If You Must

All That We Are Is Golden

Simon

When Baz steps out of the room, I begin to understand why he poured cold water over his head.

He looks amazing in a black suit with gold decals. The colour lights a fire under his skin, turning him back into the tawny-skinned, apple-cheeked person he could've been if he hadn't been Bitten. Even his eyes blaze with silver flame. His towel-dried hair falls in silky midnight waves (his hair's always wavier when he doesn't blow-dry it). My jaw literally drops.

Baz tries for a sneer, but it falls short and turns into a grin. Those moonfire eyes sparkle. My heart beats wildly against my ribs, making my breath stop in my throat.

"Well, Simon, what do you think?" He asks, spreading his arms and doing a slow turn. I try to speak, but my voice catches. My throat is dry, and sparks of golden magic dance between my fingers. Hopefully I won't burn down the flat.

I try again to say something, but all I can think is Baz, Baz, Baz.

With a devilish, debonair grin, Baz braces his arms on either side of me, caging me against the table. His lips are less than a centimetre from mine, his breath tickling my chin. I think I might go starkers before the end of this encounter.

"Use your words, Simon," Baz murmurs silkily (yeah, that's not helping in the least, Basilton). I swallow again, trying desperately to find my voice.

His lips are so, so close to mine...

"Aleister Crowley, Baz..." I breathe, not tearing my eyes away from his for even a millisecond. He really does sneer, now, but his eyes twinkle playfully. God damn I want to kiss him.

"Do you like it?" His voice is low and teasing and I think I might actually be losing my mind.

I lick my lips. Once. Twice. Trying to return any semblance of moisture back to my throat (and maybe trying to drive him a little wild, too).

"Like it?" I ask. My voice is still barely audible, but my volume control seems to be broken. "Baz, you look... Crowley, Baz, you're like the sun." The teasing flirtation melts from his face, giving way to bashful surprise. I think he might even be blushing.

Finally, he kisses me. And it feels different from any kiss we've shared so far; it feels like the physical embodiment of the word 'love', of the word 'beauty'. It's inimitable and ineffable and I never want it to end. His hands are tight around me and my hands are in his hair and we're pulling each other closer, closer, until there's no room left to breathe, there's just his lips against mine and the warm heat of our bodies and the gentle hum of our shared breaths.

I think back to what he told me, all that time ago, at our Leaver's Ball. About me being the sun. I've always loved what he said to me that day, but now it applies, not to me, but to Baz.

Baz is the sun. And I am crashing desperately, hopelessly into him.

-----------------------

A/N:

Starkers as in crazy, not as in naked. Sorry to disappoint ;)

-Lefty