In the Heat of the Night
It had been another hot, still, oppressive day in a long, seemingly endless progression of such. Moisture hung in the air, its clamminess almost smothering him. The night brought with it no relief and Ethan’s shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin. No matter where he sat in the tiny flat, or what he did he could not get comfortable. He hated this heatwave, it was too hot to go out, too hot to stay in, it was even too bloody hot to shag. He looked over at where Ripper was sprawled, shirt off, bare feet propped on the arm of the settee, his head tipped back against the other arm as he fanned his neck and chest with one of his precious spell books. The sight of his lover all bare skin and sweat-sheened should have made him feel better—it should have, but it didn’t. All it served to do was remind him once more of the infinite list of activities that the weather prevented.
With a frustrated snarl he spun around, heading for the bathroom and a nice cool bath. He turned on the taps and after slipping out of his clothes he watched as the tub slowly filled with the cool refreshing water. An arm slipped around his waist, pulling him back against a strong chest.
“Mind company?” Giles murmured against his ear.
Ethan smiled slowly; maybe the heat wasn’t so bloody awful after all.