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sucrosette · 4 months

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★— ⋆｡˚ [Losing Myself In Simon Snow]

For Day 23 of Carry on Countdown 23, Bite. @carryon-countdown

On Simon Snow and Baz Pitch and their respective sets of teeth finding their way into each other's bodies.

Rated M for... this being what it is (the precursor to smut).

⋆｡˚

Simon bites a lot.

Between the two of us, you’d expect the vampire to be the one that bites a lot, but no. That honor goes to the dragon winged boy with the prehensile and overly sensitive tail.

When we’re kissing, he tugs my lips between his teeth, nips at them till they’re sore. He’ll trail more nips and bites overy jaw and down my neck and over my shoulders until I’m so worked up and frustrated, I pin him beneath me, just to keep his teeth from digging in more. I mean, other things follow, but it starts with stopping Simon from assaulting me with his teeth.

When he’s been worked up into a bluster— my fault, almost with one hundred percent certainty, I know— he bites. He latches onto my forearm or pec and digs in for dear life until I give in and stop teasing him for some small thing or another. Even if I think he’s cute when he’s all red in the face and annoyed with me.

I do, by the way, always think he’s cute.

When he’s embarrassed, he steals my hand to hold, inevitably using me as a sort of shield from whatever thing’s embarrassing him. I’ll talk us out of the situation and walk us away and then somehow my hand will end up in his mouth and he’ll be chewing on my palm like some sort of stimtoy. I don’t bother to stop him. It’s silly, sure, and it feels odd, but I don’t mind if it helps calm him.

When he’s angry, he doesn’t quite bite. He’ll snap his jaw at whatever or whomever has him fuming, but he never actually finds purchase to bite. I can feel it in him though, the urge to snap back with something more instinctual than sharp words and mean looks. Sometimes it’s at me, though I like to think that I give Simon less cause to be angry than I once did, but even though I always let him, he never bites me when he’s fuming at me. He doesn’t want to actually hurt me, sweet thing that he is.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I don’t bite him. It is mostly in teasing and play and definitely intended to get a reaction out of me, so it could be that. I mentioned the thought to Bunce once and she kindly asked me to never mention it again, or else she’d evaporate out of existence.

I’ll stick with Shakespeare and familial magicks. At least that much is safe to talk about with Penny, as much as the psychology of Simon is also a shared interest of ours. Apparently the interest doesn’t extend to all facets of Simon, and his biting habits are just a boundary she won’t cross.

It’s fair enough, I suppose.

Maybe I need more friends so I can have more perspectives on what might be normal or not. Vampire friends, maybe, though I admit that I’ve had relatively bad luck with those.

I think a part of it might be the whole “well if you won’t bite me, I’ll have to bite you” attitude he’s got going on. A sort of petty revenge, or maybe it’s some kind of way to egg me into doing it. That’s not to say I haven’t thought about biting him. I’ve thought about it too much, honestly. Every time his heart skips a beat when we kiss, every time we’re nestled together in sleep and my nose is buried against his neck, every time his pulse is thrumming with effort when he’s wrapped around me, every time I bend to kiss his wrist…

I think about it too much.

He undoes me, my Simon. Takes every decision I’ve ever made and throws it out the window, makes an exception of himself in my life at every turn.

But not on this. At least, not yet.

I’m getting weaker in my resolve against it, and I think Simon knows, because he’s tripling down on the biting lately. Coffee’s gone cold? A bite. Remote’s gone missing? A bite. I changed the wifi password? Several bites. I had a good reason for it, but no, there was no forgiveness, only teeth.

He’s in my lap and he’s kissing me hard, shoved me back against the couch like he’s desperate for it, and he is. His tongue is everywhere, my lips are already sore from his teeth, his hands are hot under my shirt and I don’t even know what I did to get him worked up like this.

I’m not about to stop him though. “You make me come undone, Simon Snow,” I breath against his lips and he moans into our kiss, “You make me feel insane.”

“Show me,” He half-demands, half-begs as his kisses start wandering. His lips feel like fire against my collarbone and I can hear the thundering of his heart. “Show me how insane I make you…”

I’ve spoiled him, I know I have. I give him everything he wants, I give into his every demand, but there’s no going back on it now. I don’t regret doing it either. I love giving Simon everything I can, he’s so hungry for it, swallows it all down like he was made for me, asks me for more.

I’m kissing him still and he tugs at my lips, asking for a deeper kiss while he grinds over me, and I give it to him. I let my tongue trace the roof of his mouth and the heat of his tongue, and when I pull back I tug on his lips in turn. I give him just the barest taste of my teeth.

He nearly collapses on top of me.

“Simon?”

He leans up on his elbow, biting into his own lip over where my teeth had just been. He bites hard enough to make himself bleed. I don’t think he’d intended that, but he did it all the same. “You used teeth.”

I don’t think he can even taste his own blood he’s so caught up in the thought.

It’s a moral thing. I want to live my life with Simon Snow. If I drink human, I become more inhuman, I live forever, blah blah blah. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it too sodding much.

There is a drop of blood growing on Simon Snow’s lips.

I’m not thinking about it when my tongue darts out of it’s own accord and laps over the bite. I’m not thinking about it as that droplet runs over my tongue and back down my throat. I’m not thinking about it as I feel Simon start to run through my veins, as his taste fills my mouth.

The only thing I’m thinking about is that taste, that savory-sweet taste. It’s not like the blood I normally drink, but it is blood. It’s not like anything else I’ve ever tasted. I can’t find the words to describe it, and that would probably shock Simon more than the fact that I’d used teeth in the first place. I don’t stop to think about it.

I capture his split lip between mine and suck over it hard, tongue laving over it as I drink from him, letting myself linger in the flavour that is uniquely Simon Snow’s. I drink from that little wound until it’s given me all it can, and it’s not nearly enough, and in the same breath it’s entirely too much.

I didn’t even realize I’d flipped at some point in the process. My hands are poised on Simon’s shoulders, keeping him pinned down under me, my kisses turning tender over that small sore.

“You used teeth,” Simon says again as I lean off of him enough to regain myself.

I’m trying to think about my breathing, bring myself back to calm, but my veins are alight with Simon running through them. I’m thrumming with him. “I used teeth,” I manage to echo back.

“Do it again,” Simon asks, his hands finding their way back under my shirt, and I almost shake my head, denying us both.

But why not?

I’m already not thinking. I can’t think of a single reason why not.

I’m already pulling one of his hands away from my abdomen, letting the other linger there while I caress his palm against my cheek, against my lips, teasing the sharp edge of fang against it, lapping over the lines of his palm, tasting his sweat.

I am not thinking.

I am breathing Simon, tasting Simon, bleeding Simon.

And I want more.

I lay the tenderest of kisses against his wrist, feeling the pulse of it against my lips, thin, sensitive skin against thin, sensitive skin. “Do it again?” My voice comes out harsher than intended, giving me away entirely.

“Do it again,” Simon confirms. His eyes are fixed to mine, watching me lose myself in the sensations of him.

I don’t mind. I trust him. He trusts me. He wants it just as much as I do.

My fangs sink in against his wrist and he gasps like he’s forgotten how to breathe while I drink from him. Maybe he has. Maybe with both have.

I’m drinking from Simon Snow. I’m losing myself in Simon Snow. I’ve never felt more alive. I’ve never felt more dangerous. I could live on this, I think. He’d let me.

I might be addicted already.

He’s writhing under me when I pull off his wrist, and I must look some kind of way, but I can’t begin to imagine how. I keep kissing his wrist, licking up stray droplets, even as his nails dig into the soft underside of my jaw, begging my attention properly.

“Again,” He whines, and it is a proper whine.

I haven’t taken much for myself. I know I could.

I smirk down at him. “Later,” my words filter back in clearer, and I think I can see the details of him that much sharper, “I have other ways I want to eat you tonight, Simon Snow.”

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #bite #this is where i admit i haven't read awtwb #i also haven't read ws #forgive me fandom #i have read carry on itself like 6 times though #anyway #this is precursor smut #i'm definitely going to write more of it for Ao3 #hope you enjoyed #if you saw the last #no you didn't

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