And yet, of course, Frost seemed to pull it off with ease, just as he seemed to manage everything with so little effort. The man had as much confidence as he had privilege, and since he was by far one of the most privileged people in the entire world, his confidence had blown right past self-assurance and into arrogance the likes of which most others couldn't manage. He gave Simon that familiar little smirk as he walked toward the bed, but even as he obeyed Simon's instructions, it neither felt nor looked like an act of submission.
Simon watched, tight-lipped, as Frost sank down onto the edge of the mattress and affixed him with an expectant stare. "What are you waiting for?" he was asking with his eyes alone, and Simon couldn't help rolling his. How the man could be so insufferable without saying even a single word, Simon genuinely didn't know.
He stepped forward, approaching Frost where he sat on the mattress. He was all but dry now, the glistening sheen of water gone from his skin, and Frost just kept smirking as he drew near. Part of him wanted to strike it from his lips, and the rest of him wasn't pleased that he'd have to settle for kissing it away instead.
Frost's hands were on him the instant he stepped into range, and they tugged him insistently forward, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. Frost's mouth settled onto Simon's abs, licking and kissing and even gently biting a trail down the skin and muscle until Simon caught his jaw in one hand. "When did you start biting?" he found himself asking, though he was sure he already knew the answer and neither wanted nor needed to hear it confirmed.
"When I realized how much Sparrow liked it."
Simon sneered. "She likes hurting you."
The look Frost gave him then was astoundingly smug, so self-satisfied that it was downright sickening. "She likes having her mouth on me. And she likes having mine on her." Simon's disgusted noise in response to that was perhaps a bit exaggerated; he didn't doubt, after all, that Sparrow likely did quite enjoy all the things that Frost liked to do with his mouth. Frost, of course, merely met his disapproval with another mischievous grin. "You don't like it, then?"
"Oh, shut up, Frost," he sighed, and the hand that wasn't on the man's jaw went to his shoulder, pushing him back roughly. Frost did as he was bid, the muscles of his abdomen rolling until he was flat on his back atop the mattress with his knees over the edge, and Simon bowed forward until his torso hung over the other man's.
"I don't need the foreplay," Frost breathed, eyes glittering, and while Simon was sure that was the case, he knew quite well that the other man would be more than happy to receive it nonetheless.
"So you want me to look at you when I fuck you, but I don't even get a bit of romancing first?"
Frost chuckled. "Is that what you want, Simon. Should I romance you?"
Simon frowned; that wasn't at all what his taunting had been about, of course, and Frost knew it. But he wasn't surprised in the least that Frost had managed to turn it around on him like this; he wanted to make this about seducing Simon into joining them, after all, and it appeared now that Simon had played right into that trap.
"Absolutely not," he answered honestly, and Frost gave him an outright mocking laugh.
"No?" he asked. "I get the feeling we'd both enjoy it. Sparrow most of all."
Simon stared down at him, not entirely sure why that thought made him hesitate. Would Sparrow enjoy that, he wondered? Somehow he didn't think so, or perhaps he simply didn't want to think so. But, damn it all, Frost probably did know her better than Simon himself did, so there might actually be more truth to the man's words than Simon wanted to believe. Perhaps it would genuinely soothe her, at that, to have Frost's intensity focused on someone else, even if it was nothing more significant than that.
And, on the other hand, it was entirely possible that she did like him as much as Frost clearly wanted him to believe she did. Perhaps this was a rare instance of Frost trying to get for her something she genuinely wanted instead of something he wanted her to have.
But that was ridiculous. Surely this was Frost's fantasy, not hers.
Look Who's On Top [6/?]
Simon watched, tight-lipped, as Frost sank down onto the edge of the mattress and affixed him with an expectant stare. "What are you waiting for?" he was asking with his eyes alone, and Simon couldn't help rolling his. How the man could be so insufferable without saying even a single word, Simon genuinely didn't know.
He stepped forward, approaching Frost where he sat on the mattress. He was all but dry now, the glistening sheen of water gone from his skin, and Frost just kept smirking as he drew near. Part of him wanted to strike it from his lips, and the rest of him wasn't pleased that he'd have to settle for kissing it away instead.
Frost's hands were on him the instant he stepped into range, and they tugged him insistently forward, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. Frost's mouth settled onto Simon's abs, licking and kissing and even gently biting a trail down the skin and muscle until Simon caught his jaw in one hand. "When did you start biting?" he found himself asking, though he was sure he already knew the answer and neither wanted nor needed to hear it confirmed.
"When I realized how much Sparrow liked it."
Simon sneered. "She likes hurting you."
The look Frost gave him then was astoundingly smug, so self-satisfied that it was downright sickening. "She likes having her mouth on me. And she likes having mine on her." Simon's disgusted noise in response to that was perhaps a bit exaggerated; he didn't doubt, after all, that Sparrow likely did quite enjoy all the things that Frost liked to do with his mouth. Frost, of course, merely met his disapproval with another mischievous grin. "You don't like it, then?"
"Oh, shut up, Frost," he sighed, and the hand that wasn't on the man's jaw went to his shoulder, pushing him back roughly. Frost did as he was bid, the muscles of his abdomen rolling until he was flat on his back atop the mattress with his knees over the edge, and Simon bowed forward until his torso hung over the other man's.
"I don't need the foreplay," Frost breathed, eyes glittering, and while Simon was sure that was the case, he knew quite well that the other man would be more than happy to receive it nonetheless.
"So you want me to look at you when I fuck you, but I don't even get a bit of romancing first?"
Frost chuckled. "Is that what you want, Simon. Should I romance you?"
Simon frowned; that wasn't at all what his taunting had been about, of course, and Frost knew it. But he wasn't surprised in the least that Frost had managed to turn it around on him like this; he wanted to make this about seducing Simon into joining them, after all, and it appeared now that Simon had played right into that trap.
"Absolutely not," he answered honestly, and Frost gave him an outright mocking laugh.
"No?" he asked. "I get the feeling we'd both enjoy it. Sparrow most of all."
Simon stared down at him, not entirely sure why that thought made him hesitate. Would Sparrow enjoy that, he wondered? Somehow he didn't think so, or perhaps he simply didn't want to think so. But, damn it all, Frost probably did know her better than Simon himself did, so there might actually be more truth to the man's words than Simon wanted to believe. Perhaps it would genuinely soothe her, at that, to have Frost's intensity focused on someone else, even if it was nothing more significant than that.
And, on the other hand, it was entirely possible that she did like him as much as Frost clearly wanted him to believe she did. Perhaps this was a rare instance of Frost trying to get for her something she genuinely wanted instead of something he wanted her to have.
But that was ridiculous. Surely this was Frost's fantasy, not hers.