Page 91 of Melting the Ice

“I don’t know,” Brody said. But his eyes were glued to the screen, his hand moving on his cock. He looked as into this as Dean imagined he’d looked earlier, when these two had started kissing on the couch.

“Come ’ere,” Dean said.

Brody looked over at him. “You don’t want—”

“I wantyou. Don’t care how it happens,” Dean said. But he did know Brody was too far away, even though he was right there, next to him on the couch. Dean couldn’t touch him. Not the way he wanted to. Couldn’t kiss him, and suddenly that was the crime of the century.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d have a million endless opportunities to kiss, and he was going to steal every single fucking one.

Brody leaned over, first with his head and then his whole body, climbing right where he belonged, which was Dean’s lap. He tangled a hand in Brody’s hair as their mouths met.

“How,” Brody panted between long kisses, “did you know I needed this?”

It was a stupid question; Dean needed this all the time, so surely Brody had to feel even a tiny fraction of what he did.

By the time Brody slid off his lap, boneless, eyes so bright with pleasure and joy, the bigger guy was two fingers deep into the smaller guy’s ass and his moans had grown increasingly desperate.

“Do it,” Brody demanded, gazing up at Dean with those hero-worship eyes. Those soft, sugar-sweet eyes that Dean never wanted to deny.

“Do—”

But before Dean could get the question out, Brody was scrambling off the couch, shedding the rest of his clothes, and suddenly finding a new gear of speed as he tore through theapartment, returning only a second breathless moment later with a bottle of lube.

“Do it,” Brody demanded again. “Finger me.”

“But you don’t know if you like it.” Dean never wanted to do anything Brody wasn’t into. But he also couldn’t deny his cock was twitching, leaking now at the tip. He’d never been so turned on at just the thought of mirroring exactly what the pair was up to on screen.

“I’ll like it,” Brody said, panting. He put the lube in Dean’s palm, not giving him any more opportunities to argue. Then he settled back on Dean’s lap, gave his cock a stroke, and then Dean’s. Dean groaned, deep in his throat.

Dean knew the general thought behind this. Go nice and slow. Find the prostate. Lots of lube.

But he still hesitated.

Brody ran a hand through Dean’s hair. It was shorter, cropped close to his head, and Dean wondered if Brody kept this up, he’d want to grow it out. Give his man something to hang on to.

Focus, you fucking idiot.

“Do you . . .do you not think you’ll like it?” Brody asked, suddenly hesitant. “You said—”

“I’ll like it.” Dean repeated Brody’s own claim. “I’m gonna fucking love it. So much that I’m afraid I won’t make it good for you. And that’s all I want, foryouto like it.”

“You’re gonna do it amazing. Promise,” Brody said, seriously, earnestly. Then leaned in and kissed him again, and there was nothing Brody could do to better convince him than to seduce him with that amazing mouth.

Dean broke the kiss a minute later. “Okay,” he said and, wetting his fingers, carefully slid them back, definitely not missing the opportunity to get a nice handful of Brody’s incredible ass with his dry hand as he spread his cheeks.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Dean said. He wasn’t the most vocal guy in the universe—he knew that, already—and he knew Brody was taking a risk here, trying this, and even if it didn’t come naturally to him, Dean was going to encourage him every step of the way.

“Yeah?” Brody’s voice had gone high and breathy as Dean’s thumb brushed his hole.

Gentle,he had to remind himself, because he wanted to bury his whole fucking hand in that hot tightness. Not just his hand. Hiscock. He throbbed with the desire, but he pushed that down. If he didn’t make this good for Brody this time, there’d never even be a possibility that he might want more.

“Tell me if this is too fast. Too hard. Too anything,” Dean ground out. He dug the fingertips of his other hand into the meat of Brody’s ass. Trying to control himself. Brody squeaked.

“What if it’s too good?”

“That,definitely,” Dean said. He felt winded, like they’d been running sprints for hours.

That was all Brody. He stripped away all his defenses, his control, simply everything. And unlike anyone else, Dean wanted to thank him for it.

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