Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

“And we still won,” Sergei agreed. “The team, we play good.”

  “You guys rock.”

  After the tree had been trimmed and the schnapps and hot chocolate drunk, Alex put on some more traditional Christmas music. Crooners and big bands, Nat King Cole and Eartha Kitt. He liked knowing that several generations of people had been listening to these same songs.

  “Do you want to go to bed?” Sergei asked.

  A simple question, but loaded with implications. They hadn’t shared a bed yet since kissing had become a thing they’d added to their friendship. Alex wasn’t sure he was ready for that temptation.

  He was already a pile of warm goo from the almost impossibly cozy and romantic evening they’d had. If he had to slide into that big bed and curl up next to Sergei’s warm, strong body, he would throw all his rules out the window. “It’s so nice and cozy here. Do you want to go to bed? I won’t mind.” He sat on the end of the couch.

  Sergei smiled. “No. I am not ready for bed yet.”

  “Do you want to read?”

  “I would like that, I think. It has been too long.”

  Alex turned his back to the arm of the couch and dragged a hand-knit afghan off the back of the couch. His aunt had knitted the red and white zig-zag patterned blanket for him when he went to his first Olympics. “Let me guess.” He tilted his head and studied Sergei.

  “I think you’re going to read a mystery. In English. One that you’ve already read.”

  “Oh, what makes you think that?”

  “Because you seem happy, and—”

  “I am very happy,” Sergei said, interrupting him.

  “And Russian novels are too sad. You’re tired after the game, and I know you don’t read French as well as you speak it. So that leaves English. And something you’ve already read, so you don’t have to work too hard. That game must have been exhausting. I was tired just watching you.” Goalies were the only players who were on the ice the entire game. They had to have eyes on every play, and faced stretches of observing interspersed with wild scrums in front of their net.

  “You think you are smart, yes?” Sergei reached for the e-reader he kept on the end table.

  “I think I am smart, yes.” Alex snuggled down against the arm of the couch, stretching his feet out onto Sergei’s lap.

  Sergei put on reading glasses. Alex gasped, and Sergei turned to him with a puzzled look.

  “I didn’t know you used reading glasses.”

  Sergei’s hand went to the glasses as if to confirm he was indeed wearing them. “They are new.”

  Alex sat up and reached out for Sergei’s chin, turning his face toward him. “They are super sexy. I love them.” He leaned forward, kissing Sergei gently on the mouth before laying back down and closing his eyes. Torvill got up from her spot on the rug in front of the fire and jumped onto his stomach. “Read to me,” Alex commanded with an airy wave of his hand. They used to do that all the time when they were studying each other’s languages.

  When Sergei took longer than Alex thought he needed to start reading, he opened one eye. “Why are you not reading to me?”

  “Umm,” Sergei hemmed. “I think you would not like this book. So, uh, I try to find better one.”

  Alex pushed up to one elbow. “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing. Just a book.”

  Was that a blush? Was Sergei blushing? Oh, now he had to know. This was going to be good. Alex darted up, intending to grab the e-reader, but Torvill’s startled meow and subsequent jump to the floor gave him away.

  Sergei yanked the reader away, holding it up over his head.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Alex clambered onto his lap and knelt over his legs. “Give it.” He stretched up as far as he could reach. Sadly, Sergei had a foot of height on him. No big deal, he’d learned Sergei’s’ weaknesses years ago.

  He poked a finger hard into Sergei’s armpit.

  Sergei gave a garbled yell and yanked his arm down.

  “Ha!” Alex grabbed the reader and rolled backward off Sergei’s lap and onto the floor. He still had the moves.

  On the couch, Sergei sighed in defeat and covered his face with his hands. Alex settled cross-legged on the floor, petting Dean as he scrolled through the book open on Sergei’s reader. His eyebrows raised higher and higher until he giggled with glee. “Why, Sergei Ivanovich, I do declare! There are boys doing very dirty things to each other in this book. Are you reading romances?”

  Sergei’s groan was muffled by his hands.

  Alex leaped up and jumped onto the big leather couch with a bounce. “Gay romance?” He sat facing Sergei; knees tucked up under him.

  “Yes.” Taking a deep breath, Sergei looked up. “Yes,” he said more firmly. “I like that everything ends happy.”

  Alex’ heart lurched painfully. The big sap. Of course he did. Well, that took all the fun out of messing with him about his choice of reading material. Sergei deserved all the happy endings he could get. He hoped the big man got his one day.

  Pushing up onto his knees, Alex rolled his eyes and grabbed Sergei’s face with both hands, turning his head. “Kiss me, you big nerd.”

  Sergei smiled and complied, kissing Alex chastely on the mouth. Yeah, Alex wasn’t having any of that. He toppled backward, pulling Sergei with him.

  Sergei caught himself on his hands before he landed on top of Alex. That wouldn’t do. Alex whined and tugged on Sergei’s arms. “Lay on me. Lay on me and kiss me.”

  Sergei groaned and did as ordered, placing his glasses on the floor as he did.

  Alex was in heaven. Sergei’s huge body covered him completely. His mouth devoured Alex’s, the scratching of his beard left sparks of pleasure on his skin.

  He shoved his hands under Sergei’s shirt, and there was nothing between him and Sergei’s muscular back for the first time since this whole thing started. Two days ago. That was it. His life had changed in two days.

  God, Sergei could kiss. He alternated between mapping the inside of Alex’s mouth with his tongue and coaxing Alex’s tongue into his mouth. He pressed closed kisses to Alex’s lips, nipping at the top lip and then the bottom one. His arms bracketed Alex’s head, muffling the sounds in the room. His fingers tangled in Alex’s hair, sharp tugs sending shocks of pleasure zinging down Alex’s spine.

  Alex had forgotten how amazing it could feel to kiss just for the sake of kissing, not as a perfunctory stop on the way to fucking.

  Sergei’s cock pressed hard against Alex. His own cock throbbed against the weight of Sergei’s body. But Alex welcomed the pleasurable frustration. He hadn’t been so horny since he was a teenager. It was incredible. Knowing he wouldn’t be coming—at least until he was alone—made it that much hotter.

  There was such an unexpected feeling of freedom in knowing that despite their obvious arousal, they wouldn’t be going further than kissing tonight. He trusted Sergei implicitly not to push him past the boundaries he’d set. If he asked Sergei to stop right now, he would. No questions.

  Alex was so grateful for the gifts Sergei had given him. The gift of time. Time to make sure his heart and mind and libido were all on the same page. Time to explore this brand-new aspect of their long relationship before having sex. So when they did finally cross that last line, it would mean something special to both of them.

  It would be like the first time. Like his first time should have been.

  Had Alex ever had sex with someone he was in love with, who loved him beyond question? No, never. It sounded wonderful. Like a dream, a fantasy he could never have.

  His hands roamed as far as he could reach over Sergei’s skin. The man was a slab of muscle. He could feel the knots around his shoulder blades and neck that would have to be massaged out later and the scars of old injuries.

  Sergei moved his mouth to Alex’s neck, and Alex groaned, tilting his head up. His fingers clenched. “Fuck,” he muttered, hips pressing up against Sergei’s solid weight. “Fuuuck.”

  Heart pounding, Alex reluc
tantly slid his hands out from under Sergei’s shirt. “Serhoya, God. Sergei, stop. We have to stop.”

  Sergei fucking whimpered against Alex’s neck. He pushed away after giving Alex a sharp bite on the straining tendon of his neck.

  Groaning with frustration and a little bit of pain, Sergei crawled back to the far end of the couch.

  They were both breathing heavy, cocks hard and prominent under the thin material of their sleep pants, and they were both grinning like loons.

  Alex touched his lips. They were swollen and a little bit sore. He could feel the heat on his cheeks, skin rubbed red with beard burn. The skin of his throat stung from the bite, and he felt thoroughly and wonderfully debauched.

  The dark-eyed stare Sergei directed his way told him that it was a look Sergei liked a lot.

  “So,” Alex said once he got his breathing under control. “Will you read to me now?”

  Sergei laughed so loudly that the cats raised their heads.

  “You woke the babies up,” Alex protested jokingly.

  “They sleep all day. All-stars of sleeping.” He motioned for his glasses. Alex reached down and handed them to him. “Come here.” He slid down the couch until his head rested on the rolled arm and patted the space between his legs on the couch. “I read to you now. And to the lazy kotyata.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Alex twisted on the couch, pulling his blanket with him, until he lay with his head on Sergei’s stomach. Sergei settled the blanket over them both. Torvill and Dean, jealous of the human snuggles, jumped up onto the couch and settled themselves in the crook of Alex’s knees.

  Sergei traded his e-reader for a Russian dog-eared paperback.

  The gas fire crackled, and Christmas carols played softly. Feeling safer and happier than he had in a long, long time, Alex drifted off to sleep with the sounds of Sergei’s familiar voice rumbling in Russian the tragic story of some star-crossed lovers.

  He woke up in the wee small hours of the night, cramped and horny after their epic make-out session on the couch. Why hadn’t they at least shared an orgasm? Oh yeah, his rules.

  Sure, he’d been the one to insist on the rules. And he still needed them, really, but damn it, he was tired of holding back.

  Moving carefully so as not to wake Sergei, he slid out from the blanket. Sergei mumbled something and slid deeper into the sofa. Alex carded his fingers through Sergei’s hair, then bent down to kiss him on the forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

  Alex tucked the blanket higher around Sergei’s shoulders. Dean blinked at him sleepily. Torvill hadn’t even woken up. “I’m going upstairs. You coming?” he asked the cat. Dean lowered his head back to his sister. “Traitor.”

  Before he left, he flicked off the fireplace and unplugged the tree. Better safe than sorry. They had four days off in a row together, and he didn’t want to start them off by burning down the house.

  15

  Alex

  Christmas Eve wasn’t the best time to look for a job, but Alex could at least start making a list of the contacts and the resources he already had. The hockey team seemed like a good place to start. He’d been letting the guys come to him, but maybe it was time to go after them directly.

  He also made a list of every figure skating-related business he could find within an hour drive. Half an hour into extensive googling, his phone rang. Please don’t be Charles. He’d been expecting Charles to call for the last couple of days, but so far, radio silence. He wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news.

  Checking his phone, he saw it was his mother. He exhaled and answered the call. “Oui, ‘allo Maman." He spoke to his mother in French and his American-born father in English.

  “Salute, mon bébé! Comment ça va? Tu me manque.” Her lilting French and her happy disposition made him think of sunlight dancing on the surface of a swiftly flowing creek.

  “I miss you, too.” He really did. She had always been his closest confidant. She loved him and his brother and sister equally, he knew. But they had a special bond built over hours and hours at the rink and sewing costumes and tearful long distance calls from a lonely teenager far from home.

  “Did you get the tourtière? And the ornaments? I sent them to Serhoya’s house like you said.” Tourtière du Lac-Saint-Jean was a Christmas specialty in the Stanton household. Stuffed with beef, pork, and hare, it was a particular favorite of Sergei’s. Alex hadn’t had time to get it all together. Not having a car made it extra difficult. His mom had cooked, frozen, and shipped one overnight for him. She was a life saver.

  “I did. Thank you so much. It looks delicious.” He’d hidden it in plain sight in the freezer. Sergei didn’t cook much, mostly living off team meals and some prepared meals from the nutritionist.

  “You will make sure he gets it, right?”

  “Considering I will be cooking it in his kitchen, I’m sure he will manage to get a piece or two.”

  “How is living with him going?”

  How in the world could he answer that? “I’m not living with him, per se. I’m just crashing here until I can get my feet under me.” He clicked through some of the links he’d found.

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re out of whatever that awful situation you were in was.”

  “What do you mean?” He’d never told her that he’d found out Charles was married and that Alex was basically living in his love nest. Ooh, the company that made the fake ice Sergei used in his backyard rink and that the cruise ship used was expanding. Maybe they could use a spokesperson. Couldn’t hurt to send an email.

  He could hear the Christmas music his mother was listening to. She’d be getting ready for her réveillon. “Please, Lexi. I know that man you met over the summer is married. And you wouldn’t tell me your address, so I assumed you were living in someplace he set up for you or someplace you weren’t happy about because you didn’t talk about decorating it at all.”

  Sometimes Alex wished his mother and he weren’t quite so close. “You’re right. You’re always right.”

  “I know. So are you and Serhoya finally together?”

  “Mom!”

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me. You’ve been in love with that boy since you were twelve and you’ve wanted to jump his bones for almost that long.”

  Alex groaned and banged the phone against his head. “Maman,” he whined.

  “Don’t ‘maman’ me. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

  He shoved his laptop away and stood up. Sergei was nowhere to be seen. Just to be on the safe side, Alex headed for the deck. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

  His mother sighed. “How long can you go without wanting to see him? Without thinking ‘Oh, I should tell Sergei this,’ or ‘I wonder what Sergei would think of this?’”

  “Five minutes? But that's how I've always felt about Sergei for a decade. Being in love is different." Wasn’t it? Alex turned his back to the view, and looked into the house that wasn’t quite his home. "No. I mean. We’re just…us. When you’re in love, it’s…” He searched for the words.

  Inside, Sergei wandered into the kitchen. He looked around the big open-space living area. When he caught sight of Alex on the porch, he smiled.

  Alex knew he was smiling like a loon. Sergei looked great, as usual. The man could make sweatpants and a t-shirt look like a tux. And the way he looked in a tux should be illegal.

  Sergei held up his coffee cup and pointed between it and Alex, eyebrows raised in a question. Alex nodded. Fresh coffee sounded perfect.

  “It’s what?” his mother asked, interrupting his intense study of Sergei’s ass.

  He switched the phone to his other ear. “It’s cartoon birds flying around my head. Swelling music? Possibly rainbows? Something obvious and epic."

  "Alex, mon chou, you and Sergei are epic. And it's pretty obvious, to everyone but you. Besides, birds are notoriously hard to train, rainbows are almost impossible to count on, and having an orchestra follow you around every day would be cumbe
rsome. The day-to-day of relationships rarely feature Celine Dion power ballads. Love is knowing Sergei would make room for both of you on that door.”

  Alex rubbed his forehead. “What door? What are you talking about?”

  “The Titanic? Rose and Jack? Celine Dion?”

  “You’re insane.” He laughed.

  “I have three children and a crazy American husband. Of course I am insane. And you are in love.”

  “I have to go.” He had a great need to end this conversation.

  “Okay. I see. I will talk to you in a few days, and we will talk more then, oui?”

  “Of course.”

  “Give Sehoya my love. And Joyeux Noël.”

  “Joyeux Noël to you and Papa, Chloé, and Laurent.”

  God, he missed his family. He needed to get home soon. Sliding the door open, he went back into the warm house. He needed that coffee. And maybe some cuddling.

  He and Sergei spent the rest of the day reading, napping, and watching television. Alex introduced Sergei to the wonders of Yuri on Ice. They had watched most of the episodes by the time they had to leave for Paul Dyson’s party. Sergei lobbied hard for watching the last two and being fashionably late to the party. Alex overruled him on the basis that they needed to stop at the liquor store and were going to be fashionably late anyway. He threatened to tell Sergei how it ended if he didn’t get up right now and get dressed.

  “You need to learn delayed gratification. It’s good for you,” Alex said, taking the remote out of Sergei’s hands.

  Sergei glowered. “I think I am becoming professional at delayed gratification.” He shot a pointed look at Alex.

  Alex laughed. “Just get dressed. It will be our own little réveillon.” His family had hosted many a midnight Christmas Eve party complete with midnight mass, friends and relatives coming and going until all hours of the night, and enough food to feed an army.

  The informal Christmas party at Paul’s cute Alki Beach apartment was no réveillon, but it was more fun than Alex had expected even though he didn’t know most of the people there. They only ones he really knew were Jake Donovan and Danny Lipe, and them only in passing.