To keep him well.
To keep him happy.
Merlin, I’m too turned on to think. I love him, I love him. But I also want todothis, whatever it is that works between us. With Agatha, it—No, never mind, that doesn’t matter.
I’m holding Baz’s jaw and kissing him. I’m stroking his cheek like he’ll break. My cock is in his hip. He’s pushing his briefs off, he’s trying to stay under the blanket—I help him.
This would be good enough. Just this. Baz. Finally. Beside me.
“You don’t disappoint me,” he says, reaching for me.
“It’s all right,” I say. “I knew what you meant.”
He holds my face in both hands. I hold his like it’s precious.
This is what people do. This is what we’ll do. Baz and me.
His lips are pinkish grey. His tongue is nearly red. His fangs are down, I’ll be careful.
“You smell so good,” I say.
His eyes are half closed. “Like a cave.”
“Like cold water.”
“That’s not a smell, Snow.”
I lick his lips. “So good.”
“Stay with me,” he whispers. “Don’t get lost in it.”
“I won’t,” I swear. “I’m here.”
He makes a fist in my hair. “Stay with me.”
“I will.”
BAZ
Maybe this is enough. Simon. Finally. Beside me.
Maybe it’s too much.
Maybe I’m the one getting lost . . .
(This is what I wanted, but I didn’t know what it was like. His heart is beating in my throat. His hands are everywhere. His tail. He has so many ways to hold on to me.)
I push his face away from mine. “I need—”
“What do you need, babe?”
I hold on to his cheeks. “I need you to know that I’m not disappointed in you.”
“Baz, it’s okay. I know.”
“I believe in you.” I cover his mouth, so he’ll listen. “Simon, I believe in you.”
He doesn’t try to argue. Not right away. His face looks so red under my hands. My bloodless fingers. My blue nails.
