Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500
From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com>
Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 33

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and
explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or
are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now.

HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All
Rights are reserved.

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Guy's quarters were located on the far northwestern side of the house. Fine
in their simplicity but immaculate in their novelties, they were
sequestered away from the rest of the home by means of double doors that
opened into a separate wing, which began with a living room offering a
panoramic view of the Texas Hill Country and eventually expanded into an
apartment-like flat.

This is it, Guy had said upon our arrival. Home.

I didn't bother to question the obvious. The divide was real, made present
as Guy turned and secured us behind lock and key. For father and son to
have been so adamantly at war in their own home was something akin to the
tragedies—Shakespeare, even the mythology of the Greek Gods. Was Zeus
not as forgiving as Elliot, and was Guy not the son who wished only to be
within his favor?

Guy didn't bother with formalities. He led me through the living room and
down a short hallway until we stepped into a room—undeniably
long-abandoned, but upkept to the point where dust shined only on
particular objects.

"Guy," I said, turning to face him, "can't we just—"

"Relax," he said, taking hold of my arms. "You've been through a lot. I
don't want to make it any worse."

I swallowed, afraid to say it even though it was burning on the tip of my
tongue.

His hands on my body, his eyes on my face; the closeness, the anticipation;
the heat that didn't physically exist but did in a way that only those
impassioned could realize—he watched me consider him briefly before he
turned and began to dig through his drawers, coming up with clothes that
were still a few sizes too big but not to the point where I would drown in
them. "Shower," he said, leaning past me and sliding open a wooden
panel. "Take your time."

In the shower, I let cold water run down my skin, forever cursing my mortal
body.

It felt far too convenient for safety to only be a few short hours from
Austin.

From my place behind the clear glass pane, I watched Guy seat himself atop
his bed. Perched on a corner like some thoughtful bird, he stared at the
floor with his hands intertwined, his knuckles only occasionally parting to
offer relief from an unsure or hard grip. Before, I'd considered such looks
contemplative and nothing more. Now, I could see the tension there—thick
in his neck, strangled about his shoulders, harsh within his eyes.

I looked away and bowed my head.

What had I gotten myself into?

The press of a hand against my hip pulled me from thought.

"Can I come in?" Guy asked.

Naked in all his glory, he leaned half-in, half-out of the rain of water,
watching me with undecided yet completely hurt eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "You can."

He slid the shower door shut and waited for me to move, his actions
indicative of indecision even though he was trying his best to be coy. When
at first my stone-cold resolve would not register, I leaned back and took
hold of his hand, drawing him forward.

It's ok, I wanted my hand to say.

I knew it worked when he pressed his body against mine and draped an arm
over one hip.

We stood there like that for a long time—he with his arm around my
abdomen, I with my head bowed. Not a word transpired between us as the cold
water splashed along our heads, warring across our shoulder blades and
fleeing in haste down our backs. His touch was still something
remarkable—not arousing, in a way that turned me on, but sensual in that
I felt completely confident in him as a person.

"I'm sorry," Guy said out of nowhere.

I lifted my head and frowned. "For what?" I asked.

"Bringing you into this, making you a felon... messaging you that night."

"Guy," I said, turning. "You don't have to be sorry about anything."

"Yes I do, Jason. I was sloppy. I fucked up."

"Everyone does."

"Not me. Not us. Not the Kaldr."

"But doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

He blinked free drops of water, his outer irises no longer alien to
me. "I—"

I reached up and cupped my hand along the back of his neck.

"Jason," he whispered as I guided him down.

"Shh," I whispered.

I pressed my lips against his.

I took it slow, adjusting my hold along his neck, guiding my hand along his
skull. His beauty was in his patience—in the way he didn't touch me, or
try to push further than we already were. His hands only fell on my ribcage
when I teased his lower lip between my teeth and parted my mouth to allow
his tongue inside.

"Jason," he sighed, tilting his head to guide his lips along my neck, hands
sliding down my ribcage to rest upon my hips. "Jason..."

I pulled away, using only his torso as leverage to bring myself to my
knees.

His length was hardened—thick and engorged with blood.

I took hold of its base and swallowed the first few inches.

Guy pressed his hands to the wall and sighed as I bobbed my head along his
length, tracing the soft hairs on the curves of his thighs and running my
hands along his hips to take hold of his ass. The muscles tensed beneath my
touch and he groaned as I took him deeper into my throat, his hold
faltering as he removed his hands from the wall to tangle his fingers in my
hair.

"God," he said, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Fuck."

I cupped his balls in one hand and stroked the hardening nub beneath them
before taking him all the way.

Guy grunted.

I swallowed, forcing my head into his groin.

His fingers briefly tightened within my hair, then released, his hips
rolling with the motions of my head.

"God Jason. Where'd you get so good at giving head?" He cast his head back
as I picked up the pace. "Nevermind. Don't answer. Keep going."

My fist worked my dick in alternating bursts between his body, tightening
my hold on my shaft and letting up when I felt I was starting to go too
far. I took him all the way down and took hold of his thighs as I increased
my pace.

Guy caught on quick.

Taking hold of my head, he began to fuck my face.

I played with his balls and slapped his ass as his grunts started to match
his thrusts. His balls slapping across my face, my eyes blurred likely from
the deep-throating and the water raining down from the showerhead—I
wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him in as deep as I could
before pulling back, spit thick along my chin as I turned and presented
myself to him.

"Jason," he said, his cock slick along my backside.

He prepped me accordingly before spinning me around and kissing me—hard,
his restraints broken as he ravaged my mouth and nipped at my neck.

"Where," I started to ask.

He lifted me into his arms. I braced one arm across his shoulders and used
my other to guide him into place.

Once inside, he pressed me against the wall and made love to my upper body.

"You're so amazing," he said, brushing thumbs along my nipples as I coaxed
myself down his length. "God, Jason—"

I slid my tongue into his mouth and wrapped my arms around him as I slid
the last few inches down his length.

He grunted.

I groaned.

He eased me into it with slow, gentle thrusts.

"First time I've ever been fucked in a shower," I said between sharp grunts
and sighs of pleasure.

"Enjoying it?" Guy asked, nipping my lip.

"For sure."

He thrust his hips against mine and steadily increased his pace to a firm
rhythm, the slap of flesh pitched by the spray of water hitting our
bodies. I tightened my grip around him and bowed my head into his shoulder
as he started going faster, fucking me at a pace where I was quickly losing
control of my senses.

"Guy," I asked.

"I gotta put you on the floor," he gasped. "Otherwise I'm gonna slip. Is
that ok?"

I nodded only long enough for him to circle and then set me upon the
massive shower floor.

Here, he went all out.

His fevered thrusts slowed only when he slid back onto his knees and
started to thrust into me.

"Shit, Jason," he gasped, kissing my torso. "Fuck. I dunno if I can last
much longer."

"Fuck me," I said. "Just fuck me."

He flipped me onto my back and slung my legs over his shoulders before
driving into me as hard as he could.

"Shit, shit, shit," he said, bucking, his head rolling about his
shoulders. "Shit, Jason. I'm gonna—"

I exploded.

He grabbed my hips and let out a shout that matched the tune of my cry as
we came simultaneously.

He thrust into me only a few more times, allowing his body the last of its
carnal pleasures before he slid free. He settled down beside me with a
breathy sigh and opened his eyes when he caught sight of my stupid grin.

"You rock my world," Guy said, running a hand along my chest. "That was the
best sex I ever had."

I laughed, taking into consideration the time and how loud we must have
been. "You think anyone heard?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter if they did," Guy smiled. "It's happened in the past."

I closed my eyes and breathed in the damp air.

The heat, the sex, the smell—if Guy was immortal, for how long, and what
number was I?

Rather than dwell on it, I rolled over and spread out atop his body.

His hands on me were magic.
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If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the
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