Summer Lovin'
Summary – Steaming hot and Naruto wouldn't have had it any other way. Well maybe he would, but this was the closest he'd gotten so far.
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Hot flushes decorated the pale skin before him like tiny flowers emerging from a blanket of snow, slowly melting to form droplets of winter dew. But it's not snowing here, far from it. The midst of a Japanese summer and trapped in a small, heated apartment, there was nothing remotely cold that hadn't been chased out by the last few heatwaves of the day.
No – it was a day guaranteed to melt away anything and everything useful, with the power lines already fried. A day where heat seemed to pool just below the skin, irritating the victim at a slow and torturous pace. A day where men and women alike discarded their modesty along with most of their clothes to sit in front of a pathetic fan, powered only by their hands.
And despite all the drawbacks aforesaid, Naruto felt it all worthwhile. After all, men and women alike discarded their clothes – in the privacy of their own homes of course. But sometimes it wasn't always private, not for the man besides him at least. Not when Naruto was leering at him so obviously, though under the sweltering heat, who would notice?
Uchiha Sasuke, so hot he was on fire, melting the hearts of girls and boys around the world, though currently the summer was working on him, or rather his sanity. His delicate pale skin, authentically Japanese, was never made for the sun – hardly compatible, and yet his dark hair would do no less than attract it. There was no air-conditioning; in fact there was no power at all, so even an electric fan was promptly denied, while natural ventilation was little short of a blanket of warmth. So all he could really do was sit there, with sweat trickling down his back, breathing in small pants and chugging down water like there was no tomorrow. All while clad in only boxers.
And Naruto wouldn't have had it any other way. Well maybe he would, but this was the closest he'd gotten so far. And it was very close – visually at least.
But if he also had to endure this, a season where 40 degrees was only the weekly average, he would have to make the most of it wouldn't he?
So slowly, carefully, flapping the material of his sweat-drenched shirt he approached that malleable pile of pheromones.
"You know," he whispered, words barely passing through that thick, heated air, "sometimes it's just too hot for clothes."
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A/N – You guessed it, massive slump and I doubt I'm recovering soon. This is probably a failed attempt, but whatever, it actually was 40 degrees on Sunday. And it does suck to pale Asian in the middle of it.