Rocking Thin Ice

by Z. Allora

  Bringing Drake home was the only logical thing Blaze could have done.

  “Come on. Let’s go inside. Do you need help up?” Unwinding himself, Blaze ignored the regret of ending the long and rather cozy hug. Cozy? What the fuck? Blaze must just be gagging for some sex.

  Drake’s chiseled cheekbones were highlighted by the blush. “I got it.” He slipped out of the front seat with liquid movements.

  Blaze stopped drooling and grabbed Drake’s guitar. All of this was surreal, but not a big deal.

  Lies you tell yourself for sex— No, ’cause I’m not going to fuck him. He’s a friend, or at least I know him or something, so sex is truly off the table, even when he’s not high. There! Decision made and all pressure turned off.

  Blaze unlocked the curtained french doors. “Ice doesn’t like most people, so stand back. I’ll distract him. You hurry on my signal, and then after he does his business, I’ll crate him or put him in my bedroom so he doesn’t nip at you.”

  Drake shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. It’s his house.”

  “Just be ready to move.” Blaze braced himself and opened the door. There was a single low bark, and Ice flew through the air. The tiny dog launched himself at Drake.

  “Ice!” Blaze froze, and everything became slow motion.

  Drake caught the flying puppy and put his knuckles out for Ice to approve him. “Oh. Hi there, Iceman.”

  Blaze’s breath caught in his lungs.

  Ice sniffed twice, tilted his head to accept the petting he deserved, then gave Drake a lick on the cheek, confirming he’d received all Ice-petting privileges available. Ice barked once more and added a wiggle.

  “Oh, here you go, my man.” Drake set Ice down, allowing him to run around the fenced-in yard. Even in Drake’s drugged state, he understood doggy speak. Not that Blaze found that fact sexy, because anyone could speak dog, right?

  “Come on in.” Blaze set Drake’s guitar near the door.

  “Nice place. You share this with your brother?”

  “He lives upstairs in the main part of the house. We finished the basement and turned it into an apartment for me so I could focus on skating and not paying rent.” What the fuck? Blaze never shared personal information.

  High or not, Drake rang alert bells. He could easily become a menace to Blaze’s way of life.

  Blaze was already acting out of character. Maybe he needed to keep a safer distance from Drake.

  The basement ran the entire length of the house. Luke had insisted they make him a tiny but fully stocked kitchen with microwave, oven, burners, refrigerator, dishwasher, sink, and tiny washer-dryer hidden behind a cabinet door. The gray granite island had flecks of silver and blue and sat on top of white cabinets. One side lined with three stools served as his dining area, but he usually ate with Luke or in front of the television.

  “Sorry, I left the place a mess.” Blaze had no clue why he apologized to a virtual stranger, but he rushed through the living room area, which consisted of a white love seat, two matching chairs, and a television. He put the remote controls back into the white lacquer side table drawers.

  “A mess? No way. This is spotless. But since I’ve been living with some bandmates who think Febreze can eliminate trips to the laundromat, I might not be the best judge.”

  “No! Febreze? That can’t be.” Blaze refolded a white blanket, placed the throw over the arm of the chair, and tried not to be grossed out.

  “Afraid so.” Drake’s frown spoke of disgusting smells and body odor.

  Drake Keys was in his apartment!

  Wasn’t there a rule about having guys you jerked off over in your space? Always had been one for Blaze, and now—body odor to masturbation? Talk about breakneck mental topic change.

  Almost tripping on his carpet, he hurried over to shut the white unit that housed a rainbow of organized fabric, sequins, crystals, thread, his sewing machine, and work table. “Thankfully, the glamour of the spotlight hides stink and small costume tears.”

  Drake appeared right behind him and stayed Blaze’s hand. Drake’s warm touch heated him.

  Blaze shouldn’t try to absorb the man’s warmth, which now penetrated his always cold body. Drake should be required to provide a thermostat, because his heat might succeed in breaching the ice around Blaze.

  Who was Blaze kidding? He’d be masochistically self-injurious and crank Drake’s heat until Blaze burned to ash.

  A low whistle, followed by, “Wow, my mom would love this unit. She’d fill the entire unit with scrapbooking paper, stickers, crap like that. But she’s neat and orderly like you.”

  Blaze tried shoving and burying the familiar loss that surfaced. “My mother taught both Luke and me to put things back where they belong so we could always find them. The concept stuck more with me than Luke, because he still loses his remote controls.”

  Drake dropped a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry your mom and dad died when you were so young. Both of your parents would have been proud of all you accomplished.”

  “Thanks,” Blaze whispered as he tried to see through his watery eyes.

  His mom would have wanted more for him. Of course, she’d have been proud of his skating career, and his dad would have been pleased he saved and invested his money like Luke taught him. But both his parents would have wanted him to look for happiness off the ice, not only temporary solace.

  Blaze needed to escape these emotions but wasn’t sure how. He stepped back from Drake.

  “Do you make your own costumes?”

  Did Drake read his mind? Whatever. He would enjoy the relief of shifting to less emotional topics. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

  Drake’s eyes widened, and then he smiled like Blaze confessed to being a rocket scientist in his spare time. “How did you learn to sew?”

  “My mom taught me the basics of sewing before… she died. Costumes can be terribly expensive, so I usually buy basic shirts and pants. Then I add bits of sparkle, flocking, and cutouts to the pieces.”

  “Come on. Most of your costumes look like you do much more than that.”

  Blaze didn’t know quite what to do with all these heartfelt compliments. Applause from his fans only required a bow, but Drake’s expression had become too full of admiration along with expectation. “Um… thanks. There’s also a couple of ladies in town who taught me some more advanced techniques.”

  Drake pulled open the drawer housing animal print fabric. “Cool leopard print.”

  Blaze gasped with dramatic flair, hoping to lighten the mood further. “Oh no. You’re another Luke.”

  “What?” Drake shook his head like he didn’t get the joke.

  Placing his wrist to his forehead, Blaze called upon divas both living and dead to add drama to his voice. “I can’t live with such confusion.”

  “Confusion?” Drake’s stare intensified.

  “Clearly, this is a jaguar pattern.” Blaze grinned and pointed out another swatch. “This one is leopard. See? Big difference.”

  Drake bit his lip and studied the fabrics like he would be taking a final exam on patterns. Too cute.

  “This one is giraffe and, of course, zebra print.” Blaze tucked them all neatly back in their place and shut the drawer. He pushed his sewing machine back into the unit and dropped the legs of the work tables. Finally he closed the cabinet.

  Drake pointed to a Japanese screen. “What’s behind there?”

  Blaze wasn’t sure if he should find Drake’s interest in his apartment annoying or if he was weirdly pleased by the curiosity. Undecided, he gestured with his hand. “Take a look. It’s where I work on my routines.”

  “It’s like a tiny dance studio. The hardwood floor, the mirrored wall, the ballet pole, red ribbon like in your exhibition, and…. Wait, is that a stripper pole?” Drake’s voice rose an octave to scandalized-but-very-interested.

  After catching a glimpse of Drake’s shocked expression, Blaze couldn’t resist giving him a demonstration.

&nbs
p; “I typically don’t strip when I use it,” Blaze snarked and strutted over to the vertical brass pole. He flipped and caught the pole between his thighs, hanging upside down for a moment, and then he jumped and grabbed the pole right side up.

  Drake gasped.

  Unwinding himself from the pole, Blaze twirled around with one hand out. “Placement of this pole was tricky. Too close to the mirror and I couldn’t check my routines. If it’s too far back, I’d have smacked my head on the sewing cabinet. Plus add the ceiling, and well, it’s good that I’m short.”

  He held the pole with his hands and straightened his body out, perpendicular to the floor. Pulling into the pole, Blaze flipped back upside down and V-ed his legs out on either side. He checked Drake’s reaction.

  Priceless! Drake’s bright royal blue eyes were huge, and his mouth dropped open. Then he licked his sensual full lips in a way that made Blaze swear he could feel Drake’s tongue and mouth on his cock—and that taunting little lip ring.

  Enough showing off. Blaze backflipped off the pole. “It’s good exercise.”

  Drake gasped, then stared at him with dreamy eyes. “Wow! That was incredible. You’re so amazing.”

  Blaze waved him off. “Thanks, but I bet you tell that to all the boys and girls.”

  “No, I really don’t.” The earnestness in Drake’s tone shook Blaze.

  Blaze opened his mouth, then shut it. What could he possibly say?

  “Um, what’s that? A tiny teeter-totter?” Drake pointed at the bright orange twelve-inch curved piece of plastic.

  Blaze chuckled. “That’s a skate glide. It’s used to practice spins. Skaters use the skate glide to teach their bodies what the rotations of certain jumps should feel like.”

  “Really?” Drake inspected the device.

  “You want to try?”

  “Sure.” Drake set down the skate glide.

  Maybe this was a bad idea. Though Blaze had already offered…. “You place your foot on it and turn once. Be careful.”

  Drake must have miscalculated the energy one needed to turn. He unsteadily spun, then started to fall.

  The skate glide skittered across the floor as Drake headed to the ground. Blaze wrapped his arms around him to stabilize him.

  Drake sighed and pressed flush against Blaze’s body.

  Damn. It had been too long since he’d had someone in his arms, but now twice in less than an hour. A couple of his skating friends with benefits were cuddlers. He tolerated those snuggles, but they didn’t compare to the rightness of holding Drake. What?

  Blaze probably missed sex. That was all. He mused at how easy it would be to guide Drake over to the love seat and…. He caught a look at himself in the mirror and touched his sequined neckline. “I’m still in my skating costume. I should go take a shower and change.”

  “If you insist.” Drake squeezed him tighter for a moment and then released him.

  Feeling off-balance, Blaze scrambled to find something to latch on to, so he asked, “Can I get you some tea or water?”

  “Ew, tea tastes like twigs and dirt. I’ll have some water, though.” Drake’s exclamation reminded Blaze he was dealing with someone who still rode the Brownie Train to Happyville.

  Blaze snorted and handed him a bottle out of the fridge. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Drake made himself comfortable on the love seat and picked up Blaze’s dragon. “Who is this?”

  Blaze mentally glared at his absent dog, then rushed over to collect his treasured possession. “Flame. Ice must have snatched him off my—where I keep him. Let me put him back.”

  He settled the dragon back on his nightstand, where his mom used to put it to guard him from bad dreams. Silly, but he liked believing Flame protected him while he slept.

  Blaze went back to the main room to… um, refill Ice’s water dish.

  Ice trotted through the doggy door and greeted Blaze. Then he noisily lapped water from his bowl, ensuring he’d be watering a tree soon.

  Blaze needed to stop staring at Drake, though the rarity of seeing someone other than Luke and Anna in here made it impossible. Drake fit right in. Go figure. Blaze filled the electric kettle with water and started the pot. In between sneaking peeks at Drake, he got his favorite dragon mug ready with his green tea enhanced with nana mint.

  Drake patted his chest. “Iceman. Wanna hang with me while your daddy cleans up?”

  Right, Blaze had been heading to the shower.

  Ice hurried over to Drake as quickly as his tiny legs could carry him, like the man was an old friend. Ice, the usually not-friendly puppy, jumped onto Drake’s lap, licked his cheek, circled, and lay down on his back. The shameless dog exposed himself to Drake and got his belly rubbed for the trust.

  Drake had beautiful musician’s hands with long skilled fingers and…. Dragging his gaze off the impossibilities, Blaze pointed to the side table. “The remotes are in the top drawer.”

  Drake turned and fixated all his attention on Blaze. Geez, that was enough to make Blaze want to trade spots with his dog. Dammit if Drake’s dreamy smile didn’t make him positively melt. Dreaminess… right, most likely drug-induced.

  “Thanks for letting me hang out with you.”

  “Sure.” Blaze gave an awkward wave and stumbled back into his bedroom like it was his first day on skates.

  Blaze fluffed the pillows on his bed and smoothed a wrinkle on the comforter. Once he reassured himself nothing embarrassing lay around, he went into his bathroom and started the shower.

  He stripped, tossed his clothing into a special bag to keep his costumes separated in his hamper for handwashing, and took off his performance makeup.

  Usually after a competition, he took a long bath and then used an app to find someone to fuck. That wouldn’t be happening, but his cock must not have gotten the memo of the change in plans. Or maybe, since the guitar player who starred in a number of his masturbatory fantasies sat in the next room, his cock refused to accept the denial.

  His cock ached. Hoping Drake had been—

  He bolted the bathroom door and then stepped into the shower. Glancing down at his excited cock, he sighed. To jerk off or not to jerk off, that was the question. There had to be some edict against rubbing one out when a guest waited in the other room.

  It was his house, and he needed to relax. But was that weird?

  An image of Drake sprawled out on his love seat, petting Ice, made his cock harden further.

  Fuck! At this point, taking himself in hand could be seen as a preventive measure against bad decisions. His mind moved Drake into his bed, and the imaginary Drake’s mouth became front and center. No, he should simply turn him over and fuck him, but then he wouldn’t have been able to kiss him. And God, he wanted to kiss him.

  He stroked off, and as soon as their lips met in fantasy, Blaze choked back his moan and came.

  Fuck, that was oddly satisfying for a solo session. Whatever. He’d needed to come, end of story.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, he finished his shower.

  Blaze dried and slipped into a pair of gray lounge pants with a light, slim-fitting blue top. The mirror told him he might be trying too hard. He exchanged the “top of seduction” for a dark gray T-shirt that didn’t make him look like he was on the prowl for anything other than some mindless TV. Then he brushed his towel-dried hair. Leaving his feet bare because the idea of anything on them would be too much, he padded out to the main area.

  On the counter sat a cup of tea. He sipped and found the tea was the perfect drinking temperature.

  “You made me tea?” Blaze cleared his throat of the weird tickle he’d gotten. I feel emotion. Who authorized this?

  “I poured the water into the cup.” Drake’s tone suggested what he did was commonplace.

  Blaze couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced such thoughtfulness. “The only ones to ever do this for me were my mom and Luke.” Unless he counted when Anna thrust a packet of tea at him, commanding him to drink some and th
en demanding he feel better when the doctor said he had strep.

  “No big.” Drake gave a glassy-eyed smile.

  “Thanks.” Right! It’s no big deal to the world at large; I’m making the smallest kindness into one like a weirdo. Blaze collapsed into one of the chairs.

  And stared at Drake.

  Drake engaged him with his gaze.

  Blaze uncrossed his arms and then sipped his tea. Why did Drake have to be so delicious sitting there with lickable earrings running along the shell of his ear? Since when were earrings worthy of his tongue? Drake’s eyes held too much heat. And fuck, that lip ring….

  Something sparked between them. Blaze didn’t know what flashed or why it had.

  Drake started to laugh, and the melody eased something inside Blaze that had coiled tight forever ago. The sound forced him to smile, grin, and soon he joined in chortling like a fool.

  Ice awoke from his doggy dreams. He glanced between Drake and Blaze. Standing at attention, Ice gave a fierce defensive barking growl toward nothing in particular, which made Blaze laugh harder.

  Wiping his eyes, Drake admitted, “I don’t even know what I’m laughing at.”

  “Me either,” Blaze got out, right before dissolving back into laughter. “And I didn’t even have any brownies.”

  Shaking his head, Drake got his laughing fit under control. “I really am sorry about that. It wasn’t my intention. I should have thought about the fact that I entered a legal state.”

  What was this feeling? Maybe contentment, and why did Blaze experience it now? How come he couldn’t turn off his emotions like usual? He tried to snap himself out of his bemusement. “You must think I’m a terrible host. If you want to shower, I can get us some food. You can use my washing machine. Or I could get you a bottle of Febreze.”

  Drake snorted. “You’re funny.”

  Fearing Drake’s happy sounds could easily become an addiction—even now they took hold of him—Blaze popped out of the chair. “I’ll go borrow some sweats from my brother, and you can take a shower.”