(18+)
"I want to bend you over the table, tie your hands, and fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk the next day"
"Jesus, do you have childhood trauma?"
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"Harry, hurry up!", Chrissi screamed in her shrill annoying voice, halfway sitting in the black Van.
The sun aggressively burned them alive. People who like summer are literal psychopaths, this weather is the most accurate shit ever. Every human looks like a sweaty mess, with to tight shorts.
And not even water can help, all they advise is 'go swim, go outside', but Harry actually hated going out. Getting hugs from his sweaty manager, and the rest of his sweaty team.
He really despises sweaty people, it's just the type of wet he would rather not let near his body.
"Turn on the air conditioning," he sighed, remembering that he had to keep his 'Charming Gentleman' imagine on, and added with a smile that hurt the corners of his mouth, "Please.
In the van, it was what Harry imagined a microwave to be like. This must be what the Christmas chicken felt like. Oiled and ready to be fried to death. The sunscreen greasing his cheeks with SPF 50 made his skin itch, and if his too-tight trousers slipped again, he would lose his mind and smash something in the car.
Harry hates summer.
The car started to move, a cool breeze brushed through his sweaty hair, cooling the drops of sweat running down his neck.
The landscape consisted of cars and ugly houses. Loud honking and shouting from rushed drivers filled the morning atmosphere.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one who hated summer.
But who should be condemned for hating summer, you can turn it around however you want, it's a shitty season.
Not only was he too hot to jerk off this morning, no, even his iced coffee was half melted, not to mention the actually cold water he wanted to drink, surprise surprise, it was lukewarm.
A bad morning doesn't always mean a bad day, except in summer. Not even his morning ginger shot could cheer him up today.
And the day had only just begun, meetings awaited him in rooms without air conditioning and too many windows. Maybe even long drawn out conversations where he had to be over-friendly to get the deals, and listen to the talk needy old, rich, men.
The van stopped in front of the first stop. As expected, men in black suits, probably in their mid-forties, married (but most cheating on their wives). When she smiled, they showed their unkempt yellow teeth, and Harry had to pull himself together not to gag as the man leaned over the table and practically spat in his face as he talked.
He ran his hand through Harry's and unbuttoned two of the buttons on his light-coloured shirt. His eyes wandered to Chrissi, who did the same, her gaze fixed on Marcus, trying to look sexy but getting muddled, unbuttoning the wrong button.
"...And it should be ready in March next year, is that right for you?"
"Harry!" hissed Chrissi, kicking him in the shins under the table. His head snapped up, his shin ached. He looked into the eyes of the 20 sweaty men who had proudly presented their plan, the plan he had successfully failed to listen to.
"Wonderful, yes, it's perfect!"
He tightened the corners of his mouth into an overdramatic smile and shook hands with the gentlemen before finally packing his bags and getting into the car with Chrissi. On the way, they picked up matcha lattes that tasted like grass.
The second building they arrived at looked much more prestigious. They walked in and were greeted with fresh, cool air.
In the room stood 5 good looking men with loose ties. One in particular caught Harry's eye, his slicked back hair screaming dominance. The man in his forties, shook Harry's hand and held it a little too long before placing his hand on Harry's lower back and ushering him into the white painted consultation room.
Charming. Harry felt the man's gaze on him, so he began to play with his rings, and to put his head extra back when he drank from his glass bottle.
And it worked. Half an hour later, the older man pushed him into a toilet stall and fucked him hard against the cold wall that caught the sweat dripping from his forehead as his body bounced gently against the wall with each thrust.
"Slut," grumbled Chrissi who had been waiting in the hot car when Harry got in, hair tousled and shirt open in a place where the man, Zayn, had grabbed him by the shirt.
Harry shrugged, a satisfied expression on his face as he went to the last four meetings.
And he finally arrived back home in London after a shitty Monday. Already in the hallway he got rid of his clothes and left them lying around in the hallway without bothering.
Then he took a cold shower and lay down in the fresh sheets of his bed, with a cold pack on his stomach.
The curtains were closed so the air-conditioning kept the flat freezing cold, much to Harry's comfort, he ran into the kitchen and opened the large windows and sat down naked, with only a thin cloth around his waist, on the kitchen counter to eat watermelon from a glass bowl.
Harry looked out of the huge window at the grass and his pool, thinking about going back into the warmth.
He decided against it, with a glass of wine in his hand, he looked out of the window for a while before getting ready for bed, even getting dressed, before falling into the soft pillows, taking his sleeping pills, and falling into a sleep, too deep to hear a flowerpot fall from the window sill.
