Simon Snow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuckingtragedy) wrote2021-06-06 04:35 pm
fuckingtragedy) wrote2021-06-06 04:35 pmEntry tags:
TFLN OVERFLOW
[Placeholder for appropriate fanart/meme when I find it]
fuckingtragedy) wrote2021-06-06 04:35 pm
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Except that isn’t true. Simon doesb love him, has loved him this entire time, and it’s something Baz is still trying to digest. Every touch, though, reminds him of that love, of that quiet promise that he’s at least trying.
What Baz doesn’t expect is for Simon to move in closer, to fit himself into all the spaces where Baz lacks, chest to back, chin on his shoulder, and curling his muscled arms about his waist. They fit perfectly together like this and Baz feels remarkably safe here in Simon’s arms. Simon doesn’t need to ask if they can stay like this, Baz would be begging to do so.]
Please.
[Because being wrapped up in Simon’s arms like this does feel surreal, not just because of what happened six months ago, but also because of what’s been happening since fifth year, since Baz figured out he loved the boy he shared a room with. He imagined scenarios like this when he took showers--- when he was sure Simon was out, possibly with Agatha--- but he never imagined them coming true. Now they’re standing here together, after the most difficult six months of Baz’s life, and he can hardly believe it’s all true.]
I love you, Simon.
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[ There's only the briefest moment of hesitation before Simon returns the sentiment; just enough room for him to smile wistfully, and to wind his arm a little tighter around Baz's waist. There's so much to say, so much to do, Simon is almost dizzy from the options when there had been only a dearth before. He's overwhelmed (and that, too, would have scared him before), but the last thing he wants is to overwhelm Baz by asking him to hold all of Simon's feelings in addition to his own.
But he doesn't have to. Simon can handle it. He can hold space for them both. Until they're ready to talk about everything with a little more depth, or until they're ready to move to the next earth-shattering thing, Simon can maintain their borders and boundaries both. He just has to believe he's strong enough to do so now.
Doesn't stop his lips from wandering across the smooth curve of Baz's shoulder -- down to his arm, and then back the way they came -- until they're crawling bit by bit up the nape of his neck, nosing into his hair. And there, just beneath his ear, they pause for the slow scrape of teeth; careful, breathy, only deep enough to leave a faint welt in their wake. ]
Tell me, please. If anything isn't on. Or if it really is. I want to learn how to touch you right.
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But this is nothing like that. Simon’s lips slide along his shoulder and then back up into his hair. Teeth drag just behind his ear and Baz releases a breathy moan.]
Really on. Circe, Simon. Just about any time you touch me is really on.
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[ Simon's constantly at odds with himself, caught between warring notions that only exist in the battlefield of his own mind. It's always been too much or not enough with nary a degree of separation between, and that's what they're really battling with all this. That's why he needs Baz's confirmation, his blessing; he's fucked it all up so much in the past, and he can't rightfully expect Baz to know the right way to navigate all this either.
But maybe together -- if they're diligent about it, if they talk -- they can figure out which way to go.
Baz moans, and Simon's arm almost tightens around him, almost crushes their bodies tight, almost smothers him. Too much, Simon reminds himself. His arm trembles against the urge, and to compensate, his hand wanders instead. Drags across Baz's ribs and over his stomach, a soft touch spidering up his sternum, his collarbone, spread across his throat, until his fingers sink into Baz's hair and coax his head to the side. Cradled, while Simon's lips and teeth carry on, picking little love bites along Baz's neck and shoulder. ]
Keep telling me what you want, all right?
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For a moment, Baz stops breathing. From this angle, he’s almost certain the Simon can see the two purpled puncture wounds on either side of his spine, the evidence of his turn, in full view. But Simon doesn’t stop, must not see the scars and moves in to nibble one and that is more than enough for Baz to handle.]
Stop, Simon.
[The scars are still exposed—- he can feel Simon’s breath on them—- but he can’t bring himself to pull away.]
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It's as metaphorical as it is physical. He stops kissing, his hands stop meandering, every part of him winding tense as his breath halts. But more than that, his blood runs cold, a numbness that creeps down to his very fingertips, frosting over the walls that had been melting so quickly. Stop, Baz says, and it almost sounds like panic. Stop why?
He's oblivious. He doesn't know what he's done. The scars never even occur to him. It was going so well until it suddenly wasn't. And he's so used to running too hot too fast, he can only imagine this is more of the same. That he's pushed the boundaries too much, and it's unwelcome. Which is fair, really; Baz is only turning the tables, and he's well within his rights. ]
Sorry...
[ Simon's arms fall away, and cross over his own chest while he takes a step back. ]
Too much?
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No, my scars are back there. From when I was turned.
He sucks in a breath and draws up the long hair at the base of his neck to reveal the two dark purple puncture marks.
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[ Obviously he didn't mean to upset Baz. That probably doesn't warrant the breath it wastes to state it, and there's no point defending something he couldn't have known about. He won't insult Baz's intelligence like that either. Actionable words, he firmly reminds himself, and settles at last on: ]
I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful around your neck from now on.
[ But Baz isn't giving much indication that he cares to be touched again. So Simon takes another step back, eyes fixed on the floor. ]
I'll let you dress. [ It's an apologetic tone while he's hovering at the door. ] Take your time. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready.
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He steps back from Simon, just enough to carry him to the dresser . He pulls out a black cotton shirt to cover the burn as he turns back around, hoping Simon is still there, hoping he can undo what he has broken. When Simon is in the kitchen again, Baz moves to help clean up. He places a hand at the small of Simon’s back.]
Simon?
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Well. Simon hasn't exactly made a secret of the fact that he's a stranger to touch lately. Maybe that has something to do with it. Or maybe that Baz's hand is so close to the terribly-sensitive base of Simon's tail. Or that they'd never allowed themselves the simple pleasure of these casual touches before. Or that no one's ever touched Simon like this, right there, like Baz is now. Whatever the reason, Simon's not expecting his bodily reaction to it.
Namely, the hard shiver it immediately sends up his spine, one that even a roll of his shoulders and a shake of his head can't disguise. He braces his hands against the countertop, huffing out a quietly humorless laugh while he struggles to restart all the thought processes recently deceased from mortification. ]
Baz?
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Was that a good shiver?
[He’s taking a step
closer, just one, to absorb some of the heat from Simon’s body. His kingdom for a good shiver from Simon. If this is a good spot, it’s easily accessible and a place Baz can touch through clothes.
But first he has to confirm.]
Or a bad shiver?
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[ That might have come out a little too quickly -- a little too eager -- but Simon's not about to pretend this is anything but what it is. Baz wouldn't believe him if he tried to play it off anyway. He draws a slow breath to steady himself, and glances over his shoulder at Baz. ]
Wasn't expecting it.
[ Possibly the lamest excuse he could offer, but it'll do. ]
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He holds up his hand for a moment, telegraphing what he’s about to do. No surprises, nothing unexpected as he starts the long drag of his had between Simon’s shoulder blades and then settling in the small of Simon’s back once more.]
How about now?
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His body is honest enough anyway. Baz's hand drags down his spine, and Simon can't suppress the way he trembles, fingers twitching on the countertop, moments away from losing his resolve completely. But more importantly, he's allowing himself to feel this pleasure. He's not questioning it or running from it, even if he's still wrestling with fully coming to terms with it. ]
Even better. [ Simon's a little breathless, even through a soft laugh. ] You might've found something there.
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The only thing he could ruin this, he realizes too late, is how insistently his cock now presses against Simon's thigh. If Simon doesn't reciprocate, then this night is over. Completely, utterly over. And Baz will have to take the long walk back to his hotel in shame.]
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Simon can't find his bearings anymore after Baz's hand creeps beneath his shirt. It's all automatic after that. Instinct, maybe. Something natural that has him turning as he's guided, hands slipping beneath Baz's jaw when their lips come together again, holding him firm into the kiss that follows.
They don't stay there. Baz is pressed tight to Simon's thigh, cock hard and insistent, and Simon immediately resolves to make it worse for him. His hands drop to Baz's hips, fingers hooking into his belt loops to yank him closer, pull them flush, and push his thigh harder between Baz's legs.
The night's been a roller coaster since Baz stepped through the door. Simon's exhausted from navigating the minefield of his own thoughts, and the emotional whiplash of this when Baz was telling him to stop not two minutes prior? Maddening, at best. And still, he deepens the kiss, rides his leg along Baz's cock, and his heart soars. Fine. Fine. At least he can exhaust himself in a flood of Baz's taste. At least he can drown in the pleasure of Baz's hands through the crash. It's all well fucking worth it, if this is his reward. ]
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His cock hardens further against Simon's leg, especially as Simon begins to move. He rides his thigh against Baz's cock and it's all Baz can do to not move both hands. As it is, the one on Simon's jaw slides down Simon's front, pausing just a moment before easing Simon's front. Now he has a Simon sandwich, encased in two cold vampire hands. Yet, he doesn't stay there for two long.
As he kisses the life out of Simon, he's trying to figure out if he should maneuver his hand up to explore Simon's muscled chest, or down, to where he's sure to get a much more delicious reaction.
Baz takes a risk on down, carefully inching his cold hands beneath the hemline of Simon's jeans. He's ready to pull back at a moment's notice if needed, though.]
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The jeans are tight. They feel tighter by the second, but it can't be easy slipping into them as-is. Simon curses quietly against Baz's lips, and reaches between them to undo the front of his trousers, easing them away to allow Baz's hand an easier path inside. And there--
Simon doesn't want to know what Baz has gotten up to in Vegas with Lamb. He could let his mind wander -- draw some likely and accurate conclusions -- but it's probably better that he doesn't. But one thing Simon can take solace in, beyond any shadow of a doubt, is that this is one arena where he's definitely got Lamb beat. As it turns out, giving himself dragon parts was as much of a blessing as it was a curse; Baz just hasn't been privy to why until now. Until Simon pushes his jeans away, and Baz is suddenly handling more cock than he's ever seen on one person. ]
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[That doesn't stop his touching, only his kissing momentarily as he eyes Simon's immense cock. Actually immense doesn't even describe it properly, it's veiny and thick and bulbous in ways Baz has never and his mouth is watering with the desire to get his mouth around even just the tip. Slowly descending to his knees, Baz keeps the hand previously on Simon's back smoothing down the back of Simon's thigh. When Baz is eye to eye with Simon's cock, his mouth is filled with more than enough saliva to help him at least attempt a half-decent blowjob.
Opening his mouth he dips onto Simon's cock, delighting in the stretch of his lips that comes with such a sizable feast.]
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Once upon a time, Baz would never have gotten this far. They'd be kissing, searing, melting; all devastatingly sexy until it was -- suddenly and without warning -- too hot for Simon. Maybe when their hands began to wander a little too far, or when Simon's teeth dug in a little too hard, or when Baz's moaning pitched a little too needy. Simon would pull on the reins, slam the brakes, and they'd both walk away from it frustrated.
Fuck, no wonder Baz left. Simon can look at it from a more objective angle now. After hearing Stop on Baz's lips like that, after feeling the abysmal despair he immediately spiraled into. If he had to hear that every time they touched, his self-esteem would be in tatters.
No. Baz wouldn't have gotten a hand in his pants, wouldn't be in quiet awe of Simon's size, wouldn't be falling to his knees and fitting his mouth around Simon's cock. But he is now. And despite how Simon's knees buckle through a low groan, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he scrambles for purchase on the countertop, one hand casting out to keep him upright while the other sinks deep into Baz's hair.
Holy fuck, nothing in the entire world looks better than Baz's lips around Simon's cock. He's helpless for it already. ]
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He can't believe he's so lucky that he gets to suck Simon off like this. Even just this much, even just a few inches is more than he ever got before. Having Simon's hands in his hair is more than the past. He distantly wonders when Simon will burn too hot or push him away for the intensity of the contact, but Baz refuses to think of the what if's in this moment.]
Couch. [He murmurs when his lips pull off Simon with a lewd pop.] So you don't fall.
[If there's anything he's grateful to Lamb for, it's that he's learned all kinds of new positions and helpful tips about blowjobs, not that he'll ever mention that to Simon.]
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And where is that refusal coming from? Reasonable therapy brain is engaging again. Fuck, this really is exhausting, but-- It's a reasonable request. He wants you to be comfortable. So what's the problem? Afraid. Why? Because what if those five paces to the couch is time enough to break whatever spell you're both under, and one of us pulls away again?
So keep him under your fucking spell, stupid.
That entire mental exchange feels like it's take an eternity, but in reality, it's only a fraction of a second. Baz isn't left waiting long. ]
Then you'll have to come with me, won't you?
[ Baz barely gets any warning before Simon's crouched down and braced both forearms under Baz's ass and thighs. That's all the leverage Simon needs to bodily haul him up, and heft him -- lips crushed together as they go -- the few careful steps to the sofa. Once there, an ungainly flop, and they've officially reached their destination still kissing. ]
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But he has no time at all to dwell on that because Simon lifts him, hefts him from the ground to kiss him. Baz can't really complain because *he's kissing Simon Snow.*. Baz curls his arms about Simon's shoulders, grateful for Simon's time in the gym because *Circe* the muscles working beneath his arms are absolutely sinful.
The couch interrupts some of that, Baz realizes, but being at the couch also means that he can back to sucking Simon's cock.]
I was planning to. [Unless you pushed me away, goes unsaid as Baz slides down Simon's body and nudges his legs apart to give him room to resume his work.] Did you think I wouldn't?
[Actually, maybe, don't answer that because Baz is once more sliding his mouth onto Simon's cock, smooth and covering the head with his lips.]
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Not just the pleasure (which is incredible, lest he try to downplay the way it's saturating him right to his core), but everything else that goes along with it. Baz's eagerness, the kisses he bestows without mercy, how easily he falls against Simon and how quickly he slides to his knees, and the breath he unapologetically steals when his lips wrap snug around Simon's cock. It's never felt like this. Not with Agatha, not with Smith. And with a sudden shock of clarity, Simon understands why.
It's different when it means something. When he knows how Baz's lips look wrapped around his cock and around I love you's both. It's better when he can look Baz in the eye and see his own pain reflected back at him. Because it means they're moving past it, that they're here, together, despite everything. And that?
Simon doesn't bother to stifle the deep groan that escapes him when he sinks a hand into Baz's hair. ]
No... Just-- Fuck, Baz...
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He sucks and pulls at Simon's organ, attempting to inch his way the rest of the way down, but Simon is massive. With practice, this would be easier, but on the first night, after not weeks of not sucking anyone's cock, he doubted his ability to swallow all that girth in one go. So, he brings up his hands for help, stroking what he can't quite fit in his throat.
There is one advantage he has from his limited experience at least, one tool in his toolbox he's willing to pull out. One of his hands slides beneath Simon, fingers curled around his balls and gently massages before squeezing.]
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