"Oh god, end me."
It was Thursday, August second. Sören knew it was going to be hot today, but it was one thing to know that and another thing to step out from the air-conditioned hospital into the furnace-like open air. Anthony would be at work for another three hours, and though Anthony never minded picking Sören up, Sören didn't want to hang around the hospital for another three-plus hours just to get a ride home in the air-conditioned car, he'd been working since eleven PM last night and it was one PM now and he just wanted a shower and a nap.
By the time he made his way to the Tube station he was soaked with sweat, and the train was so packed with people that he continued to sweat. When he arrived in Kingston, he was drenched and feeling slightly ill; he stopped at a nearby coffee shop and waited in the queue for what felt like forever to get an iced smoothie and an ice water to chase it down with. He sat at a table and took a load off as he drank, enjoying the air conditioning.
On the walk to the flat he started to sweat again. Never had the haul up to the second floor felt more exhausting. Once he was in the flat he tumbled over the arm of the couch and just lay there like that for a few minutes. They had turned the air off during the day to conserve power and not be wasteful, and the flat was stifling without air conditioning. When Sören was able to get up again, he put on the central air and pushed himself to the bathroom so he could shower, struggling with every step. He was seriously considering calling out of work tomorrow, something he never did, because it was that bad.
When Sören got out of the shower, the flat still felt too warm. Sören went and checked the thermostat, and the temperature was still the same as it had been when Sören put the air on. It had been long enough where the air should have kicked in and cooled the place down before Sören got out of the shower. Sören made a face, and after he pulled on a pair of linen pajama bottoms, he texted Anthony.
The air conditioning isn't working.
A few minutes later Anthony replied with a poop emoji.
Then Anthony texted: I'll call the landlord and see if he can send a repairman out.
Sören wondered if they'd even be able to get a repairman out today. He opened a window in the living room, and grabbed a cold water out of the fridge. He was already starting to sweat again; before he could sit back on the couch he went down to the bathroom, grabbed some washcloths, and wet them down with cold water, and applied them to his forehead, neck and torso once he sat, sipping water. Out of morbid curiosity Sören turned on his laptop and checked the weather, and almost spat when he saw the local temperature was 33C (91F). That was far, far hotter than what he was used to in Iceland, where temperatures rarely got higher than 12C (55C) and it was considered "a hot day" if it was 18C (65F).
Sören leaned back on the couch and made a noise. He finished his water and then he went to the bedroom, opened windows, and flomped onto the bed. It quickly proved too hot to sleep. Sören went back to the living room, wet the washcloths again in the kitchen sink, and lay on the couch, zoning out to the BBC News on television. He was too exhausted to try to work on art, much as that normally would make him feel a little better when he was feeling poorly.
Sören's phone chimed, letting him know there was a text message. Anthony's text read: Landlord says he can't get anyone out till tomorrow morning. I am so, so sorry.
Sören fired back: Fuck.
If it's really bad we can go to a hotel, Anthony texted.
Even though a night in a hotel was a trivial expense where Anthony was concerned, Sören still felt weirdly guilty about it. But he wasn't going to tell Anthony no. If anything even has vacancies. LOL.
Anthony replied: Let me call around and see. LOL.
An hour later, there was another text from Anthony. Nothing within a reasonable driving distance has vacancies. Fucking Olympics.
Jesus. Sören made another noise.
I'll stop on the way home to buy a couple of fans. I'll pick up dinner too.
Now Sören knew he was going to have to call out of work, since he couldn't sleep now, and fans would only make a marginal amount of improvement. He hated doing it, but he also knew he wasn't at his best to perform surgery, knowing he very likely had heat exhaustion.
Bring home some Gatorade or something with electrolytes too, Sören texted back.
Then Sören called National, and though his supervisor grumbled, there was really nothing that could be done about the situation. After he got off the phone Sören lay there, tired and achy and feeling a little sick to his stomach.
He was half-asleep when he heard Anthony's keys in the door. "Bloody hell," Anthony growled as he stepped into the warm apartment - which was still less bad than when Sören got in. Anthony attempted a smile at Sören laying on the couch. "You poor dear."
Sören made a noise.
"Here, let's take care of you." Anthony opened up a box with one of the fans he'd lugged upstairs, and plugged it in to blow on Sören from a few meters away. Then he reached into a shopping bag and thrust a cold Gatorade at Sören, who sat up and gave him a weak smile. "OK, I need out of this suit." Anthony started undressing right there, which made Sören laugh and wolf whistle; Anthony turned beetroot and managed to grin, the smile meeting his eyes.
Anthony went down the hall to take a quick shower, presumably cold, and came back in briefs, which made Sören wolf whistle again. Anthony chuckled as he got on the couch next to Sören. "You're terrible." He gave Sören a little kiss. "I am so sorry about the air and the hotels being booked up -"
Sören waved his hand dismissively, not wanting Anthony to beat himself up over something he had no control over. "It's not your fault." He sighed. "I called out of work for tomorrow, because. Well."
Anthony nodded. "I don't blame you."
"It means I'll have to make up for it next week, take some extra hours to make up for whoever they send in to cover for me, but." Sören sighed again. "I felt like I was going to fucking die on the way home."
Anthony kissed him again. "Here." He took out a container with a salad in it. "I also grabbed us sandwiches. I didn't think you were in the mood to eat anything hot."
Sören needed to take the obvious shot to keep from sobbing and whining like a baby over how physically awful he felt. He gave Anthony a pointed look and said, "Oh, I don't know about that."
Anthony turned beetroot again and laughed. "Sören." He rolled his eyes. "I meant food, you pervert." Then he grinned, still laughing.
They ate in companionable silence, and then packed themselves down with more wet washcloths. Anthony wasn't dealing with the heat as badly as Sören, but he was still noticeably uncomfortable. "If I wasn't so tired I would say let's just go to Brighton, it's an air-conditioned car ride... and the beach house has central air. I'd even call out tomorrow so we wouldn't have to get up at stupid o'clock to head back." Anthony groaned. "But I don't think I'd be safe on the road like this right now."
Sören nodded and patted him. "It's OK. We'll survive."
Anthony put on a movie but it became clear about twenty minutes in that neither of them were paying attention, both leaning on each other, groggy from the heat. The temperature started to drop a little when it got dark outside, but it was still too warm in the apartment for Sören's comfort and after awhile they just retreated to bed, with Anthony setting up a fan to blow directly onto them.
As tired as Sören was, it was still warm enough that he was having trouble sleeping. Anthony tossed and turned a bit too and finally Sören asked, "Still awake?"
"Yeah."
Sören got up, went to the freezer, and took out a container of peanut butter ice cream. He came back to the bedroom with the carton and two spoons, not feeling like taking the trouble to dish it out. Anthony chuckled when he saw the container of ice cream.
They sat up together in bed, eating ice cream out of the container. It melted a little more quickly than usual in the warm air of the apartment, and a bit of ice cream slid off Sören's spoon onto Anthony's shoulder. Before Anthony could use one of the damp washcloths to wipe it off, Sören licked it off him, and Anthony laughed, turning pink. Then he kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "You're so damn cute."
Sören felt a little bashful. He crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
Heat flared in Anthony's eyes, and though Sören was exhausted and still not feeling well from the heat, his cock still responded, stiffening in the loose linen pajama pants. With Sören's next bite of ice cream he sucked deliberately on the spoon, holding Anthony's gaze. Then Anthony let the spoon slip "accidentally" so ice cream landed on Sören's chest.
"Oops," Anthony said. "Let me clean that up." He leaned in and licked the ice cream from Sören's bare skin, tongue brushing slowly, deliberately, looking into Sören's eyes the whole time.
Sören's cock was tenting the pajamas now, throbbing, wanting. Sören's nipples ached for attention. But also the cold ice cream on his flesh felt good; Sören's next spoonful of ice cream also "accidentally" went on his chest, close to a nipple. Anthony leaned in again to clean it with his tongue and when his tongue strayed to tease the nipple, Sören clutched his head and moaned. Anthony's tongue took a few lashes and his teeth gently tugged the nipple ring, then he kissed up Sören's neck. Sören looked down and smirked at the hard bulge in Anthony's briefs.
"Here," Anthony said, spooning some ice cream and putting the spoon in Sören's mouth. Then he pulled the spoon out and kissed Sören, their tongues playing together, sharing the ice cream between them. Anthony sucked on Sören's lower lip as he put the lid back on the carton of ice cream.
Anthony got up and took the ice cream back to the freezer, and Sören decided to get out of his pajama bottoms. He lay there naked on the bed, idly stroking himself, which was how Anthony found him when he wandered back in a few minutes later, carrying a large bowl. Anthony put the bowl down on the bedtable and got his briefs off, freeing his hard cock.
The bowl had ice cubes in it. Sören laughed, and then he stopped laughing as Anthony took an ice cube and traced it along his forehead. The sharp cold felt good, and Sören closed his eyes and sighed. He sighed again when Anthony's lips brushed in the wake of the ice cube.
The ice cube traced over Sören's lips, and then as Anthony kissed Sören's mouth, warming his lips again, the ice cube slid up and down Sören's neck. The hair on the back of Sören's neck stood on end, his skin made gooseflesh. The chill of the ice was a relief, and the delicious chills of an erogenous zone being touched this way went right to Sören's cock. Sören moaned as he felt the ice cube dripping down his throat, his neck, beads of water spilling down his shoulder and back. Anthony continued moving the ice cube over Sören's neck and throat and shoulders until it was a sliver, then he put the ice in Sören's mouth for him to suck on and kissed him, the two passing the ice back and forth between them as they kissed.
Anthony took another ice cube and slid it down Sören's throat again, this time to his collarbone and then back and forth across his chest. The ice cube traced around and around an aureole and then over the hard nipple, making Sören gasp and shiver. Anthony started kissing Sören's neck and shoulder as the ice worked around and over the other nipple, and then his teeth and tongue came into play, licking and nibbling Sören's neck, as he went back to the first nipple. The ice went to one nipple then the other, swirling around, brushing over. Sören's cock twinged urgently, balls tightening; Sören heard himself crying out, bucking up against Anthony, who gave an appreciative groan as he bit Sören's shoulder.
Another ice cube traced up and down Sören's chest, near the nipples but not touching. Then the ice cube trailed over Sören's stomach, with Sören moaning at the cold touch electrifying another deliciously sensitive, erogenous place. Yet another ice cube played over one hip bone and thigh, and up the other, and Anthony made circles around Sören's navel, making Sören moan and giggle.
Then Anthony had Sören roll onto his stomach, and Anthony began to slide an ice cube down Sören's spine, slowly, slowly. Sören gasped and his fists clenched the pillows, white-knuckled, shivering with need, his cock and hole twitching at the feel of the ice trailing down his spine. When Anthony traced the ink on Sören's back with an ice cube, Sören howled into the pillows, rubbing against the mattress, aching for release. Another ice cube played down his spine again, and then in the crack of his ass. The melting sliver of ice traced around his hole, dripping into him, and Sören whimpered, thrashing, feeling like he was going crazy. Sören heard Anthony chewing on a piece of ice and then Anthony's tongue slid into him, cold from having sucked on an ice cube, and Sören screamed, bucking against him. Anthony held Sören's hips and ate him slowly. The feel of the cold tongue slowly lapping that sweet spot inside him was one of the most intensely pleasurable things Sören had ever experienced in his life - desperate to come, yet never wanting Anthony to stop licking him like this. Sören almost sobbed as Anthony took his time there, teasing.
When Sören was quivering, babbling incoherently into the pillows, Anthony stopped licking inside him, and began kissing and licking his way up Sören's spine. Sören screamed again - he could almost come just from that. Feeling Anthony's kisses on his exquisitely sensitive nape made him cry out.
Anthony rolled Sören back over. He took an ice cube and put it in Sören's mouth, and then another and started over again, teasing Sören's neck and throat, then teasing Sören's nipples back and forth. Now his mouth worked on one nipple as the ice worked on the other, Sören moaning with the ice in his mouth as Anthony lapped and suckled, pulled the nipples with his lips, nibbled, tugged the rings. Anthony's mouth followed the ice down Sören's stomach. And then melting ice dripped over Sören's cock, Sören gasping at the cold drops teasing as they slid down his shaft. Anthony sucked on an ice cube as he trailed ice over Sören's thighs, and with his tongue cold once more, he took a few licks at Sören's cock, then drew the cock into his mouth. Sören gave a hoarse shout and then moaned, shivering, brought once again to tears by how intense the pleasure was as Anthony sucked him, rubbing his tongue as he sucked.
Before Sören could climax like that, Anthony stopped, and came up to kiss Sören, sharing Sören's precum in the kiss. Sören reached for the bowl of ice and went straight for Anthony's chest, giving the same treatment to his nipples, slow circles around one then feather-light brushes over the nipple, warming with his lips and tongue as the ice teased the other. Anthony moaned and pet Sören's curls, encouraging him. Sören spent a long time there, feasting, until Anthony grabbed him by the curls and kissed him roughly; Sören saw the ice in the bowl was melting a bit and they needed to make good use of it.
Sören took another ice cube and played over the rest of Anthony's body, making Anthony shiver and gasp and moan as the ice traced over his stomach, around his navel, over one hip bone and over a thigh, then across to the other thigh and hip, around his navel and up his stomach again. Sören sucked on an ice cube as he went back to Anthony's thighs in slow, deliberate swirls, and traced behind the knee, smiling as Anthony cried out. Sören kissed Anthony behind the knee, groaning as Anthony moaned, and then he kissed and licked one thigh, then the other, the ice still in his mouth. When the ice was melted in his mouth, Sören's cold tongue pushed inside Anthony's channel, licking him slowly, then fast and fierce, not able to help reaching down and touching himself as Anthony got more vocal.
Sören sucked on another ice cube as he came up and made a second round with ice over Anthony's chest, teasing the nipples some more, then down to his stomach. Then Sören chewed the ice and swallowed, and dove down to suck Anthony's cock, slowly at first then sucking hard and hungry, their eyes locked, Sören stroking himself some more at the needy look in his lover's eyes, the way he gasped and groaned as Sören sucked him.
They fell into a sixty-nine to finish what they started, sucking each other like they were starving for it, moaning with their mouths full. When Anthony took a sliver of ice and teased around the rim of Sören's opening again, letting ice drip into him, Sören lost control and came in Anthony's mouth, whimpering with his mouth full as the powerful orgasm ripped through him. Anthony moaned around Sören's cock as he drank the seed down, and a few seconds later Sören was tasting Anthony as well, loving it, petting Anthony as he shuddered with a full-body orgasm; Sören smiled as he watched Anthony's fingers and toes curl involuntarily.
"God." Sören laughed as Anthony climbed up and cuddled against him, head on Sören's shoulder. "That was fucking awesome."
"That," Anthony said, "was one of the best sexual experiences of my life. It's unfortunate the air conditioning needs to be repaired, but..."
"But wow, did we make something amazing out of something completely shit." Sören gave Anthony a little kiss, and Anthony smiled, kissing the tip of Sören's nose.
"I love you," Anthony said, stroking Sören's face, looking into his eyes. "You bring magic and joy to my life. Never forget that."
Sören took Anthony's hand and kissed it, and drew him into a deeper kiss than before. "And you bring passion to mine." He put Anthony's hand on his heart, feeling love so strong it hurt, burning his eyes with tears.
This is the one.
chapter 24 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index