7. The Thing About Ice Cream

Olson would’ve protestedthe way Rex crowded so close on the trip back to his car, but...

It was kind of nice, actually.

Nice to have an alpha so keen on seeing him safe. Nice to have an alpha who couldn’t keep his eyes off Olson.

It had been a long, long time since Olson had felt this desirable.

Mostly, he’d forced himself to be independent after he’d lost George. He’d learned to rely on his own two hands; he’d built his business from the ground up so it was now his pride and joy.

But sometimes... he wished he could have someone to lean against, so he didn’t have to be the strong one all the time.

Rex prowled up to the car when they drew close, scrutinizing it. He had two bundles under his arms; Olson opened the trunk and made Rex put his things in there. Then he opened the passenger side door, and Rex eyed it warily.

“Is this your first time in a car?”

Rex shrugged. He carefully climbed in, though, crouching on the seat. Olson laughed and grasped his ankle, guiding it into the leg well.

“Feet on the floor.”

Rex complied. He still looked out of sorts sitting properly in the car, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. Olson helped him put on his seatbelt. Rex leaned in to nuzzle his neck.

“This is a seatbelt. Don’t take it off until I tell you to,” Olson said. “It’s to keep you safe while we’re driving.”

“I keep safe,” Rex muttered.

He was so endearingly sweet. Olson cracked a smile and patted his hand. “Both you and the seatbelt can keep me safe. But don’t grab me while I’m driving, all right? Especially my hands. Or it won’t be safe. We could die.”

Rex growled, his eyebrows drawing low.

Yeah, Olson didn’t want to think about vehicle accidents, either.

He drove slowly to get Rex used to the car, before taking them downtown, pointing out things like the grocery store and the Wine Shack.

Rex made to grab him, suddenly. Except he froze with his hand barely an inch from Olson’s arm.

“What is it?” Olson asked.

Rex looked out the window.

Olson slowed the car down, following his gaze. Huh.

It was an ice cream shop with a large, faded ice cream cone on top of the building. The same one he and George had been to countless times in their youth. Somehow, it was still in business.

“You want an ice cream? We could stop for one.”

Olson flipped his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot. There, he showed Rex how to unbuckle his seatbelt and open the door.

Rex followed close behind as Olson made his way to the ice cream shop; the bell on the door jingled when they stepped in.

The shopkeeper—Mrs. Bentham, Linus’ mom—smiled. “Olson! It’s been a while since... Oh! You’ve brought a friend.”

“Mine,” Rex rumbled, curling his fingers around Olson’s hip. “Not friend.”

Mrs. Bentham’s eyebrows went up, more so when she took in Rex’s general state of... cave-alpha.

Olson flushed, glad he’d made Rex put on a pair of pants that didn’t have rips in the important areas. Granted, they both smelled like sex and Rex’s unwashed-ness. “Uh, it’s complicated. We’re just stopping by.”

“Well, all right. Take your time.” She waved at the coolers of ice cream and stood back, watching them curiously since business was slow right now.

“Do you remember what ice cream tastes like?” Olson asked Rex quietly, leading him by the forearm to the coolers. “There’s several different flavors. You can pick one, or two, or three. Whatever you want.”

Rex looked down at the colorful tubs, his green eyes roving over them.

“This one here is chocolate fudge,” Olson said, starting at the very corner. “And the next one is vanilla...”

Rex didn’t seem to recognize any of the flavors. With a sigh, Olson looked up at Mrs. Bentham. “Um, if it’s not too much trouble... Can Rex sample a few flavors? Not everything. I think it might overwhelm him. But he hasn’t had ice cream in a while, and... I think it’d be nice to give him a refresher.”

Mrs. Bentham brightened. “Of course!” She studied Rex and scooped some ice cream onto a wooden spoon. “This is vanilla, dear.”

Rex stared at the spoon she held out. Olson accepted it with murmured thanks, lightly grasping Rex’s arm. “Here, take this.”

He tried to wrap Rex’s fingers around the spoon, but Rex looked at him blankly.

“This is a spoon,” Olson said. “And this white blob here is ice cream. We only eat the ice cream, and not the spoon, yeah? Like this.”

He put the spoon into his own mouth, to show Rex how to drag the ice cream off. Then he opened his mouth, showing Rex the ice cream in there.

Rex leaned in as though transfixed.

“Eat,” Rex said. And he closed the distance between them, his lips parted as though he was about to lick the ice cream straight out of Olson’s mouth.

Oh, gods!Olson flushed bright red, shoving his hand against Rex’s chest. “Rex. We eat things off spoons,” he said a little desperately, knowing full well Mrs. Bentham was watching. “Not off people.”

“Off Olson,” Rex rumbled.

“Oh, gods,” Olson whispered, his ears also burning. He turned to Mrs. Bentham apologetically. “I’m sorry. Maybe this was too soon. We’ll come back another day—”

She looked from Olson to Rex, and shook her head with a smile. “It’s no hindrance at all. Here.”

She got another spoon and scooped another sample of vanilla. “Rex? Is that your name?”

Rex eyed her warily.

“This is for you,” Mrs. Bentham said, shaking the spoon at him.

Slowly, Rex took the spoon from her.

“We say ‘Thank you’ when people do nice things for us.” Olson nudged Rex. “Say ‘Thank you’ to Mrs. Bentham.”

“Thank,” Rex said. When Olson nudged him and repeated his words, Rex said, “Thank you.”

Olson grinned. That seemed to make Rex smile, too.

Rex eyed the ice cream sample he was holding. And he reached over, popping the spoon into Olson’s mouth. “Eat.”

Olson could’ve fainted from embarrassment. “Rex,” he groaned. “That was supposed to be for you. To taste the ice cream!”

Mrs. Bentham was laughing.

Rex frowned. “Olson eat.”

“I get plenty! You have not had ice cream in a while!” Olson turned helplessly to Mrs. Bentham, who handed him a third spoon with a larger chunk of vanilla ice cream on it. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Mrs. Bentham nodded at Rex. “It’s now my mission to make sure that young man knows his favorite ice cream flavor.”

Olson sighed. There really was no other way to get this done. He stepped up close; Rex’s gaze darkened as he watched Olson.

Olson pressed his fingers to Rex’s soft lips, easing his mouth open. He pushed the vanilla ice cream inside, gently nudged Rex’s mouth shut, before pulling the spoon out. “Eat that.”

Rex’s eyebrows shot up. He rolled the ice cream in his mouth, his lips curving into a smile.

“See. It’s good,” Olson said. “That was vanilla. Are you ready to try some other flavors?”

“Mmm,” Rex said.

When Olson turned back to Mrs. Bentham, she was holding out two spoons. “Chocolate fudge.”

Olson laughed softly. “Thanks.” He took the spoons and handed one to Rex. “There. We both get a taste. No more feeding me.”

Rex frowned, but he popped the ice cream into his mouth. “Mm.”

Olson collected his used spoon. Mrs. Bentham gave them another sample—peanut butter. Then, strawberry.

With each new flavor, Rex wore a thoughtful, curious expression, as though he was trying to make up his mind about it.

Then Mrs. Bentham handed them samples of mint chocolate chip, and Olson froze a little.

He took them before Mrs. Bentham could say anything, but she was watching him too closely. Because of course she remembered.

“This is mint chocolate chip,” Olson said lightly to Rex.

Unlike before, Rex looked down when he popped that sample into his mouth. He smiled more widely than he had with the other flavors, rolling the ice cream through his mouth. He looked at Olson. “What...” He held his spoon out. “What...?”

“That’s mint chocolate chip,” Olson said, his heart thumping. To Mrs. Bentham, he said, “Can we have one last sample?”

She handed them some salted caramel ice cream, but Rex didn’t react when he tasted it.

“Right,” Olson said, slipping his hand into Rex’s and tugging him over to the cone display. “We’ll get some to take home. Do you want yours in a cone, or a cup? You can eat the cone; it’s like a cookie. But you can’t eat the cup.”

Rex pointed at the simple sugar cone, then changed his mind, and pointed at the one with dark chocolate coating its insides. Because that was the best one.

“Which ice cream would you like in the cone?” Olson asked.

Rex went straight to the tub of mint chocolate chip, and pointed at it. “Mint... chip.”

Olson swallowed. It’s just a coincidence.

Mrs. Bentham raised an eyebrow. “I must say it matches your eyes, Rex.”

Olson glanced sharply at her. She hadn’t noticed the similarities, had she?

But she said nothing, instead putting together the ice cream cone for Rex. “What about you, Olson?”

He sighed. “Double chocolate in the chocolate cone.”

She huffed, amused. Olson’s favorite hadn’t changed through all the years.

At the register, Olson pulled out a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Bentham asked.

“That sampling process was... something.”

“It wasn’t a bad thing,” she said kindly. “I was happy to be part of it.”

“If you say so. That was still a lot of spoons.” Olson slid over the money, watching as Rex accepted his cone carefully. Rex mimicked him in licking his ice cream; his expression melted into one of bliss.

Olson swallowed. Still a coincidence. “You really like that ice cream, huh?”

Rex nodded.

“Do you like the ice cream more than you like me?”

At that, Rex growled and wrapped his arms around Olson, pulling him into a hug. He continued to lick his ice cream over Olson’s shoulder. “Mine.”

“Should I be glad that you don’t get this possessive over your ice cream?” Olson asked dryly.

Rex grinned and waved his ice cream at Olson. “Mine.”

Olson snorted, his mouth twitching. “Figures.”

Rex’s laugh was low and rough; it vibrated into Olson’s chest. Then he nuzzled Olson and got ice cream all over both of them, some of it smearing into his beard.

Olson sighed, leaning into that alpha. He caught Mrs. Bentham grinning. “You won’t be telling my dads about this, will you?”

She looked innocently back at him. “That depends. When are you telling them?”

“Oh, gods. I don’t know.” Olson couldn’t help resting his weight on Rex, though. Letting him bear the full brunt of it since he was so strong.

Under Mrs. Bentham’s watchful eye, they left the ice cream shop, Rex’s large hand wrapped around Olson’s as they made their way back to the parking lot.

Rex rumbled happily; he squeezed Olson’s hand and brought it up to nuzzle his knuckles, leaving a smear of ice cream on his fingers that he licked off. “Olsonnnn. Mint chip.”

“Your two favorite things, right?”

Rex grinned.

This felt familiar. Like they’d done this tens of times—

Olson had, with George. And he couldn’t explain why Rex wanted this, why Rex had picked the same exact flavor George used to go crazy over.

At the car, Rex pressed Olson up against the driver’s side door. Olson’s breath snagged in his throat.

“Olllsonnnn,” Rex purred, bringing his own ice cream between them, rubbing that cold sweetness against Olson’s lips.

“You want me to have some of yours?”

Rex nodded.

So Olson bit off a small chunk of Rex’s ice cream, feeling the cool tingle of mint on his tongue.

“Yesss,” Rex growled. He took the cone away. And he leaned in, tipping Olson’s head back and pushing his tongue between Olson’s lips, chasing the ice cream.

“Fuck,” Olson breathed, his entire body responding to Rex’s demanding touch. Rex slid his tongue deep into Olson’s mouth the same way he’d touched further south—hungry, seeking, claiming.

It was all Olson could do not to slide down the side of his car. He held onto Rex, sounds falling from his lips, Rex growling softly as he licked the ice cream right out of Olson’s mouth.

“Mine,” Rex said against his mouth, pushing his tongue back inside.

“We’re supposed to... to be eating ice cream,” Olson whimpered. He hadn’t thought he’d be all but kissing this man right outside the ice cream shop.

At that, Rex pulled back. Olson realized that Rex had crushed his ice cream cone in his fist, lines of pale green dripping down his fingers.

Olson’s own ice cream was on the ground, forgotten.

Rex made to pick it up; Olson grabbed him before he could.

“No. We don’t eat food that’s fallen on the ground,” Olson said. “I don’t want you to get a stomachache.”

Rex made an unhappy sound, looking at Olson’s fallen ice cream, then his own destroyed one.

Olson sighed and dragged him back into the ice cream shop, flushing when Mrs. Bentham laughed. She’d clearly seen everything from the window.

“Two more of the same,” Olson groaned.