?”

  A well-known actress in Russia and Europe, Elena Vladimirovna Vassiljeva was a family friend of the Pergovs starting to make her mark in the United States. She had always wanted children, and as she’d approached thirty-five still single, she’d been feeling some pressure from her biological clock. “Not beyond her family and mine, no. We’ve decided not to.”

  Alex stared at Sergei with an expression Sergei couldn’t decipher. “Do you ever want kids of your own?”

  “Those are my children.” Between being gay, a professional athlete who traveled all the time, and how hard it was finding someone he would even consider having a relationship with, he knew having children of his own would never happen. So when Lena had asked him if he would father a child with her, it had seemed like the best chance he would get. He was happy to be an uncle.