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Sun hammered against the roof of the small apartment where the two couples lived, turning the living room into a slow-cooker.
That felt like they’re boiled alive.
Outside, the sky was a bleached, oppressive white and devoid of clouds to offer even a shred of mercy. While inside, the air hung heavy and stagnant, thick with a humidity that made every breath feel like inhaling warm soup. A single electric fan groaned in the corner, oscillating with a rhythmic click-clack, pushing the hot air around in useless circles.
Dirga sprawled across the worn fabric of the sofa, his tanned skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He wore only a thin white singlet that clung to his chest and a traditional sarong wrapped loosely around his waist. His dark brown hair was damp, sticking to his forehead in messy clumps.
"..I think I'm actually melting," Sazali groaned, draped facedown across the coffee table. His fair skin was flushed a deep pink from the heat, and his dark mauve hair was a chaotic nest of curls. The fact his outfit didn’t help at all too. Long pants and a shirt that felt far too heavy for the temperature. "Tengok ni, Abang. Melting. This is worse than a bird taking a dump on you.”
Dirga let out a low, rumbling chuckle, though he didn't move a muscle. "You're still you, sayang. Just a very grumpy and sweaty one. It’s the heatwave making you feel that way."
“Tak kelakar," Sazali whined, turning his head to glare at his husband. "My skin feels sticky. Everything is sticky. The air is sticky. Why is the air sticky?"
“Mm, kayaknya.. the monsoon transition," Dirga replied, his voice a lazy drawl. "Just breathe, love. Minum es teh."
"I've drunk three liters of water in two hours! I'm going to turn into a fish at this point," Sazali snapped, though there was no real heat behind it, only exhaustion. He pushed himself up, his chest heaving. The Malaysian fanned himself again, using his husband’s newspaper. "Tak, yang ni panas jugak..I can't stand this shirt. It's like wearing a wool blanket."
"Makanya lepas bajunya, seng,” Dirga suggested, glancing over with a half-lidded gaze.
Sazali huffed, sliding off the table with a wet sound of skin peeling away from the surface. “Nope. I'm going to find something better, something that doesn't make me feel like I'm being steamed alive."
And when Sazali stood up, he cursed a bit at his thighs sticking on the floor. The man disappeared into the bedroom, his footsteps echoing softly on the linoleum.
The other closed his eyes, listening to the distant drone of traffic and the frantic buzzing of a fly against the windowpane. He tried to sink deeper into the sofa, but the fabric was warm, offering no respite. He was patient by nature, a steady anchor for Sazali's more volatile energy, but the heat was starting to grate on his nerves too.
Minutes passed. The click-clack of the fan continued. Then, the bedroom door creaked open.
Dirga opened one eye. And god, he never gulped so hard.
He saw Sazali step back into the living room, and the air in the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter, though it had nothing to do with the weather.
He had stripped off his own clothes. Now, he wore a pair of incredibly short black shorts — shorts that barely covered half of his thighs — and one of Dirga's oversized grey t-shirts. The hem of the shirt fell to mid-thigh, but because of the way Sazali moved, it rode up, leading it to expose the creamy, fair skin of his legs. And what made Dirga licked his lips was at the sight of the shirt’s collar was wide, slipping off one shoulder to reveal a glimpse of his collarbone and the pale slope of his chest.
Sazali noticed Dirga staring. A small, mischievous smile quirked the corners of his lips. He walked toward the sofa, swaying his hips just a little more than necessary.
"Pretty?" Sazali asked, his voice dropping an octave. A low one, almost to seduce.
Dirga didn't answer immediately. His gaze traveled from Sazali's mauve hair down (which he tied to a small ponytail) to those tiny shorts, then back up to the oversized shirt that smelled faintly of Dirga's own cologne and musk. He felt a sudden, sharp pull in his gut.
“Iya. Cantik," Dirga rasped.
Sazali stopped right in front of him, leaning over to peer into Dirga's face. The movement caused the shirt to drape forward, the neckline gaping open. Sazali could see the way Dirga's chest rose and fell under the singlet, the muscles tight. But as Sazali shifted his gaze downward, he saw it.
The sarong, once loose and draped, now had a prominent, unmistakable tent rising from the center.
Sazali's eyes widened, then sparkled. He let out a soft, airy giggle.
"Oh," Sazali whispered. "Someone ‘s hard."
Dirga cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Panas."
"Is it?" Sazali teased, reaching out a hand. He didn't touch him yet, just hovered his fingertips an inch away from the bulge. "I didn't know the heat made things grow. Is that an Indonesian biological reaction?"
“What even- Don’t say stuff like that," Dirga warned, though his voice lacked any real threat. It was thick with a growing hunger.
Sazali leaned closer, his breath warm against Dirga's ear.
“Getting hard just by seeing my body, even when I’m not undressed. Pervert."
Sazali let his hand drop, his palm finally making contact with the hard length of Dirga's cock through the fabric of the sarong. He squeezed, just once, a firm and knowing grip.
Dirga let out a sharp hiss of air, his hips involuntarily jerking upward. "Sazali."
“Ye, suamiku?" Sazali murmured, sliding his hand up and down the length, feeling the heat radiating through the cloth. "Want me to stop? Should I go back to the bedroom and put on those oh so suffocating clothes?"
"Don't you dare," Dirga groaned. And that was when Sazali last heard of his husband’s sweet tone.
In a flash, the patience Dirga was known for snapped. He reached up, grabbing Sazali by the waist and pulling him violently onto his lap. Sazali let out a small yelp of surprise, his legs straddling Dirga's thighs. The oversized shirt bunched up around his waist, leaving those tiny shorts as the only barrier between them.
"You think you're so smart," Dirga muttered, his voice now a low growl. He buried his face in the crook of Sazali's neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and fair skin.
Sazali melted instantly, his feisty demeanor collapsing into a soft moan. He arched his back, pressing his chest against Dirga's. "I am clever. I knew exactly what this shirt would do to you."
“Hm," Dirga whispered, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Sazali's shoulder, kissing the same spot whenever Sazali twitched.
“Meanie," Sazali whimpered, his fingers digging into Dirga's shoulders.
Dirga's hands wandered, sliding beneath the hem of the oversized shirt to find the smooth skin of Sazali's back. He squeezed the flesh there, pulling Sazali tighter. The heat of the room was oppressive, but the heat between their bodies was incendiary. Sweat acted as a lubricant, making their skin slide against each other with a wet, friction-filled sound.
“K-kejap," Sazali panted, his head falling back. "It's too hot."
"Then let's get rid of the rest," Dirga said.
He reached down, gripping the waistband of the shorts and tugging them down in one swift motion. Sazali helped him, kicking the fabric away. Now, Sazali sat completely naked on Dirga's lap, save for the oversized grey shirt. Dirga quickly unwound his sarong, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of patterned fabric.
His cock sprang free, thick and pulsing. The head was already weeping a bead of clear precum. Sazali stared at it, his eyes glazed with desire. He reached down, wrapping his small, fair hand around the shaft, sliding it up and down.
"So big," Sazali whispered, his voice trembling. “All this just for me.."
Dirga groaned, his head hitting the back of the sofa. “Turun, sayang."
Of course, Sazali didn't need to be told twice. He slid off Dirga's lap and sank to his knees on the hardwood floor. The contrast was stark; Dirga's deep tan against Sazali's fair skin, the dark brown hair against the mauve. Sazali looked up at him, his expression one of pure, unadulterated hunger.
And Sazali gave his husband the look — full of tears of silent lust but also love.
He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick the tip of Dirga's cock. He tasted the salt of sweat and the sharp, musky tang of precum. Dirga let out a long, shuddering breath, his fingers tangling in Sazali's mauve curls, guiding him.
As Sazali opened his mouth wide, taking the head inside. He moaned around the girth, his cheeks hollowing as he began to suck. He was thorough, using his tongue to swirl around the rim before sliding deeper, taking as much as he could. The sound filled the quiet room — the wet, rhythmic shlickings of flesh against mouth, the sound of Sazali's throat working.
“Fuck.." Dirga groaned as his head was tilted, almost banging the wall. His hips begin to thrust upward in a slow, instinctive rhythm. "Pinter. Like that, honey.”
Sazali looked up, his eyes hooded, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth as he pulled back to the tip. "Abang, sedap?"
“Mgh.. iya, enak..."
Sazali dove back in, increasing the pace. He used his hand to stroke the base while his mouth worked the top, creating a vacuum of heat and pressure. He could hear Dirga's breathing becoming erratic, the man's muscles tensing. Sazali loved this power — the ability to reduce the patient, steady Dirga to a groaning mess.
Exactly what Sazali always loved to see.
He sucked harder, his tongue flicking against the frenulum, making Dirga let out a loud, guttural moan. Dirga's grip on Sazali's hair tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to command.
“Cukup," Dirga suddenly whispered, pulling Sazali up and tucking a stray of Sazali’s hair behind his ear. “Please, Saz..”
Soft but insistent. Dirga needed him.
Sazali's breath hitched. He let himself be maneuvered back onto the sofa, Dirga pushing him onto his back. The oversized shirt rode up to his chest, exposing his pale stomach and the soft, wet folds of his pussy and the way he was breathing heavily.
Dirga watched how his husband’s chest rose up and down, even noticed that Sazali was already drenched, his own arousal mixing with the sweat of the heatwave.
Dirga knelt between Sazali's legs, his eyes dark and predatory. He didn't go straight for the core but instead, he leaned down, kissing Sazali with a fierce, bruising intensity. Their tongues clashed, swapping saliva in a desperate exchange. Sazali whimpered into the kiss, his legs wrapping around Dirga's waist, pulling him closer.
Dirga shifted, his hand reaching down to find Sazali's clit. He rubbed it with a blunt thumb, circling the sensitive peak. Sazali let out a high-pitched cry, his hips bucking.
“Abang," Sazali sobbed, the sound a mix of pleasure and desperation. And that was Dirga’s favourite sound, “Panas..”
“Iyaa, tau, sayang," Dirga whispered, though his own voice was shaking. "But I’m hard. You have to help me.”
“A-ah..no..” Sazali whined, his voice cracking. He was trembling, the heat of the room and the heat of his own body pushing him to the edge. “Abang, you’re so mean- Nggghh—”
Dirga smiled, a slow, dangerous expression. He positioned the head of his cock against Sazali's entrance. He paused there for a second, letting Sazali feel the sheer size of him pressing against the wetness.
And for a split second, he pushed.
Sazali let out a loud, strangled scream that echoed through the small apartment. He clamped his eyes shut, his fingers clawing at Dirga's tanned shoulders. The sensation was overwhelming — the feeling of being stretched wide, the blunt force of Dirga filling every inch of him.
"Ahn — Ah- Abang!” Sazali whimpered, his voice trailing off into a sob.
Dirga didn't stop. He pushed deeper, a slow, steady invasion. He felt the walls of Sazali's pussy clenching around him, tight and scorching hot. The friction was intense, a wet, squelching sound accompanying every single millimeter of progress.
"Sempit banget, sayangku," Dirga groaned, his forehead resting against Sazali's. "You're squeezing me so hard, Sazali."
“ ‘s been a w-while..Haa..," Sazali gasped, his chest heaving.
Dirga paused when he was fully seated, buried deep inside. They both stayed there for a moment, chests heaving in unison, the only sound the rhythmic click-clack of the fan and their labored breathing. The humidity seemed to thicken, wrapping around them like a wet shroud.
Dirga began to move.
He pulled back slowly, almost entirely leaving Sazali, before slamming back in with a wet thud.
"Haahh — !" Sazali shrieked, his head tossing from side to side.
As the pace increased, Dirga became the man that Sazali knew him to be in the bedroom. The patience was gone, replaced by a raw, animalistic drive. He thrust with a violent intensity, his skin slapping loudly against Sazali's perineum with every stroke.
Shlick. Squelch. Slap.
The sounds were vulgar and rhythmic, filling the room. Sazali was a mess of fair skin and mauve hair, his body bouncing on the sofa with the force of Dirga's movements. He was crying now, real tears streaming down his face, though they were tears of absolute, overwhelming pleasure.
"Too m-much, please..!" Sazali wailed, his voice breaking.
Dirga obliged, grabbing Sazali's thighs and hooking them over his shoulders, opening him up even further. This angle allowed him to hit Sazali's cervix with every single thrust. Each impact elicited a sharp, guttural cry from Sazali, a sound of pure surrender. “Enak ya?" Dirga asked, his voice rough and full of love. "Cantik banget, suamiku."
Sazali couldn’t say anything but just nod, his voice raw and shaky whenever he moaned and sobbed. The friction was generating an incredible amount of heat. Sweat poured off them, making their bodies slide and slip. At one point, Dirga's thrust was so overzealous that he slipped out completely, the sound of air being pushed out of the orifice creating a loud, wet pop.
Sazali gasped, his eyes snapping open. "Mgh.. lagi.."
Dirga didn't keep him waiting. He drove back in with a force that nearly lifted Sazali off the sofa, a deep, guttural sound escaping Dirga's throat.
"I’m here, love," Dirga gasped. The Indonesian lined up his now wet cock to Sazali’s hole again, and slowly pushed again.
They were locked in a fever dream of heat and lust. Sazali's internal muscles were pulsing, gripping Dirga's cock in rhythmic waves. He felt the build-up in his own gut, a tension that was becoming unbearable. He began to whine, a continuous, high-pitched sound of need.
“Hic — abang, ‘m gonna- ngh!” Sazali sobbed, his body stiffening. “I’m c-coming!”
Dirga didn't slow down. He accelerated, his thrusts becoming short, punchy, and frantic. He wanted to go over the edge with him. He wanted to be consumed by the same fire that Sazali went through.
"Come for me.”
Sazali's world exploded. He let out a long, piercing scream as his orgasm hit, his pussy clamping down on Dirga with an intensity that nearly brought the man to his knees. He shook violently, his vision blurring, his entire body vibrating with the force of the release.
The feeling of Sazali's walls pulsing around him was the final straw for Dirga. He let out a low, deep growl, his muscles locking up. He delivered three more powerful, deep thrusts, burying himself as far as he could possibly go, and then he erupted.
He painted the inside with the hot jets of thick cum, slamming against Sazali's cervix. Wave after wave of thick, white heat filling the internal space. He groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of absolute relief, his body sagging against Sazali's.
They lay there for a long time, entangled and exhausted. The only sound was the heavy, synchronized thumping of their hearts and the distant, mocking drone of the fan. Sweat pooled beneath them, making the sofa fabric damp.
Sazali's breathing slowly returned to normal, though he was still shivering occasionally. He looked up at Dirga, his mauve hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes red-rimmed and soft.
“Sticky..." Sazali whispered, his voice a mere ghost of itself. "Idiot, who even has sex during heatwave."
Dirga let out a soft, tired laugh, kissing Sazali's sweaty forehead. “You started it."
"Shut up," Sazali murmured, though he snuggled closer, rubbing his face against Dirga's chest. "You're still hot. You're like a human radiator."
"That's what happens when you tease a patient man, Saz."
Sazali giggled, a small, weak sound. "It worked, didn't it?”
"It worked," Dirga admitted, closing his eyes.
They stayed there, draped over each other in the oppressive heat, the silence of the apartment finally feeling peaceful. The sun was still blazing outside, the sky still a bleached white, but inside, for the first time all day, the heat felt exactly right.
Sazali shifted slightly, feeling the sticky residue of their encounter between their thighs. "We're going to have to shower."
Dirga groaned, not moving an inch. "Five more minutes."
"Pemalas," Sazali teased, though he didn't move either. “Move, you’re stinky.”
"I'm recovering,"
"Recovering from what? I'm the one who was practically split in half."
Dirga opened one eye and smirked. "You enjoyed every second of it."
Sazali blushed, the pink returning to his cheeks. “Stop."
“Cium dulu."
“Tak nak," Sazali whispered, closing his eyes.
Dirga wrapped his arms around his husband, pulling him tight. The heatwave continued to rage outside, but within the walls of their small apartment, they had found their own way to handle the burn.
As the minutes ticked by, the air remained thick, but the tension had evaporated, replaced by a heavy, contented lethargy. Sazali drifted in and out of a light sleep, the scent of his husband’s skin acting as a sedative. He felt safe, cherished, and completely spent.
“Sayang?" Sazali murmured, his voice trailing off.
“Dalem."
"Next time... wear the sarong. I like the way it looks when it falls off."
Dirga chuckled, the vibration echoing through his chest into Sazali's cheek. “And I’m the perverted one."
The fan continued its rhythmic click-clack, pushing the humid air across the room, while the two of them remained locked together, two souls anchored in the center of a sweltering storm.
And eventually, the reality of their sticky skin became too much to ignore. Sazali groaned, pushing himself up with a wet sound. "Okay. Seriously. Shower. Now."
Dirga sighed, finally sitting up. He looked at Sazali — naked, flushed, and utterly beautiful in the golden light filtering through the blinds. "Fine. But you're scrubbing my back."
“Yelah," Sazali said, reaching out to take Dirga's hand. But Dirga didn’t reach it back.
Bless a policeman’s strength, Dirga managed to pick Sazali up in one sweep of bridal style, earning a soft yelp by the other.
Huffing, Sazali glanced back at the oversized grey shirt lying forgotten on the floor. He smiled to himself. "That shirt really is a miracle worker," he whispered.
Dirga pulled him close for one last, lingering kiss, their lips tasting of salt and satisfaction. "Ih, cantik banget. Mau cium tiap hari.”
Sazali was always used to Dirga's flirtings, so he just rolled his eyes. Leaning into him. "Shut up."
"I'm allowed to be cringy after that," Dirga replied, leading him into the bathroom.
The cool spray of the shower was a revelation, washing away the sweat and the remnants of their passion. They leaned against each other under the water, the tension of the day finally fully dissolving.
The heatwave was still there, waiting for them outside the bathroom door, but for now, they had each other, and that was more than enough to keep them cool.
“Abang.”
“Dalem.”
“Why are you hard again.”