Page 35 of Fresh Ice
Levy didn’t disappoint. Alonso could feel Levy sitting back, hands palming his ass…and then his cheeks were spread gently.
Cool air hit his hole. He could feel the slick there, and he made a small, overwhelmed sound as Levy’s finger slipped through it.
Alonso had taken care of prepping himself the previous times he’d had sex. He’d used plenty of lube, the slick-repressing medication doing its job to leave him dry. It had always been a struggle, that first thrust in, having to clench his teeth against the pain.
Now, though, Alonso felt like Levy could push right in and there would be nothing but pleasure.
That didn’t stop Levy from taking his time. Alonso panted a wet spot onto the sheets at the feel of the first finger inside him. It went slow, careful but not tentative as it moved in and out.
“Jesus, Olive. You’re so wet,” Levy murmured.
Alonso would be embarrassed about the observation, but Levy sounded completely in awe.
“More,” Alonso pleaded. He felt like he was burning up in the feel of Levy, in his scent saturating everything. He would fucking die if Levy didn’t give him what he wanted.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, baby.”
Alonso clenched his eyes shut at the pet name. He’d heard it countless times on the ice, but it sounded completely different now.
Alonso gave out a startled moan as two fingers replaced one. He swayed with their rhythm, growling until there were three.
Anybody with any sense would be able to tell Alonso was more than ready to take Levy’s cock, but all Levy did was thrust his digits in and out, curling them so they stroked against Alonso’s prostate maddeningly.
“Come on. Levy, come on,” Alonso begged. He’d never been so out of his head, not even on the ice. Every single cell in his body was primed for one thing, and Levy wouldn’t fucking give it to him.
“Just a little more. Fuck, you look so good. I bet I could make you come just from this, huh?” Levy mumbled, voice entranced.
“No,” Alonso whined desperately. He’d never heard himself make that sound, but he was too far gone to care. “I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he threatened, getting his knees under him and fucking himself roughly on Levy’s fingers.
“Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ve got you.”
To Alonso’s surprise, he was turned so he was facing up. He blinked at the dim light of the sunset coming from the window, disoriented at finally seeing Levy’s face again.
Levy brushed his hand down Alonso’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Now please get inside me.”
Levy laughed, face transforming like always, the sun spilling gold everywhere.
Levy shuffled quickly as he took his underwear off, and Alonso gaped at the thick length revealed. His hole clenched at the thought of having that fill him up, but there was no way the night would end without Alonso even touching it.
Alonso sat up, hand floating in the air tentatively. “Can I…”
Levy glanced from Alonso’s hand to his own dick, nodding jerkily. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Alonso didn’t need more of an invitation despite worrying about his inexperience. He ran the tips of his fingers up the length, smiling in satisfaction as it twitched under the soft touch. He gripped it lightly, circling his hand around the damp head that spurted another drop of precome as he watched.
Alonso eyed the loose skin at the base of the cock where Levy’s knot would grow if he were in rut—or Alonso in heat. Curious, he removed his hand to wet it with his own slick and then pumped Levy slowly, making sure to squeeze where the knot would inflate.
This time, Levy’s whole body jerked, his forehead falling onto Alonso’s shoulder. “Fuck, Alonso…”
Alonso was having too much fun to take note of Levy’s pleading tone. It was his turn to tease.
He kept his hold light, pressing his thumb harder on the underside and only touching the tip ever so slightly, making Levy groan in frustration.
Alonso had no idea how long Levy let that torment go on, yelping as he was shoved into the mattress, Levy crowding him for a kiss.
Alonso gave in readily. He was used to wanting things—goals and assists and wins—but this was something else entirely. This was his blood and flesh and bone instead of his head. This was something primal that his ancestors had felt before him, and generations would feel after him.
