Page 74 of Fresh Ice
Alonso couldn’t remember ever being taken care of so attentively. Levy seemed endlessly attentive, patient even when Alonso got moody with cramp pain.
“Come on, baby. Just a little,” Levy urged, holding out a bowl full of freshly cut fruit.
Alonso wrinkled his nose. His arms felt like lead. He shook his head, rolling on his side. “Tired.”
“We can sleep after. You need to eat. Keep up your muscles for hockey.” It was so obviously a manipulative tactic, but it got Alonso to sit up stiffly. God, how was it possible to have that many orgasms and still feel like complete shit?
Alonso stared at the bowl placed on his lap, willing his hand to move. After a few moments, Levy wiggled closer, picking up a piece and lifting it to Alonso’s mouth.
Alonso blinked at him, surprised. Automatically, he opened his mouth and accepted the morsel.
Pineapple. He loved pineapple.
Alonso let himself be fed, Levy’s fingers brushing his lips, thumbing any stray juices into his mouth. It should have been sexual, especially considering they’d fucked a mere twenty minutes ago, but it…wasn’t.
Sure, the ever-present simmer of arousal was there, but he mostly felt…spoilt. Adored.
Levy kissed him softly when he was done, and Alonso took that quietly too, heart so full it felt like it would rip apart.
Thankfully, on the fourth day, the heat receded somewhat—not disappearing by any means, but calming down enough that Alonso was lucid all the time instead of intermittently.
Levy took this as an open invitation to take his time with Alonso instead of knotting him straight away. On the fifth evening, after a long, hot shower, he ate Alonso out through two orgasms, making him sob and beg into the pillows before fucking him.
The goddamn noises Levy made, like he was tasting the best thing in the world, was something Alonso would remember until the day he died.
It took eight days in total, the heat finally dissipating late that night. They fucked for the last time face-to-face, Levy’s eyes staring into his, the connection between them almost tangible.
They collapsed into an exhausted heap when they finished, falling asleep as their scents settled, so mixed up together Alonso couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.
**********
It should have been awkward to wake up practically glued together with slick and come and God only knew what other bodily fluids, but the heat had burned away any shame Alonso might have felt. After begging incoherently for Levy’s cock for a week straight, being naked around each other had lost all its novelty.
Despite the fact that they had been tied together for more than a week, they showered together, Levy washing Alonso from head to toes, kissing him under the cool water.
“Food?” Levy suggested when they’d dressed, the feeling of clothes on Alonso’s skin foreign after so many days naked.
“Yeah, please.”
They fixed something out of the abundance of food Levy had gotten for the heat, sinking into the couch contently to work their way through it.
“These are so good,” Alonso mumbled around a mouthful of pastry. Apparently, they were special-made for heats and ruts, still flaky in their packaging.
Levy grinned at him, glowing with it.
A deep and hidden part of Alonso fluttered at that expression. God, he just wanted to…he didn’t even know, but it was bursting out of him.
Something must have come across Alonso’s face because Levy brightened further, leaning in and kissing Alonso softly.
Alonso swallowed, feeling himself blush.
Levy hovered mere millimetres away. “You still smell good.”
“I smell like you,” Alonso whispered.
“You smell likeus.”
“So do you.”
