Isaac stared down his body just as Andrew straddled him and started to sit back. “I didn’t give you permission to do that,” he scolded.
“Needed to hurry you along. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on some of this chill you left behind,” Andrew said, voice rough and low, eyes black with lust as he guided Isaac to his entrance but paused, waiting for the go-ahead—especially since he’d once again foregone a condom. He nodded it at, sitting beside them unopened. “Can I? Please?”
Isaac was hard-pressed not to ram up into him. “Go on,” he said, and Andrew took him in inch by careful inch.
Thecold. The lingering sensation from the ice was incredible paired with Andrew’s heat, with Isaac’s heat, and the combination made Isaac’s brain stall, until both their mouths hung open from the ecstasy of it all as Andrew sat back fully on his hips.
It always amazed him, the feel of Andrew, the enthusiasm with which he took him all the way in, or likewise sunk deep inside him. He reached for Andrew’s hips as they started to rock, smearing the remaining lube across his skin, his fingers still coldtoo, and his mouth cooled by that last ice cube that had finally melted.
But no, not the last. There was one more in the bowl.
Andrew’s eyes drifted to it amidst their slow but increasing rhythm. He snatched it up, rocking back harder once he had hold of it, and popped it into his mouth with a grin.
Isaac expected the kiss when he leaned down, never once halting the motion of his hips. Andrew’s warm mouth, the frigid ice, the hot and cold between them where they connected in so many wondrous places, had Isaac on edge and overstimulated in the best way.
If they could manage it, Isaac wouldn’t have minded having Andrew ride him like this for hours—powerful muscles beneath his fingertips, atop him, surrounding him.
They kissed and rocked, sharing conflicting temperatures that seemed so perfectly balanced somehow. They didn’t lose the connection of their mouths until the last bit of ice was gone. Then Andrew reared up, riding Isaac harder, fervent and wild in the way his head dropped back, hands splayed over Isaac’s stomach, tracing fondly across his tattoos.
“Touch yourself… I want to watch you,” Isaac ground out.
Andrew caught his gaze again, taking himself in hand with a familiar coyness, allowing Isaac to keep his grip on Andrew’s hips, urging and controlling an increase in tempo. Andrew’s muscles tensed, rippled, a flush of color all throughout his body. No one else compared to him. No one ever could.
In a rush of emotion as their climaxes built, Isaac felt overwhelmed, overcome, like a combination of that ice and heat had blossomed in his chest. He wanted to share it with Andrew. Wanted to tell him. Wanted to say… so many things. And he almost did, mouth opening to pour his damn soul out—
“Andrew—”
When Andrew kissed him, searing and deep, and whimpered against his lips as he came. Isaac almost didn’t realize that he had come too, because the entire ordeal had felt like one drawn out tumble over the edge. There was dampness in his eyes, he could feel it, feel so much, too… much, and he had to—he couldn’t—
The eruption of a song from their discarded clothes on the floor made Andrew groan from where he’d collapsed atop Isaac, face smushed into his shoulder. “I’m going to murder Steve,” he grumbled against Isaac’s skin.
Isaac sucked in a breath to steel his nerves, to fight back the emotion and tears in his eyes, forcing his voice to sound even as he said, “Sinatra?”
That was definitely “My Way” as Steven’s ringtone.
“Kevin stole my phone last week and changed everyone’s ringtones to Sinatra songs. Steve is ‘My Way’, Kevin’s ‘That’s Life’, and Candacewas‘Luck Be A Lady’. Less fitting now… I better get it.” He rolled off Isaac to rummage through his clothes.
Isaac rubbed at the wetness in his eyes before Andrew noticed. “As a joke? Because you hate Sinatra?”
“I love Sinatra!”
“But this is jazz.”
“It is?” Andrew furrowed his brow, but then discovered his phone and answered it in a flurry. “This isn’t the best—” He cut off. “Yeah, Steve, sure. I can clarify on a couple questions.”
He looked to Isaac apologetically. If possible, him turning out to like jazz without realizing it endeared him to Isaac even more.
Taking the reprieve to go clean up, while Andrew sagged down onto the edge of the bed, Isaac slipped out to the bathroom to rinse off in the shower. He came back with a towel around his waist just as Andrew was wrapping up.
“No problem, Steve. Talk to you later.” Andrew dropped his phone right back onto the pile of clothes. “A shower sounds awesome. Do you mind?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Andrew got up but stopped on his way past Isaac to steal a kiss.
It shouldn’t have simultaneously made Isaac’s stomach flip and his insides feel lighter, but it did. Just a simple press of lips made him want to chase Andrew’s mouth when he pulled away.
Isaac put on a pair of soft, worn sleep pants and a T-shirt, feeling a rumble in his stomach for lunch—and for distraction. He pulled out a cookie sheet, covered it in tortilla chips, then leftover shredded chicken, salsa, chives, banana peppers, and finally cheese. He’d add sour cream once the nachos came out of the oven.
