Summer lingered for an improbably long time in Schitt’s Creek, but when the cold finally came, it came on hard. One morning there was a nip in the air, the next day everyone dug out their jackets and scarves, and then in what seemed like no time at all there was a hard frost on the ground and flurries eddying down from the sky.
Patrick would have enjoyed it—he loved the change of seasons, and the cold weather was a welcome novelty after what had seemed an endless summer—except for one thing. When the heat came on in his apartment building, it also came on hard. His living space suddenly felt like the surface of the sun. There was no way to turn the thermostat down, and the building management claimed they’d look into it but seemed to have it down as a very low priority.
So Patrick had just filed a third complaint, but in the meantime, there was nothing to do but open the windows wide and throw off most of his clothes the moment he got home every evening. It was annoying going around in t-shirts and shorts in November, but he didn’t especially mind seeing more of David lounging about his apartment in short sleeves and boxer briefs. The trouble with that was, it made him want to do things which would require getting sweatier, and he was already about as sticky-feeling as he could bear to be.
One night Patrick got so fed up that he tried arranging his fan to blow across a bowl of ice cubes next to the bed. “What are you doing?” David asked, seemingly fascinated by watching him set it up.
“It’s kind of a makeshift swamp cooler,” Patrick said absently, angling the fan a few different ways to try to get it to blow directly across the ice bowl.
“I’m sorry, swamp cooler?” David sounded appalled.
“Remind me again never to take you caravan camping,” Patrick said, and kissed him. “Don’t worry about it. It works, sort of, don’t you think?”
David stretched out on the bed in front of the fan. “Sort of,” he said doubtfully, then sat up and fished one of the ice cubes out of the bowl and licked. it. “Know what works even better?” he said, and dropped the wet ice down the back of Patrick’s t-shirt.
“Hey!” Patrick shook the cube out and caught it, then swiftly rolled on top of David, pinning him down and attacking him with the ice, rubbing it over his neck and collarbones while David cried out and laughed and tried, not very hard, to squirm free.
“Mmm, that actually feels kind of good right now.” David reached over and took another ice cube out of the bowl, sucked on it briefly, then took it out of his mouth and pushed it up the front of Patrick’s shirt this time, tracing it in cold wet circles around his navel. Patrick shivered and laughed; it did feel good. “Take this off,” David suggested, plucking at the t-shirt fabric with his free hand, and Patrick pulled it off obediently. He was still on top of David, straddling his hips, but he didn’t resist when David flipped them both over to reverse their position.
David licked the dripping, slippery ice cube he was holding and hovered it over Patrick’s chest. “Can I?”
“Okay,” Patrick said, amused, and then sucked in a quick breath when David touched the ice to the tip of one of his nipples, delicately, just a teasing little freezing touch. “Oh. That’s...oh! Wow.”
“Good?” David moved the ice to his other nipple and traced it back and forth across the hard little peak of it, back and forth and around.
“Mmm,” Patrick moaned, feeling his dick rise and harden along with his nipples. “More.” David pressed the ice more firmly against him and held it there until Patrick was breathing in tight little whimpers, then took it away just before he thought he’d have to cry for mercy.
“Where else?” David asked, leaning over him with a happy wicked look in his eyes, letting the cube drip down onto Patrick’s shuddering stomach.
“Anywhere,” Patrick said, shivering with pleasure now. “All over. God.”
“Turn over,” David instructed, and held the ice cube between his teeth, dragging it slowly down Patrick’s spine. Patrick felt it settle in the hollow of his back, where David left it to melt while he slowly pulled Patrick’s boxers down and off.
“Okay, ow,” Patrick complained, because the iciness at the base of his spine was piercing right through him now, and David took the nearly melted cube off of him and leaned down to lap at the little icy pool it had left behind, warming Patrick’s skin again with the heat of his mouth.
“Still want more?” David murmured.
“Yeah,” Patrick said, because the confused sensation of too cold/too hot was making him want to fuck against the mattress. “Can...can you fuck me with an ice cube? Would that…”
“Oh, god, no.” David dropped the sexy murmur; he sounded startled and a little horrified. “You wouldn’t like that, baby. Trust me. There are other things we could do, though, if you want a little more cooling off.” He got up from the bed, and Patrick turned his head to watch him rummage through their toy box and pull out a curved glass dildo that they’d never used together. He held it up and tilted his head at Patrick, raising his eyebrows, and then put it into the bowl of ice.
“Oh,” said Patrick, very interested now. “Yes, please.”
“Mmmhm, and while that’s getting nice and chilled for you...” David popped another ice cube into his mouth, sucked on it for a bit, then shifted down lower on the bed and spread Patrick’s cheeks open with his hands. “Okay?” he asked, blowing softly onto his hole.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed again, trying not to tense up, but he couldn’t help it when David delicately flickered a very cold tongue-tip against the center of him. The ice was still in his mouth, and Patrick flinched and gasped. “Yes,” he said quickly. “God, that’s, yes. I like that.” He cried out loudly when David shifted the ice cube to press against him, just for a moment, and then withdrew.
“Just a quick preview,” David said primly around the ice, then spat it back into the bowl and reached for the chilled glass toy. He dried it on the duvet, tested the temperature of it against his wrist, anointed it quickly with lube, and spread Patrick open again. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Patrick said, a little breathlessly, and then the icy glass was pressing into him, slow and deep, inexorably cold against his sensitive internal tissues. “Oh,” he panted. “Oh. David.”
David stilled. “Too much?”
“Not...no,” Patrick got out. “Feels so good. So cold. It’s just...god, I can feel it so much, all the way inside, it’s...” He squirmed and gasped. “Oh, god, fuck me with it, please,” he begged.
David drew the toy all the way out of him instead, making him whimper at the sudden loss. “You’ll heat it back up if I leave it inside you,” he told Patrick. “Just a little at a time.” He dipped the tip of it into him again, and Patrick felt himself clench and spasm around the freezing penetration. Then it was gone again, leaving him with an icy-hot ache.
“You’re such a tease,” Patrick complained, writhing against the bed, and David stilled.
“Um, is that bad?” he said uncertainly. “We don’t have to, I mean—”
“No, it’s good,” Patrick assured him quickly, turning back over and putting a hand to David’s face. “I like it. I like being teased by you.” It was true. Nothing had ever been so fun, so playful, as sex with David; he’d never have been able to imagine anything like it, even a year ago. “Tease me some more,” he suggested.
David bit his lip, looking very pleased, and complied.
Twenty minutes later, Patrick was a throbbing, trembling wreck, caught between the hard icy glass thrusting deep inside his ass and the soft wet heat of David’s mouth enveloping his cock. “Don’t...don’t take it out again,” he begged. “I need, I need, oh god I need to come, David, now, please,” and David hummed acquiescence, speeding up the thrust and deepening the suck, which was just right, just enough to tumble him over the edge. “Yes,” Patrick cried out, and dug his fingers hard into David’s shoulders. “I’m...god, I’m gonna, I’m—right there, please, I’m—oh!”
David pulled off, just as he began to spill, and popped another ice cube into his mouth before bobbing back down to suck the shivering, laughing orgasm out of Patrick, pinching his nipples with icy wet fingers: a feast of sensation, a deluge, a flood. Patrick couldn’t figure out what to do with it all. He wanted to kiss David all over, one million times, but it was going to be a while before he could breathe properly; all he could do was gasp.
When he’d quit seeing stars and could feel his hands again, Patrick lifted David gently up off him and pulled the toy out of himself, groaned as it triggered one last shuddering aftershock, and then got up on shaky legs to go and clean it thoroughly in the bathroom.
“Why don’t you get us a fresh bowl of ice,” he called back to David.
“Why?” David challenged, still with a laugh in his voice. “You want to make another, what was it? Swamp cooler?”
“No,” Patrick said, returning to the bed, brandishing the clean cold toy. “I want to fuck you up. It’s your turn now, and I’m better than teasing than you are.”