Watford Tales

Baz

After the Coven meeting and the horrible blow out with Father, I ended up spending the night at Fiona’s, eating lavender shortbread and drinking vodka on ice. I woke up on her sofa with a headache and a hard on, thinking of Simon. Fiona took me out to this posh restaurant she likes for a big breakfast and then drove me back to school. She didn’t have much to say to me. I’m not sure whether she agrees with Father or not. I don’t think she approves of Simon very much, though probably for different reasons than Father.

When I finally get up to our room, Simon’s on his bed. He looks like he’s been waiting for me. Suddenly I’m nervous, really nervous. My breath catches and then I can’t seem to let it out. The half hard on I’ve had all day, thinking about him, is suddenly pushing against my flies. Crowley, he looks hot. I catch a whiff of smoke and brimstone, and I know he’s as nervous as I am.

“Baz,” he says, his voice tense.

“Snow,” I say, licking my lips. They feel dry, chapped.

“Call me Simon,” he says and he’s across the room, bending his head into me, his lips are on mine, and that’s it. I’m lost, completely gone, his hand on the back of my neck, his breath hot in my face, and there is nothing, nothing I can do. The last week without him, of wanting, wanting, of fighting with Father, meeting with the Coven, half truths and missing him, are all jumbling around in my head. His arms are snaking around my waist, his hips are locking into mine. I hear his breathing, hot and fast and I can feel his cock, pressing into my stomach. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet.

“Simon,” I breath at last and I kiss the mole on his neck.

He pulls me over to his bed and pushes me down. He lays on top of me and for a long time there is just that. Just the pressure of him on me, his mouth on mine, our tongues reaching hungrily towards each other and it’s good, so good, except eventually, of course, we both want more. It’s obvious, something has to happen and now I’m nervous again. My palms are sweaty and there’s a weird buzzing in my head.

“Maybe I really am gay, “ Simon says. He rolls off me so we’re side by side, facing each other and he pushes his hand against my flies. And then I’m reaching for him and we’re touching each other through our trousers and I think I might come soon. I know I’m close. With a huge effort, the most difficult thing I have ever done, I pull my mouth away from his, roll my hips so I’m no longer thrusting against him, and I manage to croak out “Simon, we have to stop.”

“Am I doing it wrong?” he says, looking at me worriedly. “It seemed….all right.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…..I’m scared.”

“You’re scared?” Now he sounds confused. “Why are you scared?” He gives me a grin, suddenly. “I thought this was your area.”

“No, it’s not…..that. It’s just I…..I might bite,” I choke out.

It’s my worst fear. But I really don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation. Not that I’m about to tell him that.

He looks at me. A certain look I know well. Like if I push him, he’ll just push back. “Open your mouth,” he demands. I do, and he peers at my teeth. “They’re not popped now,” he says, and bends to kiss me again.

“But Simon,” I hiss. I push him back, my hand against his sternum. I really am scared.

“Well you haven’t ever, have you?” he counters, his gaze steady. “Bitten anyone.”

“I…..Fuck, I don’t know! I’ve never been…..Like this….with anyone.” So much for not letting him know, then, that it’s my first time.

He grins again. One up on him then. “How about when you wank?” he asks. “Do they pop then? Your fangs?”

“No,” I say, and I’m embarrassed, suddenly.

“I have an idea,” he says. He’s breathing hard. He rolls me over onto my stomach and shoves his pillow against my face. It smells, unbearably, like him, his hair, his smoky magic. “Bite the pillow,” he whispers, his voice hot and husky, kissing the back of my neck, his tongue darting out, licking, sexy, wet. “If you need to bite, bite the pillow,” and he shoves himself against my arse, and I feel his arms around me, and his cock against me and he’s pushing down my trousers. Running his fingers inside the elastic band of my boxers and pulling them down, over my cock that feels so huge, and the feel of the fabric rubbing over it makes me shudder. He’s fumbling with his own clothes while he kisses the back of my neck and then I feel his bare cock against my bare back. I gasp and he reaches under me and wraps his hand around my cock. We’re both slick with sweat and he’s moving against me, grinding against my back, and he’s finding his rhythm. My teeth feel fine, there’s no pressure there at all, and his warmth is all around me and suddenly, weirdly, I feel safe. Simon is holding me, Simon is kissing me and I let go into the pure pleasure of it. I push back against him, pumping against his hand, wrapped tight around me. I feel his teeth bite my neck as he starts to shudder and cry out. It all feels so good, and of course I am coming too. It starts in my cock, nested in his fist and spreads out to my whole body and I can feel his hot wetness against my back as he thrusts a final time and then lays still.

“All right, then?” he asks, at last, his full weight on me. He’s……almost triumphant. As if he’s won a battle. He rolls off me and looks in my mouth, then puts his forehead against mine and he kisses me, soft and gentle. “They didn’t pop,” he says. He kisses my face, my eyes, my cheeks, the angle of my jaw and he’s smiling at me. I don’t even know what to think except I feel so good, like a sun has come out in the cold center of my soul, in the chilly pit of my undead heart and warmed me from the inside out. I’m kissing him back, everywhere I can reach and we’re both smiling at each other like a couple of idiots. The bed smells of smoke and come and sweat. I breath in the rich aroma of it, of us, of this love that I feel and I’m warm all over to the ends of my toes.

“Did I do it…. all right?” he asks, his blue eyes smiling into mine, uncertainly.

I shrug. A move I seem to have picked up from him.

“You liked it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say. I smile back into his eyes and pull him towards me and kiss his mouth, that beautiful warm mouth. His lips are soft and red, from all the kissing we’ve been doing, I suppose.

“You’re warm,” he says and I smile at him.

“Yeah, well, all the exertion,” I say, stupidly and he snorts and we’re both laughing then, holding each other and giggling madly.

“How’d I do then?” I ask, tracing my finger along his arm, where the hairs are golden and almost wiry.

“Fine, I guess.”

“Compared to Wellbelove?”

“Agatha?” he looks startled. “I never…..We never…..Got this far.”

“You never fucked her? Really?” I’m kind of incredulous. They went out for years. All those Christmases at her house. I always imagined a lot of sex, somehow. He was so wild about her. How could they not have?

He looks embarrassed. “No,” he confesses. “I didn’t.”

“You never grabbed her boob, or anything?” I learned this kind of talk from Dev and Niall, who can talk eternally, obsessively, about breasts.

"Yeah, well, we did that….” Simon is looking away from me uncomfortably. “It was always, kind of…..awkward.”

“Hmmph,” I snort. “Maybe you really are gay.”

But he doesn’t like that. He turns away from me, and the happy sun that was burning in my chest fades away and blinks out like it was never there. My skin which felt all glowy and soft a moment ago now feels damp and sticky. He turns to face the wall, pulls the covers around him. We’re still mostly dressed. “You don’t get to decide what I am,” he says, his voice hollow. The smell of smoke coming off him has taken on an acrid tinge.

Shit. I try to touch his shoulder and he hunches away from me. I screwed up. I get that, but I don’t know what to do. I hurt his feelings. I want to make it better but I can’t. So after lying there next to him feeling terrible for a while I just get out of bed and head for a shower. When I get out he’s still hunched down, still not looking at me, still smelling of sulphur. I dress quickly. The silence is dense and heavy between us.

“I’ve got football practice,” I say.

“Fine,” he says.

“I’m supposed to study with Dev and Niall after dinner.” Classes haven’t started yet but we’re in our last year, we’re expected to do some reading before the first day.

“Fine,” he says again, still facing the wall.

“Simon, I…….” but I don’t know what to say. Sorry would have been the obvious thing, but I don’t think of it at the time. I think of all the things we haven’t talked about, the Mage, the Humdrum, my fight with Father, the Coven. What we’re going to do next. Everything. He’s hunkered down in the bed, glowering, not giving me an inch. I think of what we were just doing in that bed and I feel myself getting hot and horny all over again.

“Fine,” I say, getting mad myself. It’s all mixed up in me, wanting him, needing him, being mad, being frustrated, being scared. I’m scared he’s going to be done with me, go back to Agatha, and then what am I going to do? I haven’t had enough, I’m only just getting started. I want him more than ever, and I don’t know how I’m going to bear it. I grab my cloak and my wand, and I leave, slamming the door behind me and stomping down the stairs and through the snowy courtyard to the football pitch.

It turns out football practice is just what I need. Coach Mac has charmed all the snow and ice off the field, and running around in the cold air, focused on the ball, everyone’s breath coming out in big clouds of steam, well it all feels great. I can’t help it, I’m still a boy, after all, and I just got laid for the first time in my life. Something has let loose in me, a huge something I’ve been wanting and dreaming about forever just actually happened, and even though I screwed up and was my usual bastard self, even though Simon is mad at me, a shard of that little glowing sun is still bright inside of me. I can’t help feeling pretty good inside, as I run and chase and dribble in the frigid January air. I feel alive, I feel human, and that doesn’t really happen to me every day.

I get to dinner late, accompanied by Dev and Niall. Simon’s table is already empty. I’m starving, and the food tastes great. It’s just soup and sandwiches tonight because classes don’t start until tomorrow, but I can’t seem to eat enough. Dev and Niall are full of questions about what happened over break. They know the Mage is gone and they know I was involved somehow. I’m as vague as I can be, but they keep pushing. I distract them with the news that Simon and Agatha are officially split, and Dev spends the rest of dinner plotting how to ask her out.

In the library we don’t get much done. It’s easy enough to go along with Dev and Niall and their endless banter; gossip, speculation about the Mage, magickal politicks, their chances with this girl or that. They are both a couple of horny bastards but I should talk. Although, admittedly, I don’t share my particular obsessions with them. They must have noticed that I don’t participate in the endless discussion of this one’s boobs and that one’s arse with the same level of enthusiasm they share, but if they’ve figured out that I’m queer they’ve never said.

I wonder where Simon is.

After about an hour of half hearted studying I catch a whiff of smoke and turn to see Simon, alone at a table at the other end of the library, his chemistry book open in front of him. I can tell he’s only pretending to study. I know this mood of his, distressed, intense. The book is merely a cover. He’s here for me, obviously, and I feel that little shard of happiness expanding inside me, and I can’t seem to push it down.

When he leaves I get up to follow him, a bit abruptly. Dev and Niall look at me curiously. “Tired,” I say. It’s awkward, but I don’t give a shit. I chase down the library steps after Simon, who is a dark figure against the white snow, halfway across the yard.

I catch him up in the entrance to Mummer’s House and push him into the shadows, shoving him hard against the wall. Our mouths meet in a clash of teeth and tongues and his breath is hot. He’s kissing me back and crying, and this time I know what to say.

“Simon,” I say. He looks at me, grateful I’m using his name. “I’m sorry.” The words turn into clouds in the frosty night air. The stars are bright hot pinpoints of light in the black sky above. I kiss his wet cheeks. “I was an arse and I’m sorry. And you’re right, only you get to decide what you are.”

He pulls me toward him and we settle into the dark shadow against the cold stone wall, kissing ravenously. The heat is rolling off him like a furnace, the way it does when he’s upset. Everything’s hot, his mouth, his cheeks, his tears. We kiss and kiss and I’ve never wanted anything this much, nothing has ever felt this good. I kiss down the line of his jaw, onto his neck, feel the pulse beating there against my lips, hear the rush of blood. He smells so good. I swallow hard and pull away reluctantly. “I need to hunt,” I say, looking up into the stars.

“I’ll go with you,” he says at once.

“You will not,” I reply. He pulls me into another kiss and I push him away. “I won’t be long. Let me go now, Simon.”

“Penny’s coming up to the room,” he says. “She thinks we need a strategy meeting.”

“She’s right,” I say.

“Baz.” He’s standing with his hands apart, looking determined. He’s so gorgeous I have to look away.

“What?”

“If I’m going to be gay for you…”

“You can’t be gay for another person,” I cut him off. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and tries again. “If I’m going to do gay stuff with you, you have to be nice to me.”

“Oh Simon,” I say. I’d kiss him again but I don’t dare. The hunger is getting too strong. I take a step back and look at him and fold my arms across my chest. “Love. Haven’t you worked it out by now? I’m not nice.”

“Can’t you try?” he asks. “I don’t see how we’re going to survive this if you don’t.”

I don’t know what to say. He’s right, of course, but so am I. “I love you,” I say finally. “I want you. I’d do anything to have you. That’s all I’ve got. That’s all I can do.”

He looks at me speechlessly. I need to hunt. “I’ll see you back at the room,” I say. “Tell Bunce I’ll be there soon.” And I’m walking away, swiftly across the yard. I can feel his eyes burning on me all the way to the dark entrance to the catacombs.