Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  Sergei sank back down on the couch. He knew all about not being safe. He had never told Alex about what had happened to drive him out of Russia. Not because he was ashamed, but because he had wanted to leave it all behind him. To forget about it. It was still the most painful time of his life. But if they were going to be together like this, Alex deserved to know everything. “Never again will I be frightened into hiding my love.”

  Alex’s eyes widened at the word love, but he didn’t say anything.

  Sergei rubbed Alex’s feet and stared into the fire as if he could see the past in it.

  “Serhoya? Are you okay?” Alex asked.

  Sergei didn’t know why it was so hard for him to talk about this part of his past. Maybe it was just long habit, a remnant of the dire threats his parents had made if he ever talk to anyone about it. Whatever the reason, he was way past caring about what his parents thought, and there really was no reason to hide it. After all, he had done nothing except fall in love. “I never tell you why I leave Russia, did I?”

  Alex shook his head. “And you never have to.”

  “I do. I do have to, so you understand. There was a boy. His name was Peter.” Sergei could still see him as clear as day. Beautiful and glowing with life and health the way only the very young could. “It is not good for men to love men in Russia. Not now, not then. We had to hide. To sneak away to find time to be together. We were only sixteen.”

  They had both been so young. Peter had never gotten the chance to get old. He would be forever young.

  “What happened?” Alex asked quietly after Sergei had been silent for a long time.

  “They killed him. A gang of men. Grown men.” Sixteen years of distance had dulled the grief, but not the anger. Anger at his countrymen who had beat a child to death for loving the wrong person. Anger at his parents who had told him he had been lucky not to be killed as well, told him he was wrong, and then secreted him out of the country as if he were an embarrassment.

  “Oh, moya lyubov.” Alex curled against Sergei’s side.

  Sergei tucked him tightly under his arm and buried his face in Alex’s silky hair.

  Alex held him as tightly as he could, tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered apologies and words of comfort in his soft, lilting French.

  Sergei wiped the tears from Alex’s face. “Do not cry for me, love. I lived.”

  Alex looked up at Sergei, face hard through the tears. “I will. I will cry for you and for your Peter. I wish you had told me years ago, so I could mourn with you.”

  To Sergei’s surprise, tears slipped from his eyes as well. He had thought he had cried all he could over Peter, that he was done grieving. But he had never shared that with anyone before. Ever. No one had mourned with him for his first lost love.

  He tilted Alex’s face up and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

  Alex kissed him back, then leaned against his chest again. “So I don’t understand. Why does that make you less afraid? I would think it would make you more afraid?”

  Sergei sighed deeply and shook his head. “America and Canada is not like Russia. Here I can marry the man I love. Women can marry women. I am not scared here. Besides,” he looked down at Alex with a small smile, “I am no longer scrawny boy. I would not be easy to beat up, da?”

  Alex laughed quietly, then leaned forward to grab a napkin off the table to wipe his face. “No. Not easy at all; you are a giant.” He plucked at the shirt he wore. “This is practically a dress on me.”

  Sergei caressed Alex’s back, tracing his fingers over the letters spelling out his name. “I love when you wear my shirts. I buy that one for you special.”

  Alex poked him in the arm. “Ah ha! I knew it! You do buy them too small on purpose.”

  “Sometimes,” Sergei admitted. The look in Alex’s eyes and the little blush on his cheeks made Sergei want to run out and buy a hundred more shirts. “Lyosha, if we were, are, will be boyfriends—which seems a silly word for grown men—but if we are to be, I will never be ashamed. I will only be proud to be with you. To show you off and to know everyone else will be very jealous that they do not get to have you. Only me.”

  Alex stared at him, blinking silently. He reached for his coffee mug and concentrated very hard on drinking. When he set it back down with a thud, he turned to Sergei with a small but genuine smile. “So did everyone on the team have a good Christmas?” he asked, definitely changing the subject.

  Sergei was grateful for the reprieve. It had been a tragedy, yes. And there would always be a part of his heart reserved for Peter, but the past was the past, and that story was only part of the tapestry of days that made up his life. You couldn’t weigh a first childhood love against the depth of his sixteen-year relationship with Alex. He would never want to. Love was not a competition.

  “I think so,” he answered, matching Alex’s light tone. “They all say hello to you. Oh, but Coach O’Reilly, his girlfriend broke up with him.” Sergei had never met the woman. She hadn’t moved to Seattle with Liam, choosing instead to stay in Boston. Sergei may not have a lot of relationship experience, but that had seemed like a bad sign.

  “Oh, give me all the tea, how do you know?”

  “He told Coach Williams where I hear. He said she was having the baby of someone else.” That news would spread through the team like wildfire. Not that Sergei would say anything, but no one gossiped like a hockey team. Women might have the reputation for it, but in Sergei’s experience, men were a hundred time worse.

  Alex covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, no! How did he take it? Was he devastated?”

  “Actually, he seemed not so sad.” Sergei shrugged. “Who knows what goes on between two people?”

  Alex started gathering the Chinese food containers and straightening out the top of the coffee table.

  “Wait,” Sergei said, reaching for the fried rice. “I am hungry.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t. I’ll make you something nice. And I can take a shower while you eat.” Alex started to get up, but Sergei stopped him with a kiss.

  “No, do not get up. You look so comfortable, and I missed you today.” He reached for the container Alex had stuck his chopsticks in. Giving it a sniff, he pulled out a piece of meat and popped it in his mouth. Pork. A little lukewarm. He stood up and gathered the rest of the leftovers.

  “I will go heat this up. Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

  Alex shook his head, eyes wide as if Sergei had offered him the moon.

  “No? Okay. I be right back. Do not watch more dress show without me.” Humming to himself, he walked to the kitchen.

  While the Chinese food heated in the oven, he pulled out the leftover tourtière from Alex’s mother. He actually liked it better the second day. The bottle of champagne in his fridge looked like a good idea, so he grabbed that as well.

  “We will have to drink out of the bottle,” Sergei said placing the plate and bottle on the table. “I could not carry glasses, too.” He spied Alex’s favorite battered coffee cup. “Oh, this will work.” Sergei drank the last sip of whatever Alex was drinking and just managed to stop himself from spitting it back into the mug. “What is that?”

  “Kombucha,” Alex answered distractedly.

  “It is disgusting.” He poured the champagne and took a sip. Much better. “Here, you drink. I want to kiss you when you taste like champagne, not buchaka.”

  Alex took a sip without taking his eyes off of Sergei.

  The hooded and hungry look in his eyes went straight to Sergei’s newly-revived libido. He tried to squirm discreetly to hide his arousal from Alex. He didn’t want Alex to think that all he wanted from him was sex. It was really hard to squirm discreetly.

  “How hungry are you?” Alex asked, taking another sip and handing the mug back.

  “I am pretty hungry,” Sergei admitted. He had left the party before dinner.

  “Well, hurry up and eat then, because I have a late Christmas present for you. For both of us really.”
>
  “What is it?” What else could Alex possibly have gotten him?

  “A new rule.”

  “That does not sound like a good present.” Sergei crossed his arms and looked down at Alex. He hope it wasn’t no more blow jobs.

  Alex slid his hand over Sergei’s thigh and grazed his fingers over the swell of his cock.

  “New rule is no more rules,” he said with a smile that turned to a laugh when Sergei choked on a mouthful of fried rice.

  He chased it down with some more champagne. “No rules?” Sergei wanted to be one hundred percent sure he had heard correctly.

  “No more rules. I’m all in. Let’s do this thing.” He took Sergei’s hand between his and looked deep into his eyes. “Even though I don’t deserve you, and you are way hotter than me, will you be my boyfriend, Sergei Ivanovich?”

  Sergei couldn’t hold back a huge smile. Boyfriend. Such a silly word, but it made him feel so good. “I would be honored to be your boyfriend. And you deserve everything.”

  Alex’s grimace came and went so fast, Sergei would have missed it if he’d blinked at the wrong time. “Well, tonight I’m going to give you things. So, eat up so I can take you upstairs and have my wicked way with you. You’re going to need your strength.”

  Sergei shoveled the food into his mouth to the sound of Alex laughing.

  19

  Alex

  Watching Sergei eat as quickly as he could in order to fool around made Alex laugh, even as he second-guessed his decision.

  He wished he felt as confident inside as he was trying to make it look from the outside. There was no way he was repeating his mistakes with Sergei.

  After all, Sergei was so far from being like Charles that they were barely in the same universe. Sergei didn’t care what Alex looked like or have any ideas of how Alex should behave. His love and affection weren’t conditional. So it stood to reason that his relationship with Sergei would be nothing like what he had with Charles. Their relationship was based on truth and friendship, not lies and sex.

  Except now there was going to be sex. At least, he hoped there was going to be sex. He didn’t really know what Sergei would like. Alex knew a lot of men didn’t like anal sex, or thought it wasn’t worth the trouble. Alex wasn’t one of those. He really liked it, and he’d spent quite a lot of time recently imaging what it would be like with Sergei.

  So, for those reasons, he had thrown his rules out the window.

  Rules. Alex’s brain stopped spinning as he realized that Charles had also had a list of rules. Unwritten but certainly not unspoken. Charles had had no problem vocalizing his displeasure with Alex. He’d criticized Alex for the way he looked, the way he dressed, speaking French, not being attentive enough, and being too aggressive in bed, among other things.

  Sergei did none of that. Alex said no touching. Sergei didn’t touch. Alex didn’t shower for two days or change out of his sweatpants? Sergei cuddled and kissed him anyway. And when they kissed, afterward he looked at Alex with this dumbstruck expression as if he were wondering how he had gotten so lucky.

  Sergei asked for nothing except Alex’s presence when it was available. And even that he didn’t demand, simply appreciated it when he could have it.

  But the one thing Alex could give Sergei—his body—he’d been withholding. I'm being cruel to the one person who's always been there for me.

  He had always loved and trusted Sergei implicitly. It was beyond time for Alex to show him that. Sergei was far from stupid, and he wasn’t worried that Alex was taking advantage of him, or using him and sponging off him.

  Alex had to trust that Sergei was watching out for both of their best interests. Why did he care what the rest of the world thought when they looked at Alex? If they thought he didn’t deserve Sergei, well, he agreed with them. But the only judge he needed to worry about was Sergei. If he couldn’t believe in himself, he would believe in Sergei.

  A weight lifted from Alex’s chest. He was going to make Sergei feel so good; going to show him how much he meant to Alex.

  “Done,” Sergei said, stabbing the chopsticks into the container. He stood up, grabbing the bottle of champagne. “Upstairs?” he asked hopefully.

  “We should put the leftovers away so the cats don’t get into them,” Alex answered, trying to keep a straight face.

  Sergei pushed the bottle at Alex. Startled, he grabbed it with both hands. Sergei scooped up all the containers, stacking them on his plate, then strode out of the room.

  Alex followed more slowly, drinking as he walked. He came into the kitchen in time to see Sergei shoving the leftovers, plate and all, directly into the fridge.

  “Okay now?” His attempt at a glower was spoiled by the laughter dancing in his eyes.

  Instead of answering, Alex put the bottle on the counter, and then, with both hands, pushed Sergei against the refrigerator. Rising up on tiptoes, he kissed Sergei fiercely. God, he wanted this so badly.

  Sergei groaned. Alex wrapped his arms around Sergei’s neck and Sergei picked him up. His legs barely fit around Sergei’s hips. Sergei’s hands cupped Alex’s ass perfectly, cradling him gently even as his fingers traced the seam of Alex’s sweatpants. He shuddered, thinking of those thick fingers inside him.

  With a moan, Sergei turned them and pressed Alex against the wall, sliding Alex up until their bodies aligned with an almost audible click. The hard press of Sergei’s cock made Alex’s eyes roll back in his head. It would be so easy to rut against Sergei’s abs until he came.

  “Oh, my God,” Alex groaned as Sergei shifted his weight so he could hold Alex up with one hand. “Jesus. It turns me on so fucking much how strong you are,” he confessed.

  Sergei cupped Alex’s chin and tilted his head up to the ceiling, trapping him between his body and the wall. Alex could only whimper and writhe as Sergei dragged his mouth over Alex’s throat. The contrast between his warm, soft lips and the harsh rub of his beard drove him crazy. His neck was stretched so taut, it was hard to breathe. Alex didn’t care at all. He would gladly sacrifice air for this.

  He clung to Sergei’s massive biceps. “I’m going to come,” he panted. “Oh, God. Serhoya. Please. Please.”

  Sergei lifted his head off Alex’s neck. They both struggled to draw breath, chests pressing together with the force of their inhales. Sergei’s eyes were as black as night with lust. “Please what?” he rumbled, grinding his huge, hard cock against Alex’s.

  Alex shouted, back arching off the wall. “Oh, fuck. Please.” It was all he could say.

  “Please stop or please let me come?” Sergei held him with both hands again, fingers digging into his ass.

  “I don’t know.” His legs clamped convulsively around Sergei’s hips, body thrusting. In a few seconds, it wouldn’t matter what Alex wanted. The orgasm building at the base of his spine, pulling his balls tight up against his body, wouldn’t be stopped. One more kiss and he would be begging Sergei to fuck him right up against the wall. Surely there was something in the kitchen they could use as lube.

  “I know what I want,” Sergei panted, stepping back and lowering Alex to the floor.

  “What?” Alex’s legs shook as much as his voice. His grip on Sergei’s shoulders was the only thing keeping him upright.

  “I want you in my bed,” Sergei growled into his ear.

  Alex whimpered, fingers clenching convulsively around Sergei’s shoulders as his body trembled on the edge of orgasm.

  “Yes?” Sergei asked. “You want that, too?”

  Alex could only nod in agreement and push Sergei towards the stairway.

  Always ready for bedtime, the cats followed them.

  Struggling for control, Alex took deep breaths as he followed Sergei up the steps. Sergei unbuttoned his shirt as he walked up the stairs, dropping it to the floor without stopping. Dean dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding getting covered by the fabric. Torvill leaped gracefully over it.

  Sergei’s back was a work of art, and Alex composed odes to Sergei’
s ass as he watched flexing it with each step. Sergei’s belt followed when they hit the landing at the turn.

  Alex made a strangled noise and started to pull his shirt over his head. Sergei stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Leave it on.” His gaze raked over Alex’s body, practically leaving scorch marks in its wake. “But pants off,” he ordered.

  Alex had never stripped off his pants so quickly before.

  The cats ran ahead of them, sneaking in the bedroom before Alex could shut them out. He ignored them, focusing on the way Sergei was looking at him as he shut the door.

  There was no need for privacy—they were alone in the house and the cats were already in the room—but Alex loved it. He loved the way it sealed them off from the rest of the world.

  Sergei stripped off the rest of his clothes with no ceremony.

  Alex’s breath caught in his throat. Clothed Sergei was impressive. Totally naked, fully erect Sergei was magnificent. He couldn’t wait to feel Sergei inside of him. Call him a size-queen, a cockslut, right now he didn’t care.

  The hem of the t-shirt brushing his skin half-way down his thighs felt sexier than any outfit Charles had bought him, sexier than the skintight costumes he had worn while skating. He felt the letters of Sergei’s name burning into his back, branding him.

  “Come here,” Sergei pleaded, voice rough.

  As Alex threw himself into Sergei’s arms, all he could do was wonder how it had taken them so long to get to this place? They’d been so blind.

  20

  Sergei

  It was all behind them now. Whatever detours they’d taken over the years, whatever delays or missed opportunities were in the past. Right now, they were in their house exactly where they were supposed to be.

  Sergei attacked Alex’s mouth as he collapsed back onto the bed, dragging Alex down on top of him and crushing their bodies together. Heaven. It was heaven.