Yet another example of how my writing has descended into the world of smut. This fic was another written for Katelynn, via Skype messages and edited later for continuity...if a plotless fic such as this can HAVE continuity.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns these characters, as well as the AC franchise.

Shaun blearily looked into the neon face of the alarm clock: 3:45 AM, and still he had gotten no sleep. He had gotten no sleep because it was hot. No, the word "hot" didn't really do these conditions justice. Blistering, festering, boiling, searing-that was more like it. He was used to the mild temperatures of Great Britain, and had expected New York to be much the same. Clearly, he had set himself up for major disappointment. It wouldn't have been so bad, had the air conditioner been fixed from the last time it had broken; but that had been near the end of the summer, and Desmond hadn't seen much reason to waste the money on something they wouldn't need for another seven months. It seemed, however, that Mother Nature had decided to give the Big Apple a middle finger and make April a real scorcher.

85 degrees. Since when did it hit 85 degrees in New York at all, much less in April?

The sheets around his body had started to stick from his sweating, so he kicked them off, grumbling in disappointment when the effort did nothing but make him hotter. He looked at the clock again: Desmond wouldn't be back for another hour at least, and that was if the bar wasn't busy-which with Desmond mixing drinks, the likelihood of that was slim. Since they had moved back to New York he had reclaimed his title as "Most Desirable Bartender", an unofficial award which Shaun couldn't help but despise, especially when he was stuck here in a dark and empty apartment while Desmond was out and about, no doubt constantly propositioned by rich, attractive men. Shaun peeled off his boxers and threw them carelessly across the room. Now completely naked, he fell back onto the sheets again. Were there a breeze blowing, he would open the window, but the air was stagnant and unmoving, as if the entire city were caught in a doldrums.

He thought about calling Desmond about it and complaining, but there really wasn't any point. The bastard would just laugh and tell him to wait until the morning, he would be back soon and he would take care of it then. Sometimes he got the feeling that Desmond really didn't take him all that seriously—though he suspected it was hard to take anything seriously in a bar. Shaun tossed and turned on the mattress for a while before deciding that his efforts to get even a little sleep were really quite pointless and that a drink was a much better idea, since that was the way people fixed their problems nowadays.

The good thing—well, oneof many good things—about living with Desmond was that there was no lack of alcohol. Gin, rum, brandy, and vodka lined the corner cabinet walls, along with a number of other bottles that, in his relative ignorance regarding the world of spirits, Shaun couldn't recognize. He wasn't really sure what to drink, so he grabbed some orange juice and ice and decided to make a night of it. He had polished off a good half-bottle of gin when Desmond had gotten home an hour later, the smell of expensive perfume and cheap cigarettes clinging onto his clothes.

The first thing Shaun noticed was that Desmond was wearing suspenders, a new addition to his already disgustingly attractive uniform. The second thing he noticed was that he couldn't really see Desmond at all, save for the black-and-white of his outfit and the gleam of his cufflinks. Carefully, he rose from the dining table where he had set up camp and stumbled over to the couch, where Desmond sat removing his shoes.

"Shaun...you're naked." He chuckled and looked Shaun over, not at all disliking what he saw. "I wish I came home to this more often."

"Desssmond, I must say your powers of observation are as keen s'ever." Shaun muttered before plopping himself down next to Desmond on their sofa.

"You are also wasted. Why the hell did you drink so much? You know you can't hold your liquor, we established that a long time ago."

"Couldn't sleep. Too damn hot." Shaun's eyes, though fogged with alcohol, had started to adjust to their lack of glasses. Desmond was still sweaty and musky from the club, and the added heat of their apartment was only making it worse. He moved his gaze down from his Adam's apple, peppered with stubble; to his unbuttoned collar; then down to his chest, divided into thirds by his suspenders. "Wha's with the s'spenders?" He mumbled, slipping one of his fingers clumsily underneath the taut elastic.

"Yeah, it's a new thing. Women apparently can't get enough of guys in suspenders. They've come back into style, or something. It's just a way to get more business." Desmond moved his fingers down to the clasps at his waistband, but Shaun got there first, wrapping his hot fingers around the black straps and pulling Desmond on top of him.

"Don' you ever get sssick of people…takin' advantage of your looks? Like you're some…p-prize thoroughbred or somethin'?"

"Funny that you should compare me to a horse, the way you ride me all the time." Even in his drunken stupor the innuendo of that statement wasn't lost on Shaun, and he arched against Desmond provocatively and shot him a heated grin. Desmond returned it gladly and ran his hands over the contours of Shaun's bare body, pressing kisses to his damp chest.

"Why don' you hurry it up, Seabiscuit?" Shaun mumbled into Desmond's hair.

"Don't rush me, Shaun. We've got all night." Divesting himself of the remainder of his uniform he descended onto Shaun, stroking the insides of his thighs, the crook of his knees, the bony edges of his ribcage. The stubble on his cheeks scratched the soft skin of his neck and Shaun made a sound of drunken protest almost like a squeal; for the briefest of moments Desmond wished he had captured it to tease him with later, but when his pale legs wrapped around his waist it didn't take him long to forget that.

He kissed along Shaun's collarbone, pressing his tongue into the cavity and tasting the salt of the sweat that had gathered there. Goosebumps rose on his skin, even in the stifling heat. Shaun, in the meantime, had busied himself with awkwardly grinding his hips into Desmond's, and he had to stop and steady himself before he turned Shaun over and fucked him too quickly.

"Boy, for someone who can't think straight you sure know what you want." Shaun merely groaned and squirmed beneath him.

"Shhhut up. 'F you had just fixed the damn air condisssh'ner..." Desmond smirked and nipped at Shaun's ear, whispering softly into it.

"My mistake. I'll get it taken care of in the morning, yeah?" Shaun nodded and gripped at the cushion beneath him.

Desmond set his hands to work between Shaun's legs, stroking his cock with one and teasing his tight hole with the other. When he finally lowered his lips to the shock of red hair at his crotch, he grinned and watched Shaun's face as he slid the tip of his stiff erection into his mouth, lapping up the sticky bead of precome that had gathered there. The change in Shaun wasn't all that noticeable now; he often lost himself in their loveplay, and tonight wasn't any exception, save for the fact that there was less sarcastic commentary and more moaning.

Desmond wasn't sure which one he liked better.

Shaun had since buried his own hands in the armrest behind his head, digging his nails into the fabric so hard they nearly tore through. Every sensation was heightened in this heat, and it didn't help that his mind was blurred by the half-bottle of alcohol he tidily put away beforehand. It was all he could do to not thrust his whole cock into Desmond's mouth, and the way he was teasing wasn't helping matters at all either. "Desmond…fffuck."

"I'm getting to it, don't worry." Slowly, Desmond pushed Shaun's shaft further into his mouth, applying only the lightest amount of suction as he went. The index finger of his left hand had worked its way inside of him, and he was on the second when Shaun shivered and gasped, his hips bucking into the movement of Desmond's hand.

"Hey now, no fair. You can't come yet." Desmond took his mouth away from Shaun's cock and pressed a kiss to his thigh. As much whining as he was doing now, Shaun would thank him later…assuming he even remembered the morning after.

"Nnngh, you asshole...h-hurry..." Shaun groaned as Desmond rummaged around in the nightstand for the bottle of lube they kept handy for nights like this, nights that had been growing fewer and fewer since Desmond's work schedule had picked up. There was still plenty in the bottle, and Desmond used it liberally, combining it with his precome and the sweat that had accumulated on both of their bodies from the intense heat, which had even gotten to Desmond's head, giving him a euphoric, woozy feeling. He rode the sensation as he pressed inside of Shaun gently, and had to bite his lip to stifle the loud cry that threated to escape his lips.

It didn't take long for him to build up a rhythm, and soon enough the room was filled with the noise of their hot bodies slapping together and their voices straining with moans and gasps of pleasure. Desmond braced himself on the armrest behind Shaun and thrust harder, the beads of sweat that gathered on his forehead falling onto Shaun's chest and into his hair. "Sh-shaun...nngh..."

"G-get on with it...haah..." It took little convincing for him to finish them off, stroking Shaun with one hand and nearly breaking the couch with the other. He came quickly, Shaun following close behind, and buried himself inside of Shaun once more before collapsing onto him, pressing their burning foreheads together.

Shaun had exhausted himself, and he fell asleep easily against Desmond's body, heat or no heat. Desmond stroked his messy hair and grinned, pressing a kiss to his temple. Now all he had to do was make sure Shaun didn't find out that the air conditioner had been repaired the entire time, and he was home free. Sliding against the back of the couch, he pulled Shaun against him and closed his eyes. He'd fear for his life in the morning.