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SIMON
I'm standing right in the middle of a giant boar carcass. Its body has been split in half, its stomach cleaved upon by my sword which shakes in my iron like grip. There's ropes of entrails on the floor, blood seeping from the boar's head that has rolled near my kneeled feet, and the stench of its digestive fluids mixes with the smoky scent of my magic, making my stomach roil. It's horrifying, but not as horrifying as the events preceding this.
How students poured from the forests near the spot Penny and I usually sit outside, screaming of a wild boar that was presumably sent by the Humdrum. How I had raced with Penny at my side, further into the undergrowth until we came face to face with the monster, almost five feet tall and a large hulking mass of matted fur and razor sharp horns, growling with teeth bared and spit frothing. How it dodged the spells Penny had thrown at it, charging at her and forcing her to dive on the ground, Penny calling out my name–
“Simon!” A hand yanks me from my shoulder, dragging me from the corpse and onto my feet. I nearly collapse with how much my muscles hurt, and feel the hand clench against my skin, steadying my balance.
"Pen…” I groan, but it's not her eyes that meet mine, grey and piercing. Baz stands opposite, hair wild and shirt torn, blood staining his exposed shoulder. Penny is there, less bloody but ruffled all the same, leaning against Baz and reaching to grab my elbow. I barely notice her touch, eyes locked on Baz, words locked in my throat.
I don't remember him showing up. I can only hear the way he called my name as I neared Penny, can see the boar charging towards me, caught unaware. I can hear the sickening crack as he rammed himself into the boar's side, sending it and him crashing into a large oak. I can see him throwing a misguided fireball that just glances off the boar's side, how the beast had batted him a few metres in the air, how he'd crashed into a fallen heap.
How I had only seen red then, had let my magic roar in my veins and my sword cut further than bone, until the red of my anger spilled like the red of the boar's blood.
There's no anger now, even with Baz standing beside me and holding me by the shoulder, eyes like smouldering coals. I want to shrug him off, but I'm not quite certain I can stand without him, and the thought of being dependent on Baz, only for a few moments, makes me chest clench with unease.
“We should go,” Penny croaks, and maybe she sees my inner turmoil, as she pulls on my side, so that Baz's hand drops from my shoulder, the skin there scalding hot. She hooks an arm around my waist, and I nod in gratitude, jaw clenching as my head smarts from the movement.
Baz doesn't reply, but staggers by my side as we make our way further out of the forest, stumbling over tree roots. I turn back, eyes fixed on the two halves of a body until it disappears, swallowed by trees.
It's sunset when we make it back on school grounds, nearing a side entrance to our turret. I lean against the wall, struggling to catch my breath.
“We need to report this to the Mage,” I say, and Baz lets out a wheezing laugh, cutting short with a wince as he holds his side.
“Yes, let's tell your precious Mage how he's failed to keep his students safe for what, the third time this year?” Baz snorts. “And it's not even Easter. If someone from the Old Families were in charge–”
“Yeah, let's hand it to one of your practically militant relatives, why don't we?” I snarl, pushing myself from the wall and up into Baz's face, our foreheads knocking. “Over my dead body.”
“Careful with what you wish for, Snow,” Baz smirks, his face looming in front of me. “I could just make them come true.”
“Christ, enough!” Penny snaps, pushing between us. She folds her arms over her chest, glaring at me. “I'm going to the Mage's office to check if he's there. You guys can meet me after you clean up.”
“But I don't need–”
“Simon, you smell like a dead pig. And Baz, you like you've murdered someone.”
“Probably wouldn't be his first time,” I mutter under my breath, and Baz glares, Penny holding him from taking a step towards me.
“Don't make me say it again, boys,” Penny warns, and despite her small stature, and the fact her hair literally looks like a bird's nest, I shiver at the tone in her voice. Even Baz backs off, and pushes past me towards the stairs. I give Penny a look, to which she sighs exasperatedly, making her way down the hill.
I sprint to catch up with Baz, leaning against the doorway to our room with wheezing lungs. Baz is standing near his bed, peering at his shoulder in the mirror. Penny spelled our wounds once we were far enough from the woods, but with the way he rolls his shoulder with a wince, I'm certain it still hurts.
When Baz catches my eye in the mirror I look away, and I'm wondering why my cheeks are burning, my heart racing. I excuse it from the receding adrenaline, grabbing a towel from under my bed and heading to the bathroom. Baz, however, is already there, reaching for the handle as I do.
“Shove off, I'm the one who has to meet the Mage anyways,” I scoff.
“Penny said both of us,” Baz corrects with a huff. “And if you think I'm gonna spend another second with blood all over my clothes, you can guess again.”
He pulls open the door, but I step inside first, turning to block his path. “I need it more!”
“Crowley, if you're gonna be childish like this,” Baz sighs, and shoves me further in, stepping in after closing the door. “Then we might as well shower together.”
“I–” What I was going to snap back disappears from my throat, dissolving into confused panic. “What?”
“We don't want to keep your precious Mage waiting,” Baz explains, and to my horror he's unbuttoning his shirt, letting the torn fabric flutter to the floor. He fixes me a bored stare. “And it's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Well, not on my part.”
I stop through the whirl of panic to scowl at him, eyes widening as he begins to unbutton his trousers. I turn to face the wall, hating how hot my face feels. It's just my magic from earlier, I insist. Baz is right, it's completely normal, two guys showering together. And we have seen…bits of each other, since we share a room. I've walked in on him in the shower plenty of times, and he always swans about with his shirt off after a game, shorts hugging his hips.
So it shouldn't be awkward, I conclude, hands reaching to tug my shirt over my head. It shouldn't, it shouldn't, I repeat, gritting my teeth as I step out my trousers, hearing Baz step past me, followed by the sound of water running. It's not awkward, and I hate how I can feel my heart in my throat, how I have to will my muscles to stop shaking as I push off my boxers, taking a deep breath before turning around.
There's blood on Baz's skin, and I'm not sure if it's the boar's or his. It trickles with water down his chest, muscles taut and biceps flexing as he runs a hand through his hair, slick against his shoulders. It runs down his back, collects in the dimples near his spine and curves down his ass, pale and bare in front of me, more muscle than meat. His thighs and calves run pale red, and it swirls near his toes before disappearing near the drain.
I swallow, hard. Baz's naked body is irritatingly good looking, but here, as he runs his hand through his wet hair and water flows over his body, he's dangerously sinful.
I can't think about that. Not now, not ever, and it's something I tell myself now and every day, stamping down any steppin thoughts to let the mantra run in my head. The heat in my body recedes, and I lock it in the furthest part of my mind, stepping in the shower next to Baz.
The shower is large enough for us both to stand under the spray, so I stand at his side, rubbing at my arms with soap. Baz only glances at me once as he reaches for the shampoo, and I don't glance at him at all, staring definitely at the tiled wall. I hear him grunt, and from the corner of my eye I see him try and reach for his back, hand freezing as he moves his shoulder. I look at him this time, eyebrows knitted as his expression flares with pain, eyes falling on me. I duck my head down, watching the water swirl at my feet.
“Do you need help?” I'm asking before I realise, and I tilt my head to meet his unreadable gaze. I gesture lamely at his back, keeping my gaze on his shoulder and not below his spine. “I could…i-if you want.”
Baz is still looking at me, and I feel embarrassment squeezing my chest, struggling to look away. “Fine,” he says, huffing lightly. “Might as well, after I saved your ass out there.”
I don't reply, which surprises me, no biting remark for him. Instead I pick up a sponge, wringing it with shampoo, squeezing tight as I step behind him. Without his eyes on me I can take in his body, his jutting shoulder blades, the dip of his spine, and the globe of his ass, how the water runs between the crack. Without him looking I can imagine pressing myself against him, lining my cock near his ass. I shudder when my cock twitches, seizing in fear before I grasp the spine properly and pressing it in the space between his shoulders.
Baz stiffens slightly, and fuck his ass clenches, and I try to make it seem like it doesn't affect me, running the sponge down the curve of his back. His breathing is heavy, mulled with the running water, and I don't realise my other hand is on his hip until my knuckles brush past it, soap suds following the trail of the sponge as I push it up his back. It's too quiet, so I clear my throat, so desperate for noise that I say what comes hardest. “Why…why did you help us? Why did you…save me?”
Baz is still tense, and I feel it under my fingertips, unforgiving like stone. “As much as a monster you think I am, the world needs the Chosen One alive, not as pig food.”
“Well...thank you,” I say, and he relaxes at that, shoulders slumping as he snorts.
“Simon Snow thanking me? Maybe I'll be Queen of England by tomorrow.”
I huff in exasperation, but it sounds more like a laugh, and Baz relaxes at that, and despite myself I smile, my lips turning down as he winces when I press into his shoulder. “Is it that bad?”
“I'll live to see another day of our feud, Snow, ” Baz chuckles hoarsely, but it cuts short, because I'm touching him without the sponge, because my hand on his hip trails up his back and lays flat on his shoulder, and because I'm pushing my magic into him.
I don't know how, and I don't know how I'm so calm with the heat of it flowing through me. I'm just thinking of the way he shoved into that boar, the crippling dread when he got tossed in the air, and the yearning. It's always been there, in the dark of our room at night, in the chatter of breakfast when I feel his eyes on mine, in the way he gets close, but not how I want. But now, it's me wanting him to feel better, to feel less pain, less hurt. And I push all that into his skin, and I feel him go ramrod straight before slumping with a noise trapped in his throat, hands clenched at his side.
“What...how did you do that?” Baz rasps, and he's glancing at me from over his shoulder, turning his front to mine. My hand falls from his back, brushing against his hip. “My shoulder, it's… h-how did you do that, Snow?”
“I'm not sure,” I say, and I'm equally as breathless, my magic pounding in my ears. “Are you…did it hurt?”
“N-no, it felt…it felt good,” Baz replies, and it's only then I notice how hard he's breathing, how flushed he is, pink against his cheekbone and flooding down his neck, his chest trembling, and oh, he's hard, and–
“You should go,” he gasps, and I hear him swear under his tongue as he turns away, bracing himself against the wall. “Thanks for the energy boost, but...y-you should go.”
And I should. I should leave him. I should forget what I saw, pretend it was nothing for now and for the rest of our time sharing a dorm room together. I should keep things the same. But I'm always doing things I should. Like being with Agatha. And being the Mage's Heir. Like fighting Baz, instead of what I really want.
“I can help,” I whisper, but it sounds louder than the patter of water against the bathtub, louder than the thumping in my heart. “I…want to help, Baz. If you want me.”
Baz laughs, turning to me with his eyes flashing with what feels darker, more dangerous than fury. “If I want you. You have no idea, Simon Snow.”
And that's when he kisses me, pushing me out of the stream and against the wall, hands on each side of my face and squeezing tight. It all feels so tight, with the way he presses his hips against mine and the way my heart squeezes a moan out of my chest. I try to breathe but he swallows my gasps for air with his lips, sucking at my bottom lip and sending a shiver down my back. My hands clutch his hair, and it's not the soft feel I've always imagined, but thick and wet, squeezing water that runs down my knuckles.
“You have no idea how much I've wanted this,” Baz groans, hands planted on my shoulders. “No fucking idea how much I've wanted you, Simon.”
“You called me Simon,” I point out, and I'm fucking smiling against his lips, giggling instead of moaning. “You've never called me just Simon. I like it.”
“Yeah?” He grins softly, then he's rolling his hips against mine, and his cock rubs against mine, strained hard against my stomach. “You like this, too?”
“Oh fuck, yes,” I moan, shuddering with the type of heat I thought only my magic would give me, smouldering hot and filling me with white hot energy. My hands drop to clutch his ass, moaning as my fingers sink into his flesh and push him against me. I tear away from his lips to press kisses down his jaw, sucking at his neck and biting when he thrusts his cock against mine.
“Simon, oh, shit, Simon,” he whines, head thrown back and exposes his throbbing Adam's apple, jerking as I nip at his collarbone. His own hands run down my chest, and his fingers pinch at my nipple, laughing airily as I jolt. “Fuck, I love that so much,” he growls, and I'm gasping with the oversensitivity as he circles my nipples with his fingers, sending tremors down my abdomen. “Love seeing you squirm under my fingers. Coming apart just for me.”
“So don't stop,” I say, voice steady as I move my head from his shoulder, meeting his eyes fiercely. I bite my lip as I reach for his hand, eyes fluttering as I let it trail down my abdomen and between us, wrapping my fingers over his knuckles that tighten over our cocks. Baz shudders as I start to pump his hand, and my cock trembles as it runs over his, squeezed into his palm.
“S-Simon,” Baz gasps, his other hand propping himself on the wall I'm leaning against, nails scraping against tiles as he thrusts his hips into his hand, his cock over mine. I feel him over me, lips mouthing at my shoulder, chest heaving against mine, thighs rubbing together. It feels like magic, the way his heat seeps into my skin, the dizzying pressure that builds below my stomach with each flick of his wrist. Instead of fearing it, like I do when my magic goes off, I embrace it, my mouth slack and spilling with moans of his name. My words become strangled as I feel my heart rate quicken impossibly so, and I feel a building tingle in my spine.
“Fuck, Baz, I-I'm gonna...gonna come, please, touch me more,” I plead, a newing beg, and he obliges deliciously, tightening his grip and hastening his pace. My cries are more high pitched, but I don't care. “Oh God,” I shudder, my vision blurring. “Baz, oh–”
I come with his mouth on mine, biting hard in his bottom lip as my cock throbs with release. He moans, less in pain and more in passion, and I feel him coming too, shaking as he spurts over my stomach. I can feel him, all of him, every inch of his magic that sings and soars for me, only me. And I know he can feel my magic too, crackling in the air, drunk and delirious. I close my eyes, and the vein bursting feeling of my orgasm leaves golden sparks behind my eyelids.
I can feel him pull his lips and hands away from me, leaning against my body with our foreheads touching. “Simon,” he says, a tired whisper, and I open my eyes to meet his, as unreadable as dark clouds in the horizon. He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam's apple bob, my post orgasm haze whispering at me to kiss it. He steps back, and I hold a whine back in my throat. “We should– we should clean up.”
The shower still runs, but he steps out, grabbing a towel and wiping himself off. I switch it off and follow after him, cheeks hot as he offers the towel in his hand. I don't know what it is that burns in me. Shame? Anger? A deep need, to do it all over again?
Baz turns away, reaching for a bathrobe, and I reach for him, touching the place where I healed him, feeling his muscles still and relax at my touch. “What did you mean?” I ask. “When you…said you've wanted this for a long time?”
“Quite the question time this has been, Snow,” Baz says without turning round, and his voice isn't cold but tired, and trembling too.
“I need to know, Baz. If…if you meant it like the way I…like the way I want you to mean it.”
Baz turns this time, eyebrows knitted as he looks at me. “What way do you want?”
I step closer, hand on his chest now, and hold his gaze. “Like you can't breathe when…when I look at you, or fight with you, or when you watch me sleep or laugh with my friends. Like you can't breathe because if you do, you'd say something stupid and wrong, like I want you, so much that it hurts.” I exhale shakily, my breath hot against my lips. “Like the way I feel.”
“Snow,” Baz murmurs, then his hand is in my hair again, resting near my neck. “Simon,” he says, and my heart squeezes, stutters to a stop as he pulls me into his chest, the other hand wrapping around my waist. “Fuck, Simon.”
We're still naked, and he doesn't say anything else, just holds me, tight and warm in a way that was different from moments ago, but still the same in the way I've always wanted.
“I want you,” Baz whispers in my ear. “I've always wanted you, Simon Snow. Hopelessly and terribly.”
A huffing noise cracks from my chest. I realise it's a laugh, and I'm smiling into Baz's chest, my own hands clasped behind his back. “Okay.”
Baz pulls me away, raising an eyebrow. “That's all you're going to say?”
I roll my eyes before I kiss him, soft and lingering, soothing his bitten bottom lip. He hums against me, angling his head for a deeper kiss, hand stroking my hair. I pull away with a timid smile. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
“Actions like this?” Baz asks, before hoisting me up on his waist, frogmarching us out of the bathroom and slaying me over his bed. I'm laughing still, into a kiss that he brings me, stuttering into a gasp as he slips a leg between my thighs and presses upwards.
My hands fly at his chest, pushing him up. “W-we can't,” I say, toes curling as he ignores me to place kisses against my neck, sucking gently. “Baz, oh– Baz we have to go to…the Mage,” I manage to make out, even with his hand circling my nipple.
He growls, and I feel my cock twitch at the sound, holding back a moan as he rubs his thigh over my crotch. “Screw the Mage.”
And because it's Baz, leaning over with his body on mine and his lips on my skin, that I grip his hips, pushing upwards and rolling him over so that he's pressed against the bed instead. I raise an eyebrow, a grin on my lips. “Is screwing the Mage really your objective here?”
As I lean down against his smiling lips, I think of all the times I've tested Penny's patience.
Hopefully, she's used to it by now.