"you were sat in my reserved train seat and refused to move so i sat on your lap and now we're both too annoyed and awkwardly turned on to move" AU
Baz wandered aimlessly throughout the train, half-asleep and half-pissed. He figured he'd better sit down so that that old lady in the back would stop staring at him judgmentally, and so he wouldn't have to sneer at her and show his fangs.
He walked on through three cars before he finally found a somewhat-empty-section in a somewhat-empty-car. Turning to the left, he flopped down onto the train seat and leaned his head against the cold glass, thankful that he could finally sleep.
Baz's beauty sleep was interrupted shamelessly by none other than the Chosen One – Simon fucking Snow. And at this particular moment, Simon fucking Snow looked Simon fucking Pissed.
"Ugh, what is it, Snow?"
"You're in my seat," he glowered.
"There are plenty of other seats, Snow." Baz said. "Sit someplace else." Simon didn't respond, but he stood his ground. He crossed his arms.
"I reserved that seat in advance, Baz." Simon explained angrily. "I always do."
"Well good for you," Baz sneered, "but I'm sitting here now."
"Get up," Simon seethed, "or else." Baz cocked an eyebrow, but didn't budge.
"Or else what?" he pushed. Simon flung himself at Baz, nearly toppling them both. For a moment, Baz thought Simon was trying to tackle him, or knock him out or something. Only for a moment.
"So," Baz inquired, "are you planning on moving anytime soon?" Simon had leapt towards Baz and landed himself in Baz's lap. After about 10 minutes of fidgeting from both of them, and the fact that it was Simon fucking Snow in his lap, Baz had become quite awkwardly aroused. He had no idea how Simon felt about this particular situation, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.
"No, I don't believe I am." Simon fidgeted. Baz groaned and Simon made a noise quite similar to a moan. Baz froze. Simon Snow just moaned. In his presence. Because of him. (Not entirely true, but Baz wasn't trying to be nitpicky at this particular moment.)
"Snow..." Baz groaned again as Simon basically grinded against his crotch.
"It's Simon."
Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch was kissing Simon Snow. The Simon Snow. He still is. It's soft and warm and just so good. Simon is just soft and warm and so good. Baz, on the other hand...
"Christ, Baz..." Simon's moans melted all of Baz's worries away. Every worry, every regret, every insecurity; melted away. They just disappeared.
Simon and Baz. Baz and Simon. Their kissing, their hands, their exploratory needs, their everything; it was all just so perfect. It was like a dance. They were partners, with every touch, every movement in perfect sync.
"So..."
"So..."
"I'm going to take that as a definite no."
"What?"
"No, you're not getting off."
"Definitely not."
"Great."