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SIMON
That’s fucking it.
I take him by his lapels and slam him into the wall before I realize what I’ve done. Fuck. Fuck, the Anathema…
But nothing comes. And Baz isn’t doing anything, just…
Just looking at me. Into my eyes.
They’re lovely, his eyes, I’ve always thought so. (I’m just now realizing that I’ve always thought so…) Grey, like a storm, with pupils blown wide. He’s got a worry line between his brows, right over his too-fucking-long nose and all I want to do is smooth it out for him, the fucking arsehole.
Baz doesn’t break my gaze. Until he does, and I think he just…
I think he just looked at my mouth.
I look down at his mouth, too. His lips are fuller than mine, and definitely not as pink. Because he’s a vampire, I think. Because he hasn’t had anything to drink. Fucking hell.
That’s when he starts to sneer at me.
BAZ
Snow’s grip on my lapels tightens as he presses his fists against my chest, presses me further back into the wall.
“Careful, Snow,” I say. “Wouldn’t want the Anathema to throw you out. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go.” Fuck. That’s not what I want to say at all, but Crowley, it’s not like I can just tell him what I want. I can’t tell him what this is doing to me. The sight of him. The feel of him this close. He’s so close I can feel the growls rumbling in his chest.
I don’t even remember what it is we’re fighting about. He started yelling at me as soon as I walked in the room, and then I was throwing insults, and now we’re here. Now my back’s against the wall, and I can’t tell him I love it.
He juts his chin at me that infernal way he does. “You’re a fucking arsehole,” he says.
I am, I think.
“Corking insult, Snow. Very original,” I say.
He growls again. And…
And I think he just looked at my mouth again.
He’s almost looking at me like. Well.
This can’t be happening. Simon Snow isn’t gay.
Agatha, I think. That’s what we were fighting about. Something about how I haven’t taken my chance, now they’ve split.
There’s a fire behind his eyes now. I can smell the magic leaking off him, and his shoulders are so broad, and his stupid, sexy moles are right fucking here.
I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Punch me in the teeth, probably. Break my nose again.
I think I might, anyway. He’s here, and he’s holding onto me, and his lips are hanging open. (Mouth-breather.)
“You’re,” he starts. Growls. The rumble in his chest shakes me to my fucking core. “I’m not. Fuck. You’re an arsehole.”
Kiss him, I think. Just fucking do it. Kiss him and let him run you through with his sword. Give yourself one happy memory before the war is truly on, and everything goes to complete shit.
“You’re an idiot,” I say.
He huffs.
And presses his fists farther into me.
And then everything else happens in a rush, the way he lets go of me. The way he reaches up and takes hold of my jaw. I think, for a moment, that he’s going to slam my head into the wall.
He doesn’t.
He growls again instead.
And then he kisses me.
SIMON
Baz’s mouth is cold.
Because he’s a vampire, I think again. Siegfried and fucking Roy, I’m kissing a vampire.
I’m kissing Baz. Baz.
Fuck, I like it.
He's not moving his mouth. He's not moving at all.
I suppose it's good he hasn't punched me yet, though I also suppose he can't, with the Anathema.
Maybe I should stop. Probably I should. But I don't want to. I don't know that I ever want to stop.
I'm not sure what that means, and it scares me. So I decide not to think about it just now. All I have to do right now is this.
I press my body closer to his and Baz's breath catches and—
Oh.
BAZ
Aleister fucking Crowley.
Simon Snow has just felt that I'm hard for him, and I may very well Tyger, Tyger myself out of this situation. Or I would, if he weren't stood so close to me, pressing so close to me. If he weren't hard, too. I can barely fucking believe it.
He lets go of my lips with a pant. "I. Um. Sor—"
And then I lurch forward and stop him with my mouth. Because I don't have anything to lose, really. I don't think. And apparently I'm living in some twisted alternate reality where Simon Snow wants me.
He doesn't pull away, just pulls my hips into his and jams his face into mine.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
I've never kissed anyone before, but I suppose it can't be all that difficult. I let Simon lead. I let my body lead, and when I feel his tongue against my lips, I open my mouth for him and let him in.
He licks into my mouth, hot and sweet and Simon, and I can't help the noise that escapes me. I don't have the time to be embarrassed about it. This could very well be the only chance I get to kiss Simon Snow, and I'm damn well going to make the most of it.
SIMON
I think Baz and I have solved something, though this might just be a new problem.
I try not to think about that, about it being a problem. Something that feels this fucking good shouldn't get to be a problem. Being able to make Baz Pitch sigh and moan into my mouth is most definitely not a problem.
Fuck, I like him like this. I like kissing him. Touching him. Even the fact that I have to lift myself to reach his mouth, which I'm not going to tell him.
Fuck, I like this. Full stop. Full fucking stop.
His mouth is warming up, the longer I kiss him, and I keep thinking of all the things I want to do to him. I think they're things I've wanted to do for a while, too, because apparently there's a list of things in my head and I don't think I could've come up with it this quickly, honestly.
I push one of my hands up into his perfect hair, because I've always wanted to mess it right the fuck up. It's just. I didn't realize that this was how I wanted to mess it up. Fucking hell.
I think he likes it, too, because he's panting into my mouth, and when I give his hair a tug, he groans. Actually fucking groans.
Fuck, I'm nearly out of breath, but I can't stop. Not now. Not when I've finally got him right where I want him.
BAZ
Snow is good at this. At kissing. At moving his body against mine.
We sunk to the floor a while ago; I can’t remember when. All I know is that Simon Snow is on top of me, kissing me, and the air between us is so heated I’m almost dizzy. Or maybe that’s his magic seeping out of him.
His breath is shaking against my cheek, and his tongue is delving into my mouth, and it’s so good. It’s so good, and I don’t want to stop, even though we probably should. Even though he’s the fucking Mage’s Heir, and I’m the heir to the house of Pitch, and a vampire, and one day…
One day…
I can’t bring myself to care. All I care about is Simon Snow. Simon Snow’s lips on mine. Simon Snow growling into my mouth, and gasping. Simon Snow hard against me, and the way he’s moving his chin as he kisses me. The fact that he’s kissing me at all.
Simon Snow.
He draws in a sharp breath and pulls back, finally, and fuck, I’ve never seen him look like this. Flushed, his curls tousled from my hands for once, instead of his. Lips swollen from kissing me.
And suddenly I feel the loss. It’s over. It was a mistake, he’ll say. This is a mistake.
His breath shakes as he breathes in once and lets it go, his nothing-special eyes flitting around from my face to the floor just over my shoulder. (Of course they’re special. They’re his.)
“What’re we,” he starts. “I mean. Should we—”
This is a mistake.
“Do you want to stop, Snow?” I say. I don’t want to say it, but I have to give him the chance to say no. The chance to reject me. I don’t look at him.
“What?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “No. I mean. D’you?”
I shake my head and stare at a loose thread in his jumper. “No.”
He sets his palm against my cheek then and all I want is to melt into him. (I do.) He presses gently on my face until I look him in the eye. Then he says, “Well then. Let’s. I dunno, just.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and Crowley, I just want to reach up and let him do that to me, to my lips. “Just. I like this. I like this better than fighting, Baz.”
I nod.
Me too, I think. I’m in love with you, you disastrous moron. You absolute fucking nightmare.
“Truce,” I say, and he meets my eyes. Nods.
“Yeah, alright,” he says. “Truce.”
And then he kisses me.