#and another person who hasnt posted their fic yet but i know they will soon :D

[starwarned]

@carryon-countdown 2021

Day 29, 23 December: Snow

rated E, 1674 words, general tags: explicit sex, some gentle monsterfucking, both of them being gross, spit fixation courtesy of baz, i bet you can guess what kink this includes based on the prompt

Read under the cut!

BAZ

There’s spit on his lip.

I zero in on it and then bend down to lick it up.

Simon moans underneath me and presses his lips to mine more firmly, shifting a bit so he can put a hand on the back of my neck, shooting goosebumps down my spine. He’s gasping into my mouth, scrabbling at the sheets with his free hand, and trying to pull me impossibly closer to him by the grip on my neck.

I pull away just enough to resituate myself on his hips and reach for the bottle of lube.

Simon’s eyes go wide and he makes a low growling noise in his chest when he sees. “Please,” he mutters, reaching for the bottle.

“Ah, ah,” I tut, lifting it out of his reach. “I’d like to do this myself, if that’s agreeable.” (It’s not really agreeable — for either of us, but it’s a means to an end so I’ll make the sacrifice.) (Simon’s fingers inside of me is something I dream about whenever it’s not happening, but I have a goal here, and coming untouched the moment he gets one of his fingers into me is not conducive to the evening’s plans.)

Despite his hands being right there (his fucking beautiful hands), settled on my hips now, I lift myself off Simon’s body enough to support myself on my knees and I finger myself open.

I’m two fingers deep when Simon surges up to start kissing my chest, knocking me back a bit to hover over his thighs. He sucks at my nipples and drags his nails along my sides, high pitched needy sounds that could belong to either of us filling the room.

“More,” Simon pants against my chest, his mouth lolling open, his tongue above my nipple, and his spit slicked mouth looking more appetizing than I’ve ever seen it. I’m only barely keeping my fangs at bay so I kiss him while I’m still sure I won’t hurt him.

Even as I’m kissing him, he won’t shut up.

“You can take more, yeah?” he mutters, voice muffled by how deep my tongue is in his mouth. I bite down hard on his lip, but I’m immediately following his request, pressing a third finger into myself and pulling away from his mouth to watch his pink-splotched face and hear his heart thump loudly against his ribcage.

“Fuck,” I whimper, pressing up against my own prostate until it makes my legs shake and I’m in danger of coming before this has even begun.

Then suddenly Simon’s tail is nudging against my fingers.

I flick my eyes to him in shock (and he’s blushing, bless him), but when I slightly twist my fingers to the side, the spade of his tail presses into me slightly, just barely nudging against my rim and not pressing in any further.

“Baz, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” I gasp, the sound of my own voice foreign to my ears. “Keep going.” I don’t know if I mean push it in more or just keep doing what he’s doing, but either way, Simon delivers on both accounts.

His tail traces along my skin, flicking and pushing slightly into me, brushing against my fingers.

There’s no way the spade is going to fit inside me — at least, not right now; I won’t give up hope for another time — so I push it out of the way and pull my fingers out of myself.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Like this?” he asks in return, referring to me still being on top of him.

I watch Simon swallow — watch the wet slide of his lips together and then the slow path of the swallow down his neck and into the dip of his throat. I lean down and chase it with my tongue, sucking at his collarbone and sternum. His skin flushes under my mouth and I try and follow every color shift with my teeth.

“Like this,” I confirm against the slight dip between his pectorals. I press my face between them and inhale deeply — sweat, sex, 3-in-1 green apple body wash/shampoo/conditioner.

Simon drops his hands from my hips where I realize he’s been gripping me the whole time, and he slides one hand around to glide against my rim, sliding a finger in just to the first knuckle, knocking my breath out of me quickly.

“C’mon then,” he whines, tugging his hand away and finding a grip on his cock, starting to pull down at my hip.

I sink down onto him.

The stretch is so good — it’s been a while. I slowly ease myself down until my arse is flush with his hips and then rock forward a bit, jostling a moan out of Simon. His hands find a grip in my hair and he’s kissing me harshly just as he bucks up.

My fangs slide into place and I feel one catch on his lip.

I pull back quickly, mouth already open to apologize, but Simon’s licking his lip and swiping away the blood, immediately pushing back up to kiss me.

It’s the tiniest cut (I’ve done much worse to him — consensually, of course) and he feels so good inside me that I can’t find it in me to be freaked out. His blood’s barely in my mouth. It’s just enough to get me moving.

I lift up my hips and then sit back against him, groaning as his cock shifts inside of me.

“Baz,” he moans. “Babe, you feel— oh, so good.”

Spurred on by Simon’s inability to ever be quiet in bed (not that I want that), I start to set a rhythm pressing up and down on his cock, my thighs sort of burning as I do so, but it’s not an unwelcome burn.

I sit up so I can press my hands against his chest to hold myself in a sitting position, but his lip is still sort of bleeding and there’s just enough of the taste of his blood on my tongue that I almost immediately fall back onto him, our chests sliding together with sweat.

“Baz.”

“Simon,” I return, his name catching in my throat like I’m about to cry. I might be.

It’s so good. There’s pressure and heat everywhere and every bit of my skin that’s on Simon’s is on fire. I’m burning up from every corner of my being.

I’m kissing him still, everything coming out of either of our mouths half-uttered and half-swallowed.

There’s heat building in my stomach — too soon, too soon, but it’s not going to stop. I’m flat against his chest and sort of rocking back and back, dragging my own cock between our torsos. It’s hot and too much and not enough and I’m—

“Fuck!”

It’s all coming to a point inside of me. I push myself up with my hands on his shoulder and neck and Simon pants loudly, “Come on, Baz, please—”

And I do. I barely get a hand around myself before I’m coming, my cock twitching in my hand as I stroke myself through it and blurt out Simon’s name wrapped in expletives and moans. I’m too aware of how he feels still inside me, still thrusting up into me and hitching against my prostate.

I’m babbling, talking without consequence, without breath — “Simon, Simon, Simon, darling— fuck, oh, yeah, Circe that’s so good, oh—”

I cut off as it becomes a bit too much. I squirm and put my hands on Simon’s shoulders, still having trouble breathing from how hard I just came.

“Do you need—?” he asks, hesitating. His voice is tight and clipped like he’s having trouble speaking.

“Yeah,” I mutter, too sensitive. I carefully lift myself off his cock — his hands find my hips again, and immediately press myself down his legs and settle between them to take his cock into my mouth.

“Oh,” Simon moans loudly, fingers entangling themselves into my hair and tugging. “So good, fuck—”

Swallowing around him, I grip his hips and start to move my head forward and back, pulling out every trick I’ve got in my pocket. I can feel my own spit and his precome dripping from the corner of my mouth and onto the base of his cock. I run my thumb through it and then use it to press against his hole softly.

Voice pitched up, Simon moans and thrusts up into my mouth. I’m still holding his other hip down so he doesn’t get very far, but I can tell he’s close. (Even without him moaning “Fuck, Baz, I’m so close, I’m so fucking close,” which he’s also doing.)

I suck hard, press the tip of my thumb into him, and he comes into my mouth.

I hold him down and swallow. His cock twitches in my mouth and I gather the last of his release on my tongue, loving the feeling of the weight and taste against my tongue. I push myself off of him and slide up towards his mouth.

He surges up to kiss me. I try to warn him, but he won’t be cautioned.

I kiss back and his saliva and his release mingle on our tongues. He moans noisily, gripping me tightly around the shoulders as he licks into my mouth, searching out every last bit of his taste combined with mine. There’s still the taste of his own blood in his mouth. I hold his cheeks and press myself close to him.

By the time we’ve both had the decency to be a bit embarrassed over what we just did, it’s too late in the night to be making a big deal out of anything so we clean ourselves up in comfortable silence (well, I clean us up. Simon falls asleep after managing to get his semen in my hair).

I climb back into bed and into his arms after I’ve had a shower and a snack. He’ll be mad that I ate the last of the mint Aero bars, but he’ll probably just invade my mouth tomorrow, demanding that I share the taste.