Author's Notes: To celebrate reaching 120 followers on tumblr, I am writing 3 connected short, slightly erotic to very smutty drabblesque fics showcasing Midorima & Takao, Aomine & Kise, and Kagami & Kuroko. Sadly, this one is the only work I can post here because it's the only non-explicit one out of the bunch. The rest will be on tumblr and livejournal when they are done if you want to read them, too. I have been seeing a rash of favorites and follows on all my FnB fics lately. Thank you very much. I am glad so many people seem to like them! Comments are very much welcome, too. (n_n)


It's the dog days of summer, 39°C in the shade, and every one of those burning, sweltering, smothering degrees is felt by three sets of young men scattered over various parts of the city. The heat does funny things to people, as they will soon find out ...

Midorima x Takao

Takao stands in front of the silver, oscillating fan. The artificial wind blows his bangs around and flutters his shorts a bit, but does nothing to alleviate the stifling, humid, scorching heat that makes breathing a chore and has his underwear sticking to him in the most uncomfortable of places. In fact, it only seems to stir the muggy, broiling air and make things hotter.

"Shi-i-i-i-n-ch-a-a-a-n, th-i-i-i-s i-i-s-n't w-o-o-o-rk-i-i-n-n-g. I-I-I'm st-i-i-i-ll h-o-o-ot," he complains into the fan, the vibration from the blades distorting his words. He thinks it's pretty funny, so decides to try some other sounds. "O-o-o-o-o-o, a-a-a-a-a-ah. Sh-i-i-i-n-ch-a-a-a-n s-e-e-lls s-e-e-a-sh-e-e-ll-s b-y-y th-e-e s-e-e-a-sh-o-o-o-re."

"Stop that, you idiot!" Midorima barks from behind him, his deep voice rife with agitation, though the heat seems to have taken some of his usual sharpness away. "It's annoying."

Takao glances over his shoulder to find Shūtoku's ace-sama reclining on one of the twin beds in the room, a book lying carelessly across the bandaged fingers of his left hand. With his long body, lean muscles, and broad shoulders, the athlete in him is clearly visible, even in a prone position. That tall, trim undeniably masculine form is the object of Takao's daytime, nighttime, anytime fantasies and he thanks God, Buddha, every one of Midorima's ugly, weird, stupid lucky items that he has that magnificent figure all to himself.

Right now, though, Midorima's head is tilted back, his eyes are closed and long lashes, lashes girls everywhere just have to envy, are resting on the flushed, smooth skin of his cheeks. His lips are slightly parted and glistening as if he has just licked them, and his beautiful, fairy hair is clinging in damp tendrils to his forehead, to the sides of his face, to the nape of his neck. To Takao's sharp, hungry, and admittedly perverted eyes, he looks like a person who has just engaged in some illicit, carnal activity.

Feeling a heat that has nothing to do with the blazing weather and everything to do with the man unknowingly sprawled out like a pin-up poster model before him, Takao jerks his gaze away, moving it lower. Unlike him, who is shirtless, the only concession Midorima has made to the heat is to don a light orange tank top. It has ridden up, however, and the flat, hard, cut ridges of his abdomen are visible. As Takao watches, a drop of sweat beads above Midorima's perfect, kissable, lickable navel. It quivers, and then slides lazily down his side. Takao tracks the rolling drop with his eyes and suddenly has the urge to track it with his tongue instead.

His legs are moving before his mind can tell him it is a bad idea, a very bad idea. He jumps, leaping through the air to land on Midorima with a full body pounce.

Vibrant green eyes open, widen behind fashionable glasses, and stare up at Takao in shock, anger, and aggravation.

"What are you doing, Takao?" he puts a hand, his wrapped hand, between them, against Takao's chest and pushes.

"Since we are already hot anyway, let's do something that will make the heat fun, bearable, enjoyable. What do you say, Shin-chan?" Takao murmurs, his voice low and husky and needy.

Of course, Midorima just doesn't get it. He never does until Takao hits him over the head with his want, his desire, his mind-numbing, body-aching, soul-shattering lust.

Pushing up his glasses with the fingers not wedged between them, Midorima just sighs in exasperation. "It's too damn hot for your shenanigans. Now, get off before I throw you off."

"But shenanigans are exactly what I'm in the mood for, Shin-chan," he smiles and takes the hand, the one between them, the bandaged one, Midorima's prized hand, and he sticks one of those strong, slender fingers in his mouth, wrappings and all, and he sucks. He licks it from tip to root, winding his tongue around it in an erotic dance that leaves it slick and wet and dripping.

There, Midorima finally understands, and his breath deepens, his heart thumps, his body trembles, and Takao can see all these delightful, glorious signs that show just how much his touch affects the man beneath him, how he affects him.

Takao kisses him. On the mouth, on the cheek, on his chin, on his ear. And his own breath quickens, his own heart races, his own body shivers and quakes with the need to join with Midorima, combine their heat, and become one for the twentieth, thirtieth, hundredth time. They've made love so often, in so many ways, he's lost count.

"Hey, Shin-chan, can I have you, can I have you?" he's asking, begging, pleading, rubbing frantically against Midorima, and he's hard and aching, and thankyougod! Midorima is hard, too, he can feel the other's erection pressing into him.

Midorima turns his face away, two bright spots of color highlighting his perfectly shaped cheekbones, and he mumbles, "Do … do as you like." Damn!, he's just so cute, so adorable, so freaking irresistible and Takao can barely contain himself.

Then clothes are flying and hands are everywhere, touching everywhere, probing everywhere. Things that need to be wet are made wet, and he's sliding down, opening up his body to the wonderful, amazing fullness, to a heat that is welcome, wanted, loved. He stares into luminescent green eyes, falls into them, drowns in them, and he moves.

"Does it feel good, Shin-chan," he gasps, "does it?" Because it feels good to him. So good. It feels marvelous, the best feeling ever, like heaven and home have somehow melded to become one.

Midorima doesn't answer, he never answers, at least not with words. He reaches up, grabs Takao's head for a long, hard, devastating kiss, and he also grabs Takao's hand, locking their fingers together just like their bodies are locked together below. Takao smiles into the kiss, squeezes the fingers wrapped around his, and lets the feel and the scent and the sound and the heat that is his Shin-chan carry him away.

Next is Aomine x Kise and it features popsicles that get put in places popsicles should never go...and unfortunately I won't be able to post it here because of ffnet's guidelines.

**In case you just couldn't read what Takao was saying into the fan:

"Shin-chan, this isn't working. I'm still hot." and "Oooo, ahhh. Shin-chan sells seashells by the seashore."