M is for Melt
Hot today. A slow, hot walk down a slow, hot sidewalk left Russell drained and defeated, ready for home. But not yet. He felt overdressed in a long-sleeved button-down and had considered removing a layer in plain view of the entire city, when he turned around to find Timmy, slightly annoyed that his assistant had had enough common sense to come out in a short-sleeved shirt.
Naturally, he wasn't his assistant today. No paycheck, no time clock. Funny how they were reluctant to admit to these little off-the-clock get togethers. Funny how everybody was aware of them.
When Timmy turned off course, Russell's feet obliged.
"Stopping, why?"
"Ice cream stand. Charming enough. Certainly hot enough, what do you say? I'll pay."
"You'll pay with my money? Sounds good."
Timmy rolled eyes with a sigh; he might have given rise to snark had Russell not pushed before him, ordering ice cream for the two of them, paying with his own money.
He came back with two cones, offering up a wink and a nod. "Little chocolate/vanilla action. Kinda like us, right?"
Timmy took a cone; he rose a brow, choosing to overlook the homoerotic overtones of the remark. "Mm. Yes." It appeared Russell was quite distracted, at any rate, by a shapely figure just near them. Sucking on a popsicle. Of course, what could be more cliche?
"Sir, you're likely to take somebody out with one of the eyes popping from your skull, shall we leave the poor woman to enjoy herself in peace?"
"Get a load, Tim..."
"I see her. Lovely woman, I'm sure she has a sparkling personality."
"Come on, tell me you're not imagining that popsicle's your-"
"No! No, I'm certainly not, nor should..." Timmy snatched Russell by a shoulder, forcing him to face him. "Nor should you. Now eat your own ice cream before it melts, and leave innocent women to remain unsullied by the likes of your eyes."
Russell took a large amount of ice cream against his tongue in annoyance, speaking with a full mouth. "Whatever."
That's when he first spotted it. Melting very slowly onto Timmy's hand, unnoticed in the midst of his tirade. White and creamy and dripping...
"Whatever." Timmy sighed. "Of course."
Russell was fixated on the ice cream streaking Timmy's hand. It didn't...look...quite right. He felt compelled somehow to react to it, to take action now as it made a line down the length...the length of Timmy's arm.
"...Sir?"
Sticky white sugar, melting down against warm, unforgiving...soft skin.
"...Okay, he's gone someplace. Still imagining the woman, are we? You'll be sorry to hear she's left."
Russell watched the slow line of dripping sweet temptation lost to flesh, meeting now with the faintest glistening beads of sweat, pulled forth from the heat of a cruel sun. Sugar and salt mixed together in a-
Lick him, Russell.
"Hellooo?"
Nnnng, lick his arm, suck his fingers, lick it lick it lick it...!
"Sir, what are you...?"
"ICE CREAM, on your arm, get the damn..." Russell turned a sharp circle, gnashing teeth sharply.
"Oh."
Russell turned back around to find Timmy drawing a slow tongue against his own arm; he turned back around with a low hum.
Ahhh, fuck...
"Things are certainly heating up," said Timmy.
"Yeah," said Russell. "Heating...up. You know what, I'm gonna just...snatch a cab..."
"Weren't we going to...?"
"You go on ahead, I'm just..." Russell let off a slow whistle. "Cab." And he abandoned Timmy to his ice cream, ever daring to drip slowly back down his hand and the length of his arm. "Nnng..."
"Oh...uhm...all right, very...very well."
Timmy carried on eating ice cream alone. Confused.
By the time Russell found a cab, he had done a fine job of easing himself back down. Just a bit of mental gymnastics.
Heh, that popsicle chick had sure given him one hell of a boner.