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rushingheadlong · 4 years

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Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me - a poly!Queen smut fic

Summary: The boys plan an evening of dressing up and watching Rocky Horror Picture Show, but the effort that Brian puts into his outfit takes the others by surprise.

Wordcount:

Tags/Warnings: NSFW/18+, poly!Queen, slight modern AU, D/s (sub!Brian), crossdressing, light feminization, orgasm delay/denial, sex toys

Notes: First part toes the line of smut, second part is just filth. Please heed the tags/warnings and don’t read if this doesn’t seem like your cup of tea. This is also cross-posted to AO3 if you prefer to read it there!

Huge thanks to the DL server for helping me iron out some details, and especially to ehhh and Lee for volunteering as betas ♥

(In case it's not clear enough in the fic: John is dressed as Brad in the laboratory scene, Roger is dressed as Rocky, Freddie is in Magenta's maid outfit, and Brian is wearing a floor show outfit.)

“We were supposed to put some effort into the costumes, John.”

“I did put in effort,” John says mildly. “I bought the lab coat, didn’t I?”

Roger rolls his eyes. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry then, you clearly did so much work for this…”

“Well what about you? You can’t tell me that you didn’t already own these.” John reaches out and snaps the waistband on the obscenely tiny gold shorts that comprise the entirety of Roger’s Rocky costume, since he didn’t bother picking up any gold boots.

“You wanker, I did not already own these!” Roger protests, though he’s laughing as he says it. “Unlike you, who is definitely just wearing your own pants right now!”

“You say that as if you don’t love seeing me in just my pants.”

“Oh, I do,” Roger agrees. He takes a step forward and pushes his hands underneath the lab coat to settle them on the bare skin of John’s waist. “I just like it a little bit more when you’re not doing it because you chose to dress up as the most boring character in-”

John surges forward to crowd Roger against the counter, and captures his lips in a kiss to cut off the rest of his teasing. Roger responds eagerly, pressing against him hungrily and sliding his hands down to cup John’s arse and pull him in closer. John groans and can’t stop himself from rutting up against Roger, who whimpers and rolls his hips against John’s in response.

“And what are you two up to in here, hm? I thought you were supposed to be getting the drinks, not starting the fun without me!” Freddie says as he struts into the room.

Roger pulls away from John to glance over at Freddie. John, however, is less willing to stop what they were doing and instead starts kissing and nipping along Roger’s throat. “We- ah- we are getting drinks,” he says, tilting his head to give John better access.

“Mm, I can see that.” Freddie cups John’s chin and pulls his head around so he can kiss him, quick but fierce, with a small nip to his bottom lip as he pulls away. “And I can see that neither of you put any effort into your costumes like you were supposed to.”

“You’ve definitely done the most so far,” Roger agrees and he finally pushes John back so he can move away from the counter and get a better look at Freddie’s costume.

“That was the point here, wasn’t it? Some light crossdressing while we watch the movie and rile each other up.” He gives both John and Roger a once-over and adds, “Not that you two don’t look delicious, of course…”

“You’re dating us, and we’re half-naked. If you didn’t think we looked good we’d have a problem right now,” John jokes.

Freddie laughs and reaches to pull down a few glasses from the cupboard. His short dress rides up a little, revealing just a small glimpse of the suspenders that he’s wearing underneath, and he smirks as he hears Roger’s quiet, appreciative groan. It’s John, though, who reaches out to touch him and Freddie laughs as he ducks out of his grasp.

“Now, now, save that for later, darling,” he says, though he does press another kiss to the corner of John’s mouth as he grabs the wine that Roger had bought earlier. “Movie first, and then you can strip me out of this and ravish me.”

“At least it’ll be easy enough to get you out of that,” John says. “Though, I am surprised. I thought for sure you would have dressed as Frank-N-Furter.” Roger grabs two of the drinks after Freddie pours them, and John gets the other two, and Freddie follows them into the living room with the rest of the bottle of wine.

“I considered it, but I couldn’t be bothered to spend an evening laced into a corset,” Freddie admits as they settle onto the large sofa. The DVD is already queued up with the main menu on the screen, waiting for them to start the movie just as soon as Brian joins them.

“I’m a little disappointed that none of us opted for corsets though,” Roger says. He settles onto John’s lap, his legs spread out over Freddie, so there’s room for Brian at the far end of the couch. “I mean, I get it, they’re a pain, but I was hoping one of us would be brave enough to wear one.”

“Do you know what Brian’s wearing?” Freddie asks.

Roger shakes his head. “No, but it’s Brian. He’s probably dressed as Riff-Raff, knowing him.”

“Or Eddie,” John says. “Especially since he loves Meatloaf’s music anyway.”

“You’re probably right,” Freddie says with a sigh. “Still, even Riff Raff has his shirt undone so he’ll be showing some skin…”

“No more than he ever shows when we’re performing-”

Roger cuts off the rest of his sentence as the bathroom door opens down the hall. The three of them all turn towards the doorway as Brian approaches - and then their mouths drop open in shock when they see what he’s wearing.

“Brian-” Freddie chokes out, his eyes as wide as saucers as he takes in Brian’s outfit.

Unlike the rest of them, Brian has gone all-out with his costume. He clearly took his inspiration from the floor show scene and is wearing a black front-lacing corset, the tiniest black panties in existence, and delicate fishnet stockings held up with suspenders. He even has matching elbow-length gloves, and black heels on his feet. The bright boa draped around his shoulders completes the look, and he buries his face in the feathers in embarrassment as the others just stare at him.

“Oh, god, I know, I look ridiculous, I knew I should’ve just dressed as Riff Raff…” he mumbles.

“Absolutely not!” Freddie snaps. “Darling, you look- you’re-”

“You’re fucking hot,” Roger finishes for him. He surges to his feet and crosses the room towards Brian.

With the heels on Brian completely towers over him, but Roger still manages to reach up to pull the boa away from Brian’s shoulders and face. Brian catches it in the crook of his elbows and lets it settle against his lower back.

“You even put on makeup,” John groans in appreciation, now that Brian’s face is properly visible.

“I thought that was the point of this…”

“It is. The rest of us are just lazy slackers,” Roger says. He tries to grab onto the laces of the corset to use that to pull Brian down to kiss him, but he can’t quite fit his fingers underneath them. “Fuck, Brian, how tightly did you lace this up?”

“Tight enough,” Brian says with a laugh that’s breathy enough to let them know that he’s not joking about that.

Roger grabs onto Brian’s hips instead, and the moment that he feels the corset his eyes widen even more. He runs his hands along it and says, “Brian, there’s real boning in here!”

“Well, I thought I’d do this properly,” Brian says as he loosely drapes his arms over Roger’s shoulders.

“Yeah? You just wanted a proper costume, is that it?” John says in a low voice. Freddie has shifted next to him on the couch, now pressed close against his side, and one of John’s hands is teasing along the side of Freddie’s thigh as they both stare at Brian with hungry eyes.

Brian nods, biting his bottom lip and squirming a little underneath Roger’s hands.

“Because I think you really just wanted an excuse to be a bit of a naughty girl for us,” John continues, and Brian whimpers at his words. “I think you wanted to put on those stockings and lace yourself up in that corset so tightly you could barely breathe and tease us until we gave you exactly what you’re aching for. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Brian breathes. His eyes are dark with arousal and his tiny panties do very little to hide his rapidly hardening cock. John raises an eyebrow at him and Brian swallows harshly and corrects himself. “Yes sir.”

“Freddie, what were you saying about having to wait until the movie was over before we could have any fun?” Roger says, glancing back over his shoulder. “‘cause I’ll be honest, I can’t wait that long, not with our baby girl looking like this.”

“Sirs, I- I don’t-” Brian stammers, looking away from them as he struggles to voice his thoughts.

“Yes, Brian? What don’t you want?” Freddie asks. He’s draped himself over John and has been mouthing at the column of his neck, but he pulls away now to look properly at Brian. “Come on, darling, use your words.”

There’s a flush high on Brian’s face and he whines low in his throat, but just manages to force out, “I don’t want to come yet. Sirs.”

“Who said anything about you coming?” John says without hesitation and Brian moans outright at that. “Roger, bring him over here. I want you on your knees, Brian.”

Roger, still with his hands on Brian’s waist, walks backwards to lead him over to the couch, stopping a few feet away and gently coaxing Brian down. It takes Brian a moment to drop to his knees without tripping over the heels, and once he’s in place it’s clear how much the corset is holding him in place. His back is ramrod straight, and his breathing is harsh and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“God, aren’t you a sight…” Freddie purrs as he stands up. Brian looks up at him through his lashes, but Freddie tangles a hand in his hair and gently tugs Brian’s head back so he’s forced to meet his gaze. “Our beautiful girl, just waiting to be used…”

Freddie smirks and looks back at John and Roger. “So, who wants to go first?”

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

Brian puts up no resistance as Roger pulls him up from his knees and drapes him over the arm of the couch. His arms are already bound loosely behind his back with the boa he had been wearing, but Roger now pulls it away and says, “I’m going to get some cuffs for your wrists instead. And…” He slides one hand down and palms Brian’s arse. “...a plug, I think.”

“Get the larger one,” John tells him. “Brian can take it.”

Brian moans brokenly and the other three chuckle at his desperation.

“Should probably get a cock ring too, if he’s already this worked up,” Freddie adds. He tangles one hand in Brian’s curls and pulls his head up. “Don’t you agree, Brimi?”

“What’s the run time for the movie?” Roger asks John over their head, as Brian whines and squirms in Freddie’s grasp.

“Just over an hour and a half,” John tells him. Too long for them to put the cock ring on Brian right from the start, then. “But grab one of the adjustable rings anyway, so we don’t have to get up later if we need it.” Roger nods, and hurries off to their bedroom.

Freddie, meanwhile, is still focused on Brian. “Mm, someone got a little messy during those blowjobs,” he teases. “Look at you, darling, your lipstick is all smeared. And…” Freddie drags his finger through a stray bit of come at the corner of Brian’s mouth and licks it clean, smirking as both Brian and John groan. “Seems like we might have been a bit too much for our girl to handle.”

Brian makes a small noise of protest and shakes his head. “No, sir. Never.”

“Aw, it’s alright, love. You still did so well for us.” Freddie kisses him and when he pulls back it’s easy to see how Brian’s eyes have started to glaze over as he falls deeper into his role in the scene. Freddie lets go of Brian’s hair and Brian lets his head hang forward again, though with the corset on he can’t really properly relax against the arm of the couch.

“Brian,” John says, and it’s only once Brian manages to lift his head again and looks at him that he asks, “What’s your safeword, baby?” They went over this once already, before they had used his mouth, but it never hurts to double-check and make sure that Brian can still remember them.

Brian licks his lips and after a moment he says, “Red to stop. Green to continue. Yellow to slow down.”

John leans past Freddie to give Brian a quick kiss. “Good girl. You aren’t going to come until the movie is over so use your safewords if it becomes too much, alright?”

Brian nods. “I will, sir.”

“Good,” John tells him again, as Roger returns to the living room.

“So, John, it’s a good thing you told me to get the larger plug,” he says casually as he sets everything he brought carefully along the back on the couch. “Because as it turns out, I couldn’t find the smaller one at all.” He grabs Brian’s arse and gives it a squeeze and asks, “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Brian?”

“Oh, fuck,” Freddie groans when he realizes what Roger is hinting at.

Roger already has Brian’s panties pulled down past the curve of his arse, just far enough that he can pull out the plug that Brian slipped in when he was getting ready earlier. Just because it’s their smaller one doesn’t make it small, and Roger is able to sink two slick fingers inside him with ease.

“Yeah, someone was a little naughty earlier, weren’t you?” Roger scissors his fingers and fucks Brian a little bit more to get him ready for the larger toy, and Broan moans and clenches down around him.

“Roger, hurry up, give our girl what she needs,” John says.

Brian goes a little tense at John’s words and he squirms underneath Roger’s touch, though from slight discomfort this time, not arousal. Freddie notices and he watches him with a careful eye as Roger pulls out his fingers and slicks up the new plug, and says, “What, you think I’m going to accidentally make her come too soon?”

Brian makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, a sharp change from his wanton moaning just a moment before, and his face twists up in an unpleasant expression. John and Roger, from their positions, can’t see that - but Freddie can, and he’s quick to say, “Rog, wait.”

Roger freezes immediately and Freddie gently lifts Brian’s chin to study him carefully. “Brian, what’s your color?”

Brian whines and tries to hide his face, and John and Roger share a silent look of alarm. They know that Brian only gets like this - uncomfortable, and embarrassed to admit it - when they’ve crossed a line and Brian is just far enough in subspace that he thinks he can power through it instead of speaking up. That’s why it helps to have three people to handle him, so at least one of them can catch when he gets in this headspace and nip it in the bud.

Freddie won’t let Brian turn away, though, and after a moment he admits, “Yellow. I- I don’t want to be called “she” anymore tonight, I think.”

“Okay. Is “girl” still alright or do you want us to stop that too?” John asks. They had been calling him both “girl” and “she” while they fucked his face earlier, but that’s how these scenes go sometimes; what works in one moment doesn’t always work later on, and that’s why checking in like this is always so important.

Brian shakes his head. “No, that’s fine. Just not the other.”

The others quickly voice their understanding and Roger presses a kiss to the back of Brian’s neck. “Sorry, Brian,” he apologizes.

“‘s alright,” Brian says. If anything, this momentary detour in this scene only helps Brian sink under a little bit more, safe with the knowledge that his doms will be there for him even if Brian loses sight of his own needs. “Now, can we just…?” He wiggles his arse and Roger laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got you,” Roger says. He runs one hand soothingly up Brian’s back, and then slowly starts to work the new plug in. Brian whimpers at the feeling of it stretching him, and he gasps as it’s finally seated fully inside him. Roger pulls his panties back up and spanks him once and Brian moans at the unexpected sting of pain.

“There,” Roger says as he pulls Brian back upright. “That should just about do it, I think. Unless…” He settles his hands on Brian’s waist, stroking his thumbs over the fabric of the corset, and raises an eyebrow at John and Freddie. “Don’t you think our girl would look gorgeous if this was taken in a little bit tighter?”

“Oh, he would,” John agrees without hesitation. “But I did just tell you how long the movie is, so let’s shelve that idea for now, alright?”

“No, please-” Brian tries to beg, but John is quick to cut him off.

“If you wanted that corset even tighter than it already is, you should have done that when you were getting dressed,” John says sternly. “It’s not your decision anymore, understand?”

Brian whines unhappily but he nods and says, “Yes, sir.”

“There is one more thing, though,” Freddie says as he grabs the fleece-lined cuffs that Roger brought out as well. He secures them around Brian’s wrists and double-checks that they aren’t too tight, and then asks Roger and John, “In front of him or behind?”

“In front,” John says. “I don’t want his arms behind him for that long.”

Freddie nods and clips the cuffs together in front of Brian. “There. Now he’s all set.”

Roger gently steers Brian around to the front of the couch and asks, “Where do you want him, then?”

“In the middle,” John says.

“What’s the middle of four people?”

“Right here,” Freddie says as he pulls Brian down so he’s sitting between him and John. With the corset on he’s forced to maintain a strict posture; every time he slouches, the corset digs into him painfully and his breathing becomes just a bit shallower, the tiniest bit more strained.

Roger pouts as he takes the only remaining seat on the other side of Freddie, and Freddie leans over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll make sure to keep you entertained during the movie too,” he promises.

“Speaking of which,” John says as he curls one hand possessively around Brian’s thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to where Brian’s hard dick is straining at his panties. “Are we ready to start watching this?”

“Please,” Brian says, nearly begging, and John chuckles as he presses play to start the DVD.

The opening notes of Science Fiction, Double Feature have barely started playing before Freddie settles a hand on Brian’s other thigh. Brian inhales sharply but neither John nor Freddie seem in a rush to do more than that at the moment. They don’t need to do anything else right now, though; just the promise of more to come has Brian squirming in anticipation - at least, as much as he’s able to while he’s laced into the corset. He whimpers as the thick plug nestled inside him is jostled and he tries to subtly grind down against it, desperate for even the tiniest bit of stimulation, but John tightens his grip on Brian’s thigh and he reluctantly settles back down.

This isn’t the first time that the four of them have watched this movie together and normally they’d be singing along and shouting the audience responses at the telly. Freddie is still humming bits of the songs under his breath but, for the most part, none of them want to break the mood of the scene too much.

John and Freddie keep stroking at Brian’s thighs, not touching his cock but getting just close enough to keep him on edge. Roger, meanwhile, is leaning against Freddie with one arm stretched along the back of the couch. He’s playing with Brian’s hair, petting along his bare shoulders, tickling his fingers along the edge of Brian’s corset… any part of Brian that he can reach, he seems determined to touch and explore.

“I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey.”

John snaps one of Brian’s suspenders against his thigh, just to make him jump. He does and he whimpers a little too, and says, “Sirs, please…”

“It’s way too earlier for you to be begging, baby girl,” Roger says. “You’re going to ruin the movie.”

“Should’ve gotten a gag if you wanted him to be quiet,” John says.

“Nah, he can be good.” Roger scratches at Brian’s scalp and asks, “Isn’t that right, Bri? You can be good for us, can’t you?”

Brian nods quickly. “Yes sir, I’ll be go- oh.” The rest of his sentence is cut off in a loud moan as Freddie chooses that moment to finally settle his hand over Brian’s cock. Brian instinctively tries to buck his hips up into the touch but Freddie pulls away when he does and Brian whines, desperate, and says, “Sir, pl-” before he remembers, and falls quiet.

“Oh, that’s just mean,” John says with a low chuckle.

“Well, I don’t want to make it too easy on him,” Freddie says with a wicked grin. He grabs Brian’s chin and pulls his head around towards him and adds, “Besides, I know he can handle it,” before kissing Brian deeply.

Roger groans quietly at the sight of Freddie licking into Brian’s mouth, absolutely devouring every inch of him, as in the background Janet and Brad sing about the light over at the Frankenstein place.

Their teasing only ramps up from there. Freddie moves to suck dark bruises along Brian’s throat when Roger drags John to his feet to dance the Time Warp (because Roger refuses to watch Rocky Horror without dancing along with this song, no matter what else is going on).

“Should’ve had you get up and do the Time Warp with Roger instead, make you put on a little show for us…” Freddie purrs in Brian’s ear. “What I wouldn’t give to watch you try to dance in this tight corset. Bet you’d be just gasping for breath by the end of it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Brian breathes, because honestly he’s nearly gasping now just sitting here. He cinched the corset in as much as he was able to and it restricts his breathing more than he was expecting. He has to breathe carefully, almost shallowly, and that’s easier said than done when he’s nearly dizzy with arousal.

“God, that’d be a sight to see.” John grips Brian’s curls and forces his head back and Brian stares up at him, panting and flushed from his cheeks down across the top of his chest. “Especially with that fat plug holding you nice and open for us right now.”

Brian moans and John leans down to kiss him roughly, swallowing down the sound. And when the song ends Roger settles onto Brian’s lap to take his turn making out with him while grinding down against him and making the plug shift deliciously inside him - at least until Brian pants, “Close, ‘m close,” in warning and Roger slides gracefully off and turns his attention to Freddie instead.

They give him a break during Hot Patootie, Brian’s favorite part of the movie, but John lazily plucks at Brian’s nipples during the brief lull between songs that follows, pinching and pulling and twisting gently at them until they’re sore and Brian can’t hold back the quiet noises of pained-pleasure at every touch against the sensitive buds. And when Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me starts up in earnest all three of them are on him, petting over his bare skin and biting along his jawline and palming his cock through panties that are damp and sticky with precome.

They all back off again once the song ends and Brian immediately whines at the loss of contact. There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and he’s trying so hard to be good, but he’s overstimulated and desperate and quickly losing whatever tenuous control he’s been holding onto so far. The tight corset leaves him breathless and sharpens his arousal, makes it impossible to ignore - not that he could ignore it anyway, not with the way that the plug is filling him up and putting pressure on his prostate every time he moves.

“S-sirs,” he says and he whines again, not wanting to say please but needing something, anything from his partners right now.

“Shh, you’re doing so good for us, baby girl, you’re doing so good,” John praises him as he brushes Brian’s air out of his face and presses a chaste kiss to his temple. “What’s your color, Bri?”

Brian tries to take a deep breath only to be stopped by the corset. He whimpers and pants a little and it takes him a moment to get his breathing back under control, but when he does he finally says, “Green.”

“Good girl,” John says, a sentiment that’s immediately echoed by Freddie and Roger.

They’re all toeing a close line. One wrong touch, a little too much stimulation, and Brian is going come no matter how hard he tries to stop it - but none of them can keep their hands off him now.

“I think it’s just about time for this,” Roger says as he grabs the cock ring and kneels down in front of Brian. Brian moans at the sight of Roger between his legs, and John and Freddie have to hold him still as Roger pulls Brian’s cock out of his panties and fits the adjustable strap around the base of his cock and balls.

“There, that should do it,” he says as he double-checks the fit. He glances up at Brian and asks, “Not too tight?”

“Or too loose?” Freddie adds.

Brian shakes his head. “No, sirs.”

“Good,” Roger says - and then he licks a stripe up Brian’s cock, from the base to the tip. Brian shouts and tries to buck up into Roger’s mouth but Freddie and John won’t let him. The attempt still shifts the plug inside him and Brian moans and pulls against his partners’ hands, and with one last flick of his tongue over Brian’s slit Roger pulls away with a smug smile. He stands up and cards a hand through Brian’s hair, tilting his head back so he’s looking up at him. “Still feeling alright?” Roger asks, teasing.

Brian stares at him with eyes blown wide with desperate lust and he licks his lips and says, “Green.”

Roger hadn’t quite meant his question to be another check-in, but given how far under Brian is by now it never hurts to hear that he’s still an enthusiastic participant in what’s going on, so he kisses Brian on the forehead and says again, “Good girl.”

“Mm, and look at this, your pretty little cock is right here for us to tease now,” John says as he oh-so-lightly brushes the tip of one finger down Brian’s shaft. Brian cries out and grabs at John’s wrist with his bound hands, trying to make him touch him more than that.

Freddie spanks the inside of Brian’s thigh, hard, and Brian cries out again. “None of that now, dearie,” he says as John pulls Brian’s hands away from his. “You were being so good for us, don’t start misbehaving now.”

“I’m sorry, sirs, I’m just-” Brian cuts off with a moan as John gives his cock one slow, firm stroke before letting go again.

“Behave,” John says sternly, and he lands a slap on Brian’s other thigh, just because he can.

“If you two aren’t careful, he’s going to come through that cock ring before we’re done with him,” Roger warns.

“He’s not allowed to come. I want to ride him before the end of the night,” Freddie says, and Brian groans at the prospect.

John laughs and says, “I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle that, Freddie. Or do you not see how quickly he’s falling to pieces?”

“I can handle it, sirs, I can, I promise I can,” Brian says, so eager to be good for them that he’ll agree to almost anything right now if it means pleasing them - and having them keep touching him, of course.

“We’ll talk about that when the movie is over.” John kisses his temple and adds, “Now, hush. The floor show is starting.”

Brian bites his lip but nods, and he tries valiantly to pay attention to the movie as Columbia unfreezes and starts her short solo.

“It was great when it all began. I was a regular Frankie fan…”

The floor show may be starting but it’s clear that John, Freddie, and Roger have no intention of watching it. Roger has moved off the couch completely and is standing behind Brian now, playing with his still-sore nipples and kissing the side of Brian’s neck that Freddie hasn’t already marked up. John and Freddie, for their part, are seemingly doing everything in their power to make Brian unravel completely. Freddie is alternating between rolling Brian’s balls between his clever fingers and teasing at his cock with touches that are just too light to tip him over that edge, while John is pinching and scratching at Brian’s tender inner thighs, the pain a delicious contrast to the pleasure that Freddie is inflicting on him.

Brian is trembling constantly now, and the shaking only makes the stretch of the plug inside him that much more noticeable, every slight shift of it harder to ignore. Brian’s eyes are squeezed shut and his lashes are damp with tears. He’s panting and moaning and whining, unable to stay quiet now even if he wanted to while the corset continues to steal his breath away, the restriction against his chest only ratcheting his arousal up even higher. He keeps choking out half-formed sentences, Sirs and Oh god falling from his lips - at least until Roger slides two fingers into his mouth and Brian is reduced to wordless groans as he flicks his tongue over the digits.

“Yeah, just like that, baby girl, you love having your mouth filled, don’t you?” Roger growls in his ear and Brian nods, and closes his lips around Roger’s fingers to suck on them.

“Fuck,” John groans. “Rog, that’s just making me want to have our girl to suck me off again.”

Roger laughs and pulls his fingers out of Brian’s mouth with a small pop. He wipes them off on Brian’s cheek, ignoring his disappointed whine and the way he keeps his mouth open as if hoping it’ll be filled again. “He sucked you off before the movie started. That wasn’t enough for you?”

“Not when his mouth feels that good,” John says as he pushes Brian’s mouth closed and kisses him briefly.

“On the subject of his mouth, and his cock…” Freddie drags his fingers through the precome beading at the tip of Brian’s cock, and smirks at the strangled moan from Brian. “Our dear Frank-N-Furter is about to be killed, so we do have to consider what we’re doing with him next.” He smears his fingers over Brian’s lips, and laughs lightly as Brian’s tongue darts out to taste his own precome. “I think our sweet girl has been good enough to come, what do you say?”

“Yeah, I think he deserves it,” John agrees. “Pretty sure he’s going to come the second we get that cock ring off anyway, whether we give him permission or not. The only question is, which one of us is going to fuck him?”

Brian wants them all to fuck him, wants to be taken fast and rough by the three of them in turn until he’s filled with come and utterly used and ruined - but his boyfriends know that won’t end well if they try to do that. Brian is so far past desperate that they know that there’s a risk of him dropping hard, the kind of subdrop that takes hours of gentle aftercare to pull him out of because his system always struggles to regulate itself after the sort of endorphin release that’s in store for him after a scene like this. They never want to put him through that, not if they can help it.

So John, Roger, and Freddie have a quiet conversation about their plans behind Brian’s back. Freddie keeps gently tickling and teasing at Brian’s cock, keeping him just distracted enough that he doesn’t realize that decisions are being made without him noticing, while on the screen Brad and Janet start singing their final lament in the dirt outside as the mansion rockets into space.

“Alright, baby girl, this is what’s going to happen,” Roger says just as the reprise of Science Fiction Double Feature starts playing. Freddie lets go of Brian’s dick so he can pay attention to what Roger is saying, but Brian whimpers and bucks his hips up and tries to grab Freddie to bring his hand back to his cock.

John pins Brian’s hands against his chest and says, “None of that now, Brian. Can you give me a color, please?”

Brian looks at him with wide, watery eyes. He’s breathing as heavily as he can in his corset and he’s so far in subspace that it’s almost alarming. John is about to safeword on his behalf when Brian says, clearly, “Green, sir.”

“Alright,” John says. “Take a breath and listen to Roger, this is important.”

Brian nods and tries to turn to look at Roger, but he can’t twist that far around in the corset and Brian whines quietly in frustration. Roger quickly walks around to the front of the couch instead and stands in front of Brian, petting his hair gently as Brian looks up at him with eyes that are the slightest bit clearer than they were a moment before, thank god for that.

“John is going to fuck Freddie, and I’m going to fuck you,” Roger tells him. Brian opens his mouth, probably to insist that he can take all three of them, but Roger is quick to add, “You’ve been so good for us so far that we don’t want to make you wait too much longer to come, alright?”

Brian nods eagerly at that. Roger laughs softly and kisses the top of his head. “They’re going to go into the bedroom first, since somebody-” He glances over at Freddie. “-needs a little bit of time to get prepped. And I want a moment alone with you, since those two have already had their hands on you all night.”

Technically Roger has had his hands on Brian as well, but they need to put a little bit of a break into their play. They all know exactly what Freddie looks and sounds like the moment he gets anything inside him, after all, and they’ve basically been edging Brian since the start of the movie. If they want to have any hope of Brian holding out long enough to actually be fucked then it’s for the best if John gets most of the prep out of the way before Roger brings Brian in.

John doesn’t waste any time in pulling Freddie out of the room, though with the way Freddie starts moaning shortly after there’s no hiding what the two of them are up to in the bedroom. Brian whimpers at the sounds drifting down the hall and looks up at Roger with pleading eyes.

“I’ve got you, Brimi, don’t you worry,” Roger promises.

He starts with undoing the cuffs around Brian’s wrists and pulling down the fingerless gloves. He dutifully checks Brian’s circulation and for bruises, and even though there clearly aren’t any he still kisses the inside of each of Brian’s wrists when he’s done. The heels come off next; why Brian is still wearing them when he’s been sitting down all this time, Roger honestly has no idea, but it just takes a gentle nudge for Brian to toe them off. Roger moves them aside and pulls Brian up to his feet, and Brian sways and whimpers as the plug inside him shifts at the movement.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about that plug,” Roger teases. He unclips the suspenders from Brian’s stockings and pulls both the belt and panties down so Brian can step out of everything.

“No, sir, ‘s too big to forget about,” Brian admits as Roger kneels in front of him to roll down his stockings and pull them off, one at a time, with Brian holding onto his shoulder for balance. Roger can’t resist licking up the length of Brian’s cock again and reaching behind him to toy with the base of the plug, and Brian cries out loudly, gripping onto him tighter as he doubles over at the sudden burst of pleasure.

And from the bedroom comes another loud, answering moan from Freddie.

Roger stands back up, even though Brian whines and tries to push him back down. Roger lets the moment of brattiness slide, because despite coming down Brian’s throat less than two hours ago he’s hard and aching in his now too-tight gold shorts and he doesn’t have the patience to punish Brian for his desperation now. All he has to do is get the corset off and then, hopefully, John will have Freddie prepped, and the four of them can finally fall into bed together and put an end to the game that feels like it’s been going on for half the evening now.

Luckily there’s a zipper running down the side of Brian’s corset, which Freddie would no doubt take offense at because it’s probably not screen-accurate - but then again, his Magenta costume leans a little bit too much towards “sexy maid” itself so Roger doesn’t think he would really have a leg to stand on in that conversation. There are red marks along Brian’s torso from how tight he cinched up the corset when got dressed and he takes a deep, gasping breath as Roger pulls it away and sets it on the couch (carefully, since he knows they’ll want to revisit that particular item of clothing again later).

Roger runs his hands along those reddened indentations now, feeling the way that Brian trembles under his gentle touch. “And to think,” he murmurs, “you had wanted us to make this even tighter on you.” His eyes flick up to meet Brian’s and he smirks, and adds, “You really are just a fucking masochist, aren’t you? No, that’s not quite it…”

He snakes a hand up to Brian’s throat, not pressing down, but even the threat of being choked has Brian’s eyes going wide and his pulse fluttering rapidly under Roger’s hand. “You just like not being able to breathe, don’t you?”

“Sir…” Brian breathes, the single word carrying an unspoken plea for more - a plea that Brian won’t voice because he was told earlier not to beg and he’s trying so fucking hard to be good.

Roger lets go of Brian’s throat and grabs his face to pull him down into a searing kiss. “C’mon. Bedroom, now.”

Freddie’s moaning has died down a little, but as Roger drags Brian down towards the bedroom they start to hear his quieter groans and whimpers. And when they stumble into the room they can see that John has Freddie facedown on the bed, with his arse in the air. John has stripped out of his pants and lab coat but Freddie is still in his maid’s costume, the skirt flipped up over his back so John can work him open.

“Took you long enough,” John says with a bit of a wild grin. He has three fingers buried deep in Freddie and he twists them, wrenching an open, gasping groan from Freddie.

“Yeah, well, looks like you made good use of the time,” Roger says. “Didn’t want to bother undressing him, I take it?”

“Nah. He looks too good in a dress, doesn’t he?”

“Mm, you know, he really does,” Roger agrees, and Freddie whimpers a little at the compliment. Roger pushes Brian forward and says to him, “Up on the bed, pretty girl, next to Freddie and on your back.”

Brian clambers up onto the bed and Freddie reaches out for him immediately, instinctively, as John pulls his fingers out of him. Roger shimmies out of his shorts and snags the lube that was on the bed while John grabs condoms for them both, and a few moments later the two of them are making out sloppily while they stroke each other’s cocks, slicking them up as quickly as they can.

“You ready?” John murmurs against Roger’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Roger says, with a wide grin. “Let’s do this.”

“Fucking finally,” Freddie growls, wiggling his arse.

He gasps when John smacks it and grabs his hips tightly. “None of that now, Fred. You’ll take what I give you.”

Freddie laughs at that and cranes his neck around so he can look at John. “I’m not subbing for you tonight, Deaky. I don’t have to follow orders.”

“True,” John agrees as he holds Freddie open and grinds against his hole, not pushing in yet but just teasing at his rim. “But don’t pretend that you don’t love it when we get bossy with you.”

“Then you don’t pretend that you don’t love when I get bratty- oh.” Freddie buries his head in his arms again and moans as John enters him with one slow, deep thrust.

Roger, meanwhile, is kneeling between Brian’s legs and is working the plug out of him, as Brian gasps and squirms beneath him. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?” he says casually as he slips two fingers into Brian to make sure he’s open and still slick enough to take him.

“S-sir,” Brian whines.

“Yeah, alright, alright, I’ve got you,” Roger says with a quiet chuckle as he lines the head of his cock up at Brian’s entrance and slowly starts to push inside.

He’s so open from the plug that Roger almost sinks into him to the hilt on the first thrust. Brian cries out and wraps his legs around Roger, trying to coax him in deeper, his hands grasping at the sheets at his side. Next to him Freddie is groaning and gasping, dragging his face against the bed, and rocking back against every one of John’s rough thrusts into him.

Roger leans down to kiss Brian when he’s buried fully inside him and tells him, “You can beg and be as noisy as you want now, but no coming until the cock ring is off, understand?”

“Yes sir.” Roger grinds up into him and Brian throws his head back and moans. “Oh, god, sir, please-”

“Color, Brian?”

“Green, green, please sir, please just fuck me!”

So Roger does, because with Brian begging beneath him and Freddie and John fucking next to him he knows that he isn’t going to last long. None of them are, really. Freddie is nearly wordless with pleasure as he moves just enough to kiss Brian, panting and licking into his mouth as John fucks him hard and fast, groaning praises at him and digging his fingers into Freddie’s hips with every thrust. There are tears in the corners of Brian’s eyes again and the noises that are punched out of him are filthy and sinful, and Roger can’t stop running his mouth, “So good for us, baby girl, so fucking good” and “Feel amazing, Brian, you’re fucking perfect” slipping out in a constant stream.

Freddie is the first one to moan, “Gonna come, gonna fucking come,” and John reaches down to quickly jerk him off as he keeps pounding into him.

Roger fumbles for the cock ring around Brian’s cock. He knows that once Freddie comes Brian is liable to go off as well, even with the ring on, and none of them want Brian to feel like he failed them by accidentally disobeying Roger’s order at this point in the evening.

He gets the ring off just as John growls, “Yeah, that’s it Fred, c’mon, wanna feel you come for us, show us how good it fucking feels.” And a few moments later Freddie does fall over that edge with a shout, spilling into John’s hand and tightening around him as John’s thrusts become a little more erratic, his own orgasm quickly building now.

“Touch yourself, Brian, be a good girl and come for me now, wanna see you come,” Roger pants because he’s almost there too but he wants Brian to come first, he needs Brian to come first, he needs to make sure their baby girl is taken care of before he loses the last shred of his control.

But Brian is too far gone to follow this last order. His eyes are blown wide with lust, so dark that the hazel of his irises has almost entirely disappeared, and if he even hears Roger he shows no signs of it as he moans and keeps his hands fisted in the sheets.

As it turns out, though, that doesn’t matter. John comes with a low groan, his hips stuttering into Freddie, and then without a single touch to his cock Brian’s orgasm slams into him, come splattering over his stomach as he cries out and writhes beneath Roger.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” Roger chants, the only thing he can get out before his climax washes over him and John pulls him into a rough kiss and Freddie somehow gets a hand on Brian to stroke him through the last aftershocks of his orgasm.

Freddie is, somehow, the first to move. Maybe it’s because he was the first to come, and therefore the first to come back to his senses, but once John pulls out and flops down on the bed next to him Freddie rolls over and, after a few moments, he pushes himself upright with a small groan. He staggers out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later, now finally naked and cleaned up and carrying a damp washcloth for Brian. Roger has pulled out of Brian by now and disposed of the condoms and John is starting to get his bearings back as well.

Brian, however, is a completely different story. He’s still blissed out and only slowly coming back to himself, reaching for his boyfriends with shaking and uncoordinated hands, and whining unhappily as Freddie drags the washcloth over his stomach and too-sensitive cock and John grabs a wipe from their

All of them try to stay in contact with him while they get him cleaned up. John sits up against the headboard and gently moves Brian so his head in resting in his lap. John pets his hair, murmuring praises down at him, telling him that he did so well for them tonight, he’s such a good boy for letting them play with him like this (because they never call Brian their “girl” once the scene ends; that’s a hard line of his, and they always respect it). Freddie, once he’s done with the washcloth, curls up against Brian’s side, pressed as close as he can get so Brian can feel that he’s not alone as he starts to come down.

While they’re handling Brian, Roger ducks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of the sports drink and a few of the granola bars that they keep on hand for moments like this. Between the four of them they polish off the drink, though it takes a little bit of effort to coax Brian upright enough so he doesn’t choke on it and he doesn’t manage to eat more than half of a granola bar before he hands it back to Roger and flops back down on the bed.

And that’s their cue to lie down next to him. Freddie is next to him in the middle, because he might not have subbed but no one is going to deny him that little extra bit of care after the rough - but very much welcome - fucking from John. Roger presses up against his back, and John slides out from underneath Brian to settle in on his other side, his hand thrown across Brian and Freddie and almost reaching over to Roger. Roger laces their fingers together and smiles at him over their boyfriends’ heads, before kissing the back of Freddie’s neck.

“Feeling alright?” he asks the room at large.

“Mm, feeling wonderful,” Freddie murmurs. He has his face buried in the crook of Brian’s neck and the words are almost entirely lost in Brian’s hair, but manages to make himself heard anyway.

“Tired. But good,” John agrees. “Though, we might have to actually watch the movie again on another night.”

Roger chuckles. “Yeah, probably. Without costumes next time, though.”

“Or we need to take a page out of Brian’s book and embrace the costumes a little bit more,” John says.

“Speaking of Brian, how is he?” Roger asks. He starts to sit up a little to see for himself, but Freddie reaches one arm behind him and pushes Roger back down.

“Already asleep,” Freddie says. “We really wore him out tonight, poor dear.” And sure enough Brian’s soft, even breathing can be heard drifting up from the middle of their tangle of limbs and blankets.

“I think he has the right idea there,” John says around a yawn, and Roger and Freddie murmur their agreement. They’re all worn out, after an evening like that, and one by one the rest of them drift off to sleep as well.

#queen band fic #poly!queen #poly!queen fic #queen band smut #my fic #happy Halloween have some p*rn lmfao

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kookings · 3 years

Note

ok so this is a lot but 😆 3, 9, 11, 19, 22, 23

ASTRA😭😭😭🤚😭🤚💧💧😭😭

3. What is one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set up and context it would need?

help ok well excluding fics in their entirety (bcs these shits take LOADS of time and planning and setting up, which i have 0 patience for) i think maybe historical au’s (which isn’t really a scene but pretend u cannot see). u have to really do tooons of research and give background knowledge on the setting, plot, political views at the time, ect. and dont even get me STARTED on the proper dialogue and word choices that go along with that period too 😭😭😭 i just genuinely don’t have enough patience to put in thag much effort, but i have MAD respect for authors who do and who can pull it off!!!!

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

okok so everytime i start a drabble, it ends up becoming into a longfic. and everytime i start a longfic, i lose motivation bcs it’s too long (and i’m lazy but sh). maybe thats because i’m more of a pantser so i have the basic outline of what i want to write and then i fill in the gaps with whatever comes to mind. but when you’re writing a longfic, you kind of have to have everything at least somewhat planned out and that kind of stresses me wheras with drabbles theres not as much planning needed and lots more freedom. if that makes sense???

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

i always always put heavy emphasis on my character’s eyes and smiles. just their basic facial expressions too!!

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

when i finish writing a chapter/oneshot i reread it about 20 times. and when i post it, i reread it another 20 times over. however, i don’t particularly go back and read my old works. i did go back into TBC (which i started over a yr ago) to get quotes for the colour tag game that i did and that was a horrible, horrible experience. but aside from the cringe, it also showed me how much my writing has grown which is always nice to see (:

i alr did 11 and 23 thank GOD bcs that would’ve made this post like two days long but ty for requesting astra you’re stinky 🥺

#kookaine asks #kookings tag games #astra tag #astra idiot #astra abombination #astra the worst #kookings ask games

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years

Text

cut in izzy stradlin x reader

+++++++++

overprotective izzy? yeah kinda lol Crazy fan encounter gone bad (blood tw)

song: I'm lost without you by blink-182

tag list: @cynic-spirit @satans-arse @slashscowboyboots @smokeandmirrorz

+++++++++

i sat in the booth with my arms wrapped around my torso, trying to make myself as small as possible. i felt very uncomfortable in the space, knowing everyone around us was staring. i knew they werent looking at me, i was just the plus one to this gnr dinner extravaganza. of course that wasnt what it actually was but it felt like it. there was paparazzi outside trying to get in, women practically falling over themselves to talk to the guys, and fans gawking from around the room. the body guards were diligent to keep us away from them when we came in but it was harder to do that now. i felt something touch my back, causing me to spin around and see some girl with a few strands of my hair in her hand. my eyes went wide as we stared at each other.

"can i help you?"

i asked a little bewildered. izzy finally realized what was happening and took something out of her other hand.

"get out of here!"

he yelled, dropping it on the table. i shook my head and turned back around, now realizing that she was holding scissors.

"what the fuck?"

i asked, picking them up. i looked to izzy.

"did she cut my fucking hair?!"

i practically yelled, pulling it forward to look at it. he shushed me, sitting a little closer than before.

"no, babe, she did not cut your hair. its fine."

i looked at him like he was crazy.

"what do you mean its fine? she could have cut my hair! or worse! stabbed me!"

he sat in silence for a second, staring at the shiny new pair of scissors on the table.

"yeah, i hadnt thought of that, thats not fuckin cool."

he said, leaning back. my eyes got wide as he shimmied up out of the booth, standing on the bench itself before climbing over the backrest.

"what? where are you going?"

i called, one of the guards turning and following him.

"what happened?"

duff asked, from the other side of the table. i looked at him a little shocked.

"some fan just tried to cut my hair."

i said, sliding the scissors to him before looking back over the booth. i could see Izzy walking quickly across the room. i frowned before doing what he did and lifting my body up and over the backrest of the booth.

"what are you doing?"

duff asked, standing to get a better look at where i was going. i walked quickly across the room to get to izzy and the one guard. i knew i shouldnt have but i couldnt help myself. if he was getting Justice for me I sure as hell was gonna be there for it.

"look!"

i heard someone call. i was less than three feet away from him when another woman stopped in front of me.

"how dare you take him away from me! izzy stradlin is the love of my life! its not fair that you get to date him and i dont."

she said firmly, almost yelling.

"look, i dont know you but im sure he would think youre lovely. ill let him know you said hi."

i told her before side stepping and going to walk around her. i was one, maybe two steps away when she grabbed my head, full fist of hair in her hand.

"i said he was mine!"

she yelled, pulling me backwards. the next thing i knew i was on my back, staring at the ceiling in a daze. everything went quiet for a moment and i could see the guard grabbing her. i blinked a few times only to see izzy knelt over me, his hand waving in front of my face. i offered him a lazy smile.

"hey babe."

i slurred out. he looked angelic with the ceiling lights casting over him.

"oh god."

was all i heard before he called out for someone else, the sounds not making their way into my ears.

"izzy i dont feel so good."

i said, trying to sit up. everything was blurry and the room was spinning around me. he held me up, a hand placed firmly at my back.

"fuck, youre bleeding."

he said and i could finally feel the stinging at the back of my head. i blinked slowly before leaning over and throwing up all over the floor. he caught me before i could fall forward, holding my hair back.

"easy."

he cooed. i breathed heavily, feeling tears stinging my eyes.

"izzy i wanna go home."

i whined, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks. he nodded, looking over my face with a panicked expression on his face.

"okay baby, we can go home, but first we gotta get you to a doctor. okay? we're gonna make you feel better."

i nodded slowly but stopped when i felt like i was gonna hurl again. i held my hand over my mouth. then i heard sirens.

"did you find the girl with the scissors?"

i said. it sounded gross coming out though, like my tongue was three sizes too big for my mouth. i looked down in confusion. he laughed a little bit, maybe it didnt sound the same for him.

"yeah but that doesnt matter right now, the paramedics are gonna take you so we can stop the bleeding."

i half smiled at him.

"are we gonna ride in the am, amu?"

he examined my face,

"ambulance?"

he asked and my face lit up.

"thats it!"

i slurred out and he nodded.

"yeah, theyre right here baby, just hold on."

i looked up as the stretcher was dropped to the ground beside me, one of the emt's shining a flashlight in my eyes. i blinked away from them.

"can you tell me your name and birthday maam?"

he asked and i frowned at him. i thought for a second.

"y/n."

was all i said, looking at him deadpan.

"can you tell me your birthdate?"

he asked again.

"tomorrow?"

i asked and he looked to izzy.

"well by looks of it you probably have a concussion but we're gonna have to take you to the hospital to get that gash closed up."

i looked at him and shook my head.

"what gash?"

izzy rubbed my arm gently.

"baby youre bleeding, remember?"

i drew my brows.

"well yeah but you didnt tell me i had a gash."

he looked to the medics apologetically.

"we're gonna put you on the stretcher okay miss?"

i nodded slowly.

"okay, as long as izzy gets to come to."

the man looked to izzy.

"is that your-?"

"boyfriend."

i said proudly as he shifted me up.

"we're on tour, she doesnt have any other family here."

The man nodded as they started rolling the stretcher towards the door.

"Hold me."

I said in a child like tone, reaching for Izzy's hand. He stared me in the face before doing as told and holding my hand, running his thumb over it.

"I've got you baby."

°°°°°°°°°

i felt the stinging against my head and felt nauseous again.

"hold on."

i said before leaning forward and throwing up into the bowl the doctor had given me. i groaned and wiped my mouth as he got back to work on my stitches. izzy held my hand, looking over my face as i blinked slowly. it had been about an hour since wed arrived and were finally almost done.

"youre doing great."

izzy reassured and i sent him a small smile.

"thanks."

i said lightly.

"alright, we are all done. the nurse will be in momentarily to go over treatment and activity."

i nodded once, thanking him as he walked out. izzy sighed out, like he had been holding his breath the whole time.

"you okay?"

i asked. his eyes went wide.

"am i okay?! youre the one who just got your head split open!"

he said. i laughed a little bit, he just closed his eyes and dropped his head to my shoulder. i pet his head gently.

"at least im not seeing two of you now, not that im complaining or anything, but still."

he let out a short laugh before standing back upright.

"im just glad youre okay, i was so worried about you. i didnt even see what happened until youd already hit the floor. it was just your worried face and then boom, you were down."

i closed my eyes and groaned.

"its blurry, all i know is that girl thought she was in love with you. i just wanted to find you back."

he kissed my shoulder.

"i know, im not leaving you the rest of the tour, i can promise you that."

i laughed a little bit.

"izzy thats gonna be kind of hard dont you think?"

he shook his head.

"you arent going anywhere alone, even if i have to hire a personal body guard just for you."

i held his head in my hand and stroked his cheek gently with my hand.

"im glad youre protective over me but i can handle myself. normally."

i joked. he still looked so worried.

"i dont know what i wouldve done if id lost you today. you were bleeding so much and just completely out of it. that really scared me."

he said, and i could see his eyes getting watery. i brought him to me and kissed him gently.

"im not going anywhere, you have my word."

#wattpad #x reader #izzy stradlin #jeffrey isbell #gnr #imagines #one shots #262

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cami-chats · 5 years

Text

Not Rock ‘N Roll Good

A/N: A modern Sandor/Arya fic so I can dabble in their characterizations. I think it’s obvious but just in case: lots of language ahead!

Tags: AU- Modern Setting, Wrong Number, Getting Together, Time Skips, Blind Character, Blind Arya Stark, Identity Reveal, Minor Sexual Content

Sandor's phone chimed with a message, and he frowned. Anytime someone texted him, he was suspicious. He pulled it out and checked.

Unknown Number: Dude where the fuck are you?

Unknown Number: And you don't get to be mad at me for cursing at you because you're THIRTY MINUTES LATE

He didn't have plans with anyone, and certainly not with someone whose number wasn't in his phone, so he ignored it. It was a wrong number, they'd figure it out soon enough. Sandor turned back to the computer and looked over the schedule. Bronn was going on vacation-- or so he claimed, frankly Sandor thought he was a fucking liar-- and with Ygritte reducing her hours so she could make her internship, they were stretched thin.

Unknown Number: Are you going to show up?

Great, this person was being stood up, and Sandor was going to have to be the one to break the news.

Unknown Number: Ramsey?

He sighed, typing out a reply. To Unknown Number: Think the arse gave you the wrong number mate.

Unknown Number: Of fucking course he did

Unknown Number: What a gods cursed cunt

Unknown Number: I should have known better than to make a date with someone I met at a club

Unknown Number: Sorry dude but I'm pissed. I had to cancel with my study group for this dick

To Unknown Number: It's fine. Vent all you want maybe it'll distract me from this boring shit.

Unknown Number: WELL IN THAT CASE

Unknown Number: Jk

A little bubble showed up to signal they were typing again, and Sandor gave up pretending to look at the schedule. He already knew what was going to end up happening: he'd ask Gendry, Gendry would look at his schedule and have to say no, and Sandor would cover it himself.

Unknown Number: I know you don't know me, but it's not like I welcome random arse people to hit on me. He had to go out of his way and spend TIME convincing me to agree to this, and then he doesn't even show up.

Unknown Number: And I only agreed because it seemed like he'd hop into bed with me.

Unknown Number: I just wanted to get laid.

To Unknown Number: Have you tried sex toys? They're better than most people think.

Unknown Number: Oooo personal experience talking?

To Unknown Number: Yes. People are disappointing.

Unknown Number: Well, you're not wrong.

To Unknown Number: When was the last time you were actually satisfied with someone else in bed?

Unknown Number: Not sure it's EVER happened. Mostly I get pity fucks.

To Unknown Number: Sounds shitty. Sorry man.

Unknown Number: Woman actually. Not that I care, but I thought it was weird that you might think I'm a guy.

To Unknown Number: Well I'd offer to have sex with you but I'm busy

Unknown Number: Lol

Unknown Number: I'm willing to wait for you to be free ;)

To Unknown Number: Might be waiting a while.

Unknown Number: No offense, but does it look like I'm in a big hurry? I've got a shit ton of time to spend waiting.

Unknown Number: But I can't wait rn cause my hero in a car has come to pick me up. Talk to you later future-babe.

Sandor shook his head, mouth curving up into a smile as he set his phone to the side. Chances were that they wouldn't talk again, but it picked up his mood enough that when he got home, he made himself food instead of eating canned stew cold because he was too lazy to put it in a bowl and then the microwave.

Sandor carried his phone with him while he worked in case there was an emergency or someone needed to call in sick-- he really fucking hoped that no one did that today because it was busier than most Monday's. Everyone that wasn't an employee had notifications muted while he was working at the gym, so it wasn't until he was taking a lunch break that he saw the _ unread texts he'd accumulated since getting up this morning.

Unknown Number: I'm beginning to think that someone put a sign on my back that says 'please bug me straight boys'

Unknown Number: Seriously this is getting ridiculous ffs

Unknown Number: Aha! Mystery solved, my sister Sansa has been at work here. Well, her and her girlfriend Margaery.

Unknown Number: My name's Arya btw. It seemed weird that you knew my sister and her girlfriend's name but not mine.

Unknown Number: All these mediocre bastards are reminding me of our future plans together, and all I have to say is that I'm glad we have this (joking) agreement. Cause not once in our ten minutes of conversation did you objectify me. A high bar, I know.

Unknown Number: You should tell me your name when you see these so that when I ride my dildo tonight I can think of you ;)

Unknown Number: Gods I hope that wasn't inappropriate.

Unknown Number: Sorry if it was, I was just trying to make a joke.

Unknown Number: You know, the more I think about it, the more it seems to have been in poor taste.

Sandor added her as a contact under 'Arya, the horny one' so that he'd remember.

From Sandor: Name's Sandor. If you haven't changed your nightly plans, that is He paused, then added a winky face before he sent it, just to be sure she'd know he was joking.

From Arya, the horny one: Oh thank the gods. I have like two friends, I didn't want to lose you

From Sandor: Am I friend #2 or would I be added as #3?

From Arya, the horny one: Don't be so nosy.

From Arya, the horny one: I'm sure you'll figure it out someday.

Sandor snorted and put his phone back in his pocket.

Incoming Call From Arya. Sandor checked the screen, then frowned. They'd never called each other before, and it was late. What was she doing calling him at this hour? "What."

"Saaaaandor you answered! See Sansa I told you he would, suck my dick."

Inexplicably, he was amused. "Are you drunk?"

"Only a little. If I drink too much I can't walk straight and I bump into all kinds of shit. Nearly got ran over once."

"You did get run over!" a different woman's voice said, coming through the phone's speaker.

"You got run over?" Sandor asked, even more amused than before. Drunk people annoyed the hell out of him and he didn't have the patience for it, but right now was different. Maybe that was because he was finally hearing her voice, and while she was definitely a woman, it wasn't high-pitched enough that it felt like his ears were bleeding.

"It was a tap," she argued. "I didn't even need stitches. I've given myself worse trying to do fucking needlepoint."

"You do needlepoint?" He found that hard to believe.

"Fuck no, that's why I was able to convince my mother to let me stop. It wasn't worth the cost of bandaids."

"Sounds safe."

"You've got a sexy voice. Did I tell you that? I feel like I forgot to tell you that. I was busy proving a point to Sansa and got distracted."

Sandor snorted. "If you think my voice sounds sexy, you really do need to get laid."

"Is that an offer?"

"Fuck no. You could do better."

"Pretty sure we got talking because I haven't been able to do better. And what do you mean 'fuck no'? I'm a bloody catch, you twat!"

"How would I know? I haven't seen you."

"Well there's an easy solution to that. You free this Sunday? And I ask only to make sure you didn't make plans with your friends, I know you have the day off work."

"My friends are all working," he said drily. "I never have plans."

"Great, then you won't mind meeting up for coffee. Say, ten in the morning?"

"You want to meet me?"

"I don't know what- shut it Margaery I can walk and talk at the same time, bugger off. Pretty sure I've made it clear I want to fuck you, coffee is nothing."

"I ain't pretty, Arya. I don't know what kind of Prince Charming you've been imagining."

She snorted. "Yeah that's not gonna be a problem. I'm attracted to your voice and your personality, trust me, that'll be enough."

"I'm a miserable old shit." That much, he was sure of.

"All the more reason to get both of us laid. Happiness is one good round of sex away, do you really want to turn it down? Sunday, ten o'clock, the Godswood. I'll be the one with brown hair, a cane, and silly yellow sunglasses. If you're gonna be more than five minutes late, text me or I'm leaving. See you- seven hells Sansa! I was almost done mind your own fucking business. Bye Sandor see you then!" she called out hurriedly, like the phone was being taken from her.

"Er- bye." He hung up, then stared at his phone, bewildered. Guess he had a date. He didn't want to see what Arya's face would look like if her expression was just going to twist in disgust from his scar. He wasn't telling anyone about this. Bronn couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut, and Gendry would be all hopeful and give him that stupid puppy look and tell him that maybe he would fall in love and be happy. What a cunt.

He thought about dressing up.

He decided that was stupid.

He ended up in jeans and a worn, long sleeve shirt with his hair pulled back-- no point in trying to hide the burn scar. What was he doing? This was stupid. He wasn't so far removed from reality to believe that she'd run screaming, but it was going to change things. Arya didn't believe him when he said he was an ugly fucker, but now he was going to get to see her reaction up close and personal. Fuck everything. He still grabbed his keys and left the flat, heading towards the coffee shop she'd told him she would be at.

Fuck it all, he didn't even like coffee. Maybe they'd have something without that bitter shit in it.

Sandor grumbled to himself the entire trip there, but he showed up and that was rather telling. The shop wasn't packed, but it was comfortably full. They'd be able to have a conversation without the employees overhearing every word they said. It would also make it harder for him to find her, but what the hell. With a face like his, no one would be surprised that he was here for a blind date, and they sure as hell wouldn't be surprised if he got stood up. Not that he thought Arya would do that.

Brown hair, yellow sunglasses. She'd also mentioned a cane, but chances were he wouldn't be able to see it walking around like this. He passed three different hipster couples, and five single hipsters. Fucking hells he felt like he was going to lose his mind. Brown hair, yellow sunglasses. Brown hair, yellow- aha. Shit she hadn't been kidding when she described her sunglasses as 'silly'. They were large and garish and in the shape of stars. She had her dark hair pulled back in a half-bun, and the cane she mentioned was resting between herself and the wall. There was no drink in front of her, and her elbow was propped up on the table, resting her chin in her hand as she stared into space. She was pretty. Too damn pretty for the likes of him, but he couldn't turn around now.

"Arya?"

She turned her head. It didn't seem like she was looking at him, more like she was looking a foot from where his chest was. "Sandor?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah that's me."

"Great," she said, grinning. "Have you gotten a drink yet? I hope not, because I'm buying." She reached for the cane and stood, and that was around the time Sandor realized it was a familiar white style. She reached out her hand, and he moved automatically, standing next to her and guiding her hand to the crook of his elbow. They started to walk. "So, did you need a drink or are you just enjoying me hanging off your arm?"

"Both."

She snorted out a laugh.

"Few steps to the line," he warned as they slowed down.

"Know what you're getting?"

"No."

"You don't drink coffee, do you?"

"Not... usually," he hedged, and she laughed, but not cruelly-- which had been Berric's reaction when he learned that Sandor didn't drink coffee.

"Yeah most of it tastes like shit. I get the turtle macchiato because it's so sweet I can't taste anything else. Do you like sweet drinks?"

He made a face and said nothing. Then he remembered that she couldn't see him and said, "Not really." He liked sugary sweet, but dessert sweet tasted like liquid cavity and he hated it.

"And you don't like coffee." She hummed, thinking it over. "I think they have tea if you'd prefer that."

He grunted and scanned the menu. They had lemonade, he'd probably try that. The line moved forward, and he urged her to take a few steps, which she easily did.

"I'm not what you expected, am I?" she asked, a bitter note in her voice.

"No. You're a hell of a lot prettier."

She sighed. "You are sending mixed signals, Sandor."

"I am?" he repeated, confused. He'd thought it was pretty clear that he was happy to be here.

She gave a tense shrug. "You're not talking much."

"I'm talking more'n I usually do."

"If you don't want this to be a date, you can say so. We'll just be two friends meeting up, there's no harm in that."

"I don't talk much," he said. When that didn't comfort her, he added, "I wouldn't worry about it."

"If you say so," she said, which was noncommittal, but her mood picked up again.

A minute later, he told her, "It's our turn."

"Hey Arya," the man behind the register said.

"Hey Sam."

"Getting your usual?" Sam asked.

"I have a usual?"

"Large hot turtle macchiato, right?"

She groaned. "I've become predictable. This is like a nightmare."

"I wouldn't say totally predictable. Who's this with you, hm?" he asked, glancing at Sandor. His eyes darted to the scar, but he didn't look overly bothered by it. That was a nice change.

Arya snorted even as she leaned into Sandor's side. "Like you wouldn't tell Jon everything I say."

"I might not."

"Man," Sandor said, "I hardly know you and even I can tell that's a lie."

He gave a sheepish smile. "Well, he is my best friend. Anything for you today, Arya's mysterious friend?"

"Lemonade."

"What size?"

"Make it a large," Arya supplied so that he didn't have to worry about it.

Sam nodded, writing the order on a cup and setting it to the side. "Anything else?"

"Not for me." She angled her head towards Sandor. "Did you want a pastry or something."

"I'm good." Pause. "Thanks."

"Okay." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. It was a simple billfold, and Sandor noticed there was braille on the front of the card. Then he averted his eyes because what the fuck was he doing looking at her bloody credit card? She handed it over, and Sam swiped it, delivering it back to her waiting hand. When the receipt printed, he pulled it off and threw it away like he'd done it a hundred times before.

"Alright, you know where the hand-off bar is, Edd'll be the one down there today."

"Thanks Sam."

A few people stared at the pair of them, but for the most part no one cared. Sandor had dealt with far worse, so he ignored them without a second thought. Arya had probably dealt with worse too, even if she couldn't see the people currently staring.

Somehow one date turned into two, turned into eight. Sandor actually left the gym for lunch now, meeting Arya at the nearby deli every few days so they could eat together. The joking about sleeping together seemed less like joking and more like a legitimate question when Arya said it now.

Sandor shrugged uncomfortably, and Arya could feel it because she was holding onto his arm at the moment as they walked down the street. "We haven't known each other long."

"Oh please," she said, and Sandor got the sense that she was rolling her eyes. It was hard to tell through the dark lens of her sunglasses, but her tone made it rather clear that that's what she was doing. "We've been texting for four months, and seeing each other in person for another month. I think that's plenty of time. You weren't half as shy over text."

"It wasn't a possibility back then," he grumbled, and Arya sighed.

"If you don't want to, we don't have to. If you don't find me physically attractive- well, first of all fuck you, but that's fine too. I don't mind waiting as long as I know that's what I'm doing. But if we're not fucking because you think I'm not interested or some shit, you need to let it go."

"Of bloody course I know you're interested. You've made it pretty damn clear."

"So what is it? Are you not interested?"

"Course I am."

"Then what's the hold up?"

Sandor grumbled an answer under his breath, knowing full well that she couldn't understand him.

"What?"

He sighed and said it again, clear enough for her to hear this time. "It's been a while."

"Aww are you nervous?" she cooed. When he didn't joke back, she dropped the teasing expression and tone. "Wait, seriously? Sandor, there's nothing to be nervous about. I have complete faith in your ability to fuck me blind." She paused. "Get it? Blind?"

Begrudgingly, Sandor found himself chuckling.

"Listen, I remember telling you that my sex life has been pretty lackluster. Even if it's not good, I've definitely had worse. And besides, those were one-off's. If the first time sucks, so what? The second time'll be better. All of this to say that I don't think you'll be bad, but whatever, I doubt you'd listen to me if that's all I said."

"Yeah."

They slowed down for a crosswalk, conversation pausing in the presence of other people that would clearly be able to hear them. The light changed, and they started across, waiting a little longer to continue the conversation so they could get some distance.

"How do we plan that? I work all the fucking time and you have a roommate."

"You say that like we don't have time, right now, on our way to your flat."

"Right now?"

"Why not?" she asked, having to step away for a moment to avoid a shop's sign.

"It's the middle of the day."

Arya snorted, retaking her place by his side. "And you care? If you think you're going to be shit and shoot off early, then there's no reason why we should carve out three hours of an evening to do it."

He glanced down at her and found himself wanting. That wasn't anything new. She was not only bloody attractive, but willing. "Fine."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

She grinned, holding herself just that much higher as they walked.

It took several more minutes before they reached Sandor's flat, and he cleared his throat before uncomfortably offering, "Did you want to come in?"

She squeezed his arm in comfort. "I'd fucking love to."

They walked to the staircase, and he gave it a look, counting the steps hurriedly. "Ten steps, then a landing a meter long, then seven steps."

"Thanks."

Normally Sandor took the steps two at a time, but with Arya on his arm he took them the usual one at a time, feeling like he was moving at a snail's pace. Soon enough though, they were at his doorstep and he was unlocking the door. Despite all his arguing and this being the first time Arya had been to his place, he'd cleaned it up a long time ago and kept it that way. He didn't leave shoes and random bits of rubbish out anymore, making sure they weren't in the way for her to trip over. "Entryway's a few feet wide. You can leave your shoes on the right."

Arya tentatively poked her cane in that direction, the tip of it going over his shoes then the empty space of floor. She kept her cane in place as she slipped her shoes off and nudged them into place, using her toes and cane to make sure they were out of the way. "Show me around." She kept the cane in her hand, Sandor on one side and her cane in the other to watch that side.

He walked the perimeter of the living room and kitchen, making sure to detour inside so she knew where the tables were.

"And your room?"

He cleared his throat and they started walking again, down the short hallway and into his bedroom. There was no art anywhere in his flat, and for once he didn't have to hear someone bitching about the blank walls. His blanket was a faded black, something random hookup's always gave him a disappointed look for. Fuck them, it was comfortable and in good condition; he wasn't going to replace it just because the colour was a little off. He walked her forward until the edge of the bed was touching their legs. "This is the bed."

She unlaced her hand from his arm and held it in front of her, slowly lowering it down until she made contact with the top of the bed. With the cane, she reached to her left until she found the edge of the bed, then went to the right until she found the other side. She started around one side, hand trailing over the duvet as she walked to the head of the bed.

"There's a nightstand a couple paces in front of you."

She slowed, edging forward until she could bump it with her knee. Arya took her cane off the bed and set it on the opposite side of the nightstand, then climbed onto the mattress. She laid down, wriggling to get comfy on the pillows.

Her legs were spread and Sandor had to swallow past his dry throat. She held out a hand, saying his name, and he went like there was a rope around his waist, pulling him forward automatically. He kissed her like it was all he wanted to do, and she wrapped her legs around him to keep him there.

"You're glowing," Gendry teased at work the next day.

"Fuck off," Sandor grumbled. There was no denying that he was in a good mood, but glowing? That was a load of tripe.

"So when do we get to meet her?"

"As soon as she wants to meet you." Sandor looked directly at him as he delivered the next statement. "Which is never going to happen."

"Aw come on, mate. Anyone that's willing to date you has a thick enough skin to meet your friends."

"We're not friends; you're my employee."

"We're the closest things to friends that you have. You're grumpy as all seven hells, and you spend all your time here, making sure everything's working smoothly. Where are you going to find quote unquote 'real friends'?"

"I managed to find a girlfriend."

"Yeah and I'm still not convinced that wasn't an accident. Who is this magical girlfriend of yours anyways?"

Sandor rolled his eyes. "She's not magical. Stop whinging and get back to work."

"Yeah, yeah. You'd think getting laid would make you nicer."

But of course Arya chose that afternoon to spontaneously visit him at work. Which is to say that she didn't text or call, but Sandor was walking from the class rooms towards the rock wall to make sure everything was running smoothly, and he heard her talking to Gendry.

"What are you doing here?" Gendry asked her. Sandor couldn't see them yet, but sound bounced easily through the tile floor and clean walls.

"Gendry? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Uh, I work here, and I know you hate exercise."

"You work at a gym?" she repeated doubtfully. "You're a twig, not a body builder."

"I'm not as small as I was the last time you saw me."

"Mhm," she said, clearly not convinced.

"Come on Arya, that was back in high school! You've grown a lot since then too. And you still haven't told me what you're doing here. Not hoping to catch up with me, I take it?"

She snorted. "No, but maybe we should schedule that in some time. I'm here to see my boyfriend. Who's definitely not a twig."

Sandor finally rounded the corner and saw Arya and Gendry. Arya, looking the way she always did: stunning. And Gendry had his flirting face on which made Sandor want to pick him up by the scruff of his neck as if to say 'seriously?'. Gendry had people hitting on him every week, but he was going to pick an old high school friend out of everyone in the world. "Arya?"

She turned towards him with a smile. "Sandor!"

"Sandor?" Gendry repeated, looking between the two of them. It was clear when he got it, because he straightened and took a step back. "I can't believe you're his secret girlfriend."

"I'm not secret you prat," Arya said, "I'm just private." She shooed him with her hand, still angled in Sandor's direction. "Now go away."

Gendry rolled his eyes. "Yes milady."

"I may not be able to see but I can still kick your arse."

He beat a hasty exit.

"You and Gendry?" Sandor repeated, raising an eyebrow as he walked towards her.

"It was a long time ago."

"I can't believe he convinced you to date him."

"Eh," Arya said with a shrug. "We were best friends and I needed someone to bring to my mother's parties." She flashed him a smile, and he could tell that she was mostly joking. The message was clear though: she had cared for him, but it wasn't like that anymore and it wouldn't become that way again. He reached her side and tapped her free hand with his own in offering. She took it, sliding her fingers up his arm to curve around his elbow and not caring that he was damp with sweat. "Speaking of parties, my brother's birthday is coming up and every year my gift to him is a surprise. Showing up with a big, grizzly boyfriend is sure to surprise everyone."

"And they won't think I'm manipulating you or some shit?"

"I can be very persuasive."

"Really?"

"I can also be very accurate when hitting people with my staff," she said, which confirmed Sandor's suspicion that she had very little in the way of regular persuasion techniques. "A little reminder and they'll leave us alone. For a while, at least."

"Is your family always going to be so fucking nosy?" The thought was annoying, but his example of a family was a father that drank and gambled too much and a brother that abused him.

"Yeah probably. They just worry that I'm going to get hurt. Eventually, they'll figure out that you're the second best thing to happen to me and they'll chill out."

"Second best? What's the first?"

"Electric guitar. You're good Sandor, but you're no rock 'n roll."

#got #fanfic #sandor clegane #arya stark #my writing

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worseandworser · 5 years

Text

Rosaceae

Here it goes, my submission to @fmasecretsanta2018 ! Happy holidays to @humanedspresso !!

Ship: RoyEd

Summary: And to worsen his current situation, Mustang was at the unfortunately-visible-from-the-large-glass-window cashier, spying on Ed with mischievous eyes. A smug smile curled his lips as he noticed the blonde's stern look and Edward groaned in frustration.

Roy winked.

Ed went back inside.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings/tags: florist!Ed/tattoo artist!Roy, nothing but fluff and Al is full of this bullshit

read on ao3

Blue Carnation & Co. was located at a very nice street: short buildings, tall trees and a good amount of passerby. Due to quality and variety, it had managed to gather a considerable amount of clientele; form children to elders, lovers to bachelors… Its popularity steadily grew just like the flowers its owners nourished. It was Trisha Elric’s dream for the entire duration of her short yet loving life, and her sons had dedicated themselves to make it come true.

After selling a marigold bouquet to a lonely woman, Edward went to the outside showcase to check the store's newest arrival. The petit bush of winter daphnes had been strategically placed at the store's entrance so the strong, sweet smell would invite possible costumers in. And it was beautiful! Who wouldn't want to walk by beautiful flowers?

Taking his time fixing it, Edward got rid of the dry leaves and untangled those growing awkwardly. As he threaded his gloved fingers through the stems, a tiny piece of paper fell on the plant's soil. His first, almost instinctive reaction was to sigh in deep annoyance.

The second was to glare at the store across the street.

The only problem Edward could find on owning this specific flower shop was there. A small but nonetheless annoying tattoo studio called Molten Gold Ink. It served as a hideaway to the world's biggest bastard, Roy Mustang. Each working day, Ed found himself being the jerk's one and only target, and repeatedly kicking him out. Mustang had the bad — and possibly dangerous — habit of embarrassing Edward in front of his little brother. Every morning, the man took a detour to leave small notes hidden around in the flowers for Ed to find, which always brought a mild blushing crisis. If Alphonse had any negative thoughts about it, he had certainly never voiced them.

And to worsen his current situation, Mustang was at the unfortunately-visible-from-the-large-glass-window cashier, spying on Ed with mischievous eyes. A smug smile curled his lips as he noticed the blonde's stern look and Edward groaned in frustration.

Roy winked.

Ed went back inside.

“Hello?”

Edward's head snapped up from the notepad and he studied the man trying to get his attention. Sandy-blond hair styled in a mess and very blue eyes that curiously matched the button-down shirt. He cautiously placed a vase of daisies over the counter, smiling warily.

“Good morning,” greeted awkwardly, “I was here earlier and I bought these flowers, but… well, I’m wondering if I could change them for something else?”

Deeming the specimen in a good state, Ed shrugged.

“Sure, why not? What do you have in mind?”

“Red tulips, maybe?”

“We have that, but they are a bit more expensive.”

“It’s no problem! It’s for someone special, you see…”

Intense, then. Edward suppressed a smile and nodded, quick to make his way through the store. He came back to the cashier with a vase slightly larger than the one the client had brought, containing three blooming blood-red tulips; their petals shone with health and the leaves gracefully embraced their stem in a vibrant green.

“Here,” said Ed, as he left the flowers next to daisies, “If you’d like, I can make them into a bouquet.”

The man beamed. “Nah, this is fine, they live more like this, uh?”

“Good point.”

Ed was just finishing the packing — tying a nice ribbon around the vase's edge, putting it inside of a proper bag — when his sight caught a small paper roll that surely was not supposed to be stuck in the soil. Instantly, Edward felt the ground underneath him crumble; he stared at the innocent costumer, and then back to the paper.

He pulled it out and shoved it inside his pocket. And if he pushed the bag a little too roughly into the other’s waiting hands, nobody could judge, right?

“Here! It’s more 150 cenz!”

The man shot him a puzzled look but reached for his wallet anyway, pulling out a few coins and handling them to the blond vender. Edward smiled awkwardly.

“I hope your date goes well, Mr…?”

“Havoc, Jean Havoc,” he beamed, offering his hand and Edward took it gladly, “Thank you very much!”

The moment he was outside, Edward scrambled to unfurl the note. Bubbles filled his belly and the rapid increase of heart rate should be worrisome. Except that in the end it really wasn’t.

My heart aches for you whenever we are apart.

“Oh, that’s sweet!”

The blond yelped, turning to scold the imposing threat behind him.

“Dammit, Al! You scared me, you brat!”

Alphonse laughed as Ed clutched the note against his chest, keeping it from view.

“Why are so defensive? It’s not like I haven’t read one of those before.”

“You shouldn’t, though.”

“Considering what I found a few days ago,” Alphonse grimaced in clear disgust, “You’re probably right.”

The older Elric blushed, causing another fit of giggles from his brother.

“Oh, god, Al, please tell me it wasn’t— it was, right?” groaned, “God, if he doesn’t stop already…”

"Don't be mad at Roy, Brother," patting Edward on the back, Al offered him a sympathetic smile, "I mean, at least it means he's into you!"

“What the fuck, Al?”

“And he’s such a good—”

“Shut up!”

"And you totally like it!"

“I said shut up!”

Lilies, roses, carnations, gerberas, orchids, chrysanthemums, daisies, peonies, calla lilies, dahlias, sweet peas, alstroemeria, delphinium, anemone, hyacinth...

The door hinges creaked announcing the arrival of a new customer and Ed sighed, closing the notepad and leaving his spot behind the counter. He put on his best you-will-buy smile and waltzed through the rows of colorfulness and alluring scents. Clients always had the worst timing, interrupting Ed when he really shouldn't be interrupted.

And sometimes he wondered… if Trisha would have been more patient. When he and Al were kids, she seemed like the most tolerating human being, smiling and talking with a soft voice that could lull two energetic boys to sleep with a few words. She was a walking flower, and would certainly fit way better with the environment then Edward. Maybe she wouldn't even feel the slightest irritated at the raven-haired man touching the sunflowers.

Well, what a shame Ed was the owner, uh.

“You!” he called out, “Back from where you came, you bastard!”

Roy Mustang turned to him, finally leaving the poor sunflowers alone. The dark eyes glimmered as they settled over the petit blond and he smiled, slow and charming and what a shame Edward had to kick someone like that out.

“Good afternoon to you as well!”

"Quit it, Roy," crossing his arms, Ed shot him an annoyed glare, "I know you're just lazying around."

“It’s lunch hour.”

“Lazying around.”

The man pouted — which was ridiculous, or stupid — feigning hurt.

“I can’t understand, how do you get people to buy anything if you treat your most important client like this…”

Edward rolled his eyes, grabbing Roy by the wrist and tugging him towards the exit, “You’re no client, you’re just a slacker! And I already told you to get the hell out.”

"Not with that specific wording, actually!" Mustang stood firmly by the doorway, refusing to be moved, "By the way, I was a client, on the past tense but since you're being so rude—"

Groaning, the blonde shoved him softly on the chest, “Out, idiot!”

The tattooist raised his arms in surrender and gloomily crossed the street to go back to his studio. Edward, in a completely well-intentioned manner, accompanied the man with his eyes all the way through. To guarantee he would no longer be interrupted and, obviously, it had nothing to do with arses. Of course not.

Good arses around that area? No, not at all.

Roy Mustang always closed the studio at precisely 6 p.m. The opening hours happened to vary — constantly dependant on how comfortable was the bed on each morning — but locking up was sacred and it must never be delayed. Because Blue Carnation & Co. always stayed open a bit longer.

Crossing the street with a bonce on his steps, Roy felt his insides warming up and, by the time he'd reached the door, he was pretty sure they had dissolved entirely. He stood silently by the glass window, mesmerized by the long-haired owner making the last arrangements for the day. Jumping from vase to vase with a concentrated expression, he couldn't be more certain that Edward was the most beautiful man Roy had ever met.

And Roy was the luckiest one because he got to see that every day.

As he entered the store, Edward didn't even raise his head — however, the small twitch on the lips were enough of a sign. Roy walked to him, arms instantly finding their home around strong shoulders.

“Hello,” whispered.

"Hey," one hand came to rest over the tattooist's forearms, "Did you know I almost sold a few roses with a very not worksafe note attached to them?"

Roy chuckled.

“Oh, really? That would have been unfortunate.”

“Roy, I’m serious, you need to stop.”

He kissed a crown of golden hair, “But you like them, don’t you?”

Roy could hear the eye roll that followed.

"If you won't, then at least keep it PG-rated."

Edward detangled himself from the embrace and went to the cashier with Roy trailing right behind him. Another blond head popped up, turning to Roy with a warm smile.

“Good evening, Roy!,” greeted Alphonse, “Is there any chance you’re here to buy some flowers?”

"Some other day perhaps," Edward intertwined his fingers with the tattooist's, who tightened the grip for a brief moment in acknowledgment, "I'm here today just to drag my hardworking husband back home."

Edward looked away and snorted, “Give me food and I’ll go willingly.”

“I’m sure I can manage.”

"Then go!," Alphonse said, a bit too enthusiastically, "I can finish the check-ups and lock everything, don't worry!"

Edward, surely baffled by his brother's behavior, blinked a few times and Roy used that seconds of shock to drag the man away. Staggering to follow, the blond shouted orders at Alphonse that were brushed off with waves and half-mumbled agreements. By the sideway, Roy could not resist any longer: he pulled the florist against his chest, peppering his face with kisses. Laugh bubbled out of Ed's lips and he fisted Roy's shirt in a false attempt to push shove him off.

And Alphonse, who had to watch the whole show, smiled fondly and sighed.

“Disgusting…”

#royed #safe RoyEd #fma #Roy Mustang #edward elric #happy holidays my dudes <3

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Straight Boy

Part 2: together

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 10365

Chapters: 2/4 [All chapters]

Read on AO3

AN: Oooooh this chapter is fuuuuun :) I loved writing all this fic but especially this chapter. Also, forgot to mention it last chapter, but yes "Baz in glasses" is BACK baby!!! I love this HC and I will keep putting it in fics until I die. Well, enjoy this chapter :D

Tagging: @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

I have to do a double take of the building. I check the address Baz text sent me, and it’s right. This fancy ass mostly glass white condo is definitely the right place. Well, Baz said his family was rich, maybe they bought him a whole condo for uni? Yeah...

I walk and type in the buzzer code Baz gave me. It rings low and loud, until a very pissed off voice comes on. And it’s definitely not Baz.

“What?!” The posh woman barks out. I instinctively step away.

“Uh, I’m here to see Baz?” I say with extreme caution. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Oh, right, Basilton said you were coming.”

Basilton? What? Okay, not important right now. There’s an obnoxiously loud buzz and the door unlocks. I rush in and go towards the elevator. It’s all cold grey fancy steel. I feel very intimidating as I go up to the twenty fifth floor. Luckily, Baz’s flat is just to the right, so I don’t get lost. (Penny says I get lost turning left.) I knock on the door lightly. A few heavy steps come towards me, then the door swings open, making me take a step back.

This woman is definitely not Baz, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re related. Same skin tone, same grey eyes, same black hair. Though she has a thick white blonde streak at the front. I can’t tell if it’s dyed or natural. She’s wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans with old Doc Martens. She looks like she just came out from a seventies punk bar, and she was the headline act.

“Uh, hello,” I say very cautiously. “I’m Simon.”

“So, you’re Simon,” she replies with a weird suspicion. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”

“Um, sorry?”

“Fiona!” I hear Baz shout from behind her. He appears suddenly, glasses on top of his head, hair falling in a lazy wave over his angry face. He's dressed in a loose white shirts and blue jeans we picked out at W Wood. Wait, are jeans his lazy clothes? Huh, odd. He looks good, so whatever.

“Stop picking on Simon,” he growls at the women, apparently called Fiona, glaring viciously. Fiona glares right back.

“I wasn’t picking on him,” she says with bite.

Baz rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course you weren’t.” He finally looks at me and immediately grins. “Hi, Snow, glad you could make it. This is my Aunt Fiona. Please ignore her. She’s over protective, like an old pit bull.”

Fiona scoffs loudly and smacks his arm. “I am not old, you wanker! I’m only thirty eight!”

“Not the important thing here. Now, Fiona, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He raises one eyebrow impossibly high. Fiona glares even harder.

“This is my apartment, y’know.”

“Our apartment now. And you’re going to Nicky’s. Seriously, why don’t you two just get a flat together and give me the place to myself 24/7?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. Wow, I can see where Baz gets it from. “Please, we’re too new for that.”

“You’ve known each other since high school.”

“But only been dating for a few months. We’re still in the sexy honeymoon phase, Basil,” she says with a wink. My cheeks heat up, Baz is obviously unimpressed, and Fiona looks very smug. I feel like I’m intruding on a much larger conversation.

“Fiona,” Baz sighs, “please, just go see your boyfriend. Come back tomorrow.”

She sighs over dramatically. “Fine. Leave my kitchen and living room in working order by the time I come back, please.”

Baz sighs in the exact same way. “Yes, of course, now go!”

Fiona walks past me, patting my shoulder as she goes. “Nice meeting you, Simon. Have fun.” Her nails dig into my skin for a brief moment. Not enough to really hurt but enough to sting. I don’t think she likes me that much...

Baz physically pushes Fiona out the door. She flips him off. He groans and gestures me inside. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in. I’ve almost got supper ready.”

I follow in after him, unzipping my hoodie, since this fancy place is certainly well heated. “It’s fine, man. I didn’t know you lived with your Aunt.”

“Yeah, sorry, never came up. She lives close to campus so it was easier to just take her extra room instead of trying to find another place. And I think my parents want her to spy on me for them.”

I chuckle as I kick off my trainers. “And how is that working out? She didn’t strike me as someone who would tattle to your parents.”

Baz’s lip pulls up into a smirk. “Well, she likes to be a shit and pretend she’ll tell them about my activities. But at the same time, she let me smoke half her joint last night while we watched Monty Python and ate peanut butter from the jar.”

“Oh my god,” I giggle. “That sounds amazing!’

“It certainly was. Now come on, I’m starved.”

We walk down the short hall into the actual apartment. I have to stop myself from gasping. The whole place is kinda intimidating but cool. It’s like what you see in catalogues. All white walls, modern furniture, and large bay windows with a view of the steel and brick horizon. Though there’s also enough personality to it to show that two people live here. There's lots of photos on the walls of Baz and Fiona and people who look enough like them to be relatives. Some old books are spread out on the coffee table, with lots of sticky notes on the pages in Baz's wispy handwriting. And next to the volumes are rolling papers I can safely assume are Fiona’s. Looks like a fun place to live.

“Just nearly burned supper, goodness,” Baz chuckles.

I follow his voice into the kitchen. It’s all white with fancy high tech chrome appliances. Baz is bending over the oven, making the denim stretch across his arse. I blush and avoid looking. The memory of...that part of his anatomy is still burned into my brain. It never goes away, just fades and pops back up at literally the worst possible moments. Like late at night, persuading my hand to “accidentally” slip into my pants. Or right now, when I really can’t let my hand go anywhere to relieve the heat he makes in my stomach. Fuck, my head hurts.

“Perfect,” Baz says cheerily. “Cooked all the way through.” He pulls out a pan with two herb covered chicken breasts and oily asparagus stalks. He opens the pot on top of the stove. It’s filled with absolutely divine tomato sauce. My eyes get very wide.

“Wow,” I gasp. “When you said you were making supper, I thought you meant boxed pasta or some shit.”

Baz smiles smugly. “I’m classier than that, Salisbury.”

His smirk makes my stomach even hotter. I shrug. “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Damn right. Now go sit down, I’ll bring the plates out in a second.”

He gestures to the large glass dining table near the window. There’s two rich crimson placemats across from each other, twin wine glasses already filled. The lights are low, matching the setting sun. Everything is soft orange, red, and violet. It’s really nice. This is the fanciest supper set up I've ever seen. And Baz did it for me. He's so nice. My knees wobble a bit as I take my chair. Baz soon comes out with two full plates.

“Dinner is served,” he announces grandly, placing the food in front of me. It’s chicken, asparagus, and some unfamiliar rice dish. It’s got lentils, fried onions, chickpeas, macaroni noodles, and that amazing tomato sauce all on top. My mouth immediately starts watering.

“Thank you,” I reply as he sits down. I wait for him to unfold his napkin and everything to be polite. Mum taught me that. But it’s hard. I really want to eat.

Baz gives me an amused look. “Dig in, Snow, I can see you salivating all the way from over here.”

I roll my eyes, but still grab my utensils. “Shut up.” I put a large forkful of rice in my mouth, and it’s a flavour explosion. My tastebuds are singing with joy. I’ve never had something this good. I start shovelling huge bites in, making Baz snort with laughter.

“You like it?” he asks with amusement.

“Uh, fuck yeah! What is this, ambrosia?”

Baz chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just some good spices. That’s called koshari. It’s a very famous dish in Egypt. I’m half Egyptian, so I wanted to try to make it. Connect to my heritage and all.”

I try to smile, but my mouth is partially filled with koshari, so it’s difficult. “That’s awesome. Like, it’s really cool you’ve got that connection to your culture and stuff. Plus it’s just like super delicious.”

He half smiles, lifting his wine glass like a true gentleman, “The chef appreciates your compliments.”

I lift my own and clink our cups together. Like we’re fancy or something. “You’re very welcome.”

We trade easy conversation as we eat. Baz has completely caught up in his classes. Actually, he’s probably ahead. He’s incredibly smart so I’m not surprised. I’m getting better at paying attention in class. Penny gave me a fidget spinner, which I think was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually helped me channel some of that restless energy. Plus I’m just super interested in our therapy unit. It’s what I study social work for, to help people. Baz calls me exceedingly noble. From his small smile, I assume it’s a compliment.

Once dinner is finished, we put our plates in the sink. I try to start washing but Baz slaps my hand away.

“None of that,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it later.”

I put my hands in my pockets. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, amazing stubborn bastard. “Alright. What should we do? I don’t really feel like going home yet.”

A strange look crosses over his face. Both nervous and excited maybe? It’s so fleeting I can’t tell before it’s gone. He nods slowly. “Want to watch a movie? I’ve got Fiona’s Netflix account.”

“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

We walk over to Fiona’s pristine white couch. I flop down while Baz sits properly, ankles crossed, straight back, hands in his lap. Jeez, he can still be so uptight sometimes. He flips down his glasses, probably so he can actually see the TV. Fuck, they really do look good on him. I have to make an effort not to stare.

“What should we watch?” I ask. “Horror? Comedy? Drama?”

Baz shrugs. “Well, I only watch documentaries, which you’d probably find very boring. So I leave the choice up to you, Salisbury.” He hands me the remote like a gentleman offering a bouquet. I take it graciously.

“Oh thank you kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent. Baz rolls his eye and chuckles.

I flip through Netflix for a little while. Well, Baz wasn’t lying about only watching documentaries. All his recently watched are movies about forests and wars and violinists. Bo-ring! I go to the romcom section, because I love stupid tropey shit. Penny calls me a hopeless romantic. I just like that everything works out in the end. Real life isn’t usually like that. It’s nice to pretend. So I pick “Notting Hill”. It’s one my favourites.

“Dear Lord,” Baz mutters part way in, “what is this?”

“It’s a rom com,” I reply.

“So, I’m supposed to believe that a movie star just happens to wander into this guy’s store? And she kisses him impulsively? Seriously?”

I playfully smack his arm. Wow, his hands are rough, his arms are smoother than sea glass. “It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s supposed to be fun.”

He snorts. “Well, all I can focus on is the plot holes.”

I sigh. My head, heavy from food drowsiness, lolls to my right. It takes me a bit too long to realise it’s fallen on Baz’s shoulder. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. He’s incredibly tense, every muscle pulled tight. I nearly move off, but then he relaxes. His legs uncross, and his hands fall to beside his sides. So, I guess this is okay. And his shoulder, despite it’s boney-ness, is actually really comfy. Yeah. this is cool. I’ll just stay here.

The movie keeps going, but it kind of falls to background noise for me. I know it off by heart anyway. I’m more focused on other things for some reason. Like the feel of Baz’s soft shirt on my cheek. Or that his whole jean covered leg is pressed against mine. Or how close his rough farmer-violist hand is to mine. I’ve only held it a couple times, and only loosely. I do wonder...

Before thinking about it too much, I reach over and grab his hand. Baz inhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Our hands rest together. We stay like that for awhile. Watching the movie, just casually holding hands. Normal friend stuff. His skin is still as scratchy as I remember, creating sparks of sensation all over my palm. And his fingers are quite long. Pianist fingers, I think that’s the term. They’re nice. I like his hand. I like holding it.

Eventually, I lift my head up, and my eyes flick over to him. I just want to see if he’s enjoying the movie. Holy shit, he’s looking back. His grey eyes are staring right at me. It almost feels like he’s looking through me they’re so piercing. It makes me shudder involuntarily. His eye move lower, to... Wait is he looking at my-

And then he kisses me.

Holy shit. A guy is kissing me. More importantly, Baz is kissing me. His face is so close to mine, black hair falling around us, glasses pushing against my nose. Baz’s lips are smooth, soft, and kinda cold. Well, not cold, just chilly, like an ocean breeze. It feels nice. His kiss feels nice. Oh my god, I’m musing about a guy kissing me, about how much I like it. What the hell?!

Our mouths are still, just pressed together chastely. Like we're a pair of awkward pre-teends having out first kiss. But really I’m too stunned to move. Then Baz pulls away slightly. His eyes are a bit glassy and his breathing is unsteady. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

That’s a really good fucking question. Am I okay with this? My lips are still tingling, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get close to him again. I nod. “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly, “yeah, it’s okay.”

Baz smirks, pushing his glasses on top of his head before kissing me again. He’s less hesitant this time, moving his mouth more insistently and curling his long fingers around my nape. I try to match his pace, try to pull him closer too, clutching his shirt in tight fists. I just want him so close. I let out an involuntary moan when his nails prick my skin. The slight sting makes everything go spinny. My mouth falls open, and I moan again as his tongue slowly slides across mine. Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any kiss I’ve had before? I’ve only snogged a few of people, so it’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience, but I’ve got enough. And this is by far the best snog I’ve ever had.

I don’t even realise I’ve been leaning back until I��m laying down with Baz over me. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other trailing along my side, and a leg between mine. I’m holding his hips, dangerously close to going under his shirt. I really want to feel those muscles I saw in the changeroom, but I don’t want to do anything like that without Baz’s permission. Consent is necessary and all. But suddenly, without even moving off my mouth, Baz grabs my wrist and shoves my hand right under his shirt. Okay, pretty damn sure that’s consent. I trace the ridges and planes of muscle in his back, memorising the how ridiculously good they feel. He groans into my mouth. It makes my whole body shudder. And I full on gasp when he grinds his knee between my legs. My whole brain fucking explodes. Oh man, I am certainly “reacting” very, very strongly right now.

Through all the arousal haze, I wonder if this, what we’re doing, means I’m gay. But I don’t want to kiss Baz because he’s a guy. I want to kiss Baz because he’s Baz. Because he’s nice and funny and watched Doctor Who for me. And sure, he’s also really pretty with his wavy black hair and deep sea eyes. But anyone would notice that. I’ve noticed that other guys are pretty before. I can be straight and observant, right? I don’t know. It’s all too confusing to think about now. I just want to keep holding Baz. I have to do that.

Fuck, how long has he wanted this? How long have I wanted this? I would say I didn’t, but then why are a list of things I want to do to Baz? Like this; I push a hand into his hair. The strands are soft, slipping through my fingers, just like I thought. I clench my fist and shove his face more into mine.

Suddenly, Baz pulls off my mouth.

“Sorry,” I say (I’m out of breath it’s embarrassing.)

“No, no, don’t be sorry. Just,” he takes a breath, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

I’m panting very hard, but so is he. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and wet. He looks fucking hot. My whole body is vibrating with energy. I want to pull him down and kiss him until our mouths are sore. And well, this couch is a bit small to stay here for that long. So I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”

Baz grins, showing all his bright white teeth. “Wonderful.”

He climbs off me. His legs are shaky, but when I stand up, mine are too. Baz turns off the telly and takes my hand, leading me down the narrow hall towards a room. Once we enter, it’s very obvious that this is Baz’s room. It’s extremely neat because of course Baz is a clean freak. But the desk is covered in a mess of books and sheet music. His violin case sits in the corner. I wonder if I’ll ever hear him play.

We stop in front of the large bed. His sheets are all black, and they look like silk. Well, that's definitely more comfortable than the couch. Baz turns towards me. His face is lit up by the setting sun, skin glowing perfectly in the fiery light. Wow, he’s somehow even prettier right now. But, is he nervous? He’s chewing on his lip, and the hand I’m not holding keeps flexing. I guess he is. Huh, I haven’t seen him anxious since the W Wood. And right now he’s much worse.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat a bit, “how far do you want to go? We could just keep snogging, that’s fine with me. Or we could do more. Whatever you feel like, I’ll be fine with.”

Fucking hell he’s so considerate. It makes my heart speed up, for some reason. But, what do I want? I want to touch him, to kiss him a lot. For him to kiss me and touch me too. Maybe in places other than my lips. Actually, fuck "maybe", I desperately want that, the need itching under every part of my skin. Even though I've never wanted a guy to do that before. Even though I’m straight. I’m trying not to think too much about those contradictions and focus on how good kissing him felt. I really don’t need a headache at this time.

“I-I’m good for anything.” Wait no, not right. “But not ‘all the way’, though. I don’t think I’m prepared for that, in every sense of the word.”

Baz chuckles, his other hand grabbing mine. “That’s fine, no worries. Neither am I, to be honest. But there’s lots of other stuff we can do.”

I look down at the floor, stomach twisting terribly with nerves. “Um, if I’m being honest, Baz, I, uh, have no clue what to do. I’ve never done this before, with a guy.”

He doesn’t say anything. I expected him to laugh, to tease me at least a bit, but instead I feel his rough pianist finger knock up my chin. His mouth is soft, and his eyes are kind and understanding. Why are my knees so weak? “It’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. We can try things, but you can absolutely stop me if I you want to, alright?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to trace my jaw with a single callused fingertip. “I’ll take care of you, Simon.”

Bloody Hell, I’m not sure I have knees anymore now.

We lean forward simultaneously, lips instantly moulding together like we’ve been kissing forever. It feels so fucking good that I barely notice him pushing up my shirt. He pulls away when he reaches my arms. His face asks the silent question, and I nod in reply. He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. I push at the hem of his. He happily helps me get it off, whipping it on the floor. My hands instantly go to his bare torso and chest. I try to touch all of it. Stomach, chest, shoulders, everything. I feel every bit of smooth skin and sharp angle, and they’re just as wonderful as I imagined.

“You’re actually perfect,” I murmur.

Baz smirks. He clenches his stomach, showing off his stupid perfect abs. I can’t suppress the squeak that pops out of my mouth.

“Why thank you,” he drawls sarcastically. I scoff, hoping it makes up for my red cheeks. He slowly runs his hand over my bare side the across my stomach. My whole body feels electric. I shiver and sigh. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Snow.”

I attempt to laugh off my embarrassment. “T-Thanks.”

He kisses me softly again, arms winding around my neck. I hold his waist tightly. I nearly pull him over as Baz spins me around and pushes me on the bed. He stands over me, cupping my cheeks as we keep kissing. Soon he breaks away and starts trailing his cool lips slowly down my neck. It feels so good my eyes roll back in my head. I fall back on the mattress, propped up on my elbows, legs still hanging off the edge. He goes further and further. Across my collarbone, down my sternum and stomach, until he reaches just above my trouser waistband. Baz looks up from where he’s kneeling between my legs, eyes so dark I can only see the smallest ring of grey, and places a tentative hand over the button.

“May I?” he asks breathlessly.

I’m gripping the sheet so hard my knuckles are white. I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or anticipation. Probably both. I know what he means. I know what he wants to do. Part of me is still confused by my own desire, but a louder part is only thinking in sex. In “yes, yes, please, more, do it.” And it’s a lot louder.

“Yeah,” I say, falling fully onto my back, "you can.”

I lay there, staring at the blemish free white ceiling, breathing harshly, just waiting. Everything is quiet. The only sound is the distant honks from far below and my own clamorous heartbeat. Baz doesn’t do anything for awhile and I start to think if I fucked up somehow. Am I too eager? Has he changed his mind? Is this all one big stupid mistake?

But then he pulls my pants down and takes me in his mouth. Then, well, I’m not thinking very much at all anymore.

———————————————-

I roll off Baz and flop next to him on his bed. We’re both panting and sweating and a bit sticky, bare bodies glistening in the city lights. It’s very dark out now. The sun set awhile ago. I manage to twist my still dizzy head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Holy shit, we just spent over two hours having sex. My muscles are totally dead, throbbing with blissful exhaustion.

And it hits me, again: I just had sex with Baz, with a guy, and I really, really liked it.

So does this mean I'm gay? But I liked it because it was Baz, not because it was a guy. He was so patient, so attentive, pushing just enough to get me to try new things but never so far that I was uncomfortable. I'm still unbelievably confused, but mostly just really fucking satisfied.

“Wow,” I say, voice raw and scratchy. “That was just, wow.”

Baz tries to chuckle, but his voice isn't much better than mine. “Had fun, Snow?”

“Uh, yeah! That was like the best sex I’ve ever had.” It’s only after the words burst out do I realise how fucking embarrassing that sounds. Baz laughs, of course. I cover my burning face. “I’ll shut up now,” I groan.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed, darling.” Baz peels my hands off, grinning face now hovering over mine. I can feel his foot pressed to my bare calf. He kisses my knuckles lightly. A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. “It was really good for me too.”

His face is shiny with sweat, wavy hair all tangled because I kept pulling it (not that he complained). The city light dances across his skin perfectly. There’s a lot more butterflies flying now. I cup the back of his head and pull his mouth down to mine. I just want to be closer to him right now. It’s not urgent like before. It’s simply a lazy slide of our tired mouths, a calm way to end the frantic evening.

Baz pulls back slowly. His breath tickles my face. Then he collapses on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I snort out a laugh I can’t help. He’s just too adorable.

“You tired, Basilton?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “And don’t use my full name. Only my family does that.”

“But it’s so funny! Your name is fucking Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You sound like an Edgar Allan Poe character.”

He chuckles against my skin. “Then you’ll love my first name.”

My heart does double time. I look down at him as best I can. “What the hell is your first name?!”

I feel his shit eating grin on my collarbone. “A man is allowed to have a few secrets, Snow.”

Damn, I really want to throttle the smug perfect bastard. He groans as pushes himself off me, slowly rolling onto his back then sitting upright, legs hanging off the edge. He stretches his arms to the sky, showing the grand muscular expanse of his back. (There are a lot of angry red scratches from my nails. Fuck, I was really into it.)

“I don’t know about you,” he yawns, “but I’m completely knackered. I’m brushing my teeth and going to bed.” His head turns halfway, showing just one eye, gaze slightly unsteady. Is he nervous again. “You want to stay? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Honestly, I’m not sure my muscles are strong enough right now to get me home. Even so, I do want to go. So I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

His mouth quirks up. “Good.”

Baz slips on his boxers and hands me mine. He leads me to the washroom. It’s huge and pristine and white of course. Baz gives me a fresh toothbrush, which is really thoughtful, because he’s really thoughtful. The vain bastard keeps hogging the mirror though. Once we’re done with our teeth, we go back to the bedroom and Baz takes out his posh red silk pyjamas. He tries to offer me a pair but I’m fine with an oversized t-shirt that looks totally unworn.

“That thing?” Baz says slightly disgusted. “I got that from the overeager poet’s society back at Oxford.”

Huh, makes sense. It does have a Byron joke on it. I shrug. “Eh, it’s fine. Kinda funny too.”

Baz waves dismissively. “Very well. You can keep it if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”

I pull at the hem. Well, if he’s offering, sure. It’s really comfy. And or some reason, I sort of like the idea of keeping this shirt. Keeping Baz’s clothes...it’s just sorta nice.

I flop down on the silk sheets and immediately sink into the comfy mattress. It’s like a goddamn smooth cloud. I’m already drifting off into dreamland when Baz lays next to me. He pulls the quilt over us. Distantly, I feel his long arm drape across my waist and his body curl around mine. His breath hits the back of my neck, almost immediately evening out in sleep. I instinctively snuggle closer, because he feels good. This whole night has felt good. Maybe I should just focus on that instead of the storm in my brain. Yeah, I’m fine with that.

———————————————-

I’m waiting for Baz at Goat while trying to do my readings. He meets me after class, then we have lunch and talk. We’ve been hanging out a lot more on campus the past three weeks, ever since I slept over. I do that a lot more too, actually. I go to his place at least once a week, usually more. Sometimes we just eat supper, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep in Baz’s bed. Other times we use the bed for...other things.

I’m still straight though. That's still how I think of my self. I just also like this, whatever it is. It’s a sorta weird but awesome friends with benefits thing. I think. We haven’t really defined it. But whatever. We’re having fun. Who needs labels?

“Hello, love.” Baz’s hand is a comfortable weight on my shoulder. He bends around the back of the chair and kisses me. It’s just a short, sweet greeting kiss. He does this a lot now. I like it. I smile against his mouth.

“Hi,” I reply as he sits down across from me. “How was class?”

Baz stretches out his hand. “Well, my fingers hurt, so very good. How was your’s?”

I lift up my heavy textbook. “Professor Blowhard assigned extra readings again, of course. Does he realise we have lives outside of class?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t care, obviously. Because he's a dickhead.”

“Damn right. I need scones to feel better.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Ebb already getting our food ready?”

“Ebb’s finished your food.” I jolt slightly. When did Ebb get here? Did she manifest out of thin air? She holds two plates with our usuals. A latte, sour cherry scone, and grilled cheese with tomato and spinach for me. (Baz suggested I try the last one, so Ebb made it, and it’s really good.) And a fancy turkey-pesto panini and pumpkin mocha breve for Baz.

Baz smiles up at her. He’s gotten very friendly with her. “Good day, Ebb. How’s it going?”

Ebb shrugs. “Pretty okay. I sort of want some new dishware but I’m not sure I have the funds for it.”

“Well, Christmas is coming up. Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ebb laughs and ruffles Baz’s already messy hair. She’s very friendly with him by now. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, Baz. Sweet of you to say though. He’s certainly a keeper, Si.”

She winks at me before sauntering off. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I flick my eyes over to Baz. He’s taking a sip from his overly large coffee cup. When he lowers it, there’s whipped cream on the tip of his long nose. I snort and giggle. Baz’s brow furrows.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, actually genuinely concerned. He’s always very concerned about his appearance. It’s funny, and kind of cute.

I reach out and use one finger to swipe the whipped cream off. His nose scrunches like an adorable child. I hold it for him to see.

“You’re making a mess,” I tease, then lick my finger. Baz’s eye go wide, and he might blush. It’s hard to tell sometimes, what with his complexion and being emotional display repulsed British gentry. I’m not sure why though. I just don’t like wasting food.

“Christ, Simon,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His eyes flick up to mine and he smirks. That expression makes my stomach do a lot of funny things. “Like you’re one to talk about messes," he says. "My kitchen is still recovering from your pizza debacle.”

“It turned out to be good frozen pizza though.”

“Yes, at the sacrifice of a clean oven.”

I shrug, reaching my foot out to tap his for emphasis. “I’ll destroy my own next time, alright?”

He goes a step further, tracing the toe of his Oxford on my bare ankle. It makes me jolt, but in a good way. Baz seems to have that effect on me.

“Hm, y’know, I haven’t been to your place yet. Invite me over for oven destroying pizza sometime?” His voice is smooth as butter. It makes my legs feel weak, even though I’m already sitting down. And he’s right, he hasn’t been over yet. It’s not because of anything, his place has always just been easier. That should be corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” I chirp, “I’d like that. Though my flatmate might interrogate you. She still isn’t sure she approves of you.”

Baz shrugs dismissively. “Understood. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll warm up to me. I’m very likable.”

I scoff. “And full of yourself.”

He pushes his foot until it’s fully under my jean cuff. I yelp in surprise. “Got you to like me, didn’t I?”

Shit, why is my face so flushed? I try to use my book to cover it, but my eyes peek out over the top. Baz is still smirking, still slowly moving his shoe up and down my skin. It’s sort of hard to say no when he’s doing that. Bastard. “That’s true, I suppose,” I say shakily.

“Exactly.” He leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his palm. “Want to come over tonight? Fiona’s at Nicky’s again. Those two need to just move in together already.”

“Yeah, agreed. And I can come over as long as you help me revise for a midterm.”

“Very well,” he sighs dramatically. “If that’s the price I must pay for a good shag.”

And I thought my blush couldn’t get any worse. I use a hand to cover my bright red face. “Baz,” I giggle, “shut up.”

He chuckles and slowly peels my hand away. I’ve found his violin calluses feel weirdly wonderful on my skin. “I’ll help you, love, don’t worry.”

Fuck, he’s always so nice. Just so kind and helpful and fun to be around. He’s like Penny, I guess, but our dynamic doesn’t feel like me and Penny. Not better, just different. My heart and stomach don’t feel twisty around her. And I definitely don’t want to snog Pen silly. Baz is just different. Whatever we have is different. I don’t know what it is, but I like it. And I certainly don’t want to stop.

———————————————-

A week later, Baz is scheduled to come over. I’m trying to salvage my stupid homemade stupid pizza when there’s a knock at the door. I run over still wearing the apron and oven mitts as I open it. Baz is standing on the other side, gym/overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He blinks at me confused, eyes big behind his glasses. (He’s been wearing them more. That's good. He looks amazing, and he needs to see.)

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, kissing him hello by habit.

“Good evening, Snow,” he says. “Nice apron.”

I look down. Right, this is Pen’s “Snog the Chef” apron. Micah sent it to her as a joke. He made the false assumption she cooks enough to need one. Both of us usually cook from a box or order take away. I chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Still trying to make supper. Come in, come in.”

I race back to the kitchen, leaving Baz in the living room. I can still see him through a small square space in the wall. (The previous tenant had a thing for cutting random holes in the wall.) He scans the room, taking in his surroundings.

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “Nice place.”

I laugh loudly so he can hear me. “You don’t have to be nice, y’know. I’m aware it’s gross. I tried to clean a bit.”

“I’m serious, it’s nice. Love all the Polaroid pictures. Is this blonde girl your roommate?”

“Uh, no, that’s Agatha. The other girl, Penelope, she’s my flatmate. We all went to high school together.”

“I see, that’s nice. You all look happy.”

I lean out the weird window hole. Baz is looking at the picture from the summer, when we all went to Agatha’s family beach house. I smile. That was a happy time.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Summer before final year. Can’t tell Agatha was about to break up with me a few weeks later, huh?”

It’s a joke, but I immediately regret it. Baz tenses up. Shit, that’s a serious topic, and I shouldn’t talk about Agatha like that.

“There’s no bad blood though,” I say quickly. “Like, it sucked when we split up but it was for the best in the end. We’re way better as friends. She lives in California now. She skypes me and Pen a lot, tells us all about America and shit. I sent her a British flag for Christmas last year, and she sent me a California one.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m babbling, sorry, I’ll stop.”

Baz turns his head. He’s smiling, no anger or disappointment, thank God. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. She sounds lovely. I’m not jealous. Unless I have a reason to be.”

His raised eyebrows and toothy grin tells me he’s joking. I chuckle. Why would he have a reason to be jealous anyway? I mean, Agatha’s pretty, but so is he. “No, you definitely have no reason. Maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime. You can compare expensive hair products.”

“Hey, you like my hair.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen how many bottles you have in your shower. And how many bottles did you bring with you tonight?”

Baz doesn’t answer. I snicker as I pull my pizza out of the oven. Well, it’s not much of a pizza anymore. Sort of a dough, cheese, and sauce liquid mess in a pan. I groan and lean my head on the cupboard over the oven.

“Trouble with supper, love?”

I look up. Baz is leaning in the window hole, arms crossed over the sill and head on his bent elbow. He looks nice like this, relaxed and all. Huh, he really is a lot less uptight than he was two months ago. That’s good, I suppose. I smile weakly.

“I think this pizza is even more of a disaster than the last one. And this time it’s completely inedible.”

He frowns sarcastically. “Aw, what a surprise.”

I take a mitt off and throw it at his stupid smug pretty face. “Fuck off, I tried!”

Baz doesn’t looked fazed by the glove projectile, just holding it as he smiles. “I know, darling, and you did your best. Now, shall I order take away?”

I sigh, shaking off the other mitt so they lay in a messy pile on the counter. “I guess so. But I’m paying for it. I was supposed to make you a nice supper, I should at least pay for the substitute.”

“Well, I certainly have no problem with that.”

I turn off the oven and take off the dumb apron. With heavy steps and hanging head, I go into the living room. Baz immediately reaches out and pulls me against him, hugging me close. I wrap my arms around his firm back, easily sinking into his embrace. He smells nice. Like cedar and bergamot, I think.

“Want to watch a movie?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.

“Sure,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Do you like Pixar?”

He chuckles. It’s a really nice sound, washing over me like a warm, relaxing wave. “Yeah. Pixar is wonderful.”

We don’t move for a bit though. We just stay there, hugging in the middle of my living room. He’s a good hugger, so I don’t mind. I just close my eyes, breathe in his smell, and let his strong, firm arms hold me.

———————————————-

“Why does Buzz go still?” Baz asks. “He doesn’t think he’s a toy. Why would he pretend to be one when a person walks in?”

“Shhh.” I reach up to blindly hit his stupid smart arse mouth. “You’re ruining the movie.”

“I’m simply pointing out a flaw in the film’s plot.”

“Just shut up and watch, arsehole.”

Baz makes a displeased noise, but does thankfully shut up. Our half eaten take away pizza is still sitting on the coffee table. The sun has mostly set, the light of the telly the main source now. I’m junk food tired so I’ve ended up with my head in Baz’s lap. His legs are comfortable. And I like the way he strokes my hair. I could probably fall asleep like this if I wanted.

“Sorry again about supper,” I mumble into his thigh.

Baz hums softly, winding a finger around one of my curls. “It's fine, love. You made the effort, that's what counts. And I appreciate it.”

I hum, throwing an arm over his knees. “You’re nice.”

Bizarrely, he scoffs at that. “You’re the first person to say that, Snow. Most people say I’m rude and mean.”

“You're not, they're all wrong," I say immediately, almost angry for him.

He pauses for a moment, hand still in my hair. "You really think so?" he asks, voice slightly shaky.

"Yeah, of course. You tease me but you also made me supper and watched Doctor Who. That means a lot. You’re, like, snarky nice. Fuck, does that even make sense?”

Baz runs his thumb over the nape of my neck. “No, I get it. Thank you, darling, you’re incredibly sweet.” He brushes his long fingers against my ear. “Sometimes I wonder how I found you,” he sighs.

I chuckle, sound muffled by his trouser leg. “You ‘found me’ in a boring psych lecture, remember?”

“Yeah,” he whisper-laughs. “Glad I did though. Honestly...” He takes an audible breath, like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff or something. “I think you’re the best thing to come out of moving to Watford.”

My mouth suddenly feels dry. And my heart is bruising my ribs it’s beating so hard. That was definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But it doesn’t feel like when Penny or Agatha or Mum are nice. It feels so...new. I wish there was a more eloquent word for it, for what I feel when he says something like that. It’s an all encompassing sensation I've never experienced before. Like a supernova in my brain and chest. I just can’t place it.

The end credit music starts playing. I turn my head back to the screen. “Oh hey, it’s done,” I say. “Wanna watch something else?”

I can’t see Baz’s face, but I feel him lean back against the sofa. “Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Actually, yeah, I've got something. You’ll like it.” I fumble for the remote, then start flipping through my Netflix list. I know it’s there... “Aha! This!” I highlight a movie I found yesterday. Baz leans forward with curiosity.

“A documentary on an Australian string quartet?” He chuckles. “Really?”

Shit, I thought he would like it because there are string instruments and stuff in it. But it’s not like every chef adores cooking shows. “S-Sorry, it was just an idea. We can watch something else.”

Baz puts an arm around my waist and squeezes my stomach tight. I immediately relax. “No, that wasn’t a discouragement. I’m very intrigued. I’m just surprised you’re offering to watch it. It’ll be quite dull for you.”

I shrug. “Eh, maybe. But you’ll like it, and I’m willing to try.”

Baz doesn’t answer. Well, not with words. His arm holds me even tighter, and he leans down to kiss my hair. His cool lips press lightly to my scalp. I can’t help the shudder it makes. When he pulls back, he goes back to to softly stroking my hair. I feel like I could melt into the couch.

“Put it on,” Baz sighs. “Try not to fall asleep, Snow.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, meaning it genuinely.

So the movie is objectively boring for me, because I'm not a violin student, and I’m not a huge fan of documentaries period. But there are some good parts. I like the people, following their progression and lives and how their careers influence everything around them. Baz likes that too. Though he’s also fascinated by all the fancy instruments. I just think they’re all really pretty.

“Hey,” Baz asks, “where’s your flatmate?”

“Oh she’s-” The front door suddenly slams, making both of us jolt. A few footstep sounds later, Penny is standing right in front of us. “She’s right here. Hi, Pen.”

Penny is frozen. She blinks at us in complete silence for a few long seconds. I don’t know what’s so baffling. “Hi... What’s going on here?”

“Baz and I are watching a movie.” What’s going on with her? Pretty sure that was obvious.

She quirks an eyebrow. “So this is Baz?”

“Oh right.” I gesture to her. “Baz, this is Penelope Bunce.” I gesture to him. “Penny, this is Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Hello, Penelope," Baz says smoothly. "May I call you that?”

“Um, sure.”

“Wonderful. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He offers his hand like the gentleman he is.

Cautiously, Penny takes the handshake. “Same for me. Good to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise.”

Their hands fall. Penny has a weird expression on her face. Her eyes keep flicking between me and Baz, looking positively perplexed. I don’t get it. We’re just watching a movie. She said it was okay to bring Baz over, but it still must be weird for her to have someone new around. She doesn’t like new people. But Baz is going to be hanging around with me indefinitely, so they should probably get more comfortable with each other.

“Wanna watch and eat with us?” I ask. “Pizza is lukewarm but still good.”

She seems even more confused, head pulling back and mouth twisting for a moment. “Uh, sure, if that’s alright with both of you.” She looks pointedly at Baz.

“It’s perfectly fine with me. Snow’s the one taking up the entire sofa.”

I scoff and smack his knee. “Fuck off.” I swing my legs dramatically, putting myself upright. It makes my vision spin a bit, so I fall against Baz, head on his shoulder. I don’t think he minds though. “There, happy?”

He chuckles and throws an arm around me, pulling us even closer together. “Positively elated, Snow.” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to my cheek. I make a disgusted noise as I wipe it off.

“Arsehole.” I kiss his cheek too. Fair’s fair. I look up, and Penny’s eyes are incredibly wide. I gesture at her. “C’mon, Pen, there’s room now.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Alright then."

She sits down, but closer to the other end. Weird. I try to make more room, putting my legs over Baz’s, pressing against him. But she doesn’t move any closer. Actually, she moves further away. Weird, but I get wanting your own space. She is watching the movie intently though.

“This is good,” she says through her pizza. “That violin is incredible.”

“It’s called the Gibson ex-Huberman Stradivarius,” Baz interjects. “Made by Antonio Stradivari of Cremona in 1713. Many say his string instruments are the greatest ever made. He’s estimated to have made 960 violins, 650 of which are still around. What I wouldn’t give to play a Stradivarius.”

“Right," Penny chuckles. "Simon said you were a violinist.”

“Yup, he is,” I say. “Which makes him a total music nerd.”

Baz flicks my far ear then kisses the other. “Says the Doctor Who nerd. And not just music. I enjoy history and English language too.”

“Hey, so does Penny! She never shuts up about that book about working people.”

“‘The Making of The English Working Class’ by EP Thompson, Si,” Penny says with some exasperation. “It’s an interesting read.”

Baz makes a contemplative sound. He’s good at those. “I’ll have to look it up. Shall we compare notes sometime?”

Penny turns her head. She seems to be examining Baz over her spectacles, brown eyes moving up and down over him. She does that a lot, examines people, like me the first day we met all those years ago. She’s assessing him, figuring out whether he’s worth her time. She decided I was. I can only hope she likes him

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. They get along, thank God. Neither of them notice the sigh, but they do notice the loud yawn I can’t help afterwards.

“Tired, Snow?” Baz teases.

“No,” I grumble. I rub my aching eye, which doesn’t help my case.

Baz sighs, then shoves off my legs and stands over me, all tall and looming and handsome. He offers his hand. “Then let’s go to bed. I have an early class tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay.” I take his hand and he hoists me to my feet. I’m a bit wobbly, but Baz keeps me steady with an arm around my waist. Damn, I’m tired. “Can you put away the pizza, Pen? I’ll clean up the rest in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” she says absentmindedly, already flipping to her own show.

“G’night, Pen.”

“Night Si. And Baz.”

“Goodnight, Penelope. Lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sigh again, because she sounds genuine, and I don’t need two of my best friends feuding. There’s no need for unnecessary drama.

Baz and I wash up quickly. (He hogs the mirror again.) I throw on my usual baggy shirt and sweats. I assumed he brought his ridiculous posh silk pyjamas, but to my surprise he takes one of my Watford sweatshirts and a matching set of grey trackies. I look at him with utter amusement.

“Really?” I chuckle.

“I left my bag in the living room,” he says nonchalantly. “And I don’t feel like going to get it.” His pretty face become nervous for a moment, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Is it alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I curl my fingers in his elastic waistband, making him stumble closer. “You look good. You should wear my clothes more often.”

He chuckles, leaning down to capture my lips. I sigh and melt into it. Baz holds my face, slowly running his finger over my cheek. I encircle his waist. Warmth spreads from my mouth and through my entire body. Damn. No matter how brief or how long, how fast or slow, Baz's kisses are always pretty damn great.

He pulls back slightly, leaving the smallest space between us. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on, now. I’m tired and so are you. Let’s sleep.”

I yawn right on cue. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Baz pulls me towards the bed. He lays down first, putting his glasses on the nightstand, and I follow, head pillowed on his strong chest. His arms wrap around me tightly. I like when he does that. Baz always makes me feel better just by holding me. How the hell does that work? Why does he feel so unlike any friend I've had before? I don't know. And I don't care, so long as he just keeps holding me.

“Night,” I mumble.

“Night, love,” he sighs.

I drift off with his left hand in my hair, his right tracing circles on my back, and his heartbeat right under my ear.

———————————————-

“Snow? Snow. Simon.”

I groan at the voice disturbing the my sleep. A rough, callused hand shakes my arm. Of course I know who it is, so I don’t even open my eyes.

“What?” I grumble

“I have to go,” Baz whispers. “I’ve got class until seven. Lunch at Goat tomorrow?”

“M-hm.”

“And are you still staying at my place Friday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you understand anything I just said?”

I roll over, bleary eyes opening slightly. The dawn light doesn’t hurt my eyes too much. Baz is a blur of black, reddish-gold, and grey.

“Goat tomorrow, your flat Friday,” I mumble. “Got it.”

There’s white in the blur now, what I assume are his teeth in a wide grin. He leans forward. “Wonderful. See you later, darling.”

“Bye, love.”

He presses a kiss to my hairline. Even half asleep, I can feel his cool lips on my forehead and the smell of all his fancy products waft up my nose. I listen as his shoes click out the door.

I think I fall asleep again, because when I wake up it’s a lot brighter outside. I groan at the burning sunlight and bring the sheet over my head. I don’t have class until two so I don’t have to get up just yet. I just lay in bed, trying to block out the day. And under those sheets, it hits me that I called Baz ‘love’ for the first time. Huh. Guess his use of cute nicknames is rubbing off on me. It’s new, but so is a lot of stuff we’re doing, and I’ve like it all so far. I think I like this too.

My stomach growls like an angry lion. Guess that’s my cue to get up. I throw off my sheet and immediately shiver. Fuck, it’s chilly. I look over and see that Baz left my sweatshirt folded on my dresser, so I slip it on. I press it to my nose. It still sort of smells like him, a gorgeous mix of his cologne and fancy products. That makes me smile like an idiot, for whatever reason.

I saunter into the kitchen. Penny doesn’t have any class, so she’s sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of textbooks spread out. It’s like the school library threw up on it. The coffee in the pot is old, but I don’t feel like making a new one. So I pour it out and put it in the microwave.

“That’s disgusting, Si,” Penny sing songs.

“Shut up, Pen,” I reply with my most chipper voice. The microwave beeps. I drink from the mug and promptly spit the whole thing out in the sink. Oh Christ, it is disgusting.

“Told you so.”

I glare at her through the kitchen wall hole as I pour the coffee out. I start setting up the kettle for tea instead. Screw coffee. Baz says tea is better for you anyway.

“So,” she says very matter of factly, staring at me through our lovely wall hole, “Baz.”

She doesn’t continue. Nothing to explain what the fuck she’s talking about. She just looks at me with narrow eyes while twirling a pencil in her hand. I blink at her, silence hanging between us, and still nothing.

“Yeah, Baz,” I chuckle.

“You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s cool.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sort of?”

I shrug, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s nice in the important ways, y’know? Helps me out when I need it and treats me well. But he also teases me. In fun though. I tease him too, and I try to be nice. I hope he thinks I’m nice too.”

The kettle whistles. I get out my Adventure Time mug and a peppermint tea bag. When I look back at Penny, she’s twisting her lips, brow furrowed together, pencil tapping on the table rhythmically. That’s her concerned friend look. She always looks like this when I make a major life decision, or when I attempt cooking.

“And, you’re happy, right?” she asks carefully.

I blink at her in confusion again. That’s a weird question. I’ve been depressed before, sure, but I haven’t lately. So I’m not sure why Penny is concerned with my emotional state. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She chuckles and her concerned look goes away. That’s a relief. I don’t like making Penny worried. “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, laughing at the absurdity of this.“Fun talk, Pen. Enjoy studying.”

“Will do. Get to class on time!”

I scoff, walking towards my room with lovely steaming tea in hand. “If I got to class on time, I wouldn’t be Simon Snow Salisbury.”

Penny sighs with exasperation. Now that’s a sound I’ve heard since high school. It’s become weirdly comforting in a way. Penny’s always going to be a bit frustrated with me, and she still loves me anyway.

———————————————-

“Simon, what are you doing this weekend?”

I look up from my fancy grilled cheese, mouth still full. Baz has finished his panini and is now in his “villain position” again. One long leg over the other, bony elbows propped on his armrests, fingers pressed together. It’s still half intimidating-half badass. I swallow my food. Don’t want to be rude with him.

“This weekend?” I ask. “Uh, nothing. I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

He drums his fingers together slowly. Total Bond villain. “Well, I have a proposition for something we could do.”

That makes me put down my food and shift in my chair. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You see, my parents wanted me to come home for the whole break next week. But I couldn’t do that with my practice schedule. I still want to see them though, so I’m driving up for family dinner on Sunday.”

“Okay...”

“And the thing is...” He drums his fingers on the wooden table and chews at his lip. “I’ve mentioned you to them, and they’re wondering if you’d like to come up with me.”

I nearly drop my sandwich. I stare at Baz silently for an inappropriate amount of time. “Your parents," I say cautiously, "want me to come over for dinner?”

He nods slowly, face pinched together in nervousness. “Yes. They’re both eager to meet you, though they may not show it outwardly. But please, love, don’t feel pressured. I told them it might be too soon for this but they can be...insistent. It’s completely up to you though. They’ll survive if you say no.” He rubs his nose under his glasses. “Sorry, this is just a whole mess. I thought about not asking but I wanted to give you the choice.”

“O-Okay.” I nod, like a very slow moving bobble head. Wow, this is just a lot. I haven’t met a friend’s parents since Agatha. And we were dating, which made it very scary. This seems even scarier though. My heart is pulsing too fast. Fuck, why does this feel so intimidating?

Baz grabs my hand, thumb tracing the back of it. It immediately calms me down. “Don’t panic, love, no matter what decision you make I’ll understand. It’s not like we’ll stop speaking if you don’t come to dinner with my pushy, posh parents.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you, love.”

Right, up to me... Fuck. Do I want to meet Baz’s posh family? Even though it’s scary? I mean, I guess it would be nice. They’re probably smart like Baz, cultured too, all that. It sounds intimidating, and it was with Baz at first, but I learned. And maybe I can learn with his family too. I'd like to know more about Baz, be part of another aspect of his life. That's what friends do, right?

“Okay,” I say, “I’d like to come.”

Baz’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It sounds fun, and I’d like to meet your parents. If they’re anything like you, they’ll be posh, really smart, and weirdly nice.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to see them.”

I giggle too, leaning closer to him over the the small table. “Okay, good to know. Anything I should bring?”

“Well, Sunday nights are our ‘fancy dinners’, so we dress up. You’ll have to wear a suit.”

I frown. “I don’t own a suit.”

He nods like some thoughtful scholar. “Hm, alright. Well, I’ve got one you could borrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure. If it fits me, Mr. Tall and Lanky.” I poke his muscular shoulder for emphasis, making him laugh.

“You’re not that much shorter than me, don’t worry. So we’ll go up Sunday afternoon and leave Monday morning. I’ll certainly be drinking, so I don’t want to drive home the night of.”

“Very responsible, love, very responsible.”

Baz chuckles softly, and I do too. He looks me in the eye. All I see is kindness. Who the hell ever said he was an arsehole? He’s actually incredible.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” he asks, his voice still concerned.

I adjust our hands, so we’re smooth palm to scratchy palm, and smile as big as I can. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Baz smiles back. Not as big, but it’s still kind and calm. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

And weirdly enough, neither can I.

———————————————-

AN: So the documentary is real and called "Highly Strung", and the book Penny mentions is real too. Hope you all liked this. I like writing this fluffy definitely-not-a-relationship haha. Tomorrow, "adventure" :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #university #no magic #human baz #oblivious simon #straight boy #mysnowbazfanfic

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