Rating: R for language and sexual content.
Disclaimer: The show doesn't belong to me sadly, although I am working on that ;)
Summary: It's mid-August, it's 35 °C and certain people are getting a little restless.
My eyes became unfocused half an hour ago. The spinning silver blades of the fan make me dizzy and turn my vision blurry, but I can't move away. Leaning forwards, running my fingers through my damp hair, I close my eyes. Revelling in the cool breeze for a moment or two and the way it feels whipping through my hair, I sigh happily, almost euphorically. It doesn't last long; the only way to stay cool would be to sit here like this all afternoon and there really are much better and much more interesting things I could be doing.
The heat wave came out of the blue; scorching sun and melting ice-cream in the middle of a rainy spell. No one can concentrate on anything at the moment, most of all me. I have a dancing competition coming up and practicing in 90 degree heat really isn't on the cards, nor is it all that appealing. Five minutes of solid tap are guaranteed to kill me, let alone an hours practise session.
Moving away from the fan (positioned quite handily on the floor beside the stereo), I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead and let a breath go, glancing over towards the swinging doors. Thankfully I'm alone today and without my trainer. I'm not entirely sure I want anyone to see me in this state, it isn't exactly attractive. Red faced and perspiring profusely, my t-shirt stuck to my back. How beautiful.
I get up from the floor, brush the dust from the legs of my jeans and tug on my sweat drenched shirt. Saying I'm uncomfortable really would be an understatement. I don't think it'll be long until my jeans are soaked through, too. Turning my attention to the mirror beside me, I frown at my reflection, lifting a hand to ruffle my blonde hair. Wow, I have absolutely nothing to work with today.
Turning away, I stare down at the stereo and decide I better set about packing up. The moment I unplug the fan the change of temperature becomes apparent and I move quickly, wanting to get out as soon as I can.
So content in what I'm doing and my mind set on heading somewhere cooler – a long, cold shower perhaps – I barely even notice when the doors are shoved open and someone joins me in the studio. Reaching for the stereo cable, I wind it around my arm, storing it away in the cupboard in the corner and then glace around the floor, checking I've put everything away. Convinced that I have, I reach over for my record bag, slip it over my shoulder and stand up slowly.
Coming back to full height, I'm unsurprised when I find a set of familiar hands sliding over my belt. I hitch in a breath, somehow knowing this would have happened soon, but still a little surprised all the same, and then lean my head back slightly into the welcome embrace. 'Tony,' I murmur by way of a greeting.
I don't need to look; I know that my companion will be smirking right now.
'Busy?' asks Tony, his breath hot against my neck as he leans into me. A second later his tongue grazes my skin in one fluid motion and I have to stop myself from crying out.
Tilting my head to the left, I reluctantly let my bag drop from my grasp and to the floor with a dull thud. 'What do you think?' I retort in a growl.
As per usual, Tony doesn't wait for a real invite from me, he grips my belt tightly and spins me around so that we're face-to-face, backing me slowly towards the wall. We collide with the mirror several moments later and Tony's lips find mine shortly after that. Cooling off is suddenly the last thing on my mind.
Allowing Tony to press my body up against the mirror, I slide an arm around his neck, my fingers playing in the dark hair at the nape of his neck, nails raking against his skin. I turn my head into the kiss, eyes clicking shut, sighing against Tony's lips and drawing him in closer, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Tony doesn't take much encouraging, never has done. His hands are soon roaming, pulling at fabric feverishly. He breaks the kiss, his tongue and teeth exploring the arch of my neck instead.
I've barely registered the kiss ending when I find Tony's attention elsewhere and I drop my head down onto his shoulder, moaning into his ear, my hands grabbing desperately at his hair. This has been happening a lot lately. I've come to the conclusion it's the heat; it makes Tony horny, and when Tony's horny he's taken to coming to see me. I doubt he ever planned on it becoming so routine, yet neither of us have ever complained about it.
Feeling his teeth nip at my collarbone, quite possibly drawing blood, I roll my eyes up to the strip lighting and flatten my palms out against his chest. He's getting a little carried away. A task he's rather good at. He leans in closer, his body flush against mine and his arousal becomes obvious immediately. I'm the one smirking now, in unadulterated amusement more than anything.
Pushing him reluctantly away from me, I grin and whisper, 'You might want to slow down a bit, Tone.'
Proving a point, I position one of my legs between his and slide my thigh against his, the friction it creates causing his hips to buckle. Oh I do love it when I get to be in control. It doesn't matter how long it lasts. My hand slips beneath his white t-shirt and I begin to push the fabric upwards, fingertips tracing his stomach and I can feel myself growing hard as the seconds pass by, taking great pleasure the feel of his skin against mine.
'Fuck off, Maxxie,' growls Tony at last, his bright blue eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. 'Stay quiet.'
He doesn't like it when I try to talk to him. Talking makes things complicated in Tony's mind. He's worried I'm going to start asking him about his day or see if he wants to go and pick out curtains.
So I Obey, tangling my fingers in his t-shirt, pulling him against me and crushing our lips together in a bruising kiss. OK, he might not want to talk to me, but he won't object to anything else. I sigh, opening his mouth with my own, bumping my tongue against his as the games begin.
I drag him away from the wall, hands moving feverishly to unbutton the fly on his jeans and explore some more. Spinning us around in the middle of the room, I shove him back against the stack of gym mats by the door, finding it more comfortable and from here I have perfect view of our reflections in the mirror.
Tony notices and pulls away from the kiss, muttering against my lips, 'Pervy gay boy.'
'Conceited twat,' I quickly jest, whipping his t-shirt off and throwing it across the room, not caring much for the banter. 'I thought you wanted to play.'
Leaning into him again, catching his bottom lip between my teeth, I wind a hand down between us and cup the obvious bulge of his jeans, rubbing my thumb against him. He groans, his hand gripping my arm tightly, bruising me no doubt, which only encourages me that little bit more. When we play, we play hard. I loose my hold again, instead tugging on his jeans and settling them low about his hips so that I have better access to do exactly what I want.
I'm sweating again and I inconspicuously wipe my brow as I lean down to press my lips to his shoulder. He yanks at my hair, craving my mouth on his, but I ignore him, happy where I am.
Smiling to myself, I turn my attentions to the waistband of his boxer shorts, snapping at the elastic before slipping my fingers beneath it. Tony moans something into my ear. I don't hear what and I don't care anyway. It's irrelevant really. This is too much fun; his input means nothing to me.
Right about now I'd usually tell him what I want him to do to me when we're done, but he'll get so wrapped up in me getting him off, he'll forget about it anyway. Nothing ever changes. Some days I wonder why I even bother.
So for once in my life I say nothing, simply let my fingers work their magic and continue to leave my mark all over him, claiming him as mine, for the time being at least.
It doesn't take long for Tony to reach the point of no return; he was horny enough without the extra help for me. I keep up the slick movements of my hand for several minutes, until he forces me to kiss him once again and I feel him come all over my hand.
Great, as if I'm not disgusting enough already…
Nothing happens for a moment and I stare at him, breathing hard and really wishing he'd repay the favour. He won't of course. He never does. And sure enough, he sidles away from me, picking up his shirt and beginning to dress. I watch, intently, head tilted to the left, and I'm unsure how much time has passed before he looks over in my direction.
Tony frowns, his expression unfathomable but still a little curious. He lets his gaze move down to my crotch and his curiosity ebbs away, instead being replaced with a trademark Tony Stonem smirk. 'Oh, did you want me to help you out, too?' he questions, clearly amused.
'Wouldn't kill you for once,' I reply.
Lifting his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, he questions, 'Shower then? It's a little warm in here.'
Read my mind.