Page 63 of Broken Ice
In normal circumstances, Beau wasreallygood at curbing his impulses. So, so good. The best, even. So it was all the alcohol’s fault that his hand raised and knocked on the door.
Beau waited. He was concentrating so hard on trying to hear footsteps that he was startled by the door opening.
“Oh, shit,” he yelped as he stumbled forwards, luckily stopped by the wall that was Emilio’s chest.
“Beau?”
Beau got his bearings. “Hi.”
Emilio raised his eyebrows. “Hi? Are you okay? Are you…drunk?”
“What? Me? Drunk? Howdare—”
Emilio grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into the room. “Just come in before you wake everybody up.”
Beau wandered deeper into Emilio’s space, stopping at the sight of the bed. There was something intimate and domestic about the rumpled sheets, the dent in the pile of pillows Emilio must have been resting on.
“You good?” Emilio checked in.
“Yeah. Just came back from hanging with the guys. My old guys. Not old as in age, old as in they used to be mine but now they’re not.”
Emilio hummed, settling on the bed, right where Beau had guessed he’d been reclining.
Beau joined him, the fuzziness in his head informing him that the best position to be in was supine.
“How’d it go?” Emilio asked.
“Good. A little weird, I guess.” Beau smacked a pillow into the right shape and burrowed into it, closing his eyes. The room smelt like Emilio, lulling him into a nice, warm-water calm.
“You miss it here?”
Beau let that question float in his brain for a little bit, inspecting it from all angles. “Not really. It was nice to spend time with them, don’t get me wrong, but after that last year with me not having a scent…I don’t know. It’s hard to feel like pack when that part of yourself is gone.”
Emilio made an understanding noise.
“And here I’m just…it’s like…” Beau struggled to find the words. “I don’t know. I feel more like part of the pack, you know? It’s nice.”
“Yeah? You’re good here?”
“Yeah,” Beau mumbled sleepily. “I’m good here.”
Maybe it was because half of Beau’s brain was shutting off, but Emilio’s scent seemed stronger. Beau couldn’t help but scootforwards with his pillow until his nose was squished against Emilio’s ribs.
He let out a sigh of contentment, wiggling even closer as a hand landed on his head. It moved slowly, fingers running through his hair, thumb brushing his temple.
Beau let the alcohol and the comforting touch lull him into a doze, half-aware of the TV in the background.
His surroundings solidified when Emilio shifted, jostling Beau enough to rouse him.
Beau yawned, rubbing his cheek on Emilio’s side. “What time is it?”
“Almost one.”
Beau opened his eyes, peering up blearily. The buzz from the beers had left his system, but he was disoriented from sleep.
Emilio brushed the curls from Beau’s forehead, gazing down at him. It was pure instinct for Beau to tilt his chin up, asking for a kiss.
Emilio, mercifully, dipped to give him one. Their lips touched, slotting together. Beau made a happy little noise, hand rising to rest on the nape of Emilio’s neck.
