Page 5 of Ice & Sweet

CHAPTER FIVE

André

I wasn’t sure if I was meant to have waited for Luke, but I didn’t want to appear clingy or force my company on him. He had so many better things to do than hang out with me.

Anyway, it wasn’t like I didn’t know anyone else here.

So why did I still feel like a complete fish out of water?

I shook my head and put my keycard into the slot on the bedroom door, hoping that a quick freshen up would help me pull myself together before all the celebrations kicked off. Austin had mentioned the rehearsal at five, so I had about an hour to nap, shower, have a cup of tea, and generally make myself into a semblance of a competent adult. Still, at least unlike some of the weddings I’d been to this year, I thought it was less likely there would be questions about why I was still single and when was it going to be my turn.

For a while I’d assumed, somewhat naively, that I’d be allowed to do what all celebrity men did—age like fine wine, date randomly, and generally just enjoy my life—but as soon as thirty loomed on the horizon, my family’s questions about finding someone nice to settle down with had become increasingly pointed. They’d even tried introducing me to a few people despite my protestations that I was absolutely fine with being single.

I knew it came from a good place, and my mum had even muttered about her worries of me being lonely, but I kept having to point out that being a thirty-year-old single man didn’t mean I was dying. And I wasn’t incapable of looking after myself either, mostly because she’d insisted I learn how to clean, do washing, and cook because she’d had to do all of that for her three older brothers—who my grandma had insisted didn’t need to learn because they’d have wives to do that for them. I wondered if some of her worries were just lingering generational trauma or if other parts of my family were constantly nagging her and making her feel like she’d somehow failed me.

But I didn’t think that at all.

The keycard beeped, reminding me I was still stood in the hotel hallway staring at the door like I expected it to magically open all on its own. I pulled the card out and pushed the door open, stepping inside and looking around the room. After spending so much of my youth in hotel rooms and on tour buses, the novelty of hotel rooms had worn off. As long as it had a bed, I didn’t really care about much else, but even I was taken aback by how gorgeous the space was.

Triple-aspect mullioned windows stretched across the far wall, looking out across the manor’s impressive gardens. There was snow sitting across the stone windowsill and on either side of the windows hung thick-looking dark blue curtains patterned with large cream roses that on anything else would have looked tacky. There were two cozy-looking striped armchairs in front of the window with a coffee table in between and a free-standing reading light, which was on and cast a warm glow across the floor along with the rest of the room’s soft lighting. As I walked around the plush king-sized bed with a sofa at the end in case I needed more seating options, I noticed the coffee table had a little plate of mince pies on it along with a folded-over card that, when I opened it, had a handwritten note welcoming me to Swallow Hill Manor.

I picked one up and popped it into my mouth, savouring the taste of the crumbly pastry and brandy-soaked fruit as I slung my coat over the back of one of the chairs. I carefully slid off my shoes and went to investigate the rest of the room, opening the cupboards and drawers to see what was there and sticking my head into the bathroom, which had a beautiful roll-top bath in front of another window and walk-in shower.

Snagging another mince pie from the plate, I quickly unpacked my suitcase and hung my suit in the wardrobe to air. Although my version of unpacking was throwing my packing cubes into the drawers, so it didn’t take me longer than five minutes.

I wished I’d stuck around long enough to ask Luke what room he was in because despite my desire to freshen up, it would have been nice to know where he was in case I plucked up the courage to ask him if he fancied a drink. Just to catch up before the full force of the wedding caught us in its grip.

I’d have to ask him when I saw him again. Maybe see if there was time between the rehearsal and dinner to squeeze something in. Or afterwards, assuming we both weren’t too tired or drunk. Not that I planned on drinking a lot this weekend—I’d done my wild partying and these days more than a couple of glasses of wine left me with a sour taste in my mouth and a headache the next morning.

At least Kane wouldn’t be insisting we did tequila shots since he was the reason none of us could even look at the stuff anymore.

Grabbing my washbag, I ducked into the bathroom and plucked one of the enormous fluffy towels off the heated towel rail before putting my glasses by the sink, slowly shedding my clothes, and turning on the shower. It took me a few minutes to figure out all the settings so I didn’t freeze or melt my skin off, but the pressure was sheer perfection and as soon as I stepped inside I felt the stress of my week begin to melt away.

The hot water pounded my spine, running down my skin in torrential rivers and soothing my aching muscles. I let out a groan as I stretched, letting the water run over my head and down my face, plastering my hair to my scalp. I pushed my fingers into my hair to get it out of my face as my mind idly fantasised about someone sinking their hands into the wet strands and pulling on them.

A soft groan escaped from my lips, barely audible over the rush of the water. It felt like forever since I’d had any time to enjoy myself and even longer since I’d hooked up with anyone, but my brain had seized on Luke’s twinkling eyes, bold smile, and sharply sweet personality and was starting to run away with the idea of him being here.

I’d always tried to keep a respectful distance when he and Kane had been together, but that was in the past and Kane was getting married to someone completely different, so surely it didn’t matter if I thought about Luke? It wasn’t like I was planning to walk up to him and go, Hey, I thought about you while I wanked in the shower earlier .

And maybe I shouldn’t be fantasising about someone I sort of knew but didn’t, but that was all it was: a fantasy.

My other hand slid slowly down my chest to my hardening cock, wrapping loosely around the shaft as I gave myself a leisurely pump. Another groan dripped from my lips as I slowly began to jerk my cock, revelling in the sensations bursting under my skin. My fingers tugged my hair, imagining Luke underneath me with his legs wrapped around me, fingers digging into my hair as he pulled me closer and begged for more.

I wondered if he was bratty… demanding, even. Kane had never said a word about what Luke was like in bed, even when our other bandmates had teasingly pushed for details, and his silence allowed my imagination to run wild.

Luke on his knees in front of me, pretty mouth stretched around my cock as his eyes sparkled, demanding I beg for more. Luke in my lap with his back pressed against my chest, his legs hooked over my knees to spread himself wide as I fucked him deep and slow… or maybe even fast and deep with my hands gripping his hips, working out my rehearsal frustrations on his tight, sweet hole.

Luke putting me on all fours, pressing my shoulders into the mattress and making me push my ass into the air to show off for him. Dropping down behind me to eat my hole until I whimpered and squirmed and then fucking me until we were both gasping and exhausted.

My name on his lips and his name on mine, sweat and cum mixed together on our skin.

I moaned as my hand tightened on my cock, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the tiles. Hot water cascaded over me, superheating my body and making me burn. I felt the familiar rush of my oncoming orgasm hovering just out of reach and I groaned as I jerked myself faster, my fingers pulling on my hair and then reaching down to tug my nipple as I chased my release.

“F-Fuck,” I said, panting out an endless stream of needy moans that echoed around me. I was so close, all I needed was…

I imagined Luke smirking down at me, his fingers digging into my chest as he rode me, delight etched into his expression. Are you going to come? fantasy Luke asked in a low voice that sent shivers down my spine. Give me what I want, André. Fill me up.

I gasped as my orgasm slammed into me, my cum hitting the steamed-up walls of the shower and dripping onto the tiles under my feet. Luke’s name was still on my lips, lost to my heaving breaths. My head spun but I wasn’t sure if it was from the force of my orgasm or the heat of the shower. Maybe it was both. Either way I found myself leaning against the cool glass with water drumming on my lower back as I waited for my vision to stop swimming.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come that hard, which probably meant I needed to spend more time enjoying myself with leisurely jerk-off sessions rather than hurried wanks when I had five minutes before I fell asleep.

Dai, one of our bandmates, had always insisted masturbation was an excellent form of self-care, and while we’d all joked that we didn’t need to know about how he jerked off, he did have a point. I’d been neglecting myself a lot over the past few years—and not just in the bedroom.

I was so desperate to prove to the world that I wasn’t just another ex-boy bander who expected the world to be handed to him on a silver platter, regardless of talent. I’d spent every spare minute working on myself, whether that was any number of the singing, dancing, and acting lessons I’d taken, pushing myself in the gym to keep in shape, watching countless plays and musicals until I knew virtually everything currently on the West End inside out, and auditioning for every role I could find, even if it was just a walk-on.

It had all paid off. But I knew the price I’d paid wasn’t just physical—it was emotional too.

Maybe my New Year’s resolution could be to take better care of myself—not in a “start working out and eat more veggies” way, but in a “take more days off, relax and enjoy life” kind of way. And maybe if I did, I’d be less likely to throw myself into relationships with fuckboys, leeches, and toxic theatre twinks.

Shaking my head, I stood up and released my softened cock, looking around for where I’d put my shower gel before I’d gotten in.

I didn’t know what the time was, but I knew if I was late to the rehearsal, then Kane was going to be bursting through my bedroom door with only the most cursory of knocks, locks be damned. And I really didn’t want to have to explain to him why I was still in the shower, daydreaming about his ex while the remnants of my orgasm clung to the glass.

But as I finished washing myself and turned the shower off, I made myself a promise.

I’d ask Luke if he wanted to get that drink.

As long as we could escape from the hurricane we were about to be swept up in.