Title: An Alpha Bet

Rating: high R (language, situation, mistreatment of frozen confections) … actually it's probably borderline something higher, so read at your own discretion. Thanks.

A/N: at the end

I rest all the blame on those fucking Popsicle sticks. Don't get my double entendre? You will later. There we were, Zee and I (the nickname not given to him by his ex-girlfriend because he had a tendency to fall asleep during sex or anything), sitting in the back of Elle's summer pile of bricks, also known as a summer palace … er, cottage, feasting on brand name flavored ices in an attempt to lessen the incredible heat when it happened.

Okay, I admit, I might have been a little overzealous with the ice lolly. But surely I couldn't have been showing it more regard than the average five-year-old. Maybe I could lick a little more or get more orange ice into my mouth at once, sure, but nothing that should have caused Zee's reaction.

I had just finished slurping the final remains of my cold confection when I looked up at Zee. Shocked undiluted lust doesn't quite cover it. His mouth was hanging open, lips tinged red from his own Popsicle. Pink sugary goodness dripped down his arm from neglecting the cherry treat. His hand was even worse, fingers clenched too tightly on the on the handle. His brown eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed. In all our years as friends I had never seen him blush. And quite honestly, I don't know what the fuck came over me. I sat there and stared at him, and a resolve I didn't know I had cemented itself in my obviously not-quite-functioning brain. I let the stick fall from my fingers and dropped to my hands and knees, without losing eye contact. I crawled (crawled!) slowly over to him until I was within inches of touching him. I lost his eyes then, and in the moment when I should have turned around and crawled right back, I instead tucked my chin down and raised my eyelashes.

"Are you going to finish that?"

I didn't think his eyes could have gotten any wider. I was wrong. However, they were not currently his most … pronounced feature, if you catch my drift. He was certainly interested. Without waiting for an answer, I wrapped my hand around his sticky one and lowered my lips to the cherry ice. He gave the scariest/sexiest/unearthliest gasp as I pushed all the remaining ice into my mouth and sucked.

I risked a glance up as I slowly pulled my lips back. We locked eyes – his rich brown and mine bright green like the sea before a monsoon (well, I guess I did tend to spell trouble) – and he had the single most intimate look I've ever seen anywhere painted on his beautiful (beautiful?) face, reflecting in those eyes.

I retuned to the Popsicle with a vengeance, my free hand reaching down his faded shorts. I misgauged my destination point and ended up with my hand on top of his boxers. Another delicious gasp from those rubied lips convinced me that the cotton made for lovely friction.

I began mimicking my behavior on the Popsicle onto him. His breathing skyrocketed the first time I licked the top of the ice and copied the movement onto the head of his cock. He threw his head back and I think he would have tangled his other hand in my hair but he was using it to desperately hold himself up.

I could feel the pressure building, such an odd sensation beneath my hands, for I knew very little of sex other than stories heard and pornography encountered (and don't tell me there's a teenager out there that's never encountered porn in one form or another). I knew enough though to know he was close. For my grand finale I put the entire stick into my mouth until my lips actually brushed his fingers, and then dragged my tongue and the last piece of flavored ice up the stick, while my fingers gently scraped along the underside of his (bigger than you claimed Dee you lying bitch) cock. My lips made a popping sound as they left the lolly, my finger ran one last time over the head, and he whisper-screamed my name as he came all over his boxers and my hand.

I had slid my hand out and was leaning back when he jumped. Well, pounced would seem more appropriate, but flushed and sweaty and with cherry Popsicle still all over him, he lacked the feline grace of "pounce" but hey, he more than made up for it in sheer sex appeal.

I landed with an equally low amount of kitty elegance, offering a small oomph as the air exited my lungs. His hands pinned my wrists above my head and the look in his eyes was incredibly intense, and absolutely … terrifying. I didn't know what to do. I mean, yes, I just broke every rule of basic friendship in the book by getting said friend off, but that in no way meant I was about to do the dirty deed in Elle's backyard. I mean, come on, a little romance, please?

The look in his eyes though … my resolve wavered. I wanted another taste of cherry so badly, this time from those still-red lips. I knew if he kissed me though, I was in serious trouble. Call me fucked up if you want, but to me, a kiss is more intimate then what we just did. And if I gave up that barrier, I didn't know if any of my other ones would remain standing. His gaze on me became so soft, so very soft, and for all that my Popsicle hadn't melted in the sun, my heart melted beneath the heat in that gaze.

I watched the minute movements in his jaw as his face set into resolution and I knew the moment had arrived. He slid just that little bit further up my body, ever so slightly turned his head and …

"Zee! What *are* you doing?"

Did I mention said ho-bitch girlfriend Dee had also invited herself along due to her rather large pocketbook and we had needed one more to bring down the cost of the trip? Oh, Elle and I had had a very long chat (argument) over that one.

He rolled off me and lightning never moved so quick.

We both sat up. I hid my hand. "Nothing Dee, nothing. I was just proving a point to Bea here, how, um, men are better at wrestling, yes, yes, better at wrestling than women." It was about the lamest excuse I'd ever heard in my life but if Dee bought it, I'd be willing to give it a second chance.

"Ooooh, okay. Yeah Bea, you should really know, Zee can do anything you can do better." The sneer on her face. I wanted to throttle her.

"Is that so? Well I for one-" I was words away from angrily telling her exactly what newfound skill I seemed to be quite good at when Zee grabbed me again, this time from behind and knocked me over, causing me to land, rather painfully actually, on my funny bone. I gasped, and Zee's entire body went stiff against mine and for a minute I thought we were lost again. But then he inhaled slowly, and the red zone was cleared. For the moment.

"Wresting surprise attack," he informed her.

"Well, just don't get too rough out here," she said, before turning away to head back to the cottage. Her last words still hung in the air and I had an awful suspicion they were about to come true. Zee reached his sticky sweet hand out and leaned towards me, extending a single finger out for a caress against my skin.

"Hey Zee…" we jumped apart (lightning, I tell you) and I swear if we didn't look guilty enough to hang Dee was either blind or stupid (the last one had my life savings on it). Dee was staring at us … no, at me … with the chill and stomach knot that only comes in the terrifying moment before you get caught doing something really bad, I realized my hand was no longer in hiding. I held my breath as I waited for the bomb to drop. "Didn't you have the red Popsicle?"

We must have stared at her as if we were blind and stupid ourselves for a full minute before it clicked. Of course. My lips were currently covered in far more of the flavored ice than his were.

"Nope," he finally managed. "I had the orange one."

A/N: Thank you E for your vote of confidence. There's more citrus than plot, I know, but it has to start somewhere. And I thought it might be a nice change to begin with some lime fun. Do unto others as you'd want done to you, please remember to review!