Chapter Text
SIMON
It feels like a bloody sauna in here, but Baz said he wouldn't wait to use our new bathtub. Said he's been without for years, and he's going to use it now that he has it, damn it. And, well. It's not like I could just let him break in the tub by himself, could I? Merlin knows we've been stressed as all fuck recently, what with the move and his Masters and my cookbook launch, so. Might be I wanted some quality time.
Doesn't make it any less fucking hot in here. He likes the water bloody scalding. It's so hot that even he's got a bit of a blush to him. What I can see of him, I anyway.
I'm sat behind him now, working on his neck with my lips. (I'm hoping to give him some ideas. Some ideas that'll give him even more of a blush later.) His skin is salty with his sweat, but I like it. I like to taste him. (I want him to taste me.)
Water trickles down from my arm as I lift it to wrap across his chest and pull him back, closer. I splay my other hand against his belly, rubbing it in slow circles that way he likes. (Hopefully teasing him a bit, too.)
He sighs and leans into me, tilting his head to the side as I kiss my way along his neck. He's got his hair pulled back, so I don't have to move it out of the way myself.
Baz shivers when I ghost my teeth along his scar. "What're you doing, Snow?" I think he's too relaxed to put any real venom in it.
"Hm," I hum against his skin. "What d'you think?"
"What I think," he breathes as I press my lips to his scar, "is that you're being very distracting."
"Yeah, well. Don't hear you complaining," I say. I still my hand against his belly and move it down lower, lower, lower—
And Baz's breath hitches when I wrap my hand around him.
"Right, yeah. Doesn't seem like you're too put-out—"
He turns his head and catches my mouth with his, sucking on the scar on my bottom lip and tracing it with his tongue and fuck, it's my turn to gasp. It's so fucking hot, and my heart is hammering in my throat, and I hope—no, I know—that he can feel that. My blood. Probably he can smell it from here. (All I smell is cedar and bergamot and sweat, a day's hard work mixed with the scent of heady bathwater, the scent of Baz.)
It's making me dizzy, all of it.
His body slides down into the water, his head falling farther back until he's practically resting it on my shoulder. It makes me feel like I've just made Baz Pitch melt, honestly. I take hold of his face and slip my tongue into his mouth slowly, slowly. (I want him to melt some more.)
He doesn't.
He shoves his face into mine instead and fuck, I wonder if we could shag in here. I think we probably could; the tub's big enough. (Baz was very particular about this blasted thing, the toff. But it was important to him. He wanted a nice study and a bathtub. I wanted a bigger kitchen. We both got what we wanted and then some.)
I'm just thinking about all the ways we could get each other off when Baz bites the scar on my lip. It's not a nip, either, not like it usually is. It makes me jump a little, but then he's dragging his tongue along my lip, dipping it into the crevice of my scar and fuck yes. His mouth is cold, but his touch is fire. He is fire. And I think he's going to bite me tonight.
I fucking hope he's going to bite me tonight.
He finishes his lick, then pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, giving it a gentle suck before he lets go and pulls back to look at me. My eyes flutter open as I pull my lip into my mouth.
Baz is raising an eyebrow at me.
I grin at him.
And then I kiss him again.