Chapter 17 The Night It All Changed
Baz:
The weeks with Simon go by quickly. Each day brings us closer to the time when he will have to go on tour. Every day he spends hours rehearsing with the guys, recording, or writing music, papers strewn across the living room floor as he frowns over his guitar, humming to himself. I go to the book shop every day as if my life isn't about to turn upside down.
We do what we can to pretend it isn't real… all the homey little things that ordinary couples do together. We go to the store to pick up groceries, fix dinner, or argue over the remote control.
Every night — and, additionally, sometimes on a stolen afternoon or the lazy sunshine of a weekend morning — we make love. And it never fails to move me. I think my heart breaks a little more every time we're together, because it's so good and I can't imagine what it will be like for me when he's not here… when I'm alone.
But tonight's the night… the night of our third photoshoot. And so I focus on preparations for that.
Simon:
Baz is taking my picture again. I know what he's planning to do, but it's still a jarring (unpleasant) surprise to come home and find a camera and lights set up in our bedroom. Baz is propping up a light gray cardboard backdrop on the floor alongside my side of the bed. He has it wedged between a pair of his shoes, so it won't fall over as easily.
I say nothing as I change out of my work clothes into sweats and a t-shirt. But then I pause. "Am I supposed to wear something special?"
"No, dear, nothing special. And don't worry about the photos yet. We'll be doing that after we go to bed."
I grimace. I still can't believe I agreed to let him photograph me in bed.
We pad in stocking feet out to the kitchen, where I've set boxes of Thai carry-out onto the counter. We pull up next to each other on stools and have our noodles as we silently flick through our phones. Normally it would be a companionable silence, but now my nerves are rather taut and I'm mostly just pretending to look at my phone, as a way to avoid conversation. I am more than a little preoccupied with this freaking bedroom plan of Baz's.
"Why in our bedroom, Baz?"
"Authenticity."
"I don't want ANYONE to know it's me when they look at the photos."
"They won't. You'll be completely in silhouette."
"And I don't want nudity."
"You'll be photographed from the waist up."
I sigh. "Why do you think we should have sex first?"
"Just an idea I had and it's totally up to you. I was hoping to capture a tender mood."
"I'd never say no to sex with you. It's the rest that worries me. I don't know if I can do 'tender' for the photoshoot tonight. 'Tension', maybe, but that's it."
"I never expect you to make it easy. But we'll work on… finding the appropriate mood... when the time comes."
How can he be so calm? Bloody Baz.
Baz:
I almost consider letting Simon off the hook. Contrary to what he thinks, I don't enjoy upsetting him. And he has made it abundantly clear he doesn't like a camera in our bedroom.
But in my mind this is one of those things that we "have" to do before he leaves. Something he agreed to a long time ago, just as I have agreed to things for him. Things like keeping secrets and suppressing my desire for us to be a normal couple. It's all part of the deal we wrought: a concession to my art, and something that I will insist on having, for myself.
A memento of his trust and our intimacy.
In a month, I don't know what we'll have together. But these photos will always be mine, to edit and lament over and rework into a thousand different artistic expressions.
Simon:
We ate, had some wine, and listened to music. After a while I got the bee out of my bonnet and we talked, but not about anything hard. I felt myself reluctantly start to relax.
We moved to the bedroom. Baz's photography stuff is still there, of course, but he turns the lights out quickly and I decide not to be an ass about it. We undress, Baz neatly putting his worn clothes in the hamper while my things lay strewn on the floor. We slip under the covers and gravitate toward the warmth of each other.
I can never stay mad at Baz when we're touching. He's too important to me; he's too right. I lay my head on his shoulder and nestle up into the crook of his neck, smelling his woodsy, citrusy scent. Our hands just automatically start reaching for each other. He finds my arm, running his hand up and down it, before letting his hand drop to my waist. I rub a hand absent-mindedly back and forth on his chest.
I love him.
We're kissing now and I've lifted my head up off his chest, so I can prop myself up on one elbow and lean over him. I bring my free hand up to his face and push his hair back. I look at him and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I like to see him when we're in bed; he's so beautiful. I'll just never get over that.
He sighs happily as my kisses move from his lips to his face. I can't believe there was a day when I didn't kiss his face regularly. His cheek, his jawline, his temples… all so kissable. I run my lips across his face, placing gentle kisses along the way as I position myself further over him.
Baz lying underneath me feels just right. When I lay on top of him, he lets me take the lead. He becomes patient and luxurious, squirming underneath me if I press or rub him in the right way, but waiting for me just the same. It's like a little game we play with each other: the person on top calls the shots.
I want to mount him tonight.
But I take my time, because that's what Baz deserves. He never rushes anything when we're in bed together. He makes me feel as if every little thing he does to me is as important as the sex, as if it's a wonderful thing in and of itself… like enjoying the drive is as important as arriving at the destination. He's never said that in words, but that's how he is in bed. I don't fully understand what he means by it, either, because Baz in many ways is a mystery to me.
I'm a pretty straight-forward guy. I enjoy Baz and I want to give him whatever he wants. I'm probably not the most tender person out there. I'm not very good at pillow talk or feelings talk of any kind.
But I'm sure of one thing — I can make Baz feel good.
I keep kissing him and let my hands explore his body, every inch of him. I start by trailing kisses along his collarbone and keep going down and down… I let my lips trace every lean muscle and all the soft flesh I can find. I cover his skin with my lips and my hands and make him tremble from pleasure. Soft moans escape his lips before I even reach his stomach.
I feel Baz getting harder under my body. It's driving me mad to know he enjoys me this way before I even enter him. That it's not only the sex itself. That my touches and my kisses turn him on equally. Just the thought of it is making me hard.
I keep flicking my eyes up to him, because watching Baz when he's enjoying himself under my hands and lips has become my new favourite thing. Part of me wants to rush through it and claim him now. But the other part, the one that loves him so much, wants this — the tender and the meaningful... it wants to let Baz know how much he means to me, how in love with him I am. Every kiss to his skin is an "I love you" to Baz.
I drag my lips and lick everywhere around his waist and his lower belly while my hands move in circles on his skin. His hands end up in my hair and when I place a kiss a little lower — his grip tightens and he gasps.
Baz is so lovely like this — his cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. I want to give him everything he deserves. I can't give him everything yet, but I can give him my love. Here — in this bed, I prove how much he means to me. I'm enjoying him already. The noises slipping from his lips are incredible.
Baz is never reserved in bed. He lets me have him whole. He lets me take whatever I want. I do my best to give it back to him ten fold. Baz has all of me, as well. There's nothing to hide from anyone when it's just the two of us. It's only our love that matters and the beauty of his body under mine.
I've been kissing him and caressing his body for what feels like forever. And it's so good, as always.
I kiss Baz on his inner thighs and move my hands alongs his hips, the movements becoming more rushed. (I'm not sure how long I can stay just kissing — I want him so much.) But not yet. A few more moments of this— the pleasure and the agony of lips on skin while we both get harder to the point of no return.
Then I place a few kisses all around his hardness. Both because Baz likes that and because I like to rile him up. I like him moaning and gasping before I enter him. And he's giving me that. "Simon…" he says, soft and desperate. (I know what he's feeling because I'm feeling the same).
I trail a few kisses onto his hardness and he loses any semblance of control. "Oh yes..." (He's ready.)
Baz is pulling on my hair and moaning out loud when I finally take him into my mouth. He's hard and wanting. I want to keep going. But today I need to be inside of him.
I should have taken out the lube before, but I was in a bit of a mood earlier, wasn't I? Now I need to detach my mouth from Baz in order to get it (my own fault). I do and come back to him as soon as humanly possible. I want him so much.
Baz is impassioned too, even if he's trying to be patient.
I come back to him and we resume the kissing. It's open-mouthed and he's shaking with excitement because he knows I have the lube. After I spread a generous amount of it onto my finger, I tease him a bit. A shuddered breath comes from Baz, and I look up at him because it's delicious to hear and see him like that — lovely, hard and wanting...
I get a sudden craving to lick him before continuing. It's a different lube, not the edible kind that we used before. But what the fuck, most of those commercials are a bunch of lies. Can't be much different can it? I lean in and lick him.
Oh, hell! Nope! The lube has the worst kind of plasticy chemical taste. I have to hold in the immediate need to gargle my mouth after, but I do take a sip from the water bottle I spot lying on the bed.
Huh, seems Baz was right after all and the edible lube isn't an advertising propaganda. Baz watches me and stays silent, except for a small amused smile on his lips. He's always considerate of me in the bedroom, no matter what idiotic thing I do… and sometimes I do massively stupid things.
Baz might always be this way with me— not just in the bedroom. But I probably pay the closest attention to him in the bedroom, so this is where I notice it. When I'm writing music I get so lost in the writing process I miss a lot.
Okay. Having recovered from my ill-advised attempt to lick inedible lube, I return to the matter at hand. Baz's bum. I tease at his opening with my finger and silently curse my stupidity for not licking him first, BEFORE I put the lube on. But never mind: Baz likes this, too. The small sighs and moans coming from him tell me everything I need to know. And the sight of his beautiful body and hardness for me put me back into the right mood. (I'm still full with want for him.)
Slowly and gently I start to probe him with my first finger. We've done this enough times for me to know how to start it right for him. I still make sure not to get impassioned. I'd rather take longer now and make sure Baz is enjoying himself than worry about it later. As I go deeper, Baz starts to moan louder and by the time my whole finger is in, he's begging me for more.
"Please…" I add another finger and it doesn't take long before I'm curling them just right. "Oh… Simon… more..." He gasps and gives me an extremely lustful look, his eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering.
I kiss his (lube-free) inner thighs and add the third finger. I love how welcoming he feels, how responsive... his desire towards me ignites a fire inside my heart and makes me more than willing to do anything he wants.
"Yes…" He's gasping and starts to push against me, rocking on my fingers, hard and fast...
"Are you ready, love? I ask as I take out my fingers and get back on top of him.
"Yes," Baz says and meets my lips with his. "Take me, Simon…do it..." he's arching up toward me and his face is flushed. His head is pressed back against the pillow and he's looking up at me, practically begging. I can deny him nothing, when he's looking at me that way. A sound like a growl escapes my lips; to say I'm feeling impassioned right now would be an understatement. I can't wait to finally have him. He must understand my desire, because he moans and licks his lips… he looks wanton. I hurriedly place our "sex pillow" and a towel under him and settle myself right. I tease him with my hardness first, which makes him gasp. That's an automatic turn on and since I was already there, I almost groan from my want for him.
I enter Baz at last, slowly to give him time to adjust to me, inching my way inside him with my well-lubed cock. He moans the whole time I do it, and it's a good moan... the kind that makes me feel like king of the world… like I'm some sort of sex god. No one but Baz makes me feel like this; with anyone else, I'm a regular bloke. But with Baz… I'm so much more. He makes me more, the blarmy magical bastard. His body is incredible, but it's his soul that made me fall in love with him. Baz is a beautiful person, inside and out.
By the time I'm fully inside him, I feel myself encased in his delicious warm tightness. I start sliding back and forth, in and out, keeping it slow. As I increase speed over time I hear myself panting and listen to the gasps escaping his lips. "Harder… love…" Baz pleads and I gladly give that to him. I take hold of his hips and slam into him just the way he likes it. "YES..." comes from him as a shriek of pleasure. "Don't..stop!" He's screaming at me. (What was that about 'whoever's on top is in charge?' I'm not in charge, not really, because I need to do whatever Baz wants).
"Wasn't.. planning.. on stopping," I manage to choke out, going as fast as I can and holding his hips in a tight grip. (I have a lot of energy and he takes it ALL).
He wants it… I know he does. While here in bed, I'm tuned in to Baz... bed is where I understand him best of all.
What we're doing now feels SO. Incredible. Baz feels so incredible. "Oh… Simon…" he pleads and I lean forward more and continue giving him my all. He's so generous towards me himself, giving me all his love. I want him and I love him. This moment is heavenly and never ending, when we're honest and as one. This is where I feel connected to his soul in a way I can't be at any other time, at least not yet…
I'm sweating, I'm straining… my eyebrows are knit together and I'm biting my lip because I'm trying so hard for him. Trying to give him pleasure and trying not to lose it. I love him. Pounding my hips against him, I try to convey my love. Baz looks back up at me and smiles through another gasp. He reaches up and touches my face… touches the lip I'm biting before leaning back on the bed and letting me have him some more…
He's gorgeous and he wants me. I'm not blind, I see how other blokes look at him when we are walking outside. And nothing about us says relationship because I can't even hold his hand in public (that's on me.) I'm an idiot not to scream my love to him from the rooftops… he's mine and everyone else needs to stay the fuck away… I see that now in bed… I know that now, in this moment of pounding into him…
Still. Baz lets me be with him and have him like this. He pushes those other guys away and he keeps himself mine, even though I haven't made it easier for him by claiming him publicly. He takes my stupid parameters and he chooses me. He moans my name and never cares for the others.
The thought of that makes me go faster and harder just the way Baz likes it. (I love it, his tightness and him.)
He's so handsome and sensual; every sound and expression that comes from Baz makes my heart ache with love and want for him. Being inside Baz makes me feel high in the best possible way. There's no side-effects except for the eventual overpowering orgasm.
We're both gasping with shuddered breath and I know neither of us can hold on much longer.
"..es..." His gasps are getting less coherent and I know it's time.
I take hold of his hardness and hope I can wait it out and not get there first. But Baz is too vocal for me to keep going. "Simon…" He's screaming my name in ecstasy, holding onto the sheets, almost clawing them, and I'm gone for it. Fucking beautiful bastard. I shudder into him, my hold on him tightening before I exhale and collapse in gratification and exhaustion.
I place lips on his neck in a bit of an apology, as I try to calm down. Meanwhile, I move my hand to bring him his own release. He's still gasping against me, pushing his hardness into my fist as I claim his mouth with mine and he follows me "home." I kiss him through the peak of his pleasure.
Baz's back arches when he finally reaches his own satisfaction and he shudders into me. We share a few heavy breaths between the two of us.
"You're incredible," I tell him, kissing him on his luscious lips.
"And you are very impressive," he answers in a soft voice and smiles at me.
He's the impressive one. We're both a bit rumpled and Baz has a few stray hairs stuck to his forehead. I move them away and kiss him again. I want him forever.
We clean up hurriedly and get back to bed and into each other's arms. I never thought of myself as a cuddler, but then again, I've never had someone like Baz before. He's too good not to cuddle with.
Baz lays with his head on my chest and I stroke his hair softly. I feel so relaxed and content, lying here with him. I kiss his head. "I love you," I say.
"Mmm," he says in reply, snuggling into me. "I love you, too."
"Are you going to take that picture now?"
He chuckles softly and reaches up to meet my lips. "I should probably remember to do that, huh?"
"Well, I don't want all this to be for nothing," I joke. "If we wait too long we'll have to do it all again."
"Ughh… that would be terrible," he replies (the bastard). Luckily I don't believe him for a minute.
"Baz," I say, pulling him closer. "You wanted 'tender.' Well. I feel nothing but tender for you. I don't think you even know how much I love you."
"I think I have an idea, Simon. Based on the way I feel about you."
"Yeah? Are you going to stay with me forever?"
"Are you going to let me?"
"I'm going to insist that you do."
"What if you meet someone else while you're out on tour?"
"I'm sure I'll meet all kinds of people. But they're not going to mean a thing to me. And after Agatha's gone you're going to start coming out to visit me, right?"
"Maybe."
"'Maybe', huh?" I know he's teasing but I wish he'd be a little more reassuring. "Maybe you better go ahead and take those photos before my tender feelings are gone."
He smirks and begins to disconnect himself from me. I pull him back and kiss his mouth again, long and hard. He looks into my eyes deeply and I meet his gaze, chin jutting out stubbornly. "Just had to re-establish the tender feelings." I kiss him again, shorter this time. "Visiting me on tour is non-negotiable. You have to come."
He sighs and smiles wistfully before pulling up. "As if I could stay away. You're going to feel haunted by me, Snow, the way I'll be following you around."
He sits up and looks down at me. "Okay. Just a few shots and then we're going back to bed. I don't think our most pressing business tonight is photography, Snow."
I love hearing him say that.
Baz is nude when he walks around the bed to my side, where the screen's set up. My eyes are fully adjusted to the dark now, so my view of his naked body is excellent. He's so toned and fit… his stomach taut and a faint line of hair trailing down, the rest cloaked in shadow. His shoulders, his hips, his thighs… the shape of him undressed is so familiar now, but it never ceases to amaze me. He clicks a light on, behind the screen. It's bright at first and my eyes close reflexively. I open them again, a crack, and let them adjust.
"Remember, the way I have this set up you'll be in shadow and silhouette."
"And you'll show me the photos before you post them anywhere?"
"Of course."
He walks back over to his side of the bed, and the camera. "I want you to lie just like that but look up at me. Maybe stretch your left arm out above your head and lay on it… good. Tilt your head forward… no; too much. Like this," and he gently touches my chin and moves my face to where he wants it.
He steps back and looks at me. "You're so beautiful, Simon." He gets behind the camera and starts clicking photos. "Now lay on your back. Turn your head away from me… yes. Like that. I'm going to push the blanket down, just a hair…"
"Remember, whatever photo you post of me, the internet creepers are going to be looking at it."
He snorts. "Do not say that." He takes another series of photos. "It's possible some of these might be for private viewing only."
"Well, in that case…" I say provocatively, lowering the blanket down a notch and pushing my bum up toward him.
"Simon-!"
I pull the blanket up and grin cheekily. I don't think he took a picture, but I bet he's blushing.
"I think you're warming up to this, Simon. Your natural vixen is coming out."
We take a few more photos… playful and light-hearted and no doubt cheesy… I doubt that batch will make it to his art site. Too silly and simple.
"Alright," he says, "Last batch. I want you to roll over so your back's to me… with your backside covered, Simon… just a little bit of hip showing. Lay your arm along the edge of your hip. Good." And he takes another series of pictures.
"Perfect. That's it; that's all I need. For tonight."
"I hope that's not 'all you need', Pitch. Because I've got something more to give you."
"Have you, now," he murmurs happily. "Well, we'll have to see if I'm prepared to receive it. Because this time I'll be on top."
"Feeling dominant now, are you," I reply with a little catch in my voice. I like him on top. He's chuckling softly as he stands by the bed to reach over and turn the light off. I reach up and brush my hand against his thigh.
Simon:
After that last session together, I decide I'm comfortable with Baz photographing me. Comfortable enough to even let him take pictures the next time I perform at the book shop.
I let him dress me up a little. I'm wearing my old jeans but one of Baz's tops… a floral print, no less. And I let Baz wrap a long scarf around my neck. "There," he said, making it fall "just so." "You look good."
"Good enough to kiss?"
"Maybe."
"Good enough to shag?"
"Possibly."
I don't know what makes me say it… I didn't plan to say it. It just kind of comes tumbling out, like last night's premature orgasm.
"Good enough to marry?"
If Baz were drinking coffee it would be splattered all over my face right now.
"What did you say-?"
"You heard me, Pitch. I want you to marry me."
"But no one even knows that we're dating!"
"Technicalities."
"Simon," Baz says, purposefully. "Are you even serious?"
I swallow hard. Am I serious? As I didn't have this all planned out, I take a minute, to be sure. I look at him. His eyes are hesitant, cautiously happy, waiting. He's looking back and forth between my eyes, like he's searching for clues. I step forward and take his hands. I don't need to think anymore about this.
"Baz, I love you. I want to be with you forever." I take a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"
His breath catches into something almost like a sob as he closes the distance between us and his lips crash into mine.
"Yes."
That one little word is everything. It makes my heart soar. I pull our lips apart and begin kissing him all over his face in earnest, my hands touching every part of him I can. The kisses on his face taste salty now… he's crying, and I find that so am I.
"You," I choke out. "You make me so happy."
"I just want to be with you, Simon. That's literally all I want."
"I don't deserve you. You're going to come to your senses and realize what a boring git I am."
"Never."
We talk in soft voices and move to the couch. We laugh and wipe the tears off each other's faces. Baz accidentally snorts as he laughs, at one point, and then we're laughing and kissing again, teeth clanking together awkwardly like tea cups, but it feels wonderful.
We revel in each other like that until it's time to leave for the book shop.
Baz:
My heart feels light, so hopeful and excited. Simon. I'm going to marry to Simon. As in "I'd like you to meet my husband, Simon."
"And the reservation is for-?"
"Mr. and Mr. Salisbury-Pitch."
My mind darts back and forth between different scenarios until the old Pitch reality check & realism sets back in. After all, at no point did we decide tonight that we're going to run out and tell people. He's still going to perform tonight as Snow, to a room of his adoring fans, and I will simply be the guy in the background, taking his picture.
We're doing that fourth photo shoot tonight… the one where I capture him singing on stage. Simon didn't even blink an eye when I told him the concept. I guess after the bedroom shoot, anything else is fine and doesn't need to be argued over.
So when the time comes we hurry up and gather what we need— his sound equipment and my camera and tripod. Once we have all the essentials, we dash off to the gig.
The other guys are already there, setting up. "Hey Simon… and Baz," Harvey says, quizzically, inspecting us closely. At least HE suspects there's something between us... good. Now stay the hell away, Harvey, I think to myself.
"Sorry I'm late," Simon tells them. "Baz wanted to meet and discuss the photo shoot tonight."
"Anything we need to know or do differently for that?" Harvey asks, probably to see how I'll answer.
"No, just be yourselves. Try not to look into the camera."
"Got it."
As they get down to the business of choosing which set of songs they'll do tonight, I migrate over to the coffee bar. And Penny.
She's looking at me more closely, too. "What's going on, Baz?"
"Pardon?"
"What's going on between you and Simon?"
I look at her and shrug. "Why don't you ask Simon when the two of you aren't at work?"
"Ah. Yes, I'll do that. But I think you're telling me everything I need to know, already. Your blush is, anyway."
"I can't say anything, Penny."
"At least tell me if you're happy."
"I am."
She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. "That's all I wanted to know."
Simon belts out another stellar performance that night, and this time I capture it on film. The lights, the way Simon's hair curls up with sweat as he moves around stage. His joy and his cheeky winks at the audience. His long neck and his chin jutting out toward the mic.
His stolen glances at ME… more than ever before. That gives me hope.
But Agatha's here, again. She sees me photographing. "Your new muse, eh, Baz?"
"These will be photos the record company can use, if they want to," I tell her.
She looks surprised. "I thought everything was for your art."
"Not these. These are for Simon."
"Well show me how they turn out, tomorrow! We could use any good ones for publicity… maybe even a CD cover."
"You could."
"You like him, don't you, Baz?"
I look her over. "Are you asking as my friend or as Simon's new business associate and backer?"
"I'm asking as your friend."
"I know Simon has a tour to do. I won't interfere with that."
"Baz. You know how close-minded people are. The best thing you could do for Simon at this point in his career is to stay in the background."
"So I'm told."
"He deserves this chance. He's going to make it big. Look at him, Baz… listen to him. He's like one of the Beatles, or something."
"You don't have to convince me to stay quiet, Agatha. I want whatever Simon thinks is best."
She smiles and rubs my shoulder a little before walking away. I don't think I like her very much, at this moment.
But never mind. I go back to watching and listening to the boy in the band… my fiancé.
