(A/N): Hey Guys! Um...this is the first slash fic that I've ever written, and one of my first one-shots, so...I hope you like it, because I wrote this at 1:30 in the morning.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but part of the sub plot line.
Simon's eyes were open, and he could still see, despite the amount of blood he had lost when Valentine had slit his throat and wrists.
Though he could see, his vision was blurry, so he could only see the outline of the person who came to his rescue, pulling his head onto his knees, staring down at him for any sign of life. The person pulled a knife from their belt but Simon was too exhausted to recognize the shock of fear that flowed through him.
He had no need to fear this person anyway, for they weren't aiming the weapon at themselves, but rather at themselves. They slid the sharp, faintly glowing knife across their wrist, causing blood to well up and start to run across the skin there, making the back of Simon's throat burn sharply in longing. They lowered their wrist to above his lips and let a few drips hit his lips, but he wasn't strong enough to open his mouth. With a sigh, the person, now clearly male, lowered their wrist down until it pressed against his mouth. For a few second his was still before his fangs slid out of their sheathes and descended upon the warm flesh that was pressed onto his mouth.
Without thinking, being total controlled by his blood-lust, energy surged through him and he lunged upwards, taking the boy by surprise. Grabbing his shoulders, he pushed him onto the cold metal floor of the almost pitch black ship before he punctured the boys neck with his fangs, hot, sticky blood that tasted like cinnamon flowed into his mouth, heavily tainted with the sharp tang of old copper. He stayed like that fro a few minutes, his head burrowed into this guys neck, gulping down his blood like it was ice cold soda on a hot day. His left hand was pressed against the boys cheek, keeping him from moving, but the boy didn't seem to resist at all. In fact, Simon could feel, albeit faintly considering how obsessed he was with the hot blood that was flowing through his lips, that the boys hands were gripping tightly at his sides, whether in a vain attempt to push him away or if he was trying to pull him closer, he had no clue. He felt himself healing, and the boys heart-beat was slowing rapidly, so he exhibited strong restraint by forcing himself to sheathe his fangs. His lips however, did not move away from the boys neck, still vainly attempting to suck this boy dry of any blood he had left in him. A strange sound rang through the room, echoing off the walls as Simon's lips suckled at the skin underneath his lips.
It was moan, he realised. Whether of pain or pleasure, he also had no clue, but what he could feel beneath him led him to believe that it was the latter. The boys back was arching, their bare skin touching where their shirts had ridden up, the boys knees rose slightly, one on the outside of his right leg, the other n between his legs. It was a rather intimate position they had found themselves in, he realised, and silently hoped that no one would interrupt them, seeing as he was actually enjoying himself. Pulling his lips away from where they had been, he trailed soft, feather-light kisses up along this boys neck, nipping at the skin just under his jaw bone, relishing in the fact that the boy had shivered with pleasure beneath him. He felt the boys hand release themselves from where they had been gripping his sides and trailed down lightly until they reached his hips where they gripped onto him, their blunt nails dragging across his bare skin, a ripple of pleasure flowing through him before they knotted themselves in his bloodied up t-shirt. The other boys right hand slid across his back, pushing up his shirt before resting firmly in the hollow of his back.
With a quiet gasp, he found himself being rolled over onto his back, the cold metal floor not disturbing him at all, before the boys lips pressed onto his own, hard. They were warm and soft, and tasted of chocolate and oranges, his tongue slipping lazily into his mouth, meshing perfectly with his in a hot and wet tango. The boys hot breath billowed in his face as he pulled back only slightly to breathe before pushing back onto him, their lips moving soundlessly in the dark, like stolen heartache. Simon brushed his fingertips down his chest before one arm circled the other boys waist, pulling him closer, the other hand resting lightly on the side of the boys neck he hadn't bit, tangled up in his soft hair, also pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss, further into their heated embrace, their fingers moving light as feathers, their mouths moving together flawlessly. Gasping for breath that Simon didn't really need, they burst apart, and Simon's eyes took a second to refocus, but when they did he came face to face (literally) with none other than Jace Wayland, his soft blonde looks slightly rumpled from where he, Simon, had run his hand through it. His golden eyes were shining with shock, amazement and longing, his skin flushed with the heat of their embrace, and soft to the touch. There they lay, staring at each other for a few minutes before one of them finally got the courage talk.
"So, uh, seen anything good on TV lately?"
So obviously, that last line was Simon. Jace is just too macho to talk after a heated makeout session with the girl he likes best friend. I hope you liked it, and if so, please review.