His lips are warm as they trace the outline of my jaw. I love when he does this, and he knows it. My whole body lusts for him in this moment. He kisses my neck and I can feel him start to unbutton my shirt. I sit up and he's staring into my eyes with that confused look on his beautiful face. I roll my eyes, give him a wicked grin, and push my cold lips against his.
I could do this forever.
Before I know it, both our shirts are on the floor and Snow's straddling over me again (this is the only time he's ever above me, I've still got him by 3 inches). His fingers are combing through my hair and I feel him grab a fistful as he kisses me harder; forcing his face into mine, with his hips grinding against me.
Snow's kissing is unpredictale, just like everything else about him, but it always keeps me on my toes.
His hands are trailing down my stomach, with his lips following shortly after. They stop at my hips and he stumbles with the button on my pants.
"Crowly Snow" I say; he's a complete git.
"What?... And can you please call me Simon?"
"No" I answer, ignoring the first half of the question.
"Why not?"
"Because Snow is your name. Does it really matter right now? You're ruining the mood." My head falls back onto the wall and I'm waiting for him to do something... anything. I wait for what seems like forever, "...Snow?" I whisper. He looks up at me with a blank stare; Crowley he's perfect (well perfectly imperfect.) He makes any expression undeniably hot.
"Snow, what's wrong?" I feel bad... I shouldn't have said he was ruining the mood.
He pauses and his head drops, "I... I don't know what I'm doing. I can't do this."
"I thought we already came to the conclusion you're gay," I press.
"Well I love you, so I guess I am... But that's not the problem. I mean, I literally don't know what I'm doing Baz. I've never been... I've never been with a guy like this; or at all for that matter," he's sounding sorry for himself - typical Snow.
"Neither have I! Simon Snow, I love you and if you don't want to do this, you don't have to... Or I can go first if you want." I raise an eyebrow and give him a suggestive smile.
He blushes a bright shade of red and hides his face in my crotch, "Careful down there love." His head immediately springs up, "Sorry," he says, giggling. It's dark in my room but still light enough to make out that he's completely embarressed.
I cross my arms behind my head and stare up to the ceiling. I'm waiting for him to crawl up and lay on my bare chest so I can tousle his bronze curls and kiss his immaculate pink lips, but he doesn't. Suddenly, I feel a slight tug at my jeans and hear the zipper go down. It's a relief, I've been hard for the past half an hour. He's a bloody tease! It's not like I can help it though, have you seen Simon? He's an angel (with tacky dragon wings) and I have him on top of me; it's absolute tourture.
He's worked my pants off and is staring at my satin boxers (that embarrassingly have my initials embroidered onto the hem.) C'mon Snow, don't make me wait any longer.
I think about just ripping them off and flinging them across the room, but that will probably scare him off.
Once I stop fantasizing, I realise my underwear are now gone and he's got one of his hands over his own crotch. I decide to close my eyes; it feels wrong to stare while he's doing this.
The feeling's completely different when someone else is doing the work on your body, but I'm not complaining - not in the slightest. It feels wonderful. His warm mouth is kissing me, but not where I'm used to. With my eyes closed, I can feel every inch of his skin on mine and hear that our gentle moans are in time. He's got me tingling all over and the sensations are overwhelming. Aleister Crowley, he may not be The Chosen One, but he's definitely mine.