Chapter Text
SIMON
Baz took me to a play tonight – the Harry Potter play. I really, really liked it. Like a lot. Not so much for the Harry Potter storyline, that was kinda bollocks if I’m being honest. But because the actors and the whole production were stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was quite frankly, magic. It felt the most like magic that I’ve felt since last Christmas. I’ve never been to a play before.
He takes my hand as we file out and says, “Did you think Harry and Draco were as fit as I did? I kinda wish they’d gotten together instead…."
“Babe, not everything has gay subtext."
“If you say so,” he says, eyebrows raised in exaggerated incredulity. And then he wraps me up in his arms, elegantly shifts my weight and dips me back like a ballroom dancer, planting a sensual kiss on my lips. Then he scoops me back up and says “I’ll gay your subtext anytime.”
I roll my eyes and pretend to be embarrassed but secretly just want to lie down and let him kiss me some more. He suggests we grab some dinner before heading back home, and I consider sharing my last thought with him – about the lying down and the kissing – and decide I can put that on the back burner for a minute. I can always eat. Baz is really good at picking restaurants too, the posh git.
We pop into something that looks like a gastropub, but I can tell by the outfits the customers are wearing that it’s probably got a Michelin star or two. Baz is walking slightly ahead of me and I can't help but stare at his ass in the fucking fittest pair of jeans I’ve ever seen him in. Crowley, I could use a drink. I don’t think I’ve been this hot for him since all the shit went down last year. Maybe at Leaver’s I guess. I wanted to shag in our room at Munner’s, I swear I did. I don’t know why I didn't. We just laid out under the stars the whole night, reliving the time that we walked amongst them. There was excellent snogging. Over the clothes heavy petting even. But no shagging. I didn’t even go back to his – I mean our – room. I just couldn’t get it together enough for that. I’m growing slightly agitated just thinking about Watford, and I swear Baz can sense it the moment my pulse elevates even slightly. It’s like dating a mind reader.
He swings his gorgeous face around and searches my eyes for signs of why I’m freaking out. Just to mess with him, I put on the calmest, happiest face ever, like I have absolutely no idea why he might think I was anxious. He just gives me a relieved smile and firm squeeze of my hand as he pulls me closer to him in our dim booth. The things I could do to him here…. I should…. Maybe I will…. I probably won’t. I need to stop thinking so much and act on some of these feelings. What if he thinks I don’t fancy him as much as he fancies me? He’d have to be an idiot, right? And he’s no idiot. Everyone can see I’m obsessed with him! I try to ignore the voice in my head that reminds me he was suicidal once… that he has at least as many issues as I do ... especially when it comes to feeling worthy of my affection. I should try harder to show him how I feel, not just think about it all the time.
BAZ
Oh goody, the thousand yard stare is back. I could have sworn I felt him panic a minute ago, but he packed it away as soon as I noticed. I should try to be more subtle about reading his biometric measurements. That’s probably a creepy thing for your boyfriend to do to you all the time. Making mental note.
He was adorable after the play, and I don’t know if I imagined it, but maybe even a bit lustful? for a minute? Then he panicked and now he’s….gone. Where the fuck does he go? I like to think of him wandering happily among the stars I once cast us into. That’s where I go about 50% of the time I’m daydreaming. OK, 25% of the time, at most. The other times we have no clothes on.
But I know it’s not there he gets off to in his mind. More likely the top of the White Chapel. Either killing the Humdrum or almost being killed by the Mage. Fucking MAGE. God, I hate that bastard more now than I did before. More than I did the day I found out he sent the numpties and the vampires and killed my mother and ruined my life. Every day I find new side effects of the colossal mindfuck he performed on Simon Snow his whole life. I hate him with the passion of a billion fiery suns.
And now Simon’s back to earth and waving his hand in front of my face, trying to find out why I look like I’m about to go full-on vicious vampire and kill everyone in this place. Shit. I’m the creepy boyfriend again. Get your shit together Baz. Tell him he looks lovely tonight. He looks like the sun. Like a million puppies. Like my white knight. His soft hand rises to stroke my cheek, searching my eyes, and he smiles and laughs a little when he finds softness there. Christ what a pair we are. I just want to kiss it all away. “I love you.” Oops, I think I said that part out loud.
I’m not worried though. He knows it. I’ve basically said it in a bunch of different ways already.
I’m not worried, but I nervously raise my gaze to see how he is reacting to the first time I actually said I love you. Aw, fuck, he’s smiling that million watt smile of his. He leans in and places his soft lips on mine for a sweet wet kiss…just lips pressed against lips. After a second, he lets off the pressure of the kiss, but he leaves his lips lingering there on mine as he murmurs “I love you too, darling.” Darling! I let out an embarrassing noise halfway between a squeal and a grunt. I can’t help it, relief courses through every part of my body. I let my head fall down to his shoulder and I bury myself there. Softly pressing my nose and then my lips to my favorite mole. The one I kiss at least 15 times every time I see him. I’m so happy he loves me back. I didn’t even know I was worried about that until just now. An enormous weight is lifted off my shoulders. I feel happier than I have in months….possibly ever, actually. I let out a deep breath before summoning enough courage to leave the safety of the crook of his neck and face him again. He seems surprised that I’m reacting like this.
“Did you not know, love? Did you think I had any doubt about my feelings for you?”
“I don’t know Snow. I just really liked hearing it. And saying it. I’m just glad I can finally be open about it. Simon. My love. My boyfriend. My Simon.” I remembered to say his first name there at the end. And then said it again. It gets him so fucking hot and bothered. Why do I always forget to use that weapon against him? I really am bloody thick. Probably could’ve gotten us here five times faster if I always remembered to say it. But old habits die hard. And, anyway, I’m pretty okay with how long it took us to get here.
I’m in no rush. I want him for my whole entire life. Not just for a little while. I’m not even trying to hide it – from myself anyway – I’m not sure he’s ready for me to tell him I want to spend my entire life with him. He probably knows it deep down though. I would propose right this second, without a single hesitation, if that's what he wanted right now. I literally want nothing more than Snow, all the time, forever. But I also love that there’s still much more to discover and find out. Like how he looks when we’re making love. When he comes. How he tastes. I still don’t even know what his cock looks like. That’s how fucking G-Rated we’ve kept this so far. Like some kind of Victorian novel. Sleeping together nearly every damn night while denying ourselves what any normal horny red-blooded 19 year old boys in love would obviously be doing all the time. It’s not because we’re punishing ourselves. We’re pacing ourselves. I know that. It’s fine. It’s good. I’m glad we’ve done it. I’m starting to crave a little bit more, that’s all. I crave and obsess over physical intimacy with him the way I used to crave and obsess over shared glances between us, any interactions with him. I’m hard right now just thinking about the potential of being with him like that, and it’s been 24 hours since I had any blood. Christ where is the blood in my cock even coming from, I must be paler than pale. I must be negative white. Simon’s saying something now. Better tune in…
“Baz, what do you think about acting? Like as a career?”
“For you?”
“Yeah,” Snow says, turning a bit crimson around the edges. Why is he embarrassed? “I was wondering if I’d be any good at it. I’ve got all these big … feelings … all the time, you know. I still feel so … messy. So about-to-go-off all the time. All that energy is still there, it’s just that it doesn’t have any way out of me like it used to. That’s why I’m such a basket case. I wonder, is acting a good way to channel it out? I just really loved watching that play. The actors. They were SO GOOD. I wish I could be that good at anything. Anything other than magically blowing shit up, that is.”
“It seems like a great idea, love. I bet you would be good at it. And God knows you’re fucking gorgeous enough. People think Leonardo DiCaprio is the hottest thing in the world, and you’re at least twice as fit as he is. Hmm. Come to think of it … no… I don’t like this idea very much.” I smile warmly while also instantly starting to grow jealous of the imaginary future costars and adoring fans who will undoubtedly try to steal him from me and shag that adorable puppy look off his face. “What?” I recover quickly.
“I was saying I should change my schedule first term, try and get in a theatre class, yeah? No point planning a new career when I could be full on shit at acting.”
“I very much doubt that. Despite what I painstakingly tried to make you believe all those years – Because I was a gigantic asshat and I’m sooooo sorry about that, love – you are really good at pretty much everything, and everyone who meets you loves you instantly. And it hasn’t gone away even a smidge since you lost your magic. And you know that, don’t you, you cocky git. You actual nightmare. Or do you not see all the extra smiles and long double takes you get from every goddamn barista, waiter and check-out boy and girl in London? Christ. Just think of the lovesick TAs you’re going to encounter. I didn’t think this crush through. I’m literally going to have to make beating people off you with a stick my full time job. Father will be so disappointed.” Simon is smiling and beaming because he can tell I’m joking and because he loves to be complimented like this. Who doesn’t?
“Heh, beating people off,” Simon says. Because he’s a moron, a 5 year old. “Hey Beavis, how bout you figure out what you’d like to order, so I can take you home and wipe that smirk off your face.” Christ, I want to dip down in this booth right now. Or take him to the restroom and…. Wait. That’s not exactly the proper way to have your first time with your first and only love, I suppose. The cravings are growing stronger by the minute. I think it’s because I can actually feel him opening up more, every second, right here tonight. I don’t even know what’s changed. Maybe it’s this acting idea. Maybe he finally landed on something that excites him half as much as magic did. But there’s a bigger spark behind his eyes than I’ve seen in a long time. It’s almost exactly like Old Simon is back. Hallelujah.
I place my hand on his upper thigh and give it a squeeze, lightly grazing the side of his off limits parts. It’s more liberty than I’m used to taking. I’m rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and then a soft moan as Simon bites his lower lip and his eyes glaze over a bit. This goddamn dinner was a terrible idea.
“We’ll have the pizza margherita – to go please,” Simon tells the waiter. That’s my boy. My hand, which has migrated to between his thighs, just below the promised land, scoops around to grab hold of his perfect ass. “You won’t regret this,” I whisper hoarsely. He lifts his lust-filled eyes to mine and brings our lips together. He enters my mouth eagerly and dominates it. It’s. so. good. God his kisses are so fucking good. He’s fully hard now, I can feel it pressed against my forearm. I have little doubt that Mr. Chosen One has a big and beautiful cock. Everything I have gleaned so far points to this. I also doubt he will be disappointed in me. As long as I’ve had some blood, I’ve got nothing to worry about. That reminds me. I’m going to have to use that packet of blood I’ve got saved in his fridge. A detour for a feed will simply not do.
I am beginning to wonder how far we’re really going to take this tonight, now that we’ve both fully indicated our intention to take this somewhere.
The mind reels at the possibility. I wonder if he will let me take him. It’s what I so long to do. I’ll be okay if he wants to go the other way. I understand. It’s just, I love him so damn much, the way Romeo loved Juliet. He’s so precious to me. And something deep, carnal and paternalistic in me just wants to take him, own him, and come deep inside him. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone. I wonder what it is he really wants?
SIMON
Oh. My. God. I don’t even know what is happening. But… yeah … this is happening. It’s finally happening. And ... I’m ready. I want him. I want him badly. I want him to take me tonight. Is that too fast? We’ve never really done anything with our clothes off. I think it’s like we always knew once we go down that road, there’s no going back to this sweet innocent courtship place. Like that phase will be over. Am I ready for that phase to be over? Am I ready for the non-stop fuck fest this is bound to become. Because it’s us. And we’re so fucking hot for each other. We’re combustible. Honestly, I hope Baz doesn’t combust when we do this. I would, I think, if I were as flammable as he is. I’m burning up right now. For once, I think it’s good that I don’t have magic anymore. What if I went off like a bomb on him during sex? What if I couldn’t help it, and he got hurt. Or I destroyed the apartment. But god, I bet it would’ve felt good though.
After a brief pause to mourn the loss of what an explosive magickal orgasm mindmeld with Baz would've felt like (GODDAMNIT WHY DIDN’T WE FUCK IN HAMPSHIRE, WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE THINKING?!?) I come back round to being excited about the gorgeous bloke who is currently, unbeknownst to anyone in this restaurant right now, applying pressure to both my cock and my ass at the same time right now and driving me Up. The. Wall. And I cannot wait to experience Normal sex with him. He probably thinks I want to fuck him, just because of you know, being with Agatha before, but I don’t. Somehow my body, the remnants of my magic maybe? are telling me that what I want is for him to fuck me. I want to be dominated by him. He’s so fucking high and mighty, so fucking cocksure, and I am so fucking here for it. I want him to take control of me in every way. Shit, I think I might come right now just thinking of it. I’m burning up. Like I think I might actually go off. I just wonder in what way. It feels remarkably similar to the way I used to feel with magic. Am I blurring slightly at the edges, or is it my imagination?
BAZ
I stiffen slightly because I smell Simon. Old Simon. His magic. What the actual fuck? Why am I smelling it? Is my sex-addled brain hallucinating it or is it real? God knows I’ve got sexual tension pent up for miles in that smell. Maybe I’m just imagining it. Even if I’m not, I do not want to let on to Simon that I am smelling it. He doesn’t need that kind of pressure or disappointment in his life. I DON’T NEED THAT KIND OF PRESSURE OR DISAPPOINTMENT IN HIS LIFE. I NEED TO GET LAID FOR CHRIST SAKE. For the love of all that is magic, don’t fuck with us right now, Simon’s magic!