by Parker Foye
“Not just you. You’re definitely contributing fifty percent of my blue balls.” Rob stole a quick kiss from Luc’s swollen lips. Much more interesting than his dirty—and definitely sweaty—blond hair. “You can come back to the hotel with me? If you want? Less of a crowd. I definitely want to hear more about these plans of yours.”
When Luc shoved away, Rob’s stomach twisted. He watched as Luc retrieved his helmet and clicked it on, then fastened his jacket, an inscrutable expression on his face all the while. Rob’s stomach sank. Had he screwed everything up? He didn’t understand how. When Luc paused in the action of lowering his goggles, he frowned at Rob. Rob’s stomach became a tangle of knots. What had he done?
“What are you waiting for?” Luc asked. He dropped the goggles over his face. “Your dick’s not going to suck itself.”
Rob had never dressed so fast in his life.
AN unspoken agreement kept their touches to a minimum as they traveled back to Rob’s hotel, and they didn’t race on the hills. Rob thrummed with nervous tension as he followed the confident lines Luc carved in the snow, trusting Luc’s familiarity with the piste to get them back quickly and safely.
But mostly quickly.
The sun was getting low as they passed L’Arbre and the other hotels. The clunk of Luc’s ski boots over the pavement seemed enormously loud. Absorbed in navigating skis and snowboards and shoppers, it wasn’t until they dropped their equipment in the hotel mudroom that Rob realized they hadn’t exchanged a single word since leaving the bar. After pressing the button for the elevator, he brushed snow from the top of his boot with his other foot, glancing at Luc from the corner of his eye. Luc had an almost blank expression on his face. He was chewing his lower lip. Rob desperately wanted to bite it.
The elevator arrived. “You still want to—to go upstairs?” Rob offered, more nervous than he had been in years.
Luc nodded jerkily and followed Rob into the elevator. Rob’s skin crawled with misgiving. He wondered about taking hold of Luc’s hand, but they still wore bulky gloves. Kiss him? But other people were in the elevator, and the whole point was to avoid a scene. He tried to catch Luc’s eye but couldn’t. Nerves ate at him until they stepped into Rob’s room, when Luc suddenly came to life and crowded Rob against the door. He’d already lost his helmet. Surprised, Rob went willingly.
“I want to kiss you again. I need to,” Luc said, his attention fixed on Rob’s mouth and his hands braced against the door behind Rob. “Can I?”
That worked for Rob. “Definitely. Do you want me to do anything?”
Leaning forward, his ski boots bringing their height more even, Luc shook his head. “Just don’t go anywhere.”
His first touch was tentative, like vodka was the source of Luc’s confidence back at the bar, but Luc quickly deepened the kiss, playing his tongue along Rob’s teeth. Rob let Luc lead, not wanting to scare him off, but couldn’t resist catching and nipping Luc’s tongue. He was rewarded with a thick groan and Luc knocking back his helmet to press closer. Rob replied with a groan of his own and snaked his hands under Luc’s jacket to grip warm flesh.
“Wait, wait,” Luc said, muffled as he pulled away. He glanced briefly at the window.
“What now?” Rob moaned. Now he knew how frustration felt. Maybe he should stamp his foot.
Luc’s answer was a sharp grin on his slick lips. “Annoying, isn’t it? But not there and not here either. You have a bed, because I can see it. Shall we?”
Rob’s heart fluttered. His dick did something similar. He grinned. “Race you.”
It was the right thing to say. He’d witnessed Luc’s competitive nature, and apparently adding prospective sex to the mix dialed everything up to eleven. Luc became a flurry of scattered clothes and swearing as he fought his boots, and Rob quickly turned to shedding his own clothes. He decided to leave on his boxers, glad when he saw Luc did the same.
They stared at each other from across the room, Luc standing in a pile of clothes like Venus in the waves. Rob traced the shape of him with his eyes, from the lean chest dusted with dark hair, down the lines of his legs with their powerful thighs, and lingering on the sharp jut of his collarbone and his delicate wrists with the matching leather cuffs that Rob’s attuned craft senses wanted to touch. But most immediate was the line of Luc’s dick in his gray trunks and the darker spot at the head. Rob’s mouth watered, and heat traveled from his face to his chest. He cleared his throat.
“You said something about sucking dicks?” his mouth said with zero input from his brain.
Instead of answering, Luc climbed onto the bed. Rob followed quickly, eager to get his hands on the expanse of olive skin and taste Luc everywhere. They lay side by side, and Luc reached for him, running his thumbs along the inside waistband of Rob’s boxers. His eyes were swallowed by black.
“Is there anything you don’t want?”
Rob shook his head. “Nothing that’ll happen in the three minutes it’ll take me to come. You?”
“I don’t like being pinned,” Luc said, then glanced at Rob’s necklace. His lips twisted. “And I don’t like craft used during sex.”
Questions raced to Rob’s tongue, but he swallowed them back and nodded instead. “Done. Thank you for telling me. Now want to show me what you like?”
He hadn’t thought it possible for Luc’s eyes to become darker, but they did as Luc pushed Rob back and straddled him between those strong thighs. He reached into Rob’s boxers and pulled out his dick, swiping liquid from the tip and using it to ease the way as he jacked Rob confidently with little twists of the wrist. Rob bucked into the grip, harder when he felt the resistance from Luc’s quads. It had been months since he’d had anyone’s hand but his own on his dick, and Luc drove like he’d been doing it for years.
“I like this,” Luc murmured, his gaze heavy. He rolled his hips. “I like how you look when I touch you.”
Heat shot through Rob’s body, and he gripped Luc’s waist, needing an anchor. He rocked into Luc’s grip and clenched his hands on a particularly sure stroke. His eyes dropped closed and he heard himself pant.
“Just like that,” Luc said. Then his strokes became softer and his weight shifted. Something crinkled. “Hang on a second—”
“Luc?”
Rob’s question was answered when Luc rolled the condom on Rob, then followed his hand with perfect heat around his dick as Luc swallowed him down. Rob’s eyes shot open, and he propped himself on his elbows, abs flexing as he watched Luc bob over him, his hair a mass of waves. Unsteadily Rob reached to push back Luc’s hair and get a better view. Luc smirked around his mouthful of dick, and Rob groaned thickly.
“Where were you—fuck, that’s so good—hiding the condom?” he managed to ask. Luc waggled his eyebrows in response and swallowed around Rob’s dick. The menace. “I won’t last.”
As if taking the warning as a challenge, Luc rolled Rob’s balls in his hand and tugged lightly, causing an exquisite pleasure to sing through Rob’s body. Rob fell back on the bed, losing himself to sensation as Luc worked him over until his dick hit the ridges of Luc’s throat and he could hold on no longer. Rob yelled, body shaking as he came, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Rob had barely recovered from the best orgasm he’d had in months, when Luc climbed back on top of him, having disposed of the condom somewhere. His weight on Rob’s torso made Rob blink his eyes open, his dick twitching feebly at the magnificent sight of Luc with his trunks tucked under his balls and one hand working his dick. He reached for Rob with the other. Rob caught Luc’s fingers and held them.
“I’ve been dreaming of this,” Luc said, panting as he stroked his dick.
Rob knew the feeling. “Fuck, you’re so—”
“If you say ‘pretty,’ I won’t be pleased.”
“Beautiful, then.”
Luc surged forward and captured Rob in a greedy kiss. Rob clung to Luc’s hand; he had to, or Luc might fade away like a changeling. He firmed his thighs to give Luc s
omething to rut against. He felt Luc start to shake and swallowed Luc’s cry as he came, finally tasting Luc’s pleased sigh.
Loosing a heavy breath, Luc slumped against Rob, his wild hair falling over Rob’s face. He smelled like the mountain. They breathed together, the air thick with sex.
After a few perfect minutes, Rob pressed a kiss into Luc’s hair. “Luc?”
Luc grunted. “Yeah?”
“How much afterglow before I can get up to wash off this spunk?”
WHEN Rob woke a few hours later, Luc was gone, and he had a missed text on his phone, the screen glowing intermittently from across the dark room. Rob’s stomach fluttered as he fished through his discarded clothes, thinking the text might be from Luc. Not so. Olivia had sent him a message.
Couldn’t hold them off any longer. Crew are coming to you.
“Bollocks.”
Chapter Five
LUC swore at himself as he clunked through Les Menuires, somewhere between sunset and midnight, his head throbbing even as his heart ached with regret. He’d spent an amazing afternoon with Rob, and the image of Rob’s face when he came was indelibly imprinted into Luc’s brain, but he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to have waited rather than rush into things Rob might regret. As it was, Luc had lain beside Rob until Rob fell asleep, his face relaxing as he trusted himself to the relative stranger beside him. Luc had dropped a last kiss to Rob’s cheek and dressed, urged to quickness by the itch of the curse beneath his skin.
Luc’s wrists burned, and he hunched his shoulders, bowing under the weight of his skis and the growing pressure in his skull. As he passed the boulangerie where they first kissed, a group of people stumbled out of a nearby bar and pulled up short at the sight of him, exchanging words with one another. They laughed and smirked, likely because he was the idiot wandering around in his ski boots hours after the slopes closed, but Luc didn’t slow down to check. If he slowed down, he’d stop, and he didn’t know if he’d start again. Not without blood on his knuckles. He ducked his head and walked. He couldn’t even distract himself with his phone since the battery had died.
The Dufour Chalets were far enough away that Luc ached all over when he finally reached them. A light glowed merrily in the highest window, and someone had decorated the garden with lights, making it seem like a scene from one of the nicer fairy tales. Luc grimaced. Taking exaggerated care so as not to disturb any guests, he let himself into the chalet and placed his ski equipment in the mudroom, leaving his coat and scarf there as well.
A shudder wracked him as he crossed the landing, and he stilled, clenching a cry between his teeth and waiting for the cramps to pass. The muscles of his neck had locked, and his heart thumped painfully against his sternum. Luc counted the beats as they pounded against the base of his skull. One. Two. Three. When the shudders finally passed, he unclenched his teeth and exhaled in relief, working his jaw before going to wash up in the bathroom.
Though she’d been lying down, Eloise sat up as Luc closed the door gently behind him. He saw her move and belatedly raised his arm against the glare of her bedside lamp.
“Eloise!” he protested. At least he knew how deer in headlights felt. Stags. Whatever.
Eloise glared at him, no less intimidating with her hair in pigtails. She scanned her bedside table and huffed; Luc realized she’d been looking for something to throw. He paused a few feet from the bed, not wanting proximity to make him an easy target.
“Where’ve you been, then?” Eloise asked, her voice a tight whisper.
Luc raised his eyebrows and matched her volume. “Do you really want to know?”
Eloise affected a wondering expression, crossing her arms and propping her chin on one hand, casting her gaze to the ceiling. “Do I really want to know if my brother has fallen off a mountain? If he’s freezing to death somewhere? You can’t even send me a text now?” Luc’s stomach sank as she went on. His stupid phone battery. His stupid self. “Do I really want to know if I have to tell our mother her baby has been eaten by bears?”
“There’s no bears—”
“Or,” Eloise went on, her voice still the same furious whisper, “do I really want to know if he’s been caught up with Curses bloody Anonymous as they come into town?”
Cold poured over Luc like cream into coffee and suffused his body. He crossed to his bed, sitting heavily and almost missing the lip of the mattress. He grabbed the sheets to right himself, digging his fingers into his palms through the fabric. Even his curse was stunned by the news, as all Luc’s brain could hold was panic.
“Wh—” He cleared his throat. “What? How?” Multiple syllables evaded him.
In the harsh light of the lamp, Eloise seemed cut from shadows. “Amandine heard from one of the guests. It was on Twitter, if you can imagine. Said they’re coming to film one of those ‘cursebreaker specials’ they’ve been doing lately.”
“I don’t understand. Why here?”
She shrugged. “Two hundred and eighty characters don’t give much room for information. I had a look, but there wasn’t anything particular, not even when they get here. Security reasons, probably. Val Thorens isn’t a big place.”
“Wait, Val Thorens? That’s not—”
“It’s close enough, Luc.”
Close enough for detection, she meant. If a cursebreaker wanted to search for a cursebearer, they could use spells to detect the signature of not-quite-right magic—at least that’s how Luc understood it. Different families had different methods and different ranges for their spells. A nearby resort, Val Thorens was part of Les 3 Vallées and close enough to ski on a morning out. Luc didn’t know how the distance translated to roads or craft range, but Eloise was right that Les Menuires would be close enough if a cursebreaker were keen.
He chewed his lip. “But if they’re coming here, it has to be for something. No one comes out here for anything other than the mountain, no matter what the tourist board says. Not in winter.”
“They could be trying their luck.”
“At Solstice prices?” Luc shook his head, becoming convinced by his argument as he reasoned it out. “No. They already have something in mind, and it’s not me. If I keep my head down, I’ll be fine.” He rubbed his forehead where his not-antlers were itching. “It’ll be fine. I’m sorry to have worried you, though.”
Eloise had been reaching for the lamp but paused when Luc spoke. She waggled her eyebrows, though her eyes were still strained with worry. “That’s right. Where were you, then, if not out giving me a heart attack? Your mystery man again?”
“I think I preferred it when you were freaking out.”
“No, you didn’t.” Eloise flicked off the lamp, leaving them with the happy glow of the fairy lights. “Will I be meeting this one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Eloise made a silly noise of exaggerated surprise, and the tension in the room finally broke. Luc took a steadying breath and expelled it, then got into bed properly. He rotated the cuffs around his wrists, wincing as they pulled his abraded skin, and tucked his hands beneath his cool pillow. Only a few hours until he had to wake and help with breakfast, but time enough. He started to drift.
“Night, Prancer!”
Eloise would be getting decaf in the morning.
FUELED by a pot of—caffeinated, thank you—coffee, Luc spent his morning frying pounds of bacon and slathering toast with butter, slapping together sandwiches for Eloise and Amandine while they alternated baking with making more elaborate breakfasts for their guests. The chalet had been occupied by a group of university friends from somewhere in Wales, and they proved to be relatively low-key… aside from their appetites. More than once Eloise sent Luc an emergency shopping text after a guest asked for an unexpected picnic lunch and all their friends joined in on the request.
Nonetheless, by midweek they’d gotten into a routine, with Luc sent to buy twice as much of nearly everything. They reasoned the three of them could freeze and eat whatever was left over. So
long as their guests were happy was the key thing.
Between bacon and toast, Luc had barely any time to dwell on the night with Rob, at least not after he nearly burned himself with bacon grease the first time. Full attention required when cooking was Luc’s takeaway. He figured the burn would be the worst part of his day.
Then Amandine approached with her latest list.
“What are your chores today?” she asked. As if she didn’t tell him what to do.
Luc flipped the last of the bacon onto the waiting kitchen towel and set the pan on the back burner, then turned off the stove. He narrowed his eyes at Amandine.
“What’s the catch?”
“‘Catch’? What is ‘catch’?”
Sometimes idiom got the better of Amandine, but she didn’t like Luc to explain in French. “It’s like a snag. Like you’re asking me a question, but you have a follow-up question prepared, depending on my answer.” Luc was never good at language in school. He propped his hip on the counter, away from the heat, and tried to explain more articulately. “You’ve asked me about my chores. What if I say I’ve done them all already?”
Amandine beamed, her eyes lit with understanding. She brandished her piece of paper. “Then I say, ‘no, you haven’t’! That is the catch?”
Luc blew out a breath, grinning lopsidedly despite himself. “Yes, that’s the catch. What’s on your list, then?”
“Only a delivery.”
Like nearly everything in Les Menuires, there was nothing “only” about Amandine’s delivery. Fortunately Luc had saved himself enough bacon for a sandwich, and he took it when he headed out for the center of the village.
The village hummed with preparation for the festival season, with different groups readying the elements of their particular celebrations. A small village with a strong craft community, Les Menuires focused most of their activities on Solstice, but hotels with a high number of visitors had different services and facilities for those of other faiths and cultures and they decorated accordingly. Like always, though, the biggest event in the municipal calendar would be the lighting of the tree, and it had grown to become the signal for the most important holiday activity in resort: late-night opening hours in the tourist shops.
