Page 73 of Broken Ice
“The picking me up thing. It’s undignified. I weigh just as much as you.”
The concern was replaced by relief. “Keep dreaming, Lavoie.” He brushed some curls from Beau’s face. “You good? Was that…”
“Hot as fuck? Yeah, Emilio. I’m good. Feel free to fuck me into the ground any time.”
Emilio grinned, settling on the couch with Beau, nose brushing the slant of his neck.
“Your shoulder okay?” Beau checked in. The injury hadn’t been serious, but he’d be upset if this had worsened it at all.
“Never better,” Emilio growled into his skin.
Beau smiled, settling.
Beau didn’t dare say it yet, but he could feel it in his heart—this had to be more than Alpha instincts. More than Beau’s heats. Beau and Emiliofit. There was something between them, growing every day.
It didn’t have to be put into words. They were both living it.
***
Life was surprisingly good.
Beau’s next heat arrived a week late, meaning he was definitely, although slowly, recovering.
Emilio was especially intense during it, which Beau wasn’t surprised by. After what had happened last time—the way Emilio had gone into shock from ripping himself away from the Omega he was supposed to be taking care of—the feral edge to his behaviour wasn’t exactly unexpected.
And it wasn’t unpleasant, either.
Beau acquiesced easily when Emilio pinned him to the centre of the mattress once the nest was made, stripping his clothes off and proceeding to scent him from head to toe.
Beau wiggled happily as Emilio snuffled every bit of his body, licking the crease of his thigh, his armpit, the backs of his knees.
“Emilio.” Beau laughed.
Emilio clutched his thighs, stilling his squirming. “You going somewhere?” he growled.
Beau stopped moving, a shudder going through him. “No.”
Emilio rumbled his approval and continued his thorough claiming.
He flattened himself over Beau after he was done as though he were shielding him from the rest of the world. Beau hummed with pleasure, winding his legs around Emilio’s middle, hooking his heels between Emilio’s legs and going limp.
“Oh, yeah,” Beau wheezed, Emilio pressing the air out of him. “That’s the good stuff.”
The sex, too, was more overwhelming than usual, Beau on his belly, flattened to the bed as Emilio just ground his dickin, barely slipping out, milking him until he came on a wet, strangled cry.
Emilio carried him to the bath after it was all done, soaking them both, washing Beau up slow and tender. Beau rested his cheek on Emilio’s shoulder and stared at him, his messy hair and dark stubble.
“What?” Emilio huffed in amusement as he caught him.
“Nothin’. Just like your face.”
Emilio snorted. “Oh, yeah?”
“It’s a good face.”
“Not half as pretty as yours,” Emilio retorted, kissing the protest right out of his lips.
Beau surfaced from the heat clear-headed and sure-footed.
