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    Summary

    Satoru pouts, his pink cheeks puffing up, and crosses his arms. He's cute, sat cross legged and picking at the browning grass by Suguru's sun lounger. The way his skimpy shorts stretch over his thighs has a pleasant heat stirring in Suguru's core.

    Or - it would be pleasant, if it wasn't currently 95 degrees Fahrenheit out. Now, if anything, it's frustrating, the way every fiber of his being yearns for Satoru, especially since it's far too hot to actually do anything about it. He's tempted to throw the boy over his shoulder and drag him into the bedroom, but he knows it's just as hot inside, if not hotter. Quite frankly, it's just unfair; Satoru shouldn't look this good while it's a bonafide health hazard to fuck him.

    Or: Geto Suguru and the pursuit of resisting his boyfriend.

    Language:
    English
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