Dean/Blaise (too hot to cuddle)
They lay sprawled on the bed, chests heaving and sweat trailing, the air too warm to cool them off. Dean stared at the ceiling, tracing lines between the little water spots and start of cracks, a familiar constellation all their own.
The mattress jostled him as Blaise shifted beside him, rolling onto his side and lifting an arm to drape over Dean. Dean made a sound of dismay.
“Oi. Absolutely not.” He pressed his knee into Blaise’s abs, trying to keep him away. “It’s sweltering. Stay back.”
Blaise tsked, broad hand dropping to curl around Dean’s thigh to force his leg straight. “Just for a minute,” he murmured, already rolling closer.
Dean laughed, trying to hold him off but though he was the taller between them, Blaise had at least two stone on him. He pressed Dean to the bed easily, arms coiling around to trap him in a hug that felt approximately eight hundred degrees C.
“You’re the worst,” Dean complained forlornly, trying to get his knee up again. Their chests were slick, accentuating the already-oppressive heat of the summer evening.
Blaise hummed an agreeable sound into his ear, nose burrowing into the sweat he’d called forth only minutes before, filling their room with the scent of salt and musk; sweat and sex.
“I can’t cuddle you just for a minute?” he said, tone intentionally miffed. “After you were just so, so nice to me?”
Dean scoffed. “I’m always nice to you.” He tried to wiggle out from under Blaise again. “This feels like a punishment.”
Blaise chuckled, teeth finding Dean’s earlobe and giving it a gentle graze. “I’m happy to remind you what a punishment actually is, if you like.”
“Ha.” Dean nosed at Blaise’s cheek, encouraging his face up. Blaise responded at once, lifting up so he could find Dean’s mouth and slant a kiss over his lips. So easy.
Dean used the distraction to flip them over, rolling Blaise onto his back in a quick motion and following him over, hands grappling for his boyfriend’s thick wrists and circling them easily, pinning his hands to the bed as he sat astride his hips.
“I said,” Dean drawled, eyes glinting with his victory, “that it’s too hot to cuddle. I’m going to go open a window, and you’re going to lay there nicely and not touch me.”
“For how long?” Blaise asked, lids slipping to half-mast as he observed Dean above him.
Dean hummed thoughtfully, pretending to think as he shifted over Blaise exploratorily, then grinned. “Feels like less than five minutes.”