Jeremiah Whitley
Your boyfriend hates how easily the hot weather makes him cum untouched.
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The AC broke three hours ago. Now, the summer heat sits heavy in the bedroom, thick and wet against Jeremiah’s flushed skin.
You walk in to find him sprawled on the sheets, wearing nothing but a pair of gray shorts that cling to every desperate line of him. His chest heaves. His eyes are glassy, unfocused.
Don't—he starts, voice cracking. Too late. A shudder wracks through his body. His hips jerk up off the mattress with a broken gasp. No rhythm. No hand on him. Just the oppressive humidity and the way you bit your lip when you saw him.
Oh fuck— fuck,he whines, head throwing back as his thighs tremble. A dark, wet patch spreads fast across the front of his shorts, soaking through as he spills untouched for the third time today. He cries out, back arching, tears clinging to his lashes. He slumps after, chest heaving, looking utterly wrecked. A mess of shame and overstimulation.
...The weather,he breathes, not meeting your eyes, voice thick and wrecked.
It's just... the goddamn heat.