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It was bad enough that he had to endure the pain of being in love with his roommate, his rival. But, this….this was some next level hell on earth shit.
Being in their small room, whilst Snow showered was probably one of his all time torturous things to endure, and he had to endure feeding off rats.
Knowing, that one, single flimsy wooden door separated him from a naked Snow, a wet naked Snow, a wet lathered up naked Snow. SNOW NAKED.
The thought was enough to drive him crazy. He had become rather skilled at hiding his feeling and masking the pain of knowing he’ll never have what he always wanted.
It was times like this. When Snow decides to shower, Baz has to remind himself no matter how much he is lusting after Snow, no matter how badly he wants to touch him; no matter what - Snow will never return his feelings.
Tonight he came in from football practice, wanting to shower, rinse away the mud and grime, he also needed to shave too. When he returned to their room, Snow was in the bathroom. At first, Baz assumed he was just using the toilet, then the unmistakable sound of the shower running confirmed what Simon was actually doing.
Debating whether he should stay - and just torture himself, or go and come back when Snow was likely to be finished. He decided to stay.
He had an electric shaver, one that once charged did not need to be plugged in. He decided to have a shave whilst Snow was naked and lathering himself……Baz shook his head at his train of thoughts. Removing his sweat soaked footie t-shirt, he collected his shaver, opened his wardrobe door and began to shave using the mirror on the inside of his door.
It was a good thing he had the wardrobe door as a barrier, because when Snow emerged he wore nothing but a white towel around his waist.
His flat stomach and bare chest were on show. Baz had to force himself not to stare at all the moles he rarely got to see. His hair was still wet. Little droplets of water were falling and running down his torso - Baz watched one slide from his collar bone down to his belly button.
Snow hastily put on a plain white t-shirt and jogging bottoms. No underwear. Baz’s brain almost short circuits at that.
“Sorry,” Snow mumbles, “I didn’t realise you’d be back yet. I thought I had more time.”
Baz scowls at him, how dare Snow make him want to shove him against a wall and kiss him, leaving a trail of kisses along the same path as that droplet of water earlier.
“Well,” Baz sneers, “Not like it is any of your business, but one of our players were injured and coached called practice off early,” he explains.
Baz is all too aware that he is topless, stood in nothing but his football shorts and knee high football socks. He has finished his shave; thankfully.
Baz watches him towel dry his hair, his stomach is in knots…he can usually avoid thinking about Snow showering. But, today was one of those rare occasions where it cannot be helped.
Everything is a visual reminder of the fact that Snow was just naked and wet moments ago. Baz desires him. Thinking about him is making him half hard.
Closing the wardrobe door Baz heads for the en-suite, “You better not have used all the hot water,” He says in disdain curling his lip.
Just before Baz shuts the bathroom door he hears Snow retort, “or what?”
If this was an alternative universe, one where he was not in the situation he was in, one where he was free to act on his feelings, he would have approached Snow, shoved him up against the wall, and reply, “Or this,” and kiss him, but he cannot.
However, he does indulge in a wank whilst he showers. He would not normally take such a risk, not when he knows Snow is in the next room. But, just thinking of Snow being in this same shower, naked and wet. That he was now lounged out on his bed, without any underwear on. He could not resist, he needed to get some form of release.
The desire, the need, it was eating him from the inside out.
As he washed the evidence of his moment of weakness away, he thinks about how fucked up the whole situation is.
He was in love with Simon Snow. Simon the walking talking hopeless case Snow.
Fuck how he had tried to get over his infatuation. Unfortunately, he had learned the hard way that there is no controlling the heart. His heart had decided to give itself up to Snow, taking him along for the ride whether he liked it or not.
It had started out as weird little flutters in his stomach whenever he saw Snow - which was too often, and then the realisation of what that meant, like ‘oh shit this was serious’, he liked Snow. Denial was next, telling himself that this was not happening, laughing at himself for even considering fancying Snow - he was out of bounds and a definite no-no. Anger soon followed and occasionally it still reared its head. As soon as he accepted it for what it was, acknowledging his feelings, it became excruciating to be in the same room as him. He took to avoiding their room, and him. Thinking out of sight, out of mind. What an idiot he was back then. Snow was never out of his mind. He had gone through various stages, all because of his feelings for someone he could not be with.
Feeling utterly ashamed of himself for giving in and having a wank. Fuck Simon Snow and his stupid fucking face.
When he emerges, Snow is gone. He does some homework, then goes down to dinner. He spends the evening with his friends, then stops off at the catacombs for a brief snack. Returning to his room, Snow is back and already in bed asleep.
He must have fallen asleep, but a soft moaning sound wakes him. His hearing is heightened being a vampire. Now that he is awake, it is obvious that the sounds are coming from Snow’s bed; from Snow himself to be more specific.
Baz dares not move, he does not want Snow to know he is awake. He lays perfectly still, listening intently to the noises, trying to decipher what is happening. Is Snow having a nightmare? he thinks not, he sounds…dare he think it…he sounds aroused. Maybe he is having an erotic dream, it is quite common for guys their age to have sexual dreams - wet dreams even.
Snow moans. A long drawn out moan, that sends a jolt of desire right through him and to his cock. He begins to get hard. Damn Snow, Damn him to hell and back.
He’s feeling reckless and turns over so he is now facing Snow’s bed. Snow is led flat on his back, his covers pushed aside and tangled around his feet. He is wearing cotton pyjama trousers and a white t-shirt. He’s clearly aroused, his pyjamas are tenting. Baz almost cursed out loud and just about managed to stop himself.
Snow was a sight to behold. He was aching to be closer to him, to have contact with him. He knew Snow could wake any moment, but he could not take his eyes off him.
He was flushed, his hair was slightly damp from sweat and he would occasionally roll his hips…releasing soft tantalising moans.
Suddenly, after a rather loud moan, Snow was awake and had ejaculated in his sleep.
Snow called out, “Baz,” and he wasn’t sure if it was still asleep and in his dream, or whether he had woken and caught Baz watching. Either way, Baz was frozen to the spot. He did not even have the sense to close his eyes. He was mesmerised by the sight of Snow coming undone. By Snow clearly being aroused, so aroused he came and orgasmed involuntarily.
Snow groaned, but not in pleasure this time…he clearly was in disappear. It was dark, maybe, just maybe Snow had not seen that Baz was awake.
Snow swings his legs over the side of the bed, he goes to stand but notices that Baz is facing him. He hesitates.
Baz decides it about time Snow got tortured, “Snow,” he calls gruffly, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Snow stays sat on his bed, “I…er….I need to use the bathroom,” He explains.
It’s dark enough for Snow to go to the bathroom, and Baz does not really see much. But he heard and he knows. He knows Snow is in the bathroom cleaning away the evidence of his wet dream.
He comes back in, climbs into bed. Moments later he whispers, “Baz?”
“What!”
“Nevermind…you’d be a jerk about it anyway.” He declares dejected.
Baz it itching to know what he was going to say. He wished he was not so harsh some times if he had not snapped at Snow, maybe he would be confessing to him right now.
“Something is clearly bothering you,” he tries this time, with a little less bite, “Well?”
Snow hesitates again, “I don’t really have any male friends to talk to,” He begins to say, “I’m not sure I could ask Penny about this.”
Snow is watching him, but he is sure Snow cannot see that much in the dark.
“Fuck this is embarrassing…is it normal to…to get off from a dream?” He blurts.
Baz has no idea why Snow is opening up to him, maybe it is simply because he is nieve in some ways and the simple fact that he has no male friends to talk to. To gauge if this was normal.
Baz could be cruel. He could tease him, ridicule him and make him feel ashamed. But he can’t.
“Yeah,” he finally says, “it’s normal. It is common for males to become aroused by a dream and to be so turned on, to the point where they involuntarily ejaculate.” He says as collected as he can.
“Right,” he pauses and adds, “Thanks.”
Baz’s stomach does another flip, and the urge to kiss him is overpowering once more, “I’m sure Agatha will be delighted to hear you’re dreaming of her,” He cannot help but add - he’s a masochist, or at least he might be.
“Huh?” Snow responds clearly confused.
“Your little erotic dream,“ Baz repeats, “I’m sure Agatha will be pleased to hear she was the star of the show,” he wonders if Snow can detect how bitter he is. Probably not, Snow was useless at that sort of thing when he was awake, let alone half asleep.
“It-it wasn’t about her,” he pauses and Baz can practically hear him think, “I do not remember much - just…it..well it wasn’t a her..” he put emphasis on the word her, as if he was saying the dream wasn’t about a female.
Baz stops breathing momentarily, sucking in his breath at his words, is he suggesting that his erotic dream was about a guy?
“I mean it was not about her.” He quickly adds on, as an afterthought, like he suddenly remembered who he was talking to.
“I’m sure your girlfriend would not be impressed by the fact you were dreaming of someone else.” He taunted.
He was feeling jealous of the mystery dream person.
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he confesses, “we…well…it…it’s over."
Baz let’s that sink in for a moment. Snow was single. Snow had been dreaming of another man.
So much time has passed, Baz wonders if Snow has fallen back asleep. He cannot sleep himself, his mind whirling.
He wonders if he needs to be more open and honest with Snow, to get him to open up with him in return.
"Snow,” He calls softly.
He hears Snow turn over in his sleep, “Yeah?”
“Just so you know, I’ve had them before….you’re not the only one.” He admits.
It is obvious that he is referring to having wet dreams.
“Oh,” he sounds a little more alert now, “I..” he hesitates, but being Simon Snow he ends up just going for it consequences be damned, “I’ve never heard you.”
Baz is not sure how to answer that, “Just because you have not heard me, does not mean they did not happen.” He points out.
“True,” he seems a little surprised that Baz is not mocking him.
“Why are you being so honest?” He asks shocked.
Baz sits up in bed, rubbing his face with both of his hands, “If you tell anyone, I’ll just deny the whole conversation. It is your word against mine.”
“Good point,” he also sits up, “same here.” He adds as an afterthought.
“So in light of our agreed pact that we will deny this conversation took place, answer me this - were you dreaming of a guy?” He just asks. Snow can always refuse to answer, or deny it, but he will never know unless he takes some risks.
Silence.
Snow is obviously weighing up his options. Baz almost thinks Snow is either ignoring him or he’s fallen back asleep.
“I..I was dreaming of a guy, yes.” He finally confesses.
It is Baz’s turn to stay silent.
“You’re not going to take the piss are you?” Snow asks worried.
“No,” he quietly answers, “that would be a little hypocritical of me, considering I’m…gay.” He fucking said it, he finally said it. Out loud, to someone who was not family, to his roommate, to Simon Fucking Snow - the one guy who he was in love with.
“Really!” He seems startled.
“You’re not having me on are you?” He asks, seeking reassurance.
Baz switches on the bedside lamp, so Snow can read his facial expression and see that he was being serious.
“Why would I lie about something like that?” he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and Snow mirrors him, their knees are touching.
“I don’t know. To get me to confess my secrets too.” Snow offers as an explanation.
They make eye contact, and Baz can feel that things are different already. There is tension in the air and not the usual ‘I hate your existence’ tension.
Baz swallows and he notices that Snow’s eyes watch his throat as his Adam’s apple moves.
Snow bites his bottom lip.
Baz watches him intently, he shifts his position slightly, so his knee moves further up Snow’s leg. His leg between Snow’s legs; their inner thighs touching.
Snow’s breathing his began to speed up, his pupils have enlarged and he is gripping the edge of the mattress with his hands.
Baz leans forwards, Snow does too; as if he is subconsciously doing it.
“Snow,” he half whispers, half moans.
He wants to kiss him. he’s never wanted to kiss him so badly. They are inches apart, their legs touching and the atmosphere is electric with desire. He wasn’t sure if he sure if he should act on it, his gut was telling him to go for it.
Before he can take the plunge and finally - FINALLY kiss Simon Snow…Snow closes the gap and kisses him.
His whole body relaxes, he has been craving this moment for far too long. To feel his lips on his, as they slowly and hesitantly connect with his own lips is heavenly. He could kiss Snow for the rest of eternity and it still would not be enough. He returns the kiss, pushing my lips with more force than Snow - he had been wanting this for far too long, it is hard to take it slow - to control himself.
When they finally break apart from the kiss, Snow is blushing his eyes cast down and a hint of a beautiful smile is gracing his face.
Then it hits Baz. That his life just became more beautiful.