“C’mere,” Baz says, tugging very gently at the bottom of my wing.
I do so, carefully straddling his lap and dropping my hands to hold onto his shoulders lightly. I softly run my thumbs over either side of his neck, enjoying the goosebumps that appear after my fingers. Baz keeps his cool hand slowly running along my wing, just teasing me with his presence.
Everything that we’re doing right now is teasing . Baz has had me in bed for at least an hour now, just running his hands over me and kissing me breathless. I’m returning it the best I can, but he’s really good at tormenting me, especially when he wants to get fucked (which is almost always. Horny vampire bastard). We’ve only had proper sex a few times (we do plenty of other things), but I can tell this is revving up to be one of those times.
Baz moves his hands to slide around my waist and back, digging his nails into the skin just for a moment. I gasp and shy away from his touch initially, pressing my chest into his.
“Christ, you’re torturing me,” I say softly, ducking my head to suck at his jaw and run my tongue over the soft mark I leave. (The mark won’t last long, but it looks pretty right now).
I can feel Baz smirk against my ear and he bites at my lobe softly. “Who, me?”
I tug back and roll my eyes at him. “Prick,” I mutter, starting to softly grind my hips against him. I’ve been hard for what feels like hours, and I can tell he’s there with me.
I swivel my hips against him, sliding my hands around the back of his head so I can tug at the ends of his hair. It’s gotten really long so it’s easy for me to twist my fingers into it and pull. Baz’s head falls back with the pressure and he moans softly.
I take that opportunity to just barely scoot back on his legs and kiss the center of his throat. I bite gently, just where his Adam’s apple is bobbing as he swallows. He whimpers and bucks his hips up into me.
Because we spent years hating each other (well, sort of), the natural push and pull of who has the upper hand in our arguments makes its way into the bedroom easily.
I’m winning right now. I’m tugging sharply on Baz’s hair and mouthing at his throat and he’s responding to every single touch with whimpers and soft gasps. He’s got his arms still wrapped around my waist and he’s just barely brushing his hand along the waistband of my pants, making me ache for his touch.
“Can we try something?” Baz asks breathily, nudging my hip.
I nod and squeeze his shoulder, clambering off so I’m kneeling next to him. Baz is often the one inviting new things to try into our sex life and I’ve learned to go along with it. (It’s always good. Everything with Baz is good).
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, running my fingers over the top of his thigh, just along the hem of his pants.
Baz leans up and kisses my jaw. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, but I cut him off before he’s finished.
“Thought was a given.”
Baz bites at my jaw. “Wasn’t finished, dickhead. I want you to fuck me this way,” he says, pushing at my shoulders and leaning me down against the bed so I’m on my side.
I fold my wings closer to my back and watch as Baz lies down next to me, his arse pressing against me teasingly. I groan.
“Okay?” Baz asks, reaching over to tap just under my jaw and turning his head to the side so he can kiss me. It’s an awkward angle, but trying something new always fills my veins with nervous and excited energy. I’m sure Baz can smell it on me.
“Yeah,” I answer, grinding my hips against him. This position isn’t completely new - we sleep like this often, whether that’s Baz as the little spoon or me - so I’m not uncomfortable.
Baz exposes his throat to me so I can tuck my face into his neck and suck at the skin there as I reach around to palm him through his pants. Baz wriggles and drops his hand down to tug off the offending clothing. He whimpers when I run my hand along his bare hip.
I let go of him, just for a moment, so I can pull my own pants off and press my hips against him.
Baz had previously set out the lube when he decided this is where the night would go. (He’d pushed me up against the door and whispered, “Is Penny home?” - to which I responded with a breathless “No,” and he’d taken me to bed).
He hands me the lube now and I slick up my fingers before nudging his legs apart with my knee. I’ve got one arm underneath Baz so I can press my hand against his chest and lightly flick his nipple with my fingers. He moans unabashedly. I gently press one slick finger into him, drawing a breathy “Fuck,” from his mouth. As I push in a second and then a third finger, I curl them softly inside of him and stretch him open, mouthing at the back of his neck and employing my teeth when Baz isn’t being loud enough for my taste.
“Hurry up, you fucking numpty,” Baz whines, grinding himself onto my fingers.
“You’re not helping me by insulting me,” I insist. Mostly, that’s not true. I kind of get off on it.
Baz knows that.
I remove my fingers and relish in the high-pitched moan that Baz releases when I do. He impatiently squirms against me and I divert his attention by pinching at one of his nipples with the hand that’s pinned under his ribcage. I slick up my cock, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of something against where I need it most - I still have a boyfriend who needs to be taken apart.
I carefully push Baz’s legs apart further and slide down the bed a little bit (he’s too fucking tall for me to be right behind him like this) so I can press myself against him, grinding my hips into him.
“C’mon, please ,” Baz begs.
I can’t resist when he says please so I carefully reach down in order to press myself into him, slowly, slowly. I’m not used to this angle, but it feels so fucking good that I get over that pretty quickly, starting to rock my hips into Baz.
Baz reaches around so he can grip my hair and pull on it. His shoulder is in my mouth.
I’m still going really slowly, because I’m not used to it. Call me what you will, but I’m a creature of habit. Change is hard for me, even in my sex life with my lovely boyfriend.
Baz groans, both in frustration and pleasure (a beautiful combination of sounds as far as I’m concerned). “ Simon ,” he mutters. “More.”
I bite my bottom lip before saying, “I’m scared my dick is going to slide out.”
Baz practically chokes on his breath (and not in the good, getting-fucked-so-hard-he-can’t-breathe way). “Can you please stop saying weird shit with your cock in my ass?”
I still my hips. “I’m serious, Baz,” I whine, slapping at his thigh.
Baz twists a bit and presses his leg backwards so he can wrap his calf around mine and give me a bit of a better angle.
I bite at his shoulder. “Thanks,” I say softly, starting to thrust my hips again.
“You’re a nuisance.”
I smile against his cool shoulder and I stutter my hips forward, finding an unrelenting pace that has Baz falling apart in my arms. His usually cool and collected demeanor shatters with every jolt of his hips back against me. His hand in my hair and his leg wrapped around mine can’t be comfortable, but he’s whimpering and whining, begging for more.
I focus on fucking him as hard as I have the capacity for, digging my nails into the top of his thigh and pressing my teeth against the meat of his shoulder.
“Fuck, Simon,” Baz says before continuing to babble words that I only catch bits and pieces of ( “Motherfucker”, “So good”, “Right there”, “Hate you so much” ).
It all makes me fuck him deeper, using the leverage I have on his thigh to press into him harder. When I start to feel Baz jolt around me, I wrap my hand around his cock and give him only a few soft tugs before he’s tensing, breath catching, and coming into my hand. I draw him through it, continuing the motion of my hips but softer so as not to overwhelm him.
When Baz’s breath has evened out, he’s rutting back against me and yanking on my hair, forcing my face down into his shoulder again. I bite down when I come, rolling my cock into him over and over.
I hum into Baz’s skin when I have enough oxygen to do so, slowly pulling out of him and trying not to gasp at the loss of contact. (I do anyway).
Baz doesn’t even take the time to clean himself up (very un-Baz-like) before he’s turning in my arms and wrapping himself around me, kissing each mole on my neck that he has immediate access to (the most Baz-like). I curl my wings around his shoulders.
Baz eventually finds his wand and cleans us up. We don’t say anything else. Baz and I spend most of our time in teasing arguments, trying to rile each other up with words (and whenever necessary - hands), so this is a break. A break where I can hold my terrible boyfriend close and kiss the top of his head and feel nearly every inch of his skin against mine, soft and slightly less chilled than usual.
He stays in my arms until he can’t handle being vaguely sticky any longer. He gets up to shower and I get up to make a sandwich. Creatures of habit.