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Simon's POV
I am taking him tonight.
And every night after, if I get the chance.
Baz's POV
I'm completely naked, underneath Simon Snow.
I'm laying on my bed and he's straddling my waist, catching my lips in a sweet kiss. Then he trails wet kisses down my jaw, then my neck, then my collar. Peppering my chest with love bites, reaching my nipples. Blue eyes burn into mine, feigning innocence, as his tongue flicks at my erect nipples.
I hate that he's already got me moaning beneath him. . .
Simon's POV
My tongue flickers over his nipples and he's already trembling, but maybe the thigh I placed between his legs has something to do with that.
His silver eyes stare into mine as my hands travel down the river of his stomach to his hips. I can't resist planting a kiss on his pretty parted pink lips right then.
And I want to surprise him.
Baz's POV
My arousal cannot be contained — Simon's leg between mine, his tongue. . . His hands keep inching lower, now they're holding onto my arse but I feel his fingers roaming.
And yet I don't see it coming.
A finger prods at my entrance, gently. And at the same time Simon's tongue intertwines with mine, kissing me with a fervent passion.
Wait--
My arse.
Does he want to. . . ? Of course he does, Baz.
Aleister Crowley, Simon Snow wants to fuck me. I can't believe it. . .
I'm living a charmed life.
Simon's POV
Baz's eyes are stormy, his expression is slightly conflicted too. What if he doesn't want this, and I fucked up? I'm beginning to doubt myself.
I pull my lips away and hover over his naked, vulnerable body.
Baz's POV
Simon's bronze curls hang on my forehead, his nose grazes mine. . . He looks heavenly right here — naked above me. His eyes are stupidly, infinitely, and flamingly blue and his eyebrows are pinched.
I answer with a small, soft smile and a kiss to every freckle on his cheeks, with a small peck on his nose.
Simon's POV
Only a few months ago I would've told anyone willing to listen that Baz was just an arrogant tosh. A rich prat, who looked down at the rest of us. An evil, plotting monster—a vampire.
I was a little envious. And immature. And childish.
And absolutely in love, obsessed — with no fucking clue.
I thought I followed him so I could make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone.
I thought I watched him sleep so that he wouldn't murder me in mine — even though it was practically impossible to. (Because of the roommates Anathema; he'd never risk getting kicked out of Watford.)
I thought I hated him. Even though I felt incomplete without him, and I knew that at least.
And here he is now. A breathtaking boy, who's kissing me. Whose silver eyes follow me everywhere. Whose mouth pleads to hold on longer. Whose heart is mine, mine, mine.
And I love him with everything I have, with all that I know.
I love Baz.