After over a month of non-updatage, I'm back. That's if anyone even reads this. It was written from a prompt from ziozio on the ill-fated summer fic fest on the Naked Skills Club comm on LiveJournal, namely "Dan thinks it's too hot for sex so he gets Jones off using his finger/a vibrator/something else?"

I feel kind of guilty actually. I don't post to the British Comedy section that often, but the last few times, it's all been smut. I really want to write something else for this section that everyone can read- in fact, I really want to write that incident on the golf course that's mentioned in that one episode of the IT Crowd that made Moss always confuse 'golf' and 'fire'- but I have no ideas whatsoever. O well.

Warning: Fingering.

Disclaimer: All owned by Chris Morris and Charlie Brooker.

In Heat

Dan had done very little in the past week. He was lazy at the best of times, but even he was using the unusually hot weather as an excuse to exert himself less than usual. He hadn't been into the office for four days, and Jones thought that it had been over twenty-four hours since he'd last seen Dan stand up. All he'd been doing recently was lying on the couch, his laptop safely stowed away out of his sight, occasionally raising an arm to change the direction of the breeze from his small battery-powered fan.

Jones was, quite frankly, bored shitless. He'd had gigs a-plenty since this unexpected minor heatwave began, but they were mainly pseudo-festivally outdoor things, and while he tried his best to put all his heart and soul into them like he did everything else, he couldn't deny that after a couple of hours of jumping around behind the decks in the burning sun, he was desperately in need of some air conditioning. It didn't matter that he had taken to going about shirtless lately, or that he took his shoes off if he thought no one would see them; he always overheated before he had the chance to burn through all the energy the gigs gave him, and it left him frustrated. There was energy buzzing around inside him, humming and flittering like a fly in a bug zapper, and he had no way to release it.

Dan, on the other hand, hadn't moved a micrometre since Jones had seen him last.

Well, Jones was about to change all that.

"You look hot," he said, clambering over Dan's prone form and lying on top of him, resting his chin on Dan's chest.

"I am hot," Dan answered, listless and detached as always.

Jones pushed himself forward to lean down and nibble Dan's ear. "I know you are."

Dan pushed him away irritably. "Which definition of 'hot' are you using?"

"Both at once," Jones answered, his mouth already half way down to Dan's neck.

"Jones, get off," Dan grumbled. "I'm not in the mood for this."

Jones gave his most wicked smile. "Then I think we'll have to do something about that." He sat up, resting his arse on Dan's pelvis and grinding it slightly in the hope of provoking a reaction from Dan's lazy cock, and meticulously undid each button on Dan's shirt, teasingly slowly. "I don't know why you're still wearing these when you complain about the heat so much," Jones commented in an odd, prim sort of voice as he reached the last button and opened the shirt to reveal Dan's sweat-soaked torso. He pushed the sleeves down to uncover Dan's shoulders, and then sat expectantly as Dan just lay there, staring right back up at him.

Jones stared.

Dan stared back.

Jones sat back a little onto Dan's cock.

Dan gave up and sighed, then sat up and allowed Jones to peel his sleeves from his arms. Jones removed the sweaty shirt and threw it carelessly across the room. He took the rare opportunity of having Dan in an upright position to clasp his arms around Dan's neck and press his own moist torso to Dan's. Dan lay back down and wrapped his arms limply around Jones, resting his hands flat on Jones' lower back. They kissed softly, Dan too lethargic to give any more and Jones willing, for now, to submit to Dan's lazy pacing.

As he felt Dan's grip on him begin to slacken even more, Jones took it upon himself to push a little harder into Dan's mouth, his tongue becoming more demanding and insistent, his hold around Dan's neck tightening and his hips pushing down with wanton groans. He thrust his tongue faster and deeper into Dan's mouth, stretching as far as he could as Dan kept the same half-hearted rhythm around him. Jones opened his eyes a moment, and saw Dan looking up at him through narrowed eyes. He felt Dan smile into his mouth, and forced himself away.

Without saying a word, he crawled backwards down to straddle Dan's thighs. He smiled a little mischievously, and flicked open Dan's fly button with one hand.

"Get off," Dan protested, aiming a limp swat at the side of Jones' head. "Told you. I'm not in the mood."

"You will be," Jones told him, taking his zip between two fingers.

"For God's sake, come here," Dan grumbled. Showing the most exertion Jones had seen from him since the last time he needed a shit, Dan leaned forwards to grab Jones around the waist and pull him back onto his chest. He shifted over so that Jones was pushed onto his side and ripped his flies open without a second's pause. He attempted to pull Jones back onto him, but in a moment Jones was on his feet, and his jeans were going to join Dan's shirt on the other side of the room.

Jones dived back onto Dan, his naked legs wrapping round him and his tongue plunging into Dan's throat, and rapidly dry-humped him, his skinny hips and hot balls banging solidly against Dan's abdomen. Dan responded noncommittally, and Jones pushed his face further into Dan's own, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing Dan's head forward into his own, melding their faces tightly together.

Jones' thrusts became faster and more erratic, and he groaned pleadingly into Dan's mouth. He almost cried out when Dan pulled himself gently away. He looked up to see Dan's face blank, and greedily pushed himself back into Dan's lips. His reward was a swipe at his side from Dan's palm, light only because of Dan's lack of effort. His other hand crept lower until it just stroked the side of Jones' left buttock, and then stiffened and rapped against Jones' bottom in a series of quick, gentle taps. Getting the message, Jones turned himself around so that he was lying over Dan's abdomen with both legs hanging over the side of the sofa. Dan shifted over to the side to pull Jones further over him, so that his head and shoulders were trapped between Dan's sweaty body and the back of the sofa, overwhelmed by the smell of musk and dirt.

He turned his head as best he could, and could just make out from his confined position that Dan's head and arm were twitching. What he was doing was blocked from view.

Dan's head stopped moving, and his arm extended outwards. It touched down with three fingers, wet with saliva, between Jones' cheeks, and teased his crack gently and slowly. Jones arched and keened as the fingers slid over his entrance, his movement impaired by Dan's body pinning him to the sofa. The pressure deepened just slightly, the tips of Dan's fingers entering him, and Jones let out a long, desperate moan.

Dan shifted so that Jones could raise himself up a little, and he came up to find Dan's fingers waving in front of his face. He took them into his mouth without thinking, the thought of what those fingers could now be covered in only briefly occurring to him. It should have disgusted him; Jones knew that, but he couldn't help but smile to himself.

The fingers removed themselves abruptly, and Dan's other hand shoved Jones roughly back down into the sofa. His face was buried in the cushions, so his squeals were muffled when one slick finger wormed its way inside him. It twisted and wriggled, touching him in so many different places, spreading waves of pleasure far too wide to possibly be confined to that one small hole. Jones released a high moan into the sofa cushion.

He shuddered as another finger came to tease his arsehole next to the other, which was still fully immersed. He felt a cooling wave of air as the pressure on his body decreased when; and Jones had to look up to make sure he was actually seeing this, Dan sat upright and curled an arm around Jones' side, holding him in place against him. He moaned as the first finger pulled out slightly, and then gave a long gasp as the other slid inside with it. Dan chuckled, an odd, unfamiliar sound that sent vibrations through him; vibrations which passed through to Jones' body and made him tingle wherever he was touched, like pins and needles.

And then a burning fire ripped through his anus, and he cried out as Dan tore at his puckered flesh, straining and stretching his tight entrance with a rough enthusiasm that made Jones squeak into the cushions and writhe over Dan's body. Dan scissored and hooked his fingers, pushing forcefully against every tiny spot of the inside of Jones' arsehole. Jones cried and jerked with each thrust, pushing himself up on the sofa and arching his back, or burying his face and kicking his legs. As harder, crueller jabs pushed in deeper and deeper, Jones lifted his upper body from the sofa with a cry, and turned to look at Dan, gasping heavily. Even though Dan's face was blocked from view, he could almost see the brutish glint in his eye, and the tongue poking out between two rows of teeth inside a gleeful grin as he shoved his fingers more harshly into Jones' arse. The thought gave Jones a little flush, and he keened and pushed demandingly with his pelvis against Dan's abdomen, releasing higher and shorter gasps as his cock knocked against Dan's tense side. The fingers became more forceful, and Jones squealed loudly and dry-humped as hard as he could, trying his best to match Dan's uneven rhythm. He cried out in time to his thrusts, jerking and bucking as Dan's fingers pushed in further and further, eventually degenerating into jagged moans and crude shoves, his cock practically screaming with hot, painful friction against Dan's side, until a long warm spurt released him, covering Dan's skin and rubbing smoothly back onto his own cock. Panting, Jones' thrusts slowed, and he collapsed, exhausted, over Dan's moist body.

He heard Dan laugh, and managed to weakly pull up his head as Dan lay back again next to him. He felt Dan's sticky fingers wipe themselves on the side of his right buttock, and then one hand came to rest, just for a moment, on his still hip. Just a little later, it was removed, and Jones felt Dan shift under him as he reached down to the floor to retrieve his little plastic fan. A warm breeze flowed over them; just cool enough to relieve their sweaty skin, and just warm enough to spread a sleepy haze.

Jones straightened himself up and lay fully again on top of Dan, one arm curling around Dan's damp waist. He sighed, breathless and content. His energy was spent now. Not enough for him to sleep, but just enough for him to lie there, wide awake but peaceful, under the gentle breeze of the fan.