Rating: R
N.B.: Set between To Stay With the Living (appearing in GFTTH2) and Nice Work if You Can Get It. Part one of the Cleaning Anthology, as thought up by shakespearespot and myself. ~RB
“It’s not that bad!”
“’Not that bad?!’ Trip, the place is a bloody pigsty!”
“Nuh-ah. J’st a little clutter!”
“Your clutter! I have to live here too you know. Allergies and messy living spaces are not a good combination. I’ve woken every morning this week with a runny nose thanks to you and your clutter. Now, clean it up!!” Sapphire eyes glinted dangerously, and Malcolm shoved a stack of PADDs and a duster at his lover.
Trip considered refusing to take the things, but thought better of it. Malcolm was really steamed. If he didn’t do his bit to keep the house clean, and do it now, his husband was likely to throttle him on the spot. He screwed up his face in resignation and took the objects. The PADDs he neatly stacked on his desk in his office and started dusting.
“Huh?”
“You can clean your private space after you clean the communal areas. Livingroom. Now.”
Damn. He trudged out into the livingroom, jabbing at helpless cobwebs with the end of the duster as he passed them. Moving about the room, Trip gathered up the tools, books, technical journals, and miscellaneous paraphernalia he’d left lying around, knocking the layer of dust off of each surface as he went.
He put on a stern face while Trip trundled past him to deposit an armload in his office. When the engineer had made several such trips, Malcolm took the duster from him and, doing his best to maintain his frosty decorum, gave him a new task.
The machine whirred on, and the blond started pushing it around the room. Free-roaming dust bunnies were sucked up by the powerful vacuum, and Trip diligently nosed the machine under the coffee table to catch their more fearful brethren. He even moved the chairs and sofa to clean up bits which had found their way under the furniture.
Malcolm was enjoying his self-appointed job of supervisor. The flex of Trip’s muscles under his thin T-shirt and tight blue jeans as he moved furniture and the vacuum was quite pleasing. Almost erotic.
Sweat trickled down the column of Trip’s neck, and Malcolm flicked his tongue out across his lips. Trip’s hand moved on the vacuum cleaner’s handle, nearly a caress, and Malcolm’s own jeans began to feel uncomfortably tight. The vacuum was shut off, and the sound of his own breath suddenly seemed overly loud to the Englishman.
He was very proud of himself when he managed to tell Trip to polish the wood without croaking.
“Not in there.”
Malcolm watched his recalcitrant spouse as he cleaned up his mess. It was a gratifying sight. Especially when Trip, facing away from him, had to lean over to pick something up. The man had such a nice ass.
“Looks clear enough to vacuum now.”
Trip looked as if he were going to protest, but Malcolm simply crossed his arms in front of himself, giving Trip the look, and his husband nodded, trudging away to pull out the vacuum cleaner. He was treated to another mouth-watering view of denim pulled taut over perfectly rounded ass as Trip leaned over to plug the machine in.
For his part, Trip was still a little stunned by Malcolm’s enthusiasm. After finishing up with cleaning the livingroom, Trip had gone to his husband, fully expecting to be directed to another area of the house needing to be cleaned. Instead, the small brunette had pulled him in for a hungry kiss and then literally dragged him up the stairwell and into their bedroom. What had followed was easily the most frantic, intense lovemaking session of Trip’s entire life.
Malcolm had totally abandoned his control and reserve, banging him like there was no tomorrow. Trip had come out of the experience well and truly fucked, as well as decidedly pleased with himself.
He really had to clean the house more often.
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Read Part 2 of the Cleaning Anthology.
