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The cat has definitely been locked out. And the drool on my cheek has gone – Baz licked it off. (Which was weird, but it’s Baz, so. It was hot, too.)
He’s also taken my wedding ring. It’s on our beside table now with the clock, my glasses, and Baz’s ring, while the man I married sits in my lap looking pleased with himself.
“You’re at my mercy, Snow.”
He rarely calls me that anymore. He knows I get off on the sound of my name in his sex-voice, and Baz isn’t one to throw away an advantage like that.
I notice he still remembers how to make Snow sound like it rhymes with idiot, which is something I haven’t missed. Although there’s something else there today, too. Maybe it’s just that I know he doesn’t mean it.
I give the Watford ties around my wrists another tug – more for show than anything – and Baz’s eyes flash.
“Don’t even think about escaping,” he tells me. “I’ve spelled the knots.”
He hasn’t. I’d know the feeling of Baz’s spellwork anywhere. I also know Baz – which means I think he meant to spell me, forgot in the excitement of getting dressed up, and is now trying to cover for himself. I don’t tell him I know.
“What do you want from me?” I say instead.
Baz smiles – more of a smirk, really, than a smile. “I want to take some of your heroic shine off, Snow. Bring you down to earth with the rest of us.”
“Huh?” I say.
Baz sighs (which is genuine, I think) and I break character completely. “Why not tell me what the fantasy is, babe? I’ll get it right if you tell me the parameters.”
Baz is still frowning. I can tell he thinks it’s obvious – but this isn’t my fantasy. (Well, some of it is. The bits with Baz. And the biting. But the school uniform is all him.)
“I have you at my mercy—” he explains.
“Right. And then you bite me?”
“Not until after we have sex,” Baz says. “Which you pretend you hate, but secretly enjoy.”
“Okay.”
I guess it was quite obvious – but Baz isn’t really into dominance. Sometimes he likes to put up a bit of a fight – just long enough to get us both riled up – but that usually ends with him letting me pound him into the mattress. It’s a bit of a surprise he’s into this. Not a bad one, though.
“How much do you want me to pretend?” I ask. “Am I still with Agatha? Should I tell you I’m thinking about her?”
Baz looks disgusted. “Crowley, Simon. No. You’ve broken up – I’ve seized the moment when you’re weakest. Emotionally vulnerable.”
“Asleep?” I suggest helpfully.
Baz smirks. “Not anymore.” He raises an eyebrow. “Ready?”
I nod – and Baz immediately drops his head, crushing his mouth against mine. My lips open automatically but when he pushes his tongue into my mouth, I don’t kiss him back. I make outraged noises at the back of my throat, which Baz seems to like.
He pulls away. I pretend to gape at him.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Something we both want,” Baz says. “Even if only one of us is willing to admit it.”
“I didn’t want … that,” I gasp.
“Oh, really?” Baz says– and leans down to kiss me again. This time I do kiss him back – a bit – because I reckon I’m supposed to be crumbling already. And also, I want to kiss him back.
But I make sure to let Baz know I’m not happy about it as soon as he pulls away.
“You must have cast a lust spell on me. Or a confusion spell. Or something.”
Baz raises an eyebrow. “You think I cast an illegal spell in the middle of Watford? How thick do you think I am?”
“You’re not,” I say. “You’re clever. So clever you wouldn’t be caught.”
He shakes his head, smiling.
“Or you could’ve used your thrall on me.”
Baz scoffs. “Vampire thralls don’t work like that.”
“So, you are a vampire then?”
“Would you like it if I was?”
(He knows I like it.)
“No,” I say, swallowing.
Baz is full-on smirking now, showing his teeth, which are just beginning to grow. He’s got great control over them now.
My cock twitches at the thought of that – Baz’s control, how strong he is – and I know Baz feels it. He’s practically sitting on my erection. His smirk gets even smirkier.
“I think you’re lying. I think the Chosen One gets hot for vampires – especially male vampires. I bet you’d like to suck my cock, wouldn’t you, Snow? Before I take you.”
“Baz, what the fuck,” I say, but I give him a quick nod so that he knows I’m completely down with this. “I’ll tell Miss Possibelf. I’ll get you expelled.”
I must have used that threat against him a hundred times. He never took it seriously then, either.
“You won’t,” he says. He’s right. I never managed it.
He’s unzipping his trousers and my eyes widen as I realise he isn’t wearing any pants. I can see everything. (I don’t know why I’m surprised. Baz dressed for sex, not Magic Words class.)
Anyway, whatever preconceived ideas I had about my husband’s sexual preferences, it’s clear that this – having me at his mercy – is really doing something for him. His cock is very hard and very wet and very close to my mouth already.
“I don’t—” I splutter. “I couldn’t— It’s too big—”
“Oh, fuck off, Simon,” Baz says as I try not to laugh. (I can tell he’s rolling his eyes.) “You’re terrible at this.”
“That’s right,” I say quickly, trying to get back into character. “I’ll probably be terrible at it. It’ll probably be the worst blowjob you’ve ever had—”
I break off because Baz has just gripped the headboard of our bed and swung himself up, onto my face. I’ve still got my mouth open – mid-protest – and he crams his cock in there instead. It all happens so quickly. Although, to be fair, I did know it was going to happen.
I relax my throat – in a way that seventeen-year-old Simon definitely wouldn’t be able to – and let him do want he wants to me.
I love blowing Baz. I love having the warmest, most sensitive part of him on my tongue and I don’t even mind that today he’s pushing himself into me a bit too fast and a bit too deep. It’s actually fucking hot. He’s usually so careful.
“Crowley, yes. I knew you wanted this, too,” Baz gasps above me. And that part must be the fantasy, since I know he didn’t know when we were at school together, and I definitely didn’t. But I suck him extra hard anyway, like I’m desperate for him. (I am. I always am.) Then – because I don’t think he wants it too easy – I let him feel my teeth. Not much, but enough that it’s a threat.
Baz stops and looks down at me imperiously. I raise my eyebrows. He shakes his head.
“Not a good idea, Snow. If you get my blood in your mouth, you might end up like me.”
He opens his mouth wider to show me his fangs filling his mouth and I groan for real because he’s so hot. I feel like I’m on fire. Behind him, my cock is begging for his attention and getting nothing.
His hand comes down to caress my cheek. “That’s not how I’m going to ruin you, Chosen One. So, why not get back to the only thing you’ve ever been really good at? I was just starting to enjoy it.”
I’d tell him to piss off if he said that to me in real life, and I’d definitely try and bite him again whatever he said (which Baz would say makes me an idiot – but you can’t let the hostage-taker blackmail you like that). But this isn’t real, and I’m not upset about having Baz’s cock in my mouth, even if I do wish he’d do something about mine as well.
Plus, I’m pretty sure that, what with the face fucking and the name calling, he’s distracted enough that he hasn’t noticed I’m working on the knots around my wrists.
I’ve got one of them undone when Baz decides I’ve had enough. I grip both ties tightly in my fists, so he doesn’t catch on, and get my breath back as Baz slides off the bed.
My throat feels sore as I try and speak.
“Where are you going?”
“Miss me already?” Baz asks and I splutter in pretend-protest. “Relax, Snow. I have to take my trousers off if I’m going to fuck you.”
“Relax?” I squeak. “I’m being assaulted by my roommate.”
“And loving every minute of it, apparently,” Baz says dryly, eyeing the tented (slightly moist) front of my pyjama bottoms.
“That’s adrenalin,” I say quickly. “Fear.”
“Of course it is, Snow.”
Baz has got his Watford trousers off by now. He folds them over the armchair in the corner of our room and turns his back on me so that I can see what he’s doing. He’s wearing a plug (one of our normal ones – it’s not Watford themed or anything). That makes more sense than what I thought I was in for. Baz does like to fuck me, occasionally, and it’s always really good, but he prefers being taken. I guess even in his dominance fantasies, he still wants me inside him and he’s been getting himself ready for that all along.
I’m certainly not complaining. (Well, I am. But only because he told me to.)
As I watch, he tugs the plug out of himself and magicks it clean.
Then he tugs my pyjama bottoms off, so I’m completely naked, and straddles me again. He’s still in his school shirt, tie and jacket, none of which do anything to hide his cock or his bollocks, which are pressed against my chest. My mouth waters – like I can still feel the shape of him between my lips.
“How long do you think you can stay hard for me, Snow?” he asks idly.
That’s not an easy question to answer. Especially not now when I’m trying to pretend I don’t want what happens next and that I don’t want it to go on for any longer than it has to.
So, I just ignore the question and stick to generic hostage dialogue.
“Let me go and I won’t tell anyone.”
“Eventually,” Baz agrees. “Very eventually. To that end—”
He flicks his wand back out of his sleeve and casts Candle in the wind on me. (Not on himself, though, the selfish bastard.) Then a lubrication spell. Both of which leave me tingling with the heat of his magic.
Candle in the wind is exactly what I thought he was getting at, but I still sob with genuine frustration as he casts it, because it means my orgasm is least half an hour away. I already feel like I’m dying.
“Baz. Please.”
“Please what?”
Please fuck me, I think desperately.
“Please undo the spell,” I say instead.
“Hm.” Baz smiles. “I don’t think I will. I think I’m going to ride you, Snow, until you beg.”
“I’m already begging,” I point out.
Baz rolls his eyes again. (I don’t think I was supposed to mention that.)
“More,” he says waspishly. “And for more. Until you’re begging to come, rather than just be released.”
“Never.”
“We’ll see about that,” Baz says, threateningly. Then, to my relief, he raises himself up on his haunches, takes my cock in his hand, and sinks down onto it.
Even though he’s stretched himself, even though I’m used to having sex with Baz after ten years together, I still gasp at how tight and warm it is inside him. Groan. Push up into him.
“That’s it, Snow,” Baz urges as he grinds his hips down into mine. “Give it to me. You know you want to.”
I definitely do.
I’ve got both the ties around my wrists undone now, and I know I could just grab Baz before he knew what was happening and fuck the living daylights out of him. Instead of having to hold myself back while he just sits there on my cock, looking ridiculously gorgeous, not even wanking himself yet because he wants to draw out my suffering.
“You’re such a villain,” I say, really meaning it, and Baz laughs breathlessly. “God, Baz, you’re so—”
I freeze. So does Baz, which means we can both hear it.
The tell-tale scratch of an angry cat, trying to get back into the bedroom.
“Ignore it,” Baz says, just as the annoying scratching sound gets even louder and more annoying. “Better yet—”
He drops his wand out of his sleeve again and aims it at the bedroom door.
“Don’t kill him,” I protest, even though the cat is evil and probably deserves it.
“I’m not actually a villain, Simon,” Baz says and he looks pissed off at the idea I might think he is, even though we’ve been married for years and the whole ‘Evil Vampire Basilton Pitch molests the Chosen One’ thing was his idea. “I’m not going to kill my own fucking cat.”
He aims a silencing spell at the door and tucks his wand away. “Right. Where were we?”
“You are enjoying this?” I say before he starts moving again and I get distracted. “Aren’t you? Being the villain, I mean.”
I don’t ask if this is one of the things he’s going to have to talk to his therapist about later (he has a therapist now – a different one to mine, thank magic), but I think we both know I’m thinking it. We’ve only just got to the point where we can joke about him being a vampire. Can we joke about the fact he tried to kill me a few times?
Baz frowns down at me. “Are you trying to make me lose my erection?”
“Just answer the question, love.”
He pulls off me and stretches out next to me. “Some of it. Most of it, actually – although I remember now that this dream always made me feel especially dirty after I woke up. How about you? Enjoying being ravished?”
“Yes,” I say. (A bit too quickly – Baz smirks.) “Going to get back to it?”
Baz shakes his head. “Patroclus and this conversation have rather thrown me off my stride. Sorry. But, hey – at least you’re not at mindful teambuilding or whatever. Do you want breakfast?” He glances at my erection. “Or a hand with something?
I pull my wrists free from the restraints. Baz looks surprised – and annoyed. (I guess he thought he’d tied me better than that.)
I do want breakfast, but the spell Baz cast on me – and how mindlessly hot he is, only half dressed, dark hair falling over his face – means I also really want sex. Possibly even more than breakfast. (For now, anyway. I can always have breakfast afterwards.)
Baz jerking me off would be nice, although it’ll take ages because of fucking Candle in the wind. It’s also nowhere near what I want.
I want him.
“How about we play one of your other fantasies?” I offer.
Baz frowns. He looks suspicious. (Suspicious of me, I mean. Not suspicious-suspicious. He’s not plotting now; I am.)
“What other fantasies?” he says warily.
“You know,” I say. “Other things you used to wish for when you were at school. And get off on.”
“I’m still have no idea what you mean,” Baz says, but he doesn’t object when I roll over onto him and kiss him. He kisses me back. His fangs are gone, now, and it’s just nice. Normal. The kind of kiss we give each other every day because we get to kiss each other every day.
I start to pull his tie loose.
“I’m your husband,” I murmur into his mouth.
“Yes, Simon, I know,” Baz says.
“No,” I draw back, so I’m supporting myself on my arms above him, “think about it. We’re married. I’m your husband. I bet you wanted that when you were seventeen.”
The tips of Baz’s cheekbones go pink. He’s not looking at me. It’s adorable.
“Don’t take the piss.”
“I’m not.” I dip my head to kiss him below his jaw. Graze his skin with my teeth. “I’m giving you what we both want, husband.”
Baz shudders beneath me and I risk dropping my hips a bit. He definitely lost his erection at some point, but it’s coming back – I can feel it.
“Tell me why you married me,” he breathes.
“Because I love you.” He shudders again and I kiss his mouth. “Because you’re smart. And gorgeous.” Baz presses up into me – he’s embarrassed, but smiling. (He looked a bit like this at our wedding actually.) I kiss him again and get to work on his shirt buttons. “And I couldn’t imagine not being with you for the rest of my life.”
He groans. My name. My real name – in that should-probably-be-illegal tone that always makes me hot for him.
“Simon.” Then one of his legs hooks round my waist and drags me down into him. “Fuck, Simon. More.”
“You’re filthy rich and I needed the money.”
He laughs, tilting his chin back so I can get at more of his neck. “Liar.”
“I needed to keep my eye on you.”
“You’re obsessed with me,” Baz counters.
“Fuck, you noticed. I was trying to hide it.”
“Idiot,” Baz says, but I know he doesn’t mean it. His eyes are shining.
“Can I make love to you?” I ask and he nods wordlessly. “Turn over then.”
As he does it, turning onto his stomach, Baz tugs his blazer and shirt off together and just – drops them off the edge of the bed onto the floor. His wand clatters on the hardwood – he doesn’t pick it up. As if I didn’t already know he was gagging for it. (Baz is only ever tidy when his brain isn’t entirely occupied with something else. He does it consciously, it’s not a habit. I love making him forget it.)
Meanwhile, I reach past him for the lube (I could get Baz to use another spell, but I think I need something cold right now) and for the rings he left on the side earlier. I put mine back on, holding Baz’s on my pinky finger for now, and slick myself up. Then I lean over him – putting my whole weight on him, the way I know he likes – before finding his hole with the head of my cock and pushing in.
Baz groans as I fill him up and pushes back into me. We’re good at this now, it’s how we usually have sex, but I don’t usually press my mouth up so close to his ear so I can whisper all the things about him that drive me to distraction while we do it.
His hair. The way he smells. How kind he is to people I love. How he always has a comeback for everything. His strength. His incredible arse. How stupidly dramatic he is. How he forgets everything when he plays the violin. How he hisses my name when I’m fucking him.
Most of them things I knew at seventeen, or should have known. Things Baz probably never imagined me saying to him, even in his fantasies. So many reasons I’m glad I’m with him now.
“Sentimental rubbish,” Baz pants – because he’s a dick. (It’s something else I like about him.)
“You love it,” I tell him, taking his hand from where it’s gripped tightly in the sheets. Finally, I slide his ring back into place. Link our two hands together so the metal clinks.
He whimpers, pushing his arse back and up so there’s more space between him and the mattress – and wrapping both of our hands around his cock.
“Make me come,” he says insistently. “Please. While telling me how much you adore me.”
I do.
It doesn’t take long. Baz shudders in my arms, clenching around me, groaning my name. It’s so intense, so tight, so hot, so much Baz, that I’d definitely come if he hadn’t spelled me. Instead, I’m rock hard as his cock jerks in my fist. I hold him steady before letting him collapse and pulling myself out.
I still haven’t come yet, but that’s all right. Right now, it’s enough to watch my beautiful husband lying in his blissed-out state next to me. He smiles at me as I lean over to kiss him.
“I think that was probably better than any fantasy I ever had.”
I grin. “Yeah?”
“Don’t get big headed,” Baz says. “I clearly have a terrible imagination.”
“You’re such a dick,” I tell him. He grins as I kiss him again. “Are you going to bite me now? You did say you would.”
Baz nods, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’m a man of my word.” He opens his mouth to show his fangs dropping. “Also, I can’t think of anything I want to do more. Where?”
“Here.” I tap the crease of my thigh, next to my still too-tight bollocks and aching cock – and Baz’s droopy eyes flare with lust.
I only let him bite me there on very special occasions, because it makes me come immediately. Right now, that’s exactly what I want, though. Some sort of relief – and Baz’s sexy fucking fangs buried in me deep enough that I really feel it.
I raise my eyebrows and Baz nods.
“Scoot up, then.” His grey eyes are molten as I do it. He licks his lips. “Spread your legs.” I do. “And if you want to pretend you’re still tied up, I have no objections.”
Obviously, neither do I.
I find one of the ties – it might’ve been the one Baz was wearing earlier – and wind it round my wrists. I can’t be bothered to actually tie it, but this is enough. It’s certainly enough to make Baz’s breath hitch.
I grin at him – and he ducks his head, but he doesn’t bite me. He slides his mouth over my cock, instead, all the way down to the base. I whine.
“Baz. Please. I just want to come.”
He slides off with a lewd pop. Smirks at me. “I told you, you’d beg eventually.”
I think we both did. I don’t mind though. Not if it gets results.
I try and put as much desperation into my voice as possible.
“Please bite me. Please. I need it.”
Baz wraps a hand around my cock, which is still a bit damp from his saliva. It’s a light grip. Just enough to be arousing; nowhere near enough to finish me off.
“More,” he demands.
I whimper – and it’s definitely real now. Fuck.
“Please. Baz.”
“And what was it you needed again, Snow?”
“You,” I tell him, because that has to be right. “Baz, I need you. Fuck. I’m obsessed with you. I—”
His head drops and I feel his fangs sink into my flesh. The hand around my cock clenches and pumps and I’m suddenly flooded with different kinds of ecstasy. The tension in me tightens – snaps. And I come all over my stomach, swearing and growling Baz’s name.
He pulls back immediately and shifts his weight forward so he can lick my spunk before it dries.
I’m too shagged out to stop him – even though it’s disgusting, and I know where this is heading – or to put up much a fight when Baz crawls further up my body to stick his tongue in my mouth. I let him kiss me; bringing my arms down to hold him while he does it.
“You taste like blood and also semen,” I tell him once he pulls away.
He laughs lightly. “You’re welcome.”
“I’d prefer the taste of breakfast,” I say meaningfully.
Baz huffs. “No need to ask what your teenage fantasies were.”
He rolls off the bed to collect his wand, and his dressing gown from the peg on the wardrobe. “Bacon? Eggs?”
“Yeah. And beans. And black-pudding, if we’ve got it. Toast, obviously. And maybe another kind of egg – scrambled?”
“I was making scrambled, anyway,” Baz says, aggrieved.
“All right, then fried as well.”
Baz looks like he wants to refuse, even though he never does.
“Fine,” he says. “But only because I love you.”
I grin at him. “Thanks, babe.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls open the bedroom door with a flourish. The cat is there. The same cat who’s been trying to get in for the last half an hour. It looks up at him.
“Yes?” Baz says. “Can we help you?”
The cat gives him a long-suffering look and walks away without answering, presumably off to do whatever evil deeds are lined up for the rest of the day. I guess maybe Patroclus thinks someone needs to up the villainy level in the household. And Baz clearly isn’t going to do it – he’s making eggs.
If I really was a hero, I’d go and investigate. Or at least help with the eggs. But I think I can probably leave them both to get on with it.
I close my eyes.
And doze until Baz shouts that breakfast is ready.