Work Text:
Baz
Simon sidles up next to me to order a drink, and I tighten my grip on my own glass, trying hard to pretend like I don't notice his presence. Of course, how could I not, though?
His cheeks are flushed, and he sounds out of breath. He leans casually against the bar, waiting until he has received his drink before he turns attention on me.
"Oh, hey, Baz," he says, pretending to only just notice me.
"Snow," I say with a nod.
"I didn't expect to see you here tonight."
"I'm not sure how you managed to see anything with all those guys all over you." I regret it the moment the words have left my mouth. I hate how much it bothered me seeing him dance with all of those guys tonight.
The first time we met in this bar, I had all of the control, but over the past few weeks, Simon has slowly grown more confident, and I can feel that control quickly slipping.
"So, where are you headed next?" Simon asks casually, ignoring my previous remark. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, though. "The bathroom or my place?"
When the hell did he get so brazen? This is a new side of Simon, and I hate it and love it at the same time.
"What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?" I ask, and he just shrugs, taking a slow sip of his drink. The way he swallows is a whole fucking scene, and my gaze is drawn to his throat, to faint bruises that I can't remember if are my own making or someone else's.
I grit my teeth then throw the rest of my drink back before standing, trying to play it cool. I'm towering over him now, but it still feels like he has the upper hand.
"You know," he says slowly, drawing it out like his sole intent is to drive me crazy. "If I didn't know better, I would say that you look like you were jealous.
"I don't care who you dance with." I say, and it's only partially a lie. "At the end of the night, all that really matters is who you go home with."
I grin at him like I'm offering him a challenge, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight. He returns the grin, then silently grabs my hand, leading me through the crowds of people and out of the bar.
His place isn't far from here, so we walk rather than calling a cab. His hand never leaves mine, and we don't stop moving until we've made it to his bedroom. He pushes me down on top of it, and I let him. Sometimes it's nice to hand over the control.
He makes quick work of our clothes and procures lube from somewhere that I don't see, too caught up in the pleasure of it all. He runs a single lubed-up finger around my entrance, and I grunt in surprised pleasure when he pushes it all the way in.
As he works me open, his lips are everywhere except one place. This is the fifth time that we have come together like this, and we have never kissed. We don't need to. This thing between us is nothing more than getting each other off, and kissing would make it real in a way.
He takes his sweet time working me open, and I start to grow impatient.
"Fuck me already," I growl, and he grins. He moves his fingers in and out of me a few more times before slowly pulling them out, apparently intent on making me go insane before getting on with it.
He slips on a condom agonizingly slowly before lining himself. My fingers itch to reach for my own cock to bring myself side of pleasure, but I force myself to wait. It will be better if I do. I fist my hands in the sheets while he pushes in cock into me slowly, inch by inch, allowing me to adjust before going deeper.
“Finally,” I moan as he slams home. I love the feel of his cock inside of me, filling me up so much that I wonder if I will be able to take him all. I do, though, every time. He starts up a quick and brutal pace that has me moaning in a way that I will deny later. It feels so good to have him like this.
I know that he will never truly be mine, but during these moments when we meet up, I like to pretend, just for a little while, that it is a possibility. He fucks into me hard and deep, and I try to pretend like my feelings don't go any deeper than this physical attraction. I pretend like thoughts of him don’t keep me up at night. I pretend like he’s just some guy, not the love of my life.
I clear my head and just focus on how good this all feels. The way is cock moves in and out of me, his hand quick and steady on my cock, my fingernails digging into his back, his breath, hot and heavy against my cheek. All of it comes together to create one of the best fucks I have ever had (something I will never admit to Simon) which in turn leads to a truly spectacular orgasm.
Simon fucks me through it before coming himself. I rub my hands up and down his back as he spends himself inside of me before sliding out. He quickly disposes of the used condom before collapsing on the bed beside me.
I take a few moments to catch my breath and collect myself before I sit up and begin looking for my clothes.
“Are you leaving?” He asks, and I tell myself that I imagine the disappointment in his voice. “It’s late.”
“I’ll call a cab,” I tell him, pulling on my boxers then locating my jeans across the room.
“You could stay if you want.”
I take a breath then shake my head, desperately wishing I could say yes, but I can’t. If I ever stayed the night with him, it would mean that I was in too deep. I have to keep treating this like nothing more than a quick fuck with an attractive guy.
“Thanks for the offer,” I tell him, pulling my shirt on, “but I’ll be fine.”
He frowns ever so slightly but doesn’t try to stop me as I slip my shoes on and head for the door. Foolishly, I turn back to look at him once more. My heart yearns for me to reach for him and pull him into my arms, but this thing between us isn’t like that. He isn’t mine to hold.
I offer him a small before walking out, feeling like I am stepping on my heart as I go.