Ink and Ice, Erin McRae [primary phonics .txt] 📗

it’s why Katie and I get along so well. But no one else really understands what it’s like to be us,” he said. “And that’s an asshole thing to say, so don’t write it down. Or find a way to make it sound better. But it’s true. Right now the only thing that feels different about me is that you’re here talking to me instead of everyone else. Usually I don’t get that much attention.”

“My job here is to talk to you,” Zack pointed out. “Because of the narrative potential your season has. Although, to be clear,” he added. “I do like talking to you. And as I told the others, I’m off the clock tonight.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “But your interest in me has no impact on my skating. On my career, maybe; media buzz drives a lot of calculations when it comes to funding and Federation support and even what the judges think. In a season like this one, every little bit could tip the balance in my favor. But none of that impacts what I do on the ice. I have a literal once-in-a-lifetime opportunity this year, and I have no idea how I want my skating to look this season.” It was the first time he’d admitted that to anyone; he knew Katie and Brendan would tell him it was still early and he had time to work out a vision for himself, but he was starting to get frustrated.

They rounded the corner of an outbuilding and were suddenly standing in front of the barn.

Zack stopped suddenly. “There are cows.” He sounded alarmed.

“Yes, it’s a dairy farm.” Aaron was amused, and also relieved to take a break from his own angsting about his season.

“There are so many cows,” Zack said.

Zack, war reporter and tattooed god of attractive biceps, was so unnerved by a bunch of dairy cows that Aaron nearly doubled over laughing. “You’ve never seen a cow, have you?”

"I've seen cows," Zack said, sounding somewhat affronted. "Just not big American dairy cows that weren't in imminent danger of—well, anything."

Aaron laughed harder. "If you think this is weird," he said, catching his breath. "Wait ’til you see my island."

"Was that an invitation?"

Aaron stopped laughing abruptly. Instead he felt himself flushing to the roots of his hair. Which was the worst possible reaction to have to someone—especially a journalist writing about him—teasing and possibly flirting with him.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Zack asked. "What makes you different?"

"Sure?" The setting sun made Zack’s skin glow golden. Aaron couldn’t help but stare.

"The thing where you manage to convince everyone around you you're normal ninety-nine percent of the time, and then that last one percent—something flashes out of you. Like the ice, like the island maybe, is in your blood."

"It is." Aaron was acutely aware that his heart was now beating in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of his own words, the way it did whenever he stepped on the ice for a performance. "All of that."

Zack reached out a hand and traced the shell of Aaron's ear. "I've never seen anything like it. And I don’t know why you hide it."

Goosebumps broke out up and down Aaron's arms. "The island's too strange," he said. "Too much mine. I can't walk around giving all my secrets away."

"Can't you, now?" Zack's words were half amusement, half-dare. "I've seen videos of Katie and Brendan skating. And I've seen them look at each other when they don't think anyone else is watching. They don't keep anything for themselves."

“Everyone keeps something,” Aaron protested. Even the idea of sharing the island made him feel exposed and vulnerable. But there was, somehow, something appealing about that. He wanted Zack to have his secrets.

He leaned his cheek into Zack’s hand.

Zack shook his head. "No sense in keeping something to yourself if it’ll help you win." He shifted to trace Aaron’s jawline.

Aaron’s brain took a moment to be able to form words. "What do you know about it?" Unless he was mistaken, Zack was closing the space between them. His eyes gleamed in the fading light.

"People are people.” Zack shrugged. He was close enough now that Aaron could smell his aftershave, warm and herbal. “Whether they're in a war zone or on the ice. You're holding something back. And,” he said, his voice low and quiet, a command just for Aaron, “you should stop that."

Aaron leaned up onto his toes and kissed him.

Zack returned the kiss, long enough for Aaron to know that he was into it, before he pulled back a fraction of an inch. "That wasn't what I meant, you know."

Aaron’s knees felt weak. He’d gripped Zack’s arms without realizing it; they felt as lovely to touch as he’d always hoped they would.

"I know.” He loosened his fingers a little so Zack could step away if he wanted to. “Do you mind?"

Zack only moved closer. "Not at all." And with that, Zack threaded his fingers through Aaron's hair and pulled him in for a much more thorough kiss.

Zack was much bigger than Aaron, which Aaron had known from their skating lessons. But catching Zack’s weight when he needed to was one thing. Zack, taller and broader and backing them up against a nearby fence was another entirely.

Aaron was really, really into it. From Zack’s tongue in his mouth to his muscled thigh pressed between Aaron’s legs and against his dick. If it weren’t for the cow cams that made up Katie’s freakish farm surveillance system, he would have been down to fuck Zack right here.

Is Gabe still out here working on the cameras? He was trying to figure out how likely they were to get away with surreptitious handjobs when his phone barked. Loudly.

Zack jumped back with a look so wild Aaron had to laugh at him again.

“My phone,” he said, fumbling it out of his pocket.

“That’s a messed-up ringtone.”

“Our dog.” Aaron told the usual lie.

“Hmm.” Zack sounded skeptical, but Aaron didn’t have the brain bandwidth to deal with that right