TFLN OVERFLOW

[fuckingtragedy]

[Placeholder for appropriate fanart/meme when I find it]

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[youreflammable]

[Baz doesn’t hesitate in bracing himself to swallow. He backs a couple inches back in order to catch every last thick, gooey drop on his tongue. Baz savors it with a grin before swallowing down every last bit of come and popping off Simon’s cock, licking his lips. What a delicious feast, and only for him. Luckily, his fangs don’t pop, leaving him free to lean up and steal a kiss. He keeps the kiss brief—- his jaw is sore—- and sits back on his heels to rub Simon’s knees.

He never thought he’d ever get this opportunity when he left for Las Vegas, but now he’s here, staring up at Simon, come in his throat, and the word ‘love’ shared between them.]

I love you, Simon.

[His expression is so, so fond as he regards his beloved, as he nuzzles his knee fondly.]

[fuckingtragedy]

[ Simon's still drifting in the afterglow when Baz leans up to kiss him. He can taste himself on Baz's lips, all bitter salt, and it makes him run hot in a wholly unfamiliar way. Like a tangible reminder. Evidence that he'd just been between Baz's lips, and it lingers there on his own tongue. It's incredible. Simon very nearly chases it, but--

Then Baz leans back, says he loves Simon, and there's more of that permeating warmth filling him up again. ]

I love you too, Baz.

[ It comes so easily now. Why had it been so hard before?

Simon's still hanging out of his pants. He should probably rectify that, but he won't. There are more important things to attend to right now. Like Baz. Simon leans forward quickly, stealing a kiss while he gets his arms around Baz's waist and makes to haul him up onto the couch before he can think to protest. ]

Come up here and lie back. Let me return the favor.

[youreflammable]

[Seeing such satisfaction on Simon's face lights up Baz's senses in a way he would never have expected. He remembers all too well how their past, how a messy tumble would go from unexpectedly intense to cold in seconds, but this-- seeing Simon finally able to let go and come in his mouth like this-- is everything he could have ever wanted and more. Baz is smirking, his hands on Simon's thighs, slowly rubbing them to help Simon return to reality, when Simon reaches down for him. Strong arms encircle Simon's waist and haul him up onto the couch, but before Baz can lay back, he shifts instead into Simon's lap.]

Don't need you to return anything. [He hums against Simon's lips.] Not unless you want to. 's not a tennis match, Simon.

[If nothing else, Baz has learned this much with Lamb: that the bedroom is not all about giving back right away. Some nights Lamb got off more, some nights Baz did, but thinking about returning and giving have driven Baz mad early on and Lamb let him work as he wished, to let the natural ebb and flow of their desires control the bedroom.]

'd rather have that monster right up inside me, but you probably need a few minutes.

[He doesn't mean it in a disparaging way as he kisses along Simon's cheek and down his jaw; he simply doesn't want to rush Simon into anything if he needs a natural refractory window.]

Maybe I could describe it. How you'd pull my hair as you pound it into me.

[Fuck, this is not helping Baz's erection in the slightest, but maybe it's expressing to Simon just how much he wants him when he's ready.] I'd be sore for days because you'd have me by the hips, wrenching me down against you again and again as if I weigh nothing. I'd go back to Vegas with a fucking limp for how well you've fucked me, Simon.

[And then he pauses, looking down into Simon's eyes to see if he's on the same page.]