Heat Wave

Brian was hot. Brian was extremely hot. The kind of hot that made your underarms damp and your cheeks flushed and nasty sweat drip from your brows. It was for this reason why he couldn't fathom why Freddie, in the midst of a heat wave, could even consider having sex.

"I said no, Bulsara," Brian snapped. Freddie's face formed into a disappointed pout and Brian had to turn his head away.

"It's too bloody hot."

"Not nearly hot enough, I don't think," Freddie murmured, and stood from the couch and turned away.

"Where are you going?" Brian asked. He brought his book down to his chest and quirked a brow at Freddie's retreating back.

"Shower," Freddie said, simply.

Brian nodded and lifted his book back up. He'd already taken four showers that day, and while the thought of taking another one was quite appealing, the consequence of wetting and drying his hair so much in a single day was not.

Brian settled further into the comfort of the sofa, removed his finger from the page he'd been holding, and continued to read.

________________________________________

"Brian?"

"Hmm?" Brian hummed, and set the book back on his chest. His eyes were heavy behind his lids, and his neck had gotten rather stiff. Brian briefly wondered how long Freddie had been gone for.

Brian looked up, ready to ask if Freddie wanted lunch, and dropped his book to the floor.

"Well?" Freddie said slyly. "Is it still too hot?"

Brian stared, dumbstruck, as Freddie walked across the sitting room, naked as the day he'd been born.

He placed himself in the single sofa opposite Brian so casually that Brian wondered if he'd forgotten he hadn't any clothes on.

Freddie stretched, slowly and languidly, and Brian couldn't help but stare as the muscles in his arms tightened as they moved over his head, and how his stomach stretched when he brought them back down.

"Freddie?" he said again, hoarsely.

"Oh, don't mind me," Freddie told him seriously. "It's a bit hot for clothes, don't you think? I figured I'd be cooler this way. You don't have to stop reading on my account, Brian."

Brian nodded, but made no move whatsoever to retrieve the book he had dropped.

He watched as Freddie moved further into the couch, dripping water, no doubt, into the plush cushion. Freddie's skin—a rich almond color that made Brian want to lick it all over—glistened from the bath water. Beads of water moved down his tanned skin, forming shiny lines over every inch. Brian had a sudden urge to suck him dry.

"Mmmm," Freddie sighed contentedly. He moved his hands over his stomach and rubbed, and Brian watched in heated fascination as his legs parted, revealing Freddie's beautiful semi-erect cock.

He realized what Freddie was doing: Freddie was trying to seduce him. Brian should have, on all accounts, picked his book back from the floor and made a point not to watch Freddie's display of... indecency, but for the life of him he couldn't find the strength to look away.

Freddie's hands continued to roam over his body. They moved over his neck, glided across his collar bone, massaged his strong chest. His fingers brushed his dusty nipples, nails scraped over the sensitive skin, and when he pinched both hardened buds simultaneously and moaned, Brian nearly moaned with him.

Brian watched, hungrily, as Freddie's hips began to move along the sofa. His cock— wet from the water or needy pre-cum; Brian didn't know—had risen so high that the very head was brushing Freddie's navel. Freddie arched off the soda and slid his hands down to his bellybutton, going further down still until his fingers were tugging at the dark pubic curls and his hands were rubbing the inside of his upper thighs.

It was almost Brian's undoing when Freddie's hand clamped over his cock and began to stroke.

"Enough!" Brian found himself saying—or croaking, he couldn't quite tell. Freddie paused from his ministrations and lifted a brow at him.

"What's the matter, Brian? It still too hot for you?"

Brian growled at him, so aroused he could barely see clearly and irritated that Freddie had this much power over him, and shot up from the chair and moved towards him.

"Let go of your cock, Freddie," he ordered.

Freddie flashed him a curious smile and let go.

Brian's cock was throbbing. The urge to come was so painful that he had half a mind to turn Freddie right over and fuck him raw. Or have Freddie fuck him raw; it didn't really matter. But Brian didn't want that—not yet. He wanted to taste Freddie first, wanted to smooth his hands over the wet skin, wanted to nibble on his soaked flesh. He put his hands on both arms of the sofa and sank to his knees, then knocked Freddie's hand away from his groan.

"Brian?" Freddie breathed, and sounded a little uncertain.

Brian didn't answer him. He lowered his head and took Freddie in his mouth, feeling all at once relieved that Freddie's taste was finally on his tongue, and even more turned on by Freddie's gasp of pleasure. He retracted one hand from the sofa and used that one to hold Freddie's hips down, and the other one to stroke what he couldn't engulf with his mouth.

Freddie made the most delicious sounds as he worked him. Every time Brian's teeth scraped over his leaking slit he'd hiss. Whenever Brian ran his tongue along the underside of his cock, put pressure on the long vein that pulsed there, his breath would hitch; when Brian hollowed his cheeks and swallowed and hummed he would groan; when Brian licked and nibbled and thrust his tongue underneath the foreskin he would whine; when Brian tugged and fondled the reddened-cock, Freddie would arch upwards and grunt loudly. Everything Brian did was rewarded by the most erotic sounds he'd ever known, and they'd run straight down from his ears to his dick. When Freddie began to pull upwards from within Brian's palm he let go of Freddie with a pop and licked his lips.

"Brian," Freddie whined desperately. His hips were rising on the sofa, more than likely desperate to have his cock back in Brian's mouth. And as much as Brian would have loved to take Freddie back in his mouth and suck him until Freddie's cum was flooding down his throat, he had better plans.

Brian lifted himself from the floor, ignoring the tension in his knees from being on them so long, and began to unbuckle his trousers.

"Turn around, Freddie. I want you on your knees."

Freddie nodded hastily and all but scrambled up, nearly toppling off the narrow sofa in the process. Brian undid his pants and let them drop to the floor, then footed them off. He hooked his fingers into the top of his briefs and pulled them down, then hissed as his erection bobbed free. He was so fucking hard.

"Lube," Brian groaned as soon as he removed his underwear. His legs were trembling so hard he could barely keep himself up. "We need lube."

"Fuck lube," Freddie hissed, and turned his head around to glare at Brian. "You get over here right now and fuck me, Brian, or so help me God."

"Lube," Brian repeated, unable to form the entire sentence. Freddie was practically humping the back of the sofa and Brian could hardly think straight with the fog that rolling around his head. He wanted—no, he needed Freddie so fucking much it hurt.

"Please, Brian," Freddie panted, and pushed his arse out. "Please. Christ, please just fuck me!"

Brian groaned, all apprehension of possibly hurting Freddie gone from his mind, and moved forward. Brian held one hand at the mid-section of his cock, the other on Freddie's left hip, and pushed in.

Freddie let out a moan that shook Brian to the core. The heat, the pressure, the absolute tightness of Freddie's arse was almost his undoing. Unable to hold back—not that he'd had any inclination to— Brian continued to push until his pubic hair was brushing the top of Freddie's crease. Shakily, because Freddie just felt so fucking good, Brian pulled out and shoved his cock back in, enacting a grunt of pleasure from the both of them.

He continued to work his way inside Freddie until he found the spot that made Freddie's back arch and his head snap back and a sob rip from his lips. Knowing where to hit, Brian turned and angle and held his position, then continued to thrust and plunge into Freddie so hard that the sofa continuously kept skidding forward. Brian slammed and slammed and slammed, until the heat that had been pooling in his stomach flared throughout his body and he was cumming so fucking hard the world had gone white.

He stood there, momentarily struck by the power of his orgasm, until Freddie let out a moan, spilling himself over the sofa. He'd been so lost in his own ecstasy that he hadn't even realized Freddie had been beating himself off.

"Fucking hell," Freddie panted, and slumped forward into the sofa. Brian could only nod, hands firm on the sofa to prevent him from falling.

After a while Freddie managed to turn around, and leaned back. His cum was smeared on his stomach, above and around the sweat that had formed and the water that had been. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed a cherry color, and his lips so bruised from biting that they'd all but swelled.

Brian thought he looked absolutely adorable.

He bent down and pressed a kiss on Freddie's lips, and Freddie sighed in appreciation, licking his own tongue over Brian's in response.

Brian slumped to the floor next to Freddie's feet and leaned his head on his Freddie's knees, completely worn out.

"So," Freddie said after a few moments of comfortable silence, "Was that still too hot for you?"

Brian swapped Freddie on his leg and muttered, "Prat", unwilling to let Freddie know that it had, in fact, been just that.

Freddie laughed. "And you love me for it."

And really, Brian did.