Archive of Our Own ^beta

I’m not going to lie, the first time I wake up with my boyfriend’s wings cocooned around me and his tail stroking me in frankly inappropriate ways, I get a bit freaked out. I don’t think it’s actually the inappropriate touching that wakes me up. A truck just went by outside and I have enhanced hearing, so that kind of thing tends to jolt me awake. My heart races as I adjust to the unexpected darkness and try to re-orient myself. I may be able to see in the dark, but Simon’s room is normally lit up by the blinking lights of his laptop and phone, and ambient streetlight filtering in through the curtains. Now it’s black as pitch, so to speak, and I’m still half asleep so I’m feeling the first tendrils of panic clawing at me before I register the warmth of Simon’s body against mine and I realize what’s happened.

Simon is sprawled half on his stomach, one leg thrown over mine and his arm slung across my chest. He’s like an octopus, has been since the first time we shared a bed, but this has never happened before. My eyes follow the line of his wings as they arch out from his back and cross over each other to enfold us both. In the daylight they’re red, but at night the colour is so deep they look nearly black. For a few awful moments I’m reminded of the coffin and six weeks spent in a darkness that even my eyesight couldn’t penetrate. I force myself to breathe, reminding myself that I’m in Simon’s room and I’m safe. His head is buried in the crook of my shoulder, soft curls tickling me every time he shifts. We haven’t spent many nights together yet, and it’s still new and wonderful to wake up with him in my arms. But the wings are different. Maybe they’ve been doing this every night, I don’t know, but this is the first time I’ve woken up to them wrapped around us instead of just draped across the bed.

And that’s when I notice the tail, and if I could I would flush. I’m pretty sure it’s subconscious. Simon is deeply asleep and I can feel his breath blowing soft and measured against my shoulder. Apparently, though, his tail has a mind of its own.

It starts off fairly innocently with his tail brushing back and forth over my leg, but then it starts to creep up my thigh. The pointed tip grazes the bottom of my boxers and I hold my breath, unsure of whether I should wake him or not. Thankfully (I think), it doesn’t go any farther. It just stays there, rubbing gently back and forth right at the point where my boxers end, occasionally dipping under the fabric but never venturing higher up.

In all my dreams about Simon Snow those long nights at Watford (and there were many, many dreams), I never envisioned this situation. Although in fairness, if Simon had possessed the tail all along, I know I would have developed a substantial collection of tail-related fantasies. But we’ve barely even had sex yet, and I figure I should wait a bit before easing him into anything more adventurous.

I’m getting hard, and I stifle a groan. The tail is barely touching me, but I can feel it right there and it’s radiating heat just like the rest of Simons’ body. I wonder if it’s sensitive. I’ve touched it before, but just to hold it out of the way or flick it aside when Simon tries to thwack me with it. I haven’t tried to do anything with it in bed yet. Everything is still too new, and for all that I’ve dreamt of sex with Simon for years, neither of us actually has any experience and we’re still fumbling through hand jobs and one fairly disastrous attempt at a blowjob. I file the thought away for the future, though.

Right now, however, the tail is getting bolder and is starting to inch up under my boxers. It’s time to wake Simon up before things get really embarrassing.

“Simon.”

Nothing. He sleeps like the dead, and it’s ironic that I’m the light sleeper in this relationship. I poke him in the shoulder, and then I poke him again harder.

“Simon.”

He mumbles and burrows closer into me, but doesn’t wake up. The tail sweeps up in its most daring move yet and curls over my growing erection. This time I groan, loudly.

“Simon, wake up.” I smack him on the shoulder and abruptly the wings and tail are gone. I blink in the sudden brightness of the room. Simon’s eyes are open now and he’s looking at me with a worried expression, his wings folded tightly against his back.

“Baz, what’s wrong?”

I grit my teeth. “Your tail has a dirty mind, Snow.”

“My tail… what?” Simon isn’t at his best first thing in the morning, never mind the middle of the night. Even his best isn’t exactly eloquent, so I’m not surprised that he’s barely coherent right now.

“Your tail. My crotch.” I gesture down and Simon’s eyes go wide.

“Oh.”

See what I mean? A great speaker, Simon is not.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” He blushes. “I was asleep.”

“Yes, I noticed.” I roll my eyes. “It’s fine, it was just… unexpected. I thought I should wake you up before things got any more out of hand.”

Simon rolls away from me and I shiver at the loss of warmth. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His wings stretch out again, a tangible barrier between us. He’s embarrassed, I know, but I’m not sure why he’s trying to avoid my gaze now.

“Seriously, Simon, it’s not that big a deal.” I reach out and touch his back, right in the space between his wings. He leans into my hand, just a bit, which I take as a good sign.

“I just… I wish I had more control over them. I hate the thought that I’m, I don’t know, molesting you in your sleep or something.” He hunches his back and his wings droop.

Oh for Crowley’s sake. “Simon, you weren’t molesting me. You were barely touching me, and in any case you weren’t even awake so I can hardly blame you.” I drop my hand to where his tail meets his body, not even caressing, just letting the weight of my hand rest on the base. He shudders. Interesting. I trail my fingers towards the tip, then wrap the length loosely around my hand and tug. “Come back to bed, Simon.”

For a moment I think he’s going to resist but then he sighs and nods. I let go of his tail and he curls back into me. He’s still tense, though, and I run my hand up and down his back trying to coax him to relax. My fingers brush the hard ridge of his wing where it juts out from his shoulder, and I watch in amusement as the wing twitches. I do it again more firmly, and both wings shoot up and out to cover us like a giant umbrella.

Simon sighs. “See? I didn’t even realize I was doing that, it just… happened. I want to learn to control them better, and it doesn’t help that I don’t have magic anymore.”

I snort. “Yes, because you were so in control of your magic before, Snow.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, punching me lightly in the shoulder. I retaliate by reaching up and teasing my finger along one of the thin bones of a wing. I’m starting to suspect they are about as sensitive as his tail, and easier for me to access at this angle. I’m rewarded with a gasp, and the leathery ceiling above us trembles violently. It’s a good thing Simon doesn’t have feathers, I think, because if he did then I would probably be spitting them out of my mouth right now.

“Sensitive, huh?” I grin. This could be fun.

“Yes, apparently.” Simon mostly sounds irritated at the prospect, which means I’ll have to work harder to prove to him what an exciting discovery this could be. I had planned to take this slow, but now I’m desperately curious to see what other kinds of reactions I can provoke.

“How sensitive are we talking? Like, if I do this…” I find the tip of one wing and draw it down carefully. Simon is staring at me, and I don’t break eye contact as I dart out my tongue for a taste. Simon’s chest heaves and he groans, but he doesn’t stop me. I swirl my tongue around the tip then close my lips over it and suck. Simon’s wing tastes pretty similar to his normal skin, though the texture is different. Rougher. The reactions are the same, though; in fact, I’m pretty sure his wings are even more sensitive than his nipples based on the sounds he’s making.

I release his wing with a final lick and bend down to bring our mouths together. He moans into the kiss and wraps his arms around my neck. I hook a leg around his knee and pull him in closer, until we’re pressed together and I can feel him hard against me. His tail is thrashing around like it doesn’t know what to do, and without thinking I reach down and grab it. Simon breaks away from my mouth with a gasp and pushes forward into my hip. I lean down and kiss the tip of the tail, a light brush of my lips, nothing more, and he lets out a string of curses. Well then.

I shove my boxers down and all but rip his off. We figured out early on how to magick his clothing to allow for his tail and wings, so I don’t actually have to tear the cloth to get it off of him. It’s a close thing, though. I dig my fingers into his hip and line us up, then I guide his hand down to wrap around the both of us. We haven’t done this yet, not precisely, but he figures it out quickly and we fall into a rhythm. I capture his mouth with mine again and swallow his groans as he jerks us off. It’s messy and not particularly coordinated, but I’m so turned on that it doesn’t matter at this point. Just the knowledge that it’s Simon’s hand on me, Simon’s mouth breathing profanities against my lips, is enough that I’m not going to last long.

I reach for his tail once again and run my fingers over the length of it, teasingly at first then more firmly as Simon’s thrusts grow wild. The dark cocoon of his wings no longer feels threatening, and any thoughts of the coffin are long banished. Right here, right now, it’s just the two of us, held within Simon’s wings. Our own private little nest, hidden away from the eyes of the world. I feel safe and loved in a way I never really thought possible, and I still marvel at the knowledge that I could have this with Simon. That he wants me, that we could ever be more than roommates and rivals. That he loves me as much as I love him.

I whisper the words against his lips when I come. I spent so long saying them only in my head that it still feels strange to know that I can say them out loud now, whenever I want. I can feel him repeating them back to me more than I can actually hear him, and I cover his hand with mine to bring him over the edge. I brush kisses over his face and down his neck as he spills over our hands with a gasp. His pulse is racing, so close to the skin I can feel it, hear it. I used to be scared that I would bite him if we ever kissed, but I’m not anymore. I run my tongue over his skin and taste the salty sweat that’s gathered in the hollows of his neck, but I don’t imagine what it would be like to sink my fangs into him. I don’t want to know how his blood tastes. I just want to hold him here, feeling the life flowing through his veins and knowing that he’s alive.

I should clean us up, I know, but I can’t bring myself to leave the warmth of Simon’s wings even to grab a cloth or my wand. I’ll regret it in the morning probably, but right now it doesn’t matter. Simon’s heartbeat is already slowing, and his breath is evening out. The few times we’ve done this he’s been out like a light within minutes of finishing, and tonight’s no different. I can tell the moment he slips into sleep, and I stay awake awhile longer just watching him. His face relaxes in sleep, but his wings stay folded above us. Eventually I close my eyes and follow him.

The second time it happens, I don’t even feel a hint of panic. By the third time it happens, and all the times after, I can’t imagine waking up any other way again.