It's the middle of a midsummer heat wave, and it's hot.
The air is thick and close, and the tower fans set up at strategic points throughout the apartment do little more than push all the heat and humidity around.
The lack of air conditioning had seemed like a fair trade-off in scoring so large an apartment in a heritage building when they rented it eight months ago, but at the moment, the parquet floors and the crown moulding count for exactly fuck-all.
Yancy and Chuck are bookending the couch, stripped to their boxers and sprawled out but keeping as much distance between their warm, sticky bodies as possible. Max is AWOL, though his snorty, snuffling panting can be heard coming from somewhere behind them, towards the kitchen. They've been marathoning episodes of Fargo, seeing what the fuss is about and seeing if maybe all the snow on screen helps cool them down. By ten p.m., Yancy decides it passes the first test, but bombs the second.
"Y'know, if anything, we've just made it hotter in here by having the TV on…" he says, watching the familiar end credits run on the sixth episode.
Chuck grunts at his left. "What else were we gonna do? Stare at the closed curtains behind the blank TV?"
Yancy frowns. For a native Australian, Chuck sure has low heat tolerance. Yancy doesn't say as much though. Instead he lifts his leg to drag the TV remote closer along the coffee table with his foot.
"I'm gonna take Max out," Chuck says, after watching Yancy manoeuvre the remote for a moment. He gets up off the couch and stretches, arms raised.
Yancy turns off the TV, taking in Chuck's lean form—he's still reddened from the sunburn he got last weekend, and if anything, it makes his muscles, and his freckles, stand out even more. Yancy stands and grabs the dirty dishes from their dinner, then moves behind Chuck and slides his free hand down his back and over his ass, squeezing a little. Chuck looks at him over his shoulder as he moves past and gives him a slow, sleepy smile.
Chuck goes to pull on the pair of shorts he'd discarded on the floor near the front door earlier in the day, and Yancy finds Max in the kitchen, spread eagle so that his stomach gets full contact with the cool marble tiles.
"C'mon, Max," Chuck calls by the door, slapping his thigh. Max lifts his head, panting. He looks at Chuck, then at Yancy.
"Go on, bud," Yancy says, burying his toes under Max's stomach and lightly prodding. "Probably cooler out there than it is in here, anyway."
Max cocks his head as Yancy talks, and then gets up, trotting after Chuck out the front door.
Yancy loads the dishwasher and turns it on, and heads into the bathroom. He's exerted himself as little possible all day, and still he feels grimy and gross, so he runs a cool shower.
The front door of the apartment opens and closes again as Yancy's stepping into the shower, and he lets out a low moan when the water hits his skin, for the instant relief it gives him.
Chuck's in the bathroom in the next moment, and Yancy hears the sound of his shorts dropping.
"My thoughts exactly," Chuck says as he pulls open the shower door and steps inside.
Yancy switches spots with Chuck, and Chuck sighs deeply, tipping his head back under the shower spray. Yancy leans in and kisses his neck while it's exposed, but beyond that, they wash and rinse quickly.
Their skin is still a bit damp when they get into bed—or onto, technically, because even with the open window, the fan, and lack of clothing, the cotton top sheet is too stifling. Chuck lies on his stomach, arms cradling his top pillow, and Yancy's on his side. The shower made a big difference, as it usually does, and with his mind taken off how uncomfortable he feels, Yancy can instead focus on how inviting Chuck looks, laid out beside him.
Yancy leans forward and presses his lips to Chuck's shoulder, his skin soft and damp and cool against his lips. Chuck hums, his eyes closed, and the corner of his mouth hitches up slightly. Yancy shifts, pulling closer, and kisses along to the space between Chuck's shoulders, pressing his tongue to Chuck's skin as he goes.
When he starts to kiss down Chuck's back, Chuck grunts and lifts up slightly to look back at Yancy. "It's hot, Yance, and we just showered. C'mon."
Yancy smiles against Chuck's skin and flicks his tongue at a mole to the left of his spine. "Which is exactly why I'm doing this now…" He shifts again, using a knee to push Chuck's legs apart—and though he'd protested a second ago, now Chuck spreads his legs and makes room for Yancy to slot himself between them. He pushes his damp hair out of his face as he leans forward to kiss the curve of Chuck's back. "Can always have another shower later, if you get too worked up."
Chuck looks back again and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out except for a sigh when Yancy licks the dimples at the small of his back. And when Yancy cups Chuck's ass with both hands and kneads, Chuck's sigh turns into an easy groan.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Yancy says, working the soft, supple muscle with his hands.
Chuck scoffs. "Don't sound so surprised, Becket."
"Oh, I'm not." Yancy leans in and places a wet kiss to the top of Chuck's ass, right at the start of the cleft.
He kneads again, pushing up and pulling apart, and then he leans down and licks up, tongue flat against Chuck, from the back of his balls to the top of his ass. Chuck groans and lets his head drop forward, and Yancy sees the wave of tightening muscles that passes up his torso and across his shoulders. Yancy retraces his steps with his tongue, inhaling Chuck's musky, heady scent and digging his fingertips into his ass.
"Fuck, Yancy…" Chuck mutters, and Yancy smiles to himself, a little smug. He's good at this, he knows that much, and he knows how much Chuck enjoys it too.
Yancy blows a cool breath across Chuck's hole, and a shiver travels up Chuck's spine in response.
"C'mon, more," Chuck says, canting his hips and glancing over his shoulder.
Yancy presses his tongue flat against Chuck's hole and takes several hard licks, looking up. Chuck groans when their eyes lock and breathes out a hushed "fuck."
Yancy sucks lightly at Chuck's hole, then draws away, to a slight whine from Chuck. "Here, lift up for me, babe," he says, taking Chuck by the hips and pulling him up. He braces on his elbows and rises onto his knees, keeping his legs spread as far apart as he can. "Perfect," Yancy says once Chuck's positioned. "You're perfect, just like this."
Chuck urges him on again, but Yancy's already working the tip of his tongue around Chuck's hole by the time he gets a word out, and his voice trails off into a moan. Yancy takes small, quick licks at the puckered ring, then uses his fingers to spread Chuck a little further before slowly working his tongue into him.
"Jesus…" Chuck groans and he rocks back, pushing against Yancy, and Yancy takes the chance to press a little deeper into Chuck, twisting his tongue as he does. "That's really good, Yance…"
Yancy hums in agreement, squeezing Chuck's ass with his free hand. He was hard already, but Chuck's praise goes to his head and to his dick. He starts fucking his tongue into Chuck, pulling out and swirling the tip around Chuck's hole before thrusting it back in again. Between the heated tightness, the wet and obscene noise of his tongue working Chuck, and the sounds Chuck is making, Yancy's going to have to get him on his cock soon. So he pulls his tongue out again and wraps it around his forefinger, slicking it up, and when he gets his tongue buried in Chuck again, he works his finger in slowly too.
At the added touch, Chuck moans and buries his face in the pillow, pushing back against Yancy again, harder, more eager. "Yeah, Yance, want you to fuck me."
Yancy groans—his cock is aching for contact, but Chuck needs a little more attention first. He pushes his tongue in until his nose is buried in the cleft of Chuck's ass and rolls it in deep thrusts a few times before pulling away in order to work in a second finger. He kisses the flesh of Chuck's ass and nips at it a little when Chuck groans.
"Want you so bad," he says against Chuck's skin, then slowly grazes the pads of his fingers across Chuck's prostate.
"Fuck…!" Chuck growls as he exhales, and Yancy can see his face scrunched up against the pillow. "C'mon, 'm ready," he says, his voice thick and gravelly. "Need you now."
Yancy moans and bites Chuck's ass again, before pulling away and crawling back up the bed. He settles on his back and Chuck reaches for the lube from the bedside table. He doesn't stop to warm it in his hand before stroking it over and down Yancy's cock, and Yancy hisses because it's cold, but it feels good against his overheated skin. Chuck straddles Yancy's hips and pauses to finger himself for a moment with his own slicked fingers, and Yancy watches and takes Chuck in—skin flushed and dewy, hair beginning to fluff as it dries from the shower, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Yancy slides his hands up Chuck's thighs, and then Chuck takes Yancy's cock and slowly lowers himself onto it, and they both groan as Yancy sinks into him.
"Fuck, yeah," Yancy says, sounding thready and breathless because Chuck is hot and tight and enveloping him completely.
"Mm," Chuck answers with a smirk, rolling his hips a few times, grinding down against Yancy before he lifts up. He leans forward with his hands braced on either side of Yancy's head, and begins fucking himself on Yancy in earnest.
Yancy moans, tilting his head back. He slides his hands up Chuck's thighs and grips him at the hip, following Chuck's pace and pulling him down harder with each thrust.
"So good, so fucking good, babe, you're—"
Yancy's cut off by Chuck leaning down to kiss him. The kiss is hard and only lasts for a moment, and then they both break, panting and groaning with their lips still barely connected.
Yancy's close, he can feel everything tighten as his orgasm begins to build, and he hopes Chuck is too, because he knows he's not going to last long with the way Chuck's working him—leant forward, fucking Yancy's length, shallow and quick. He fists a hand around Chuck's swollen, leaking cock, and Chuck lets out a growl from deep in his chest, his mouth falling open.
"Yeah, fuck, just like that."
Just as Yancy's at the edge, Chuck rocks back and sinks down deep onto his cock, and then he rolls his hips, and Yancy's done for—he grips his free hand tight into Chuck's hip and arches his back, as though he can get deeper inside him still, and he comes with a low moan.
His grip on Chuck's cock falters as his orgasm passes through him, and Chuck moves his hand away, stripping himself quickly. "Unh, God, Yance—" he shouts as he spills across Yancy's stomach, jerking his hips a few times as he comes. After a moment, he leans forward again and huffs out a short laugh, and Yancy lifts up on his elbows to meet Chuck's mouth, smiling into a quick kiss.
Chuck rolls off and reaches for the towel he'd discarded on the floor earlier. Yancy runs his hands through his hair and lets out a deep, sated breath. Chuck hands him the towel after a minute and he wipes his stomach, before tossing the towel at the hamper and going to brush his teeth.
"You're all sweaty again," Yancy comments when he comes back into the bedroom.
Chuck scoffs. He's stretched out on his back and rubbing his hand over his stomach, like he always does after they've fucked. "Told you so."
Yancy lays down next to Chuck and smacks his thigh with the back of his hand. "Worth it," he says with a wink.