Page 71 of Fresh Ice
Alonso nodded. His cramps were eating him up, his head aching, his heart racing. He just wanted torest.
Despite the humid heat outside, Levy bundled Alonso up in one of the soft blankets—he was always freezing before pre-heat hit.
Alonso let it happen, too tired to protest what he now knew was nesting material.
Alonso dozed between exhaustion and pain for a while, waking up groggy but warm and surrounded by Levy’s scent.
“Hey,” Levy said softly. “Feeling better?”
“Mmm. Kind of,” Alonso mumbled, pushing the blanket away and wiggling closer to Levy.
Levy hugged him readily, Alonso sighing as he fit his nose at the crook of Levy’s neck.
There were a few hazy moments of silence, and then Levy’s voice rumbled out of him. “I…I know it’s Omegas who usually nest, but I’d like to make one, if that’s okay with you. I’d love it if you helped, but you don’t have to.”
Alonso tensed. There was no logical reason to not make a nest—it wasn’t like someone would break into Levy’s apartment, see it, and tell the world. The anxiety it caused was nebulous, a mix of self-hatred and shame.
“Is that okay?” Levy prompted.
“Why?” Alonso asked.
“Why what?”
“Why’d you want to make a nest?”
A long pause thickened the air. “Honestly, it’d make me feel better. Calmer. I…I have this urge like I have to take care of you, and the idea of not having a nest is, I don’t know. Scary. If it makes you really anxious, we won’t do it, but if you’re okay doing it for me…”
Alonso took a deep breath. If it was forLevy, it wasn’t Alonso being weak. Not that wanting a nest made Levy weak.
He wasn’t going to analyse that double standard too closely.
“Okay,” Alonso agreed quietly, his choice solidifying as Levy relaxed against him.
They made the nest slowly. Levy would choose something, holding it up for Alonso to inspect, making sure he liked it. If Alonso did, he’d put it somewhere on the bed. He’d shift it around the mattress, watching Alonso’s face closely, searching for some mysterious sign. When he saw it, he’d place the thing there, tucked away neatly.
By the fourth day, the nest looked—in Alonso’s humble opinion—amazing. The base was covered in the softest of blankets that wouldn’t irritate Alonso’s sensitive skin. All the pillows in the apartment were arranged in a ring on the bed, interwoven with clothes—there were Levy’s soft shirts and joggers and even an old robe.
And the way itsmelt. Like Levy, mostly, but like Alonso too now that the suppressants were fading away.
It was the best place in the world.
Laying inside it with Levy was like nothing he’d ever felt. It was safety in its completeness, a glowing, encompassing thing that coated everything Alonso was. He glowed with it, the cramps easing, headache disappearing.
By the time pre-heat started, he practically felt human.
He could feel the heat coming like a summer storm in the distance. His skin was sensitive, the hair on his arms standing on end. Levy made him food and kept him hydrated, took every opportunity to scent him ravenously.
“You smell so good,” Levy said, his hot breath over Alonso’s scent gland.
A lightning bolt of preening pleasure trembled through him. He smelt good to Levy. To his Alpha.
Fuck, his mind was already half-gone, and his heat hadn’t even hit fully.
Alonso whined as Levy pulled away after a few long seconds of just scenting each other. Levy shushed him gently, carding his fingers through Alonso’s hair.
“Let’s take a bath. I read it’ll be good for you. I bought some stuff—I’ll prepare everything, you just stay here.”
Alonso shook his head, nuzzling closer. “Levy…”
