loving you is easy
yayyy my first SNOWBAZ fic! im reading the third book of the SImon Snow saga, and i just needed to give these two some intimacy. BASED ON THE CONTEXT OF "anyway the wind blows" SO IT COULD BE A SPOILER
for the most of you who are here for bts worry not, i am planning on finishing a request by the end of the week, fingers crossed !!
tags: snowbaz , pwp , porn with feelings , bottom baz , a D/s dynamic but like in a loving way , fluff , mentioned past trauma , mentioned some level of sex repulsion , alternating pov , first person writting
words : 4k
sumary: simon is frustrated that his past trauma seems to be stopping him form being intimate with his (in his opinion overly patient) boyfriend. so he offers to try something out.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/36794302
Simon
It was frustrating.
It was frustrating that despite us trying again, we couldn't-
I couldn’t…
But if I don’t start doing something about it, I’m going to end up giving Baz the wrong idea. That I’m backing away, that I’m giving up on us, again.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. Being with Baz again, I drown in every single moment; as if it was its own monumental, once of a lifetime, event. I know that's me waiting for the worse, or still not catching onto the idea that this is what normal couples do; they sleep together, they go on dates, they hold hands, they kiss (even in moments that aren’t life or death). And even if I knew that these moments weren’t the last, it's like my body still hasn’t adapted to that fact.
The same way that my mind wanted Baz, craved for him, but my body still reacted in flight or flight mode (and I could do both now, literally). And it's not like I’m unresponsive. My body reacts to Baz alright, he is capable of making me red to the tips of my ears, or making my thighs tense, or goosebumps break at from my nape to my lower back. Yet… with all these physical reactions, my body still considers Baz a threat when his hands go anywhere other than my cheeks or arms.
My body stopped making sense anatomically at least a year and a half ago, now it stopped making any sense at all.
And what's worse was, I seemed to be the only one who was annoyed by this.
We only had tried once, and as tears dried on my cheeks, he had reassured me that it was fine. That it didn’t bother him at all, that he could wait as long as I needed. Calling me “Love” in between every sentence. That felt nice.
It didn’t make me less of a frustrating, inexplicable, mess of a person. But it was nice.
Intimacy could wait, I tried convincing myself, even as I heard Baz getting off as quietly as he could behind the bathroom door. I always tried to focus on the fact that I must have done something right for him to do that, at least. If he wasn’t doing it entriely out of sexual frustration; which I know is probably the truth.
He deserved to feel good, a boyfriend who could make him feel good. And not one he has to console after making out for too long.
Baz
He lost his mind.
I know that there have been many instances where I have stated that Simon Snow has gone mad. But I think I manifested it to life now.
“You what?” I’m awful at hiding the indignation in my voice, I’ve always been.
“I think I know a way that we can have sex, without ctually having sex!” And he is just as awful at hiding his excitement about anything, ever. His eyes get wide and his eyebrows are so high they make wrinkles in his forehead. Even a hint of a smug smile, like he just solved a big problem in my life.
If the conversation was about anything else, I’d think he looks adorable.
“Snow,” I reserve that name for when I’m truly baffled by him. “I told you, we don’t need to have sex. I dont need to have sex.” My smile is reassuring, I can’t help it when I know how he feels about the whole thing; how the guilt weighs on his shoulders.
“But you want to…” He says, blue eyes staring at me like they know me better than I do. He probably does at this point.
Just because he isn’t wrong, doesn’t mean I have to tell him he is right.
“I am not some sex-craved animal.” I scoff, his expression seems to soften. It's a victory, even if I know he takes amusement from my outrage.
“Okay, maybe you don’t need to. But it's something I want to try.” His voice is so gentle with me these days. I still can’t help but compare it to the growling I’d get back at Watford. It makes me cave in that much easier; I play myself.
So that brings us to right now, a day later, in his apartment (I forced him to buy a proper bed, and am slowly building my way up for him to have proper furniture. But baby steps). We are kneeling on his mattress one in front of each other. Feeling the tension in the air sharp enough to cut someone.
Of course, we discussed it. But that doesn’t mean I know exactly what's about to happen. Even with a plan, Simon will always be unpredictable to me; to everyone probably. He reassured me he wanted this, and I reassure myself that my boyfriend is a terrible liar. But that doesn’t mean that just because he wants it, things will go the way we intended them to.
I really don’t want him to have a breakdown; I’ll never like the sight of it, or the sinking feeling in my chest from it.
But, despite all this, the words he said yesterday loop themselves in my head.
“I think the problem is when I feel things on myself. But that means I could still do things to you.”
Do things to me.
That's too vague for my mind to settle. Even when I know that if he became more explicit, I’d be just as jittery, or even more so.
Simon
Baz looks petrified, not scared but simply, tight and compact where he kneels in front of me. I know I have to make the first move, I know he wouldn’t dare assume to do something without knowing if I’m comfortable with it.
It's as reassuring as it is scary.
I know I have to take the first step.
“I will strip you now.” I announce, it sounds more blunt than I had anticipated. And by the look of Baz’s expression, it was just as straightforward as it sounded, his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar. As if we hadn’t literally planned for this moment, discussed it just a day before. I don’t have in me to blame him though, this is a shock for the two of us.
“Okay…” His voice still manages to sound calm and collected even now.
I can’t wait until I change that.
Baz
I’ve never thought Simon’s hands could treat something, someone, this gently.
My eyes are glued to his calloused hands as one of them undoes the buttons easily; and the other slides under the silky material, the touch so warm against my skin. My breathing becomes more agitated but I try to stop it, as if just breathing too loudly could break this moment.
More and more of my pale grayish skin is exposed, Simon caresses as much as he can of it; his hand traveling up and down my chest. As if I was something precious, fragile. When the last button is undone, the shirt falls off my shoulders.
I don’t have to look to feel him staring at me, but I do anyways; just to make matters worse for myself.
Simon’s eyes are glued to my naked torso, in a way that I can’t read, but I just hope is good. His hand stopped moving, settling over the center of my chest, his touch so light. And his stare too intense for me to decipher.
It makes me swallow thickly, awfully aware
“I feel a little bit exposed.” I confess, a smile nervously growing on my face.
Simon
I’m fucking up aren’t I?
“Do you want me to strip too?” My hatred for that idea is too obvious as I say it. I didn’t mean for it to be, but it makes him laugh. So I consider it a win.
His expressions mellow down into something softer, something reserved for when he is endeared at me; even if I'm being a bit ridiculous. “No, Snow. You don’t have to strip too.” Elegant, cold fingers wrap around my wrist. I forgot my hand was still on his chest, the heartbeat is faint.
I worry for a second he is going to push my hand away. His grip stays firm.
“But…Kiss me while you do it? Please?” Baz’s eyes are wide as he looks at me, uncertain. Shy.
Baz
I take back what I said about gentleness, Simon’s lips are on mine barely leaving enough time for me to breathe before we are kissing. I let my hands tangle in his curls, tugging at it softly. I prided myself on always holding back when we make out like this. Since I was always the one to get things out of hand.
But now all of those restrictions are gone. I could take as much as I wanted.
The muscles of my belly tense as Simon’s hand slides down from my naked chest to settle on the waistband of my pants.
Not doing anything, just there, tantalizing me.
I gasp when we separate from the kiss, already breathing heavily. And I see Simon Snow smirk, before his lips move to my neck. Languid sloppy kisses over the bite marks on my neck. A spot he knows has been sensitive ever since. I bite into my lip trying to suppress the noises, still trying to hold back; even as I feel his confident smile against my neck.
And I‘m successful, until I feel the way his hand on the waistband of my pants starts to move downwards. Barely giving me time to prepare myself for when Simon’s calloused palm cups my crotch. Groping the outline of my dick, and enjoying how I fall apart after that.
“A-Ah, Simon.” I call out, not recognizing the sound of my voice. Shaky but gentle. “Please…” There's a cloudiness in my mind that stops me from knowing what I’m actually begging for. But my hips start grinding against Simon’s hands. Taking the friction of my briefs as I rub myself on his hand. Eyes closing in embarrassment, even if Simon’s face is still hidden, sucking on my neck.
“Please, what?” His voice is just as unrecognizable, but in a completely different way. Lower than I remember it, slurty, confident. “Too needy to feel exposed anymore?”
My eyes open meeting his as he lifts his head from where he was scattering bruises into my neck. His eyes half lidded, smiling widely at me; the way he does when adrenaline is pumping through his body. I feel myself shiver at the sight.
Simon is enjoying this. As much as I am.
“L-Love…” I start but his hands grip my hard on before I can add anything. The sentence dying in my throat, only a helpless moan leaving my lax jaw. My head falls forward against his shoulder, eyes closed again but not to hide from the humiliation.
“T-touch me.” A quivering whimper is as firm as I can make my voice sound.
He drops the mean act as a chuckle bubbles from his chest. “I am touching you…” I don’t have to look to know he is grinning; his voice not cocky like it sounded before minutely. He sounds giddy, and it's doing wonders to stop my urge to yell at him.
“Fuck. Y-You know what I mean, Simon!” It doesn’t come out as a yell as much as it sounds like a squeal.
I’d hate myself for it, if it didn’t provoke another outburst of melodic laughter.
His hands get to work then, unbuckling my belt, undoing my pants. I try to hold my breath through it, but Simon is being careful, meticulous even. His hands back to their gentle handling of my body.
We’ve changed in front of each other, but I don't think I have to explain how much of a stark difference that is, to this.
Anticipation is killing me as I help him, sliding my legs off. I am physically able to feel the way his eyes travel every inch of pale skin that is continuously exposed; my thighs flexing a bit in response, shying away. Trying to cover up the obvious outline of my dick, wet patch under the tip. Tinting my underwear a darker shade of gray.
But Simon doesn’t give me any time to feel embarrassed, as his fingers hook at the elastic of my briefs and tugs them down. With less gentleness than before, the sudden colder air makes me moan behind my pressed tight lips.
For a second, nothing happens. Goosebumps break on my skin, the cold air contrasting with the heavy warmth of my dick; heavy and hot between my legs.
I distinctly feel not being touched.
Slowly, like he has all the time in the world, Simon’s hand tangles itself in my hair, gently holding me by the back of my neck. And with a gentle grip tugs my face away from the hiding spot in his neck.
“W-what are you-?” I begin to ask. My eyes met his, distinctly trying to avoid looking down and acknowledging the fact that he is fully dressed and I am fully nude.
His smile is soft, looking almost excited. “I want you to see.” It comes out as a whisper. I'd be lying if I said the way he was looking and talking to me didn’t make more heat coil in my stomach.
With the same softness, he guides my head downwards. Staring down at my tense naked thighs, dick blushed, pressed against my navel. Simon doesn’t give me time to feel humiliated by the sight; wrapping his hand around me, grip loose as he starts pumping leisurely.
He was right. Even before I could react to his movements, my eyes widen at the sight. Jaw dropping as I groan.
“We fit well together, don’t we?” Simon asks, his tone gentle.
I could feel and see him being mindful of the grip; precum only beginning to slide down in globs from the head. But my body didn’t seem to care, as my hips began to stutter with his movements. Humping as if trying to get more friction, meeting his slow rhythm. Answering his question only in the back of my mind as I nod desperately.
“Lo-Looks so g-good…” I mumble out, stuttering through ragged breaths. Hips becoming more erratic at the sight of precum wettering Simon’s grip on me, making it sloppier. Drenched noises filling the room along with my wheezing.
“You look so good right now, Baz.” Just when I thought I had gotten a taste of Simon’s teasing.His praise was something different.
Simon
I thought I had been doing a pretty good job.
But now, I was sure I was doing an amazing job.
His face contorted in pleasure, and I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of his pretty eyebrows scrunched up, lips opened as a delirious moan spilled from his lips. He looks like something out of a painting.
Warmth spreading all across my belly to the tips of my ears.
“Y-you think s-so?” His voice is just as shaky as before, but so much sweeter. Hopeful even.
Loving Baz was so easy.
Much easier than it ever was to tolerate myself.
It just motivates me even more to speed up, admiring the look my tan hand wrapped around him. My thumb rubbing over the slit, red and wet with precum. Admiring the way his thighs spasmed, hips bucking into my hand desperate.
“I do.” My voice sounds so much more calm than his does, for a change.
And I love it.
“You are so pretty, Baz.” His entire body shivers as a response, throwing his head back as if he just doesn’t know what else to do with himself. With the pleasure he feels.
With the pleasure I’m making him feel.
I don’t know why, but that's when I pulled my hand away from him. But not in the way I usually turn away from him; not out of fear or feeling overwhelmed. I pull my hand away, just to see the way Baz’ eyes open at the sudden lack of friction. It's like his body takes a bit longer to react, though. His hips buckled into nothing, hard dick bouncing uselessly in the air.
It feels like my body is moving on its own, grabbing the bottle of lube, the one I bought specifically for this, and pouring it all over my fingers. Not finding it in me to care about the mess I’m making on my bed sheets.
“S-simon?” His voice calls for me, still shaky but unsure. “W-we can stop if you-” I cut him off before he could finish this thought.
“No! No, I--I want to go on.” My eyes staring into his, determined. A smile even blooms in my face, trying to reassure him. It's adorable how he tries to keep a concerned expression as my hand wraps around the base of his dick again.
He doesn’t answer, and I take it as an opportunity to continue. “I want to finger you. Is that okay, love?”
Baz
Honey sweet voice tugs me further into the hazy headspace I seem to be in. Where all that matters is Simon’s gentle reassurances, and the slow tugging of his hand as it starts pumping my dick again.
Another pathetic shaky moan makes its way out of my lips.
“Answer me, please.” Even in his commands he is soft. Amused smile still wide on his face as he watches me fall apart.
No, not watching, provoking.
His wetted uncharacteristically cold fingers press to my hole. Not pushing in, simply pressing tentatively.
My thighs spread before my tongue has the coordination to answer. Spreading as I lower myself to lay on his bed. I try not to think about the view he has of me right now. Entirely nude and laid out; just for him. But it doesn’t help the embarrassment in my voice, coming out whiny from my lips.
“Yes! More than okay, Simon. What-- What kind of question is that??” I can’t help the exasperated tone of my voice.
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to take offense to it. His bubbly laughter filling the room as his soaked fingers start rubbing up and down form my taint down to my ass. “Just making sure.” He excuses endeared; leaning forward from where he was kneeling between my opened thighs. The weight of his softer stomach pressing against my dick. Our lips meet again, though it's not nearly as hurried as before. He takes his time, humming slowly into my lips.
And it's so easy to melt into him. Feel the warmth coming from his body as our torsos press together, my hands busy roaming over his clothed back. Distracting me from the way his hand between us, jerking me off finds a new place holding down my hip; and the way his index finger starts to slide into me.
But a kiss could never be distracting enough.
I moan openly into the kiss, making him swallow all my noises as my body squirms. It's not my first time attempting this; yet I don’t think I ever treated myself with as much care as Simon is right now. Slowly curling his finger forward., forcing my body to shiver and squirm against the bed. Only the weight of his body and steady hand on my hip kept me still for him to add another.
“S-Simon…” The heat of the kiss and the feeling of him twisting my insides, making me breathless. My voice comes out like something barely above a gasp in between kisses.
“Feels good?” He separates to speak, but we are still close enough that our lips brush against the others’ while he speaks. It feels almost mocking that he asks as his fingers are scissoring me open, coaxing high pitched whines out of my lungs.
But I nod anyway, just because he asks. Just because it would be impossible to go against anything he says now. Too far gone. My body reacting on its own as my hips try to fuck his fingers deeper into me. The pathetic grind forcing friction from my dick against his torso.
He probably takes my desperation as an invitation to push a third finger in me. The stretch stinging deliciously. Making my hands curl into fistfuls gripping his shirt, and thighs quiver at the sides of his hips. My moans are loud enough for the neighbors to hear behind the thin walls, synchronized with Simon’s relentless brushing of my prostate.
It doesn’t help that when I open my eyes, I see him staring at me already. Blue eyes drilling into me with his mouth open ajar. I try to say something, anything that isn’t some animalistic noise. But he beats me to it. Sounding more lucid than I could ever dream of in this state.
“Can’t believe I get to have you like this, Baz.” he whispers to me over my needy sounds. The ace of his fingers becoming less gentle, stronger in a way that makes my feet lift from where they were planted on the mattress; knees pressing to his sides.
“Wanted this for so long.” He sighs dreamily, as if the sight of me was something to be beckoned by. His hand on my hip squeezes lovingly, forcing a wail out of me.
“Simon I-I’m-ah!” It's too much. His complete undivided attention, so calm but not uncaring of what he is doing to me. So entirely focused in my pleasure, in making sure I know how much he loves the sight of me like this. I feel the way heat starts to coil at my navel, making my movements under him more erratic. “‘M c-clos-close.” I wheeze, struggling to get the simplest words out.
Simon’s thrusting into me gains enough strength that his fingers start rocking my body back and forth against the bed. My toes curling against his sides, moans too loud and ìtiful for a kiss to work anymore. But he goes on.
“Do it.” He urges. “ Want to see you, Baz. Please.”
Simon
It's like his whole body stills for a second. I'm pretty sure even his heart stops beating, and so does mine.
He is that breathtaking.
Air knocked completely out of him, just a choked sound leaving his lips as he cums between our torsos. I can feel the way he trembles like a leaf as the climax is coaxed out of him. His legs squeezing tighter at my sides, as I keep my fingers milking the last bits of it. Barely a minute passes before I pull my fingers out, careful not to make him uncomfortable with oversensitivity.
Even if he is the only one who came, we are both out of breath.
As if finally being able to pour out everything that I feel for him in one sitting had taken a toll on my body. Not a bad toll. More like… Keeping all those feelings was the actual strain on my body.
But the part where I got to love him like this, that was easy.
There was no time to focus on myself, on the way my body feels ick when I stop giving it purpose, when I just let it feel. I’m too busy getting lost in his voice, the way it cracks with need and desperation. The way he clings to me like a lifeline, like I’m all that's keeping him sane but all that's making him lose his mind at the same time.
And that was something I could feel proud about.
None of that shame of trying to fill up the expectations of what I was, or trying to live up to what my body was used for before. No having to focus on hating myself for any of it either. Or for being the reason I stopped Baz from feeling this good, making him wait until now.
A cold hand cups my cheek and snaps me out of my thoughts.
“I love you, Simon.” It's his time for his voice to be calm and collected, and for my breath to hitch at the sudden gentleness. “Thank you for tonight.” He makes a smile spread across my face.
“No need.” And I mean it, loving him will always be so easy.
“I love you too.”
