Simon
Fury. His words are like bullets exploding in my ears. I may try to shoot him back, but his icy tongue whips my gun astray; every attempted slight and insult thrown back in my reddening face. I study Baz, my rage-filled vision distorting his cold beauty in to something else. Smirking lips, guarded eyes, a blackened heart- I know my enemy. By now I also know that he never rests and I feel Baz's amused smile and taunting voice in every pound of my quivering heart. Here, in our room, where fists must be snarling mouths and punches a cool voice, I can never win. But still I fight.
With every escaping breath I lash but he deflects me time and time again, furious words turned empty and twisted in his slender fingers. Everything about him makes my mind spin, grinds my teeth and clenches my fists until I must give in.
One fluid, uncontrollable movement and I have grasped his collar in a shaking hand and he is flat against the wall. No escape. Silence rings in my ears and I take pleasure in his for once motionless lips and widening eyes. But again they darken and I know that I have not beaten him for long. Here, the anathema stops me from hurting him. Here, I cannot rip those deadly, amused eyes from his pale face. Here, I cannot beat him down to a bloody pulp just to watch the smile leave his grinning lips. So instead I meet them with my own.
Baz
For a heartbeat I cannot react. Snow is kissing me.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening.
Simon Snow is kissing me. I am kissing Simon Snow.
Simon
Passion. Our lips are crashing together. Forceful, angry, alluring. For a thousand moments I am lost in melting rage and ignorance as Baz begins to respond. We quickly break apart and, breathing heavily, stare at each other. His eyes are liquid silver, searching my resolute gaze, his furrowed brow for once unsteady. Unbidden, thoughts race through my mind as I study Baz's blown pupils before me, horror and confusion at what has just happened quickly flattened by intrigue and need. Need for more. Somehow in unison, we both move together at the same time and suddenly it is happening again.
Hatred-fuelled kisses are met with viscous pulls of hair and bleeding lips. I struggle to bend Baz to my will, insults chased by hungry tongues. I drown him in my touch until words of precision and hate are lost to angry moans. I bite his marble skin, sucking the life from his sculpted neck as if it was me that was the vampire. Still he retaliates; claiming my bruising lips, hardened eyes, marking my tender skin. I know him. After warily watching him always, he has burst into every dream: nemesis, stalker, abuser, his grey sky gaze more familiar to me than myself. And this is not nothing- fingertips dancing like flames on my bare skin and kisses that send electricity sparking through my entire body are what I have been missing.
Scratching nails give way to tangled limbs and I can no longer tell our bodies apart. His lips are rougher than Agatha's but soft and searing, every touch filling my veins with icy fire. When we pull apart I take in every inch of him, his flawless granite skin marked by purple bruises, his carved lips kissed and swollen, his swirling irises made of molten rock. My breath is ragged, my hair tousled and my eyes wild as his usually graceful legs stumble from the room. Finally, he is unnerved.
I smile.
Baz
Confusion. I kissed Simon Snow.
But Snow isn't gay (Is he?). Snow didn't kiss me (He did). He hates me (He didn't stop it). What the fuck is happening.
This is not good for me. It's not good that that kiss was better than all the times I imagined it; fighting for dominance, melting him in my tender hands until he moans for me, because of me. Thinking about this is not good for me. Trust Snow to confuse anger and sexual tension. Because Snow isn't gay. (Is he?)
Ever since end of 5th year and the almost relieving realisation that I would never be able to fulfil what I always knew the families would want of me (to kill the Mage's heir) I have tried my hardest to bury the feelings exploding inside of me, setting me on fire. But at the back of mind I have always known that Simon Snow will be my demise because I cannot kill him and one of us is destined to die. That year I tried everything to escape what I was feeling: avoiding him completely (so he followed me around like an abandoned sheep), walking away in the middle of arguments (which just drove him insane) and even trying to end it all with the fucking chimera. Good luck allowed Snow to go off that day and keep himself alive. Bad luck kept me alive too. This would all be easier if I was dead. Pity I don't have a death wish. I pace outside all night in a futile attempt to sift through what is going on in my mind and what has gone wrong in Snow's. I suppose one could say that that he has found a way to fight without breaking the roommate's anathema. Ridiculous. I sleep fitfully in the catacombs, not trusting myself to return to Snow's presence because of what has just happened and the renewed emotions burning inside of me, my flammable body licked by orange flames yet bathed in the memory of skin brushing delicate skin.
The next day is pure torture.