Page 31 of Melting the Ice

“Yeah,” he said shortly and turned, walking towards the bathroom. Dean heard the door close and then the water turn on.

He still didn’t move though.

On the TV screen, Netflix asked him if he was still watching.

He clicked the power off and groaned, falling against the back of the couch.

It wasn’t thathewasn’t freaking out too. He kind of was. This was unexpected, but Dean had never been the kind of person to shy away from unpleasant truths. And was this really unpleasant? It sure hadn’t been only a few minutes before. It had felt like the most natural thing in the whole goddamn world.

So, he wasn’t as straight as he’d thought.

He could accept that.

He felt less comfortable about the fact that the person who’d awakened those feelings inside him was Brody.

His roommate.

His hockey playing roommate.

On the surface level, they had nothing in common whatsoever, and it wasn’t like Dean had time to dig down beneath and see if he could find something worth holding on to.

He’d told the truth. It had just been an experiment, and now it was over.

Brody ducked his head under the hot spray of the shower and tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

Sure, he’d been noticing Dean. And not just his body, which was a prime physical specimen. But he’d beennoticing him.

And,his uncooperative brain added,it was your fucking idea to experiment in the first place.

It had been. He’d been certain, almost one hundred percent positive, that the first kiss would’ve told him everything he needed to know. That he wasn’t attracted to men. That he didn’t want to kiss them or touch them or have sex with them.

Well.

That ship had fucking sailed, right out of the fucking harbor, never to return.

Brody scrubbed a hand over his face.

He knew he’d freaked out after, that was undeniable, but then Dean had been so low-key about it, so chill, like he wasn’t into doing it again, that he wasn’t all that interested, as fun as it had been, so he didn’t know what to do now.

If Dean had looked regretful or particularly worried about Brody’s panic, then maybe he might have gotten out of the shower and knocked on his door and said, “Shower’s free, I saved you some hot water, and would you like to make out again sometime? Sometimesoon, maybe?”

But he’d been casual about it, like it was no big deal, it didn’t really invite a second experiment.

Brody knew he was going to need to forget about it. Maybe not the truths the evening had uncovered, because once those were out of the bottle, there was probably no putting them back, but the idea that Dean was up for more.

That was disappointing, sure, because it had feltdamngood, the kind of full-body release it felt like he was always chasing, always craved, but never seemed to get.

But he’d get over it.

He’dneedto.

He finished scrubbing himself mechanically, ignoring the pulse of desire he felt when he cleaned his dick, making sure he got all the sticky residue. Dean had been so fucking solid underneath him, so strong and controlled, and yet his kisses had been wild, uninhibited, his body putty in Brody’s hands.

Shit.

Sure enough, he glanced down, and yeah, he was half-hard again.

“Don’t go there,” he told his uncooperative dick. “We’re not going there.”

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