He was used to heat. It was only when he was hot and bothered that it became hard for him to deal with. For Toris, it was downright impossible to be inside the house, and that's how he ended up almost shamelessly in the yard, his shirt unbuttoned and nothing beneath his torso but his undergarments. Fanning himself with that morning's newspaper, the small strands of baby hair that had escaped his ponytail clung to his neck, and all Toris could do was close his lidded eyes and let the droplets of sweat lazily drip down his body.
"Oi Toris, I've been looking everywhere for you, but man I am so -" Alfred babbled, approaching the Lithuanian from behind. When Alfred saw Toris, he simply froze.
The heat was too much for Alfred as well, who was wearing nothing but shorts. Before, the American had retained modesty at all times, but ever since the pants incident, he'd just let himself be. However, Toris would do no such thing. Alfred had never even seen his bare torso, nor his calves or even his ankles. To find him suddenly, half-naked, it was more than enough to make Alfred stop for just a moment.
Jolting up, Toris began to hurriedly do his buttons, his face turning red. "Why all the modesty? I'm dying of heat," Alfred then said with a grin, plucking the abandoned newspaper and fanning himself.
Although his face didn't quite lose his color, Toris decided to simply comply, for his own comfort. His blood pounded with the need for two things, namely some shade and sex. He was a man, after all, and living in close quarters with Alfred didn't exactly give him an opportunity to relieve himself. Alfred was fanning himself, his great broad shoulders, dotted with a couple of freckles, covered with a shiny layer of sweat. His eyes drifted down further, and when Alfred said something he'd completely missed, the oh-so-cocky grin let him know that he'd been caught.
Toris may have a meek nature, but his enemies knew quite too well what happened when he took on a challenge. And right now, he knew that what he wanted stood right in front of him, wearing nothing but some shorts and suspenders. "S-Sorry?" he stuttered, fluttering his still heavy eyelids, taking a step closer as if he wanted to hear better. Alfred blinked his big blue eyes, before scrunching his brow. "Just wondering when we were going to eat lunch." "Now," he smiled, before walking in front of Alfred back to the kitchen. A sandwich was fixed up in a matter of minutes, and Alfred was slouching on the couch, listening to the radio while fanning himself with the newspaper. Maybe he just had a thing for blondes.
"Oi Toris, I've been looking everywhere for you, but man I am so -" Alfred babbled, approaching the Lithuanian from behind. When Alfred saw Toris, he simply froze.
The heat was too much for Alfred as well, who was wearing nothing but shorts. Before, the American had retained modesty at all times, but ever since the pants incident, he'd just let himself be. However, Toris would do no such thing. Alfred had never even seen his bare torso, nor his calves or even his ankles. To find him suddenly, half-naked, it was more than enough to make Alfred stop for just a moment.
Jolting up, Toris began to hurriedly do his buttons, his face turning red.
"Why all the modesty? I'm dying of heat," Alfred then said with a grin, plucking the abandoned newspaper and fanning himself.
Although his face didn't quite lose his color, Toris decided to simply comply, for his own comfort. His blood pounded with the need for two things, namely some shade and sex. He was a man, after all, and living in close quarters with Alfred didn't exactly give him an opportunity to relieve himself. Alfred was fanning himself, his great broad shoulders, dotted with a couple of freckles, covered with a shiny layer of sweat. His eyes drifted down further, and when Alfred said something he'd completely missed, the oh-so-cocky grin let him know that he'd been caught.
Toris may have a meek nature, but his enemies knew quite too well what happened when he took on a challenge. And right now, he knew that what he wanted stood right in front of him, wearing nothing but some shorts and suspenders.
"S-Sorry?" he stuttered, fluttering his still heavy eyelids, taking a step closer as if he wanted to hear better.
Alfred blinked his big blue eyes, before scrunching his brow.
"Just wondering when we were going to eat lunch."
"Now," he smiled, before walking in front of Alfred back to the kitchen. A sandwich was fixed up in a matter of minutes, and Alfred was slouching on the couch, listening to the radio while fanning himself with the newspaper. Maybe he just had a thing for blondes.
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