the ac is dead. it’s been dead since tuesday at like 2pm, when the compressor made this horrible noise and went silent. i went back to bed because what the fuck was i supposed to do about it. landlord’s not coming till monday. it’s friday and the house is a legitimate oven. 104 outside. 97 inside as of an hour ago, when june checked because she’s neurotic like that. there’s one box fan. one. we share it between the bedrooms and it does almost nothing.
i’ve been in shorts with my tank top off since 4pm, just existing in a haze of sweat. just rotting. the sheets are sticking to my back and i’ve stopped moving on purpose. i’m on my phone scrolling through air conditioning units we definitely can’t afford when june comes in.
she’s wearing one thing. this thin silver chain that sits right in the middle of her collarbone. her nails are painted dark purple and they tap tap tap on my door frame.
“take them off,” she says. pointing at the shorts.
“i’m already half naked.”
“take them off.”
june is like this. she decides a thing and the decision is real in her voice and you do it. it’s the bossy thing i’ve made fun of for a year and a half since we moved in. it lands different when we’re this hot. when she’s standing in my doorway with her cock already half hard and no pretense about what’s happening.
i look at her. she looks back. she’s got this exact smile, the one where her top lip does this thing. she knows what it does.
i pull the shorts off.
“better,” she says.
she’s dragged the box fan in from the living room, past the couch, and she sets it on my dresser and points it at the bed. it rattles, makes this wheeee sound that’s way too loud, and then cool air pushes through the room and it’s the best i’ve felt in actual days. i groan like it’s sexual and she laughs.
“come on,” she says, “we can make it sexual.”
“that’s not funny.”
“it’s kind of funny.”
she climbs on the bed and sits back on her heels. the fan blows the sweat-hair off her face. she looks good enough to be annoying about it. she reaches out and wraps her hand around my cock.
“been thinking about you,” she says. “been looking at you sweating all week.”
“that’s weird as fuck, june.”
“yeah. and?”
she strokes once, slow, and i feel it everywhere. the fan pushes cool air across my chest while her hand stays warm on my cock and my brain kind of short-circuits. i reach for her and she pushes me back.
“uh uh. you first.”
“first what.”
“first you take care of me. then i take care of you. then we figure out who’s fucking who.” she grins. that smile again. “literally and figuratively.”
i’m supposed to argue. i know this is my slot in the back-and-forth. instead i just move down the bed and put my mouth on her.
she tastes like salt and heat, and underneath that just her, the specific taste i’ve been learning for months. i lick her base to head and she makes this noise like relief. i keep going slow, because the fan is the only thing we got and i want her to slow down too. want her to stay here. her hand comes down on my head, heavy and still, and i go deeper. she’s getting harder on my tongue, thickening, the head hot in the back of my throat. i can feel her pulse in it.
“that’s good,” she keeps saying. “that’s so good. you’re so good at that.”
i like praise. i lean into it. when she says it like that, something low in my belly goes soft. i take her all the way till i gag, till spit runs down my chin and my eyes water, and her hips stutter and hold still, and i pull off and tell her, “you can. i want you to.”
so she does. she holds my head and fucks my mouth, steady and deep, and the wet sound is loud and the fan is loud and she’s saying my name. “bao. bao. bao.” like she’s checking i’m still there.
“gonna come,” she warns me.
i pull off and pump her in my fist instead, right to the edge, and she comes with her back arched. cum hits my chest and my hand and she’s making these shocked little sounds like she didn’t think i’d actually do it.
the fan blows across us both. she’s sweating more now, or that’s just the heat.
“okay,” she says, breathing hard. “okay. lay back.”
i kind of know what’s about to happen and my stomach does a flip. i lay back and the fan hits my face and she climbs between my legs and just looks at me for a second.
“condom?” she says.
“nightstand.”
“lube?”
“same place.”
“look at you. prepared.”
“i’m not prepared. i’m hopeful.”
she gets them out and comes back with this focus on her face now, her whole body gone serious, and it’s scarier sometimes than the bossy thing. she tears the condom open with her teeth and rolls it on her cock, still dripping a little, and then she unscrews the lube.
“tell me if you want to stop,” she says. “like, immediately. we don’t do the tough thing here.”
“okay.”
“i mean it.”
“i know you mean it. okay.”
she warms the lube in her palm and reaches under me and her fingers are cold against the heat of my skin. two fingers, slick, and she presses inside me slow. we’ve done this before, but it still has this moment where i can’t breathe and she stops moving and waits. the fan blows in this rhythm. i feel the lube dripping and i feel every bit of it.
“breathe,” she says. low.
i do. she goes deeper, fingers opening me up, curling, and i’m getting hard again which i didn’t think was possible. she notices and smiles that smile and adds a third finger.
“good,” she says. “that’s good. you’re ready.”
she pulls her fingers out and coats her cock with more lube and the moment before she enters me always makes my stomach drop. she pushes slow. her cock goes in hot and thick and she knows it’s too much, keeps going anyway, until she’s fully inside me and i’m full of her and the fan blows and i can’t think.
she lets me adjust. her hands are on my hips and she’s breathing hard, trying so fucking hard to hold still, and i can feel it.
“you can move,” i tell her.
“just—give me a second.”
“move, june.”
she moves.
she fucks me at this steady pace, pulling out and pushing back in, dragging across something inside me that makes my vision do this thing. my cock is between us, hard against her stomach. she’s getting faster and the bed is squeaking and the fan is wheeee wheeee wheeee and she’s got me folded up under her.
“oh fuck,” she keeps saying. “oh fuck, bao, you feel—”
the sentence falls apart. she keeps moving. i’m grabbing her shoulders. everything is heat and her and the specific sound she makes when she’s close. she grabs my hips and pulls me down on her cock as hard as she can and she comes, buried all the way inside me. i feel her throbbing, feel the heat of it even through the condom, and it takes like three strokes before i’m coming too, cum spilling between us, and she’s laughing breathlessly like she can’t believe this is real.
we lay there for like five minutes. the fan is still going. she’s still inside me. my hair is stuck to my face and i’m shaking.
“so,” she says finally, “who topped.”
“you did.”
“no but like. philosophically. who would you say—”
“you did, june. you’re inside me. that’s the definition of topping.”
“okay but i felt like you were in control of the situation.”
“i was literally on my back not moving.”
“you had command presence.”
i turn my head and look at her and she’s grinning, completely serious, and i can’t help it, i laugh. she pulls out slow and i feel the mess of us and the fan is still going. sweat and lube and cum are cooling on my stomach. we’re two dumb femboys in a beach house with a broken ac and one box fan and she still wants a philosophy argument about who topped.
the heat sits on the room like a hand. i close my eyes for a second and let the fan move air over my chest and down my legs.
my phone buzzes. on the nightstand.
landlord, it says. just got the part. should be there monday morning before 9am to install. will txt when i’m 10 min out.
june reads it over my shoulder.
“monday,” she says. “so what you’re saying is we got the whole weekend.”
“june, it’s 103 degrees.”
“exactly. we got the fan.”
she gets up and walks back to the dresser and adjusts the box fan so it points directly at the bed. then she turns around, naked, purple nails, that stupid silver chain, already half hard again.
“so,” she says, “do you want to go again or do you want to die in this heat.”
“both,” i tell her. “i want both.”
the fan wheeees. june smiles.
“knew you’d say that,” she says, and comes back to bed.
