Breathless...

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Baz's POV

Simon Snow, Simon Snow, Simon Snow.

Stars, I'm kissing a star. I'm kissing the sun. It's like Simon's touch sets me on fire—blazing electricity coursing through my veins, sparking. I've been brought to life. And I feel so fucking alive.

Simon slips my pants off, along with my boxers. And he doesn't pause for a second, tearing his lips away from mine, and suddenly his bronze curls are between my thighs. He presses wet kisses on the insides, and well. . . The beautiful, blundering golden boy between my legs has got me breathless, now hasn't he?

Because everything I've wished for is finally coming true. Things I thought would remain dreams, that I'd take to my grave. . . They're happening. And my heart is swelling, but at the same time, it's burning with anticipation, while Simon looks up at me with a sly grin, taking me into his warm, wet mouth.

"Oh, fuck. . . ," I moan, and the second the sound escapes, my throat is between Simon's teeth instead. He's sucking a hickey right into my Adam's apple. It fucking hurts, but it's Simon bloody Snow. The day I complain is the day I've finally lost my mind. He owns my heart, body, and soul. He's also painfully aware of it; it's amusing and has deadly effects.

Simon's POV

I don't want to tear my teeth away from his porcelain throat.

The throat that whimpers, gulps, and moans at my touch.

The throat that slips out the words, "I love you, you great, thumping idiot. You absolute fucking nightmare."

The throat that is magick. His tongue that is magick, and not just literally. . .

Baz's POV

After capturing my throat between his teeth like he's the vampire here, his tongue travels down my chest. Peppering kisses in the dips of my abs, licking down my navel. . .

And then his mouth is back, between my legs. But only grazing my length, teasing me.

That gorgeous fucker.

His fiery blue eyes lock onto mine, darkening with lust. And I sneer, challenging him, because all I want to do is grab his curls and push myself into his mouth. Completely. That dumb arse finally realizes, and he looks up at me in chains, helpless—and laughs. His laugh. . .

I can feel it reverberating through my cock, shudders travel down my spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I messily buck my hips into his plump pink lips, unable to resist it, whining at the pleasure his tongue gives me. . . Dying to feel the vibration of his voice through my body. He's only smirking at the reactions he's getting out of me. . . Bastard. Fuck you, Simon Snow.

Actually, fuck me, Simon Snow.

And I think he just might tonight—with the way his blue eyes are: alive, alive, alive. In a way that is positively wondrous. Because they're tidal, powerful, and aflame. And his lips have curled into a devilish grin.

Simon's POV

His silver eyes.

I take all of him in my mouth again, and suck slowly, moving my jaw at a pace that leaves him so sexually frustrated he starts screaming. I find this hilarious. After all, there is great pleasure in making Baz act all needy. I continue laughing around his dick, and every chuckle has him shivering. Writhing in his bounds. I try being less cruel, and suddenly take my mouth away. Baz looks down as if he might bite me. Maybe I want him to. . .