Page 118 of Melting the Ice

“You can take it, pretty boy. You’re so fucking tight,” Dean said, his voice equally tight. Was he nervous? Wasn’t Brody the one who should be? But he wasn’t at all. Instead, he was a bundle of exposed nerves, desperate and panting.

“You gotta,” Brody slurred, trying to fuck himself back on Dean’s tongue, on his fingers, onanythingthat would send him over the edge.

But Dean wouldn’t give him enough, even as he gave him everything.

He could tell though, when a third finger joined his other two, carefully stretching him, Dean’s movements slowing to practically a crawl.

“Gah,” he groaned. “Ineedyou.”

“Just a little more.” Dean was panting now, too, and Brody knew if he looked down—well,he’dprobably come, just from the sight of his man like this—he’d see just how hard Dean was.

But before he could argue more, Dean pulled his fingers free and scrambled for the condom packet, lost in the covers that Brody had mussed with his clenching hands.

Brody squeezed his eyes shut, sure that Dean rolling the condom on would be enough to make him lose it entirely.

“Brody, baby, you gotta turn over,” Dean murmured, leaning down, kissing him between each word. “It’ll be easier.”

Brody choked out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You an expert now?”

“Did my research,” Dean insisted. “Wanted this to be good for you.”

“It’s so good already,” Brody argued, but he was weak enough that he didn’t fight Dean as he moved him. Turning him over, pulling him up, andoh God, there was his cock, hot and heavy, pushing right up to his hole, and he thought he was going to die if Dean put it in him and he was going to die if Dean didn’t.

Maybe Dean felt the same, because his hands were shaking, digging into his hips, and Brody could hear, loud and clear, every single one of his huffed breaths.

“You gotta be still, just let me,” Dean begged.

It was funny, because Brody had always imagined being in this position would feel powerless, but he’d never felt more the opposite, like he was bringing Dean to his knees, instead of the other way around.

“Then do it,” Brody insisted.

The first slide hurt, burned a little, but Brody forced himself to relax into it. To embrace it.

“Tell me you’re okay,” Dean demanded. He must’ve felt him tense.

“I’m . . .okay.” Brody realized he was. And then he realized there was more, still. “More, just give me more.” Reaching down, he stroked his cock, flagging now, surprisingly, but it didn’t takemuch for him to be hard again. Especially when Dean’s hips hit his own.

They both exhaled at the same time.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. “That’s so fucking good.”

Brody tested out squeezing around his cock. But before he’d entirely finished, Dean was pulling out and sliding in again, thrusting gently this time.

Andshit, yes it was. So good, so much better than just Dean’s fingers—as insanely fucking good as those were.

Brody’s hand dropped from his cock, because if he touched himself, he’d come. Especially now, especially now that Dean was thrusting over and over, angling his hips so he was sliding over that spot inside him each time.

Giving Brody so much pleasure he didn’t think he could take it.

He must’ve been mumbling or groaning or begging, because Dean laughed, a deep guttural sound, wrenched from inside him, and then he thrust harder.

Brody dug into the mattress and wailed. “More,” he cried, and he couldn’t just take any longer, he had to move too, and he gingerly thrust backward.

Muttering under his breath, Dean’s fingers were leaving bruises on his hips, and Brody didn’t even give a fuck anymore. He wanted more.Neededmore.

And then they were suddenly moving hard and fierce, chasing after the feeling with every bit of their strength.

Brody’s cock bobbed in front him, and every few thrusts it brushed against the mattress, and he knew that was all it was going to take. He was going to come, inevitably, and he wanted nothing more than to drag Dean over the edge with him.

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